#also i am. still considering changing the title or summary so if that changes you know why asjdklf

[charlescoded]

pairing: lestappen word count: 1.3k rated gen. shapeshifting. charles turned into a cat. post-austria 2019. pre-relationship

“Sorry baby,” Max says, and Charles’ chest feels tight. “I want to rewatch the race from last Sunday.” He explains.

-

Max finds a kitten after Austria 2019, he doesn't know it's Charles.

[dxxdhood]

drains me slowly

pairing: wade wilson x gn!reader

summary: deadpool finally invites you, the coworker he has a massive crush on, over, which means the two of you end up doing more than just watching a movie.

tags: smut (18+), sub!wade wilson, dom!reader, pain kink, use of superpowers to fuel a pain kink, light masochism, teasing, gentle dom, hand job, scratching, body worship

wc: 3.3k

a/n: fic inspired by the new deadpool movie coming out!!! also, title is from love me dead by ludo.

No surprise that Wade wasn’t exactly anyone’s favorite– that goes for among the heroes he’s worked with and throughout his life in general. He’s – to put it in the kindest way anyone’s ever told him – fucking annoying. Oh, he’s more than aware that he’s a little too out-of-pocket, abrasive, impulsive– a nightmare to interact with, really. And those were just the recent comments made by the closest thing he has to coworkers! The shit he heard from people growing up was leagues worse. 

Look, having a rough start in life isn’t uncommon and he’s sure as hell not gonna get the tiny violin out for himself and throw his own little pity party, but he’s grown enough since his healing factor got beat out of him to acknowledge that he’s had it tough over the years.

He’s still going, though! Yeah, he may not always be the best at doing his laundry quick enough to get any clean clothes to wear, or at stopping his room from becoming cluttered with too many half-empty water bottles, but he’s still making it by, day by day.

But, well, it’s still really hard to constantly put himself out there, get assigned – or infinitely more likely, just shove himself into – whatever jobs or missions he feels like taking on when everyone treats him like Jar Jar Binks.

That was until you came along. So, obviously you’re crazy hot – he’s gotta get that out of the way first – but more than that, you were confident. Competent, too, and those rarely coincide in Wade’s experience. You mostly worked on call, joining the occasional mission, battle, or investigation because your mutant powers came in handy often, but you also still kept up with your day job. Honestly, Wade thinks the reason why you weren’t always present in fights was to stop the other mutants from being out of a job. Your ability to slowly deteriorate surrounding biological tissue, while horrifying and a pain in the ass to control – your words – was basically winning on easy mode.

But no, you were adamant about keeping your involvement with the X-Men infrequent– only joining when your presence was absolutely necessary. Apparently nonstop high stress situations aren't good for your mental health– who knew?

And he wants to pretend he became obsessed with you because of all those things, and of course they helped, but really, you had him at hello. Or well, you bothering to say hello and actually talk to him in the first place, to ask him questions about his life in moments of downtime where usually he’d be left with an unenthusiastic audience instead of a warm-hearted listener who actually laughed at his jokes.

So, of course, he has to go and fuck it up.

…

“So, glad that’s over, huh?” Wade says through a smile, the whites of his mask squeezing as his cheeks rise. “Speaking of over, you wanna come?”

“Over?” you shake your head a little, flashing your teeth as you try and comprehend him. “Right after we took on a whole crime ring?”

“Well, what a better time to unwind, am I right?”

“Oh?” you raise your eyebrows. “We’re unwinding?”

It’s small, but you swear Wade ups his talking speed, “Well, yeah, you know. Watch a movie, order in, show you my Pokemon cards, the works.”

You hum, pretending to consider it, “Depends, you got a holo Charizard?”

And now, for sure, he exhales his relief. “You insult me.”

The two of you enter his apartment not long after you’re dismissed from the mission, and Wade briefly excuses himself to change out of his suit. Making yourself at home, you take a seat on the couch and glance across his living room. His apartment is surprisingly nice. The kitchen and living room are one large, open space with a sleek, modern design. Also, you’d assume someone as chaotic as Wade would keep their house in a messier state, or hell, at least a little dusty, but the living room is spotless. Maybe he cleaned recently? What, was he planning on inviting someone over?

Snorting as you shake your head, a small click from across the hall catches your attention.

You’ve only seen Wade on the job, so naturally he’s always been wearing his red suit, but for some reason, you never stopped to picture him wearing civilian clothes. Actually, now that you’re seeing him in a sweatshirt and sweatpants – awfully warm for this weather – you’re struggling to reconcile the image of him you had in your head with the person right in front of you.

Well, at least until Wade brings up a fist to cover his mouth, illustrating his nervousness, and the tension fizzles out. Only Wade has body language that cartoonishly exaggerated.

“Nice sweats, green looks good on you.”

Wade pauses for a moment, registering your words before he giggles softly, arm falling to his side, “I’ve been thinking about changing the color of my suit. You know, hiding all the blood is great and all, but sometimes I gotta wonder – could this thing be more flattering?”

He walks over with a spring in his step before sitting by your side. Cutely, he wraps you up in the larger blanket first before settling the smaller, throw blanket over himself. You try your hardest not to show your confusion outwardly, but seeing Wade up close now has you questioning his outfit all the more.

He’s a bit tall, so the sweatpants don’t go all the way down to his ankles, but Wade’s wearing calf socks, as if he specifically were trying to avoid them being uncovered. Also, his hoodie’s easily a size or two larger, which makes it the perfect thing to wear to lounge around and watch a movie in, but also, the sleeves cover his entire hand sans his fingers. From the little you can see of them, they look puckered in scars.

But obviously Wade’s hands are scarred– he’s a mercenary. He’s handled all sorts of weapons and been in hundreds of fights over the years. You weren’t expecting his skin to be baby-smooth. 

What’s interesting to you is why he’d go through all the trouble to hide it.

Also, yeah, the most obvious pointers were that the hood of his sweatshirt is up even though you two are indoors in his own home and – how could you forget this one – his Deadpool mask is still on.

Was he just uncomfortable with sharing his identity in general or was he specifically trying to shove distance between the two of you? Whatever, if he doesn’t want to take his mask off with you, he doesn’t have to. You feel a distinct pang in your chest, but you try not to let it color how you respond to him. He’s more than in the right to only share what he feels most comfortable with.

Wade’s been fiddling with the remote while you’ve been – hopefully – subtly looking him over, and the screen finally changes from a streaming service page to the opening of the movie.

“We’re watching The Princess Bride? I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

He bats his eyes – at least, you think he does, given the mask– and speaks in a sweet voice “Why, me? Oh please, I know romance. I’m not going to invite a lovely, gorgeous, incredible person over and force them to watch Die Hard on the first–”

His back straightens out like he’s been electrocuted before he forcibly relaxes his posture to finish his thought.

“Hang-out.”

Okay, you want to go easy on him, especially because he seems so tense, but you can’t just let that one slide. You close the small distance remaining between the two of you, causing your entire side to press against his. Even through his sweatshirt, you can feel how warm he is.

“Mmm, just a hang out?” you mumble, sliding your head onto his shoulder. You’ve done this before, either for comedic effect or just in an attempt to push his buttons the same way he always tries to push yours – which, despite his best efforts, always ends up endearing him to you instead of bothering you – but never in a context like this.

He inhales sharply, and you count the seconds until he finally lets himself release it. Sometimes, you think he takes his healing factor for granted.

Turning his head to peer down at you, Wade considers you for a moment, keeping his face and body language deceptively neutral. You try your hardest to keep your eyes focused on the movie and your body loose and comfortable.

“You want this to be a date?” he says, flat.

“Why, thank you for asking, dear sir,” you copy his sweet voice from earlier before returning to your normal. “Yes, Wade, I like you.”

“I–” he starts, but the words get caught on their way out. His fingers bury themselves in the material of his sweatpants, and the movement draws your attention to them again. Shades of blotchy red and pink curve all across his skin.

Wade doesn’t say anything, which is concerning enough on its own, but following your confession, you feel like he’s more than out of his element. 

“That’s why you invited me over, right?” you try and help him out. “You feel the same, too.”

And then, feeling bold, you turn your head to face his still mask-covered head and kiss him lightly on the cheek. Instantly, you see fireworks go off inside him, because Wade hurriedly shuts the TV off and runs off to close the blinds. There’s barely enough light in the room now to make out shapes, but apparently Wade doesn’t take any issue because he peels his mask back and kisses you on the lips.

His lips are textured, and your intuition flashes quietly in the back of your mind, but for right now, you focus on how energetic he is. If his body is warm, his mouth feels like it’s on fire. He’s constantly moving, trying to experience all of you as fast as possible. 

It’s making your face heat up, how quickly he demands your complete attention and how relentless he is in grabbing it. Wade bites your bottom lip, causing you to gasp into him, and he uses the opportunity to explore across your own teeth and tongue. After a few more seconds, you break away, needing the space to breathe.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, voice rough.

“You’re telling me,” Wade coughs out. “We could’ve been doing that this whole time?”

“Well, all you had to do was ask.”

And although you can’t see him, which you know is the point, you understand something in him has shifted. He gets up from the couch, takes you by the hand, and leads you towards his room. His pace is so quick, you barely comprehend his actions until you’re both standing right in front of his bed.

“Is this okay?” he asks, quiet. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him stifle the amount of words he let loose before.

“Yes, of course it is. But Wade, we have to turn on at least a lamp or something in here.”

“We do?”

“Yeah,” you pause to give him a second to think. “I can’t see you at all like this.”

“What if – and you're just going to have to trust me on this one – you’d prefer it this way,” Wade’s voice is light, but it feels like it’s cracking at the edges.

“And why’s that?”

Not like you’d be able to see, but the anxiety radiating off of him makes him sound wide-eyed, “Huh? Oh, I– uh…”

“Look, if you’re worried about how I’m going to react to you having a bunch of scars– don’t. I don’t mind,” the sound of fabric rustling in front of you makes you think he just flinched. “I figured it out. You’re not sneaky.”

“You say that, but…”

“Wade, I don’t care. And I mean that kindly! Really, it doesn’t bother me.”

Wade starts pacing in front of you, nearly tripping on the leg of the bedpost, “Look, I appreciate the whole hero act you got going on here – really fits you good, you should totally quit your day job – but you don’t have to force yourself, I–”

“Wade, you either confront your insecurities head on or I’m not doing this with you. I told you what I think, the only person who’s going to worry about how you look here is you. We either have sex with a light on or not at all, okay?”

No one speaks for a few seconds once you finish saying your piece, and you cringe, realizing how forceful you must have come off. You’re about to speak up again to apologize when you hear a shudder-filled exhale from a few feet away.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he groans. “You’re so hot when you're putting people in their place.”

Your lips curl into a shaky smile, “Yeah, what else do you think is hot?”

And you can practically hear the gears turning in his head from here.

…

It’s actually happening. No fucking way he didn’t dream this up. But you were pretty adamant about him getting his head in the game in order for you guys to actually get down and dirty, so for you, he tries to keep his train of thought as focused as possible–  a big ask.

“Bossing anyone – everyone, especially me – around. You using your abilities–” you reach over and find Wade’s hand before running your fingers up his arm. “Shit, umm, using your abilities in general, but, umm, I really like when I’m there.”

“Oh?” you giggle. “When you get to watch, or?”

“When I get to feel.”

Your hand moves over to the nape of his neck, reaching under his hood and mask, to rub at his rough skin. Wade’s nerves light on fire as he waits for you to respond– for some reason, it never feels like your words come out fast enough.

“You got a thing for pain, Wilson?”

He chuckles, “You’d be surprised.”

“Okay, but are you sure? I can try, but it might not be all that good for you.”

“Don’t worry,” he thinks back to all those times he had a hard on while the two of you were fighting together. “It’ll be great for me.”

You hum, “Alright, then, but you tell me to stop the second you don’t like something, okay?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” he salutes, though you probably can’t see it. “And, same goes for you.”

“What a gentleman, letting me destroy him and giving me an out.”

He’s blushing something furious and he’s never been more grateful for the dark, “Anything for you.”

Those are the last words he whispers before he begins undressing. He knows you probably meant for him to strip with the light on, but he’s really not so sure he could stomach being looked at like a bug under a microscope. The attention, while electrifying, was already starting to get to him, so he lets himself stay in his comfort zone a little longer. As a treat. 

Once his sweats are off, he hesitantly peels off his mask before slipping into bed, keeping most of his body under the covers. After shutting his eyes, he clicks the lamplight on.

You’re not saying anything. That’s– a sign? A good one, a bad one, Wade doesn’t know. He’s trying so hard to keep his breathing steady, but he can feel his body start shaking all on its own.

You join him on the bed, kneeling next to him, before your warm breath falls across his cheeks as you kiss his forehead. Only then does he open his eyes, and you reward him by cupping his cheek in your hand.

“There,” you say. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Wade gets the strong urge to snort, and so he does, but your eyes narrow. There’s a soft scratching at the back of his skull as you snake your hand over, and quickly you dig your nails in slightly. Wade has to bite his tongue to keep the noise in.

“I’m sorry, is that funny to you?”

“No!” he whispers sharply as you bring your hand down to scratch along the line of his neck.

“Good, seems like you’re learning.”

You kiss him, teeth clacking together at first before Wade melts into it. Your hand is still slowly exploring his body, running along the line of his shoulder and towards his upper arm. When you reach his bicep, you very obviously squeeze the muscle there, and you let out a pleased sigh as you begin groping in earnest.

He wants to turn to hide his face in the pillow, not sure how to react to all the positive attention and appreciation, but you catch him trying to turn away, and you kiss him deeper.

While one hand begins to explore his pecs and abs, your other hand scratches down his v-line, softly caressing the skin of his inner thighs before moving around to squeeze his ass.

Wade rewards you with a small whine, and you carefully trail a finger down his dick. You move in to whisper in his ear, “You’re so hot, I’m not forgiving you for hiding for so long.”

Trying to stifle the embarrassing moan that he knows will come out, he bites down on his lip hard, but you take the hand not teasing his cock to gently pry his lip away.

“From now on, I get to hear you, okay?” you say and Wade nods rapidly.

You take the moment you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and after giving him a second to ready himself, you ask, “I’m going to use it now. Tell me if you want to stop.”

“Okay–” he responds before he feels the sweet sensation of you jerking him off coupled with your power. It’s a humming, dull feeling of pain resting in the background– almost like the sensation of being choked except it’s affecting his entire body. Wade feels like there’s a weight pinning down each of his limbs and it’s so freeing– so relaxing.

He sighs and turns his head to the side, letting out a deep moan when you up the pace of your hand and bring the other to fondle his balls.

“How is it?” you ask, sweat dripping down your brow at trying to control your ability. Sure, it’s  powerful and at times pretty horrifying, but Wade always loved how he was essentially immune. At the same rate you could destroy the flesh around you, he could heal his own right back. Just knowing that made him feel good, somehow, like he was made perfectly for you.

“It’s good– so good, I–” he nearly shouts, forgetting about the neighbors.

“Yeah, baby? What do you need?”

At hearing the pet name, he straight up whines as he tries to bury his hands in the sheets instead of his own thighs. 

“Not sure, umm, a little more–”

And he doesn’t know which god he has to thank for putting you on this planet, but he’s willing to pay them all a visit. You read him like he’s not some mess, some walking disaster nobody bothers paying attention to, and you give him what you know he needs.

From the base of his chin, you drag your hand in a deep scratch across his neck, chest, and stomach, your eyes watching the pink lines blend in with his scarred skin. It’s a flashing pain, sharp like being scalded and it feels so good mixed with the blunt feel of being under your power.

“I’m gonna–” he says, and of course, you seem to already know. He cums with a deep grunt, rutting his hips into your fist before he thrusts his head forward to kiss you again.

As soon as he comes down, he pulls away only slightly, just so he can say what he’s been wanting to say since he met you.

“Thank–”

You cut him off with another kiss, because sometimes, he really does need to shut up. 

[softspiderling]

est-ce que je t’aime? | j.v

summary:

“What does dear Jace have to say?”

“I do not like your tone,” you huffed, snatching the letter out of his hands. Daeron chuckled, his eyes gleaming.

“You could become my niece, if this continues.”

“Oh please,” you answered, not even entertaining the idea. “I am too low of a rank for him to even consider marrying me.”

OR; After having spent almost eight namedays in Oldtown, you longed for your return to King’s Landing, to see Jace again. When the day finally comes, you didn’t expect to be thrust in the middle of a war for the crown.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader, platonic!daeron targaryen x reader

warnings: mention of death (Viserys), canonical violence (follows plot of the show up to Storm’s End), otherwise this part is pretty tame!

word count: 8,2k

author’s note: i do not know a single thing about daeron except for the tidbits we have learned in the show. the rest is made up (but imo my Daeron character analysis is pretty great finally my bachelor's in english has proven useful). this is gonna be a two parter! the first part is heavily reader x daeron/team green focused, while the second part will focus on reader’s and jace’s relationship. title is from GIMS' song est-ce que tu m'aimes which also inspired this fic... also @eldrith bc i fear i will be threatened with a gun if i dont... happy reading 🫶🏼

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I have a letter from the Queen Alicent and and another one from the Prince Jacaerys Velaryon,” the messenger said, bowing as he stood at the door.

“Thank you Ser.”

Taking the letters, the messenger bowed to take his leave, and you handed Daeron the letter from his mother before settling into your chaise with Jace’s letter.

This was how you and Daeron received news from King’s Landing and Dragonstone. You hated how you had to wait so long to hear news, longing for the time all of you were at King’s Landing together, but you knew that things hadn’t been working out with Rhaenyra and her family nor with Alicent and her children.

You thought that was the main reason Daeron had been sent to Oldtown, to shield him from the tumultuous life at court and you along with him, despite that you had been Helaena’s lady in waiting.

Smiling at the contents of the letter, you tried to imagine Jace’s voice as he told you of Luke taking flight with Arrax for the first time, failing miserably. It had only been two years since you saw him last, but you knew how boys matured quickly in a short span of time, Daeron being the perfect example.

He had only come up to your shoulders when you first arrived in Oldtown, now, he was almost as tall as you.

“Helaena and Aegon were married,” Daeron suddenly said and your hands stilled, lowering Jace’s letter.

You glanced at him, noticing how small his voice sounded. Putting the letter away, you clasped Daeron’s arm, offering some comfort. You knew how hard it was for him to be away from his family and hearing about important news like that through letter just made the distance seem even greater.

“To whom?”

“To each other.”

“What?”

“Look,” Daeron said, handing you the letter his mother had sent him with the official sigil of the Targaryen house. You read through the letter, before sitting back with a surprised sigh.

“Helaena must be devastated,” you muttered, rubbing the side of your temples. You couldn’t imagine how alone Helaena must feel, to be married off to Aegon. He had always been a little crude; you doubted he had changed much.

“I cannot believe mother did not even deem it necessary to bring me home for their wedding,” Daeron said with a frown. “Am I even still her son?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you chastised him. “Your mother sent you away for your own good.”

Even as you said those words, you didn’t quite believe them yourself. It had been so long since Daeron has seen his family, you understood sending him away in the first place, but going for so long without a single visit?

With a sigh, Daeron brushed his silver hair back, angling towards Jace’s letter you had left on the table.

“What does dear Jace have to say?”

“I do not like your tone,” you huffed, snatching the letter out of his hands. Daeron chuckled, his eyes gleaming.

“You could become my niece, if this continues.”

“Oh please,” you answered, not even entertaining the idea. “I am too low of a rank for him to even consider marrying me.”

“So you have thought about marrying my nephew?”

You groaned and Daeron only cackled when you shoved him.

“Go sit and write to your mother,” you told him with a sniff of your nose and even though he grimaced at you, he sat down at the wooden desk, grabbing a roll of parchment. Even though Daeron was of much higher rank than you, he had adopted you as some sort of older sister ever since you two got to Oldtown, with you being the only familiar person from home that was still present in his life, apart from his uncles, of course.

It pained you, to see Daeron long for his family, who seemed to have discarded him so easily. You wondered when he would get to his family again as you reached for Jace’s letter to keep on reading;You wondered when you would get to see Jace again.

It was six more years before either of that would happen. However under much different circumstances than either of you had imagined.

“Urgent news from King’s Landing!” the messenger said, his breath short as he handed Lord Ormund a roll of parchment. You and Daeron glanced at each other; you were in the middle of breaking fast, the most important meal of the day in Oldtown; it must be incredible important news for the messenger to disrupt the meal like that. His face was stony as he read the contents of the letter, before his eyebrows raised in surprise. He lowered the letter, his eyes finding Daeron.

“Your father has passed. They are to crown your brother Aegon to be King. You are expected back in King’s Landing.” Lord Ormund’s eyes found you. “Both of you.”

It didn’t take long for Daeron and you get everything ready for your departure, you barely noticed most of your belongings being packed up, still reeling from the news. You couldn’t believe King Viserys had died. Of course you had known from the letters that Daeron had received from his mother that the king had taken quite ill, but still. And he named Aegon as his new heir? You couldn’t imagine Aegon, the boy who teased his brother endlessly to become King of the Seven Realms, but who were you to judge?

Your hand was itching to write to Jace, despite your last letter still being unanswered. You weren’t sure what had changed, but lately you felt like Jace’s letters had become scarce, every answer taking longer than the last. You weren’t quite bold enough to ask why in a letter, fearing a rejection, but maybe when you saw him, you could gauge his mood. You knew you were to see him at King Viserys’ funeral or the latest at Aegon’s coronation, you would see him sooner than your letter would take to get to him. Despite knowing that, your eyes caught on parchment and quill, so you took leave to Daeron’s chamber to distract yourself.

The door to his chambers stood open as you stepped in, the maids moving in a flurry as they packed his belongings, while Daeron was sitting on his bed, unmoving. Gingerly, you moved to sit behind him, but he barely acknowledged your presence, gazing out of the window.

“I’m sorry about your father’s passing,” you told him, nudging him with your shoulder.

“I have been living without a father for quite some time,” he replied wryly, glancing at you. “I suppose it will not feel any different.”

You reached for his hand, squeezing it, hoping to lend him comfort. “I know. But still, I wish he had been a better father to you.”

Daeron only snorted, shaking his head.

“Are you nervous to see your kin again?”

The young Prince let out a laugh, unwinding his hand from your grip to stand.

“Kin? I haven’t seen them in nearly ten years,” he scoffed, starting to pace. “Mother writes to me once in a moon, Helaena’s letters are more confusing than not, and Aegon and Aemond barely write to me on my name day. I have not seen them since my eighth name day.”

“They are still your kin, Daeron.”

“By blood, yes.”

“Is there any other way to be kin?”

You were humoring him, knowing he was frustrated and nervous to see his family but Daeron stopped in his tracks, looking at you.

“Yes. You.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and he took his seat next to you again, cradling your hand in his.

“You came with me to Oldtown when you did not have to, gave me a sense of familiarity in this… Farce of a home, lent me comfort in a way my own blood failed to do,” he said quietly, squeezing your hand. “You are my sister in everything but blood.”

“Oh Daeron,” you sighed, pulling him into a hug and letting the younger boy - despite him arguing that he was long a man - find comfort in your arms. Ten and six, and the burden of feeling like you were abandoned by your family. You wished he did not have to feel this way, but you were powerless to change it.

“Swear to me you will not abandon me once we get back to King’s Landing,” Daeron said, pulling away to hold you at an arm’s length, his eyes searching yours.

“I swear it,” you told him, a smile on your face. “Swear to me you will not say any of this to your mother.”

Daeron let out a laugh at that, but you only shook your head, only half-jesting. You know Otto Hightower would fall right to his grave if he had heard Daeron call you his sister. You were high-born, yes, but in no way comparable to a Princess.

A knock sounded on the door, before a squire entered. “Everything has been prepared for your departure my Prince.”

“Very well, we will be right out,” Daeron answered with a nod.

The squire bowed, before leaving again and you squeezed Daeron’s hand, standing.

“I will go fetch my belongings, you go bid farewell to your uncles.”

Daeron nodded, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. “I will meet you outside the city walls.”

You touched his cheek gently before you departed. A knight and two maids followed you with bags of sustenance and personal belongings to the city walls, where a handful of dragonkeepers were eyeing the sky. Lifting your gaze, you saw Tessarion fly over the city in circles, a smile growing on your face, excited to be making the trip back to King’s Landing on dragonback.

You had always loved whenever Daeron took you out flying on Tessarion; deep within you wished to feel a bond as special as a dragonrider had with their dragon. You wondered if Jace would take you flying on Vermax, now that all of you were reconvening for the King’s funeral rite and Aegon’s coronation.

Tessarion let out a screech before coming to land on the small green meadow, and you knew Daeron must be close. Surely enough, you heard footsteps coming closer before Daeron stopped just next to you, knights accompanying him.

“Will you miss Oldtown?” You asked him, but Daeron only shook his head.

“Nothing keeping me here,” he answered, stepping forward to greet Tessarion as she landed, calming her as the knights and maids attached the satchels and bags to the saddle. You let out a deep breath, turning to look at Oldtown for one last time. While Daeron had been right, a part of you was sad to leave, as it had been the place you had called home for the last years.

“Are you sure this is King’s Landing?”

The journey to King’s Landing had been uneventful and quick, a half day’s journey only. When you had arrived, flying over the city, Daeron directed Tessarion into the dragon pit, where the dragonkeepers had been waiting. Maids had then taken you into the Red Keep, and you barely had any time to react as you looked at the adornments that decorated castle; countless dedications to the Seven. The busy Keep you had remembered had now been replaced with empty halls and dark walls.

Daeron glanced at you before looking around. “Surely mother’s doing.”

The maid led you into empty chambers, bowing to Daeron.

“The Queen Dowager will be with you shortly, my Prince.”

Daeron thanked her and she inclined her head at him before turning to you.

“My Lady, if you follow me.”

“Where are you taking her?” Daeron, his hand on your arm to stop you from leaving. The maid paused, glancing between the two of you.

“To her chambers, my Prince.”

“She will stay with me.”

“Daeron, you should see your mother by yourself, I can come see you after,” you assured him but Daeron merely shook his head, his grip on your arm tightening.

“I shall not meet my mother alone.”

“Daeron-“

“Please,” Daeron begged, his voice panicked and you sighed, giving in. Only then did Daeron release the grip on your arm.

The maid still paused but she then decided to retreat, but not without bowing to Daeron again. He started pacing in the room, picking up the small trinkets that littered the desk.

“They just put me in my old chambers thinking it will be like I never left.”

You raised your eyebrows, glancing around before you realized that Daeron was right - you were standing in his old chambers. They had replaced the furniture and added a bigger bed, but it was the same chambers he had stayed in when he was a little boy.

“They have always kept a place for you to return, is that not a good thing?”

Daeron looked at you with a frown when the doors suddenly opened and Alicent stepped in, in tow with Daeron’s siblings and his grandsire, Otto. Alicent beamed at the sight of her youngest son, though her smile wavered when she saw you, before turning her eyes back to Daeron, opening her arms.

“My boy.”

“Mother,” Daeron replied, his voice hesitant before he fell into her arms, hugging him tightly.

Your heart warmed at the sight and Daeron seemed to lose all of the fears he had been carrying - if only for a split second - as he laid in his mother’s arms. You were content to stay back, let Daeron get reacq with his family again, but you weren’t ignored for long, when someone threw their arms around you with so much momentum, it nearly knocked you off your feet.

“Oh Gods,” you laughed, a head of silver hair in your face. “Helaena.”

“I missed you,” the Princess whispered and you hugged her back just as tightly, sighing. She gave you one last squeeze, before Helaena pulled away to muster you, running her hands through the ends of your hair.

“You look well,” she said. “Very beautiful.”

You flushed at her kind words, lacing her hands with yours. “So are you, my Princess.”

Helaena smiled brightly at you. “You must meet Jahaera and Jahaerys.”

“There is time for that later,” Alicent decided, cutting in. Helaena’s smile dropped slightly and she fled to your side as her mother stepped to you. You bowed your head to greet her, but Alicent grabbed you by the shoulders before pulling you into a hug, surprising you.

“Thank you,” she said quietly in the privacy of the embrace. “Thank you for watching over Daeron when I was unable to.”

You wrapped your arms around Alicent. “Of course my Queen.”

She pulled away, straightening her dress and you caught a glimpse of Otto talking to Daeron before Aegon and Aemond stepped into your view.

“My Princes,” you said, bowing. “My condolences for your father.”

“Thank you,” Aemond said. “He was in great pain, The Stranger freed him.”

His voice was monotone, almost void of emotion and you wondered if any of them mourned their father. Aegon nodded, though he seemed more subdued.

“Are you excited to be King, my Prince?” you asked, hoping to change the topic.

He gave you a wry smile, opening his mouth but Aemond gave him a subtle jab in the side with his elbow.

“Uh, yes, of course, my Lady,” Aegon said, clearing his throat. “Now that we have all reconvened, the coronation cannot come soon enough. You are a much better guest than our nephews.”

That made you pause.

“Jace and Luke were here?” You asked, your forehead creasing.

“Yes. Lord Vaemond challenged Luke as heir for Driftmark and the trial was held at court. They left just shortly before father passed,” Aemond told you, his voice even. You hadn’t known that.

“When are they expected to return?”

Alicent exchanged looks with Otto, silent conversation passing between them and you glanced at Daeron, who seemed just as confused. Something was going on, something you weren’t aware of.

“They are not,” Alicent then said and your lips parted in surprise. “Rhaenyra is upset, rightfully so, that her father had chosen Aegon as his heir, so she decided to remain on Dragonstone.”

Your eyebrows furrowed but you decided not to press the matter, only nodding. The topic was quickly brushed off as Alicent wrapped her arm around Daeron, trying to draw him into conversation, asking about his interests. You only listened half-heartedly, your mind still spinning from the news.

“Do you not think all of this odd?” you asked, your voice low. “I know Rhaenyra is proud, but refusing to show up to the coronation or even pay respects to her late father?”

It was the day after your arrival in King’s Landing, the day of the coronation. The day was hectic, the Keep suddenly bustling with servants and maids getting everything ready; you had taken the advantage to sneak into Daeron’s room, something that had gotten much more difficult ever since you got back to King’s Landing.

“Maybe thing’s have changed,” Daeron replied, rubbing his temple. “We have been away for a while, we do not know of the things that have transpired.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but a knock on the door interrupted you, a maid coming to fetch you for the coronation was about to begin. As you walked to the carriage, you were arguing with yourself on the inside, knowing that you were privy of most details, thanks to Jace’s letters. You couldn’t believe Rhaenyra wouldn’t rush to King’s Landing to bid farewell to her father. There must be something else holding her back.

As you got to the Dragonpit where the coronation was held, you were surprised that it was over faster than you had imagined, almost like it was rushed. Then again, this was your first coronation so who were you to say this wasn’t how every coronation went? As Aegon raised his hand to the small folk, eliciting applause, you joined in. The applause ceded when a loud growl shook the entire building. Silence followed, before the floor gave away when a dragon emerged through the stone, countless people falling to their death, trampled by the the huge beast with Princess Rhaenys on top.

Meleys, you thought, stood before the family, and Alicent rushed towards Aegon to shield him, cries and pleads from the smallfolk surrounding you. Criston shielded Helaena, and you grasped Daron’s hand as he only stared at his cousin in shock.

With bated breath, everyone waited - to be burnt, eaten, you weren’t sure. But Meleys only let out a deafening roar, before flapping her wings, breaking through the doors to escape to freedom.

“What in the Seven Hells was that?” you muttered to Daeron. He gave you a shrug, squeezing your hand as he looked you over, making sure you were unharmed.

The small folk on the other hand were fighting to get out of the building, which seemed to be crumbling in on itself, and Criston began to usher everyone out.

You were the last to come down from the stairs, taking Daeron’s hand he was offering to you when a crunching sound from above made you lift your head, seeing a large part of the roof cave in, falling right down heading straight for you.

“Sister!”

Daeron gave a harsh tug of your arm, pulling you behind him, as the large slab of stone fell right in the place you were standing mere moments ago.

“Are you well?” He asked, his voice full of concern as he padded you down.

“I’m fine, Daeron.”

“Daeron.”

You both looked up when Alicent called for him, just to see that they were all staring at you, Otto seeming incredibly displeased as you realized what Daeron had just called you. Seven Hells, you thought, this was precisely what you had been trying to avoid.

“Do you even realize what sort of rumors would be spread if anyone had heard you refer to her as “sister”?!”

You were pacing in front of the study, voices muffled through the wooden door. After you had gotten back to the Keep, Helaena and Aegon had returned to their children, while Otto and Alicent had dragged Daeron into the study. Neither of them sounded particularly happy, their raised voices spilling out of the room. You were wringing your hands, something that you had been doing a lot since you got to King’s Landing. Not even three nights ago, you were in Oldtown wondering if you were ever to return to King’s Landing, now you were back and everything was happening so fast and you felt like you were missing a big part of the story. When did the King change his mind about his heir? Why wouldn’t Rhaenyra and Daemon return to King’s Landing following the King’s death? And why in the Seven Hells did Rhaenys break through the floor with Meleys like she was being held captive? You had so many questions, none of which you had answer to; deep in thoughts, you didn’t even notice someone approaching you.

“Eavesdropping, are we?”

Letting out a small gasp, you jumped to face Aemond, a hand on your chest as he eyed you, unimpressed.

“Gods, you scared me,” you said, shaking your head. “No, I am waiting on Daeron. Your mother and grandsire didn’t want me to come in.”

Clearly.

Aemond didn’t say anything else as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest. You eyed him as he stood there, on guard. It was hard to gauge him; you felt like Aemond was waiting for you to make a mistake so he had a reason to get rid of you. You remembered the soft, warm boy he used to be when you first got to King’s Landing. You wondered when he had changed, if it was when Luke took his eye or before.

“I should have known Daeron would cling to you after you had gone to Oldtown with him,” he said, his voice slow. “What is it, that you are planning to do with him? Make him infatuated with you so you can insinuate yourself into our family?”

Your ears grew hot at his implication. How dare he abandon his brother for nearly all his life and accuse you of having improper thoughts?

“Daeron is like a brother to me,” you said, voice indignant. “I care about him and I mislike being accused of such a horrible things.”

“So you vow your loyalty to our family, to Aegon as King?”

The way Aemond phrased the question made it seem like you had a choice and you hesitated, the fight leaving you.

“Of course, he’s the rightful heir, is he not?”

Aemond only gave a nod, taking a step back. You narrowed your eyebrows at him, but the door opened and Daeron stepped out, his face in a scowl.

“What happened?” you asked, but he only gave a brief shake of his head. He inclined his head, and you followed him, a knight on your trail, while Aemond stayed behind. The two of you walked for a while, until you reached the gardens, the knight staying by the edge as you and Daeron took a seat on a bench. He still seemed agitated, so you placed your hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

“They accused me of impropriety,” Daeron muttered. “Said that I was opening our family up for vulnerabilities and rumors.”

“We’re not in Oldtown anymore, Daeron, everything you do here is looked upon,” you sighed.

“What is improper about calling you my sister? You have been by my side since my eighth name day,” he argued. “How can I call a woman my mother when I haven’t seen her since I was a boy? The strangers brothers and sister, when I barely recognize them?” Daeron hissed, his voice rising.

“I know you’re upset,” you said quietly, eyes darting around, not wanting him to get in even more trouble. “It’s hard for them to understand. They are not trying to hurt you.”

“Did they not try to hurt me when they cast me out of the family?”

You sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder, and Daeron let out a shaky breath, staring out in the distance.

“How is my brother faring?”

You shut the door to Daron’s chambers quietly to find Aemond waiting just in front. After you had spent the rest of the afternoon in the gardens, you had thought it best if Daeron laid down for a while before supper, hoping it would calm him.

“It’s hard for him to find his footing here. His life in Oldtown hasn’t been this… Restrictive. It will take him time to adjust.”

Aemond nodded, letting out a sigh.

“I was hoping he would accompany me,” he said. “But I do not think he sounds well enough to go.”

“Where are you going?”

“Storm’s End. To get Lord Borros to vow for my brother.”

What?

“Forgive me but who else would he be loyal to?”

Aemond turned around, looking at you in disdain.

“Rhaenyra. She might think she still has some claim on the throne.”

He paused, eyeing you carefully.

“You should come.”

“Me?”

Aemond’s eye swept over you once more and he nodded.

“Yes, it will look good to Lord Borros if someone outside of our family is there showing support to Aegon,” he insisted. “It will be a short flight on Vhagar.”

“Very well,” you said, a glance on Daron’s closed door, wondering if you should tell him that you would be gone, but it sounded like the trip to Storm’s End wouldn’t be long, so you decided against waking him. You could tell him after.

You followed Aemond to the dragonpit, where a maid laid a cloak around your shoulders as you watched Aemond mount Vhagar, the breath stocking in your throat at the size of his dragon. Vhagar was large and old, barely able to turn in the dragon pit without brushing the cave.

“Come,” Aemond said, offering his hand to you before pulling you into the saddle, instructing you to hold on tightly.

“Soves, Vhagar!”

With a loud growl, Vhagar stepped out of the dragon pit before taking to the skies, her enormous wings stretching out several feet. The ride on Vhagar was much smoother than every ride you had ever taken on Tessarion, and it wasn’t long before you reached Storm’s End, dark clouds following you. Vhagar landed in the courtyard, you and Aemond climbing off.

“Just in time,” the Baratheon knight said, watching the rain pour from the skies just as you stepped under the roof.

“I am Prince Aemond Targaryen, brother of King Aegon II,” Aemond said, fixing his doublet. “I am here to talk to Lord Borros.”

The knight lead him into the Round Hall, where Lord Borros sat on his seat, seemingly having expected Aemond, his four daughters standing idly next to him.

“Prince Aemond, what can I do for you?”

“Lord Borros, I am here to ask you to pledge loyalty to my brother, King Aegon II.”

“King Aegon, you say,” Lord Borros said, arrogance dripping from his voice. “And what do you offer me for my loyalty?”

You were taken aback by his words, but Aemond only smiled, his hands locked behind his back.

“Your four daughters… They are still unwed?”

A smile spread on Lord Borros’ face and he gestured to his four daughters with his arm.

“Indeed. Are you proposing a betrothal?”

Aemond inclined his head. “Not only am I free to marry, but my younger brother, Prince Daeron as well. His lady companion can attest to his formidable character.”

Your eyes widened at Aemond’s words and you glanced at him, anger welling up inside you. So this was why he had wanted you to come. Aemond paid you no mind and you exhaled deeply, turning to face Lord Borros again, putting up a faux smile.

“Excellent, excellent,” Lord Borros said, clapping his hands. “Let us discuss-“

“My Lord!” A knight called, striding into the hall with quick steps. “Another dragon has been sighted, headed straight to Storm’s End.”

“Ah, that must be my nephew,” Aemond replied easily, your heart skipping a beat. Were you finally going to see Jace again? Lord Borros gestured to the side, and Aemond placed his hand to your lower back to push you along; you fought your urge to slap his hand away from you, eyes darting over to the door.

The heavy rain was still pelting outside, nearly drowning out the sound of the steps as a young boy entered.

“Prince Lucerys Velaryon,” the knight announced. “Son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

Luke, you thought, looking at the young Prince, now old enough to be delivering messages. The last time you saw him, he was round faced, his dark locks curling around his angelic face. Seeing him lessened the fire in your chest, though you were still angry at this whole situation, and you threw Aemond a look. He didn’t seem like he was paying any attention anyhow, his focus on his nephew who came further into the hall.

Luke’s step faltered when he saw Aemond, before his eyes laid on you. You tried to give him a comforting smile, show him you were a friendly face in a crowd of hostiles, knowing Luke was about to be met with a rejection, but he quickly glanced away, facing Lord Borros.

“Lord Borros...” Luke started. “I brought you a message from my mother... the Queen.”

“Yet earlier this day, I received an envoy from the King,” Lord Borros drawled, his tone less warm. “Which is it? King, or Queen? The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it.”

Lord Borros chuckled in amusement and you could tell Luke was nervous by the way he was shifting on his feet. Aemond seemed to enjoy all of it.

“What’s your mother’s message?”

Luke held out the parchment roll and the a knight fetched it, bringing it to Lord Borros, which he readily accepted, asking for the maester. As the maester quietly recounted the content of the message to Lord Borros, Luke glanced to you and Aemond numerous times, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Your eyebrows creased, but the corners of Aemond’s mouth tugged up.

“Remind me of my father’s oath?” Lord Borros spoke, the message seemingly upsetting him greatly. “King Aegon at least came with an offer: My swords and banners for a marriage pact. If I do as your mother bids… Which one of my daughters will you wed, boy?”

Luke hesitated. You pressed your lips together; he had probably expected less of a hostile welcoming. Lord Borros only scoffed at Luke’s silence.

“Go home, pup,” he sneered. “Tell your mother that the Lord of Storm’s End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes.”

Luke inclined his head, disappointed at the rejection.

“I shall take your answer to the Queen; my Lord.”

Luke turned to leave, but Aemond stepped forward, calling out to him.

“Wait, my Lord Strong.”

You glanced at Aemond, letting out a soft breath, nerves pooling in your stomach. Luke turned, despite the blatant insult.

“Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?”

Your hand reached out to grasp Aemond, but he slipped out of your grips as he stepped closer to his nephew.

“I will not fight you. I came as messenger, not a warrior.”

“A fight would be little challenge,” Aemond said. “No. I want you to put out your eye.”

He took off his eyepatch and you pressed your lips together, eyes darting between uncle and nephew, knowing this was about to escalate terribly.

“As payment for mine. One will serve,” Aemond added, throwing a dagger in Luke’s direction. “I would not blind you.”

Luke stared at Aemond in shock, his lips parted.

“Plan to make it a gift of it to my mother.”

Luke’s eyes dropped to the dagger on the floor, before he lifted his head. “No.”

“Then you are craven as well as a traitor.”

“Not here,” Lord Borros said, but no one paid him any attention.

“Give me your eye!” Aemond yelled, descending upon Luke, grabbing the dagger from the floor, while Luke stepped back, reaching for his sword. “Or I will take it, bastard.”

“Aemond!” you shouted, panic evident in your voice.

“Not in my hall!” Lord Borros cut in, his voice raised and Aemond stopped, turning back to look at him. “The boy came as an envoy. I’ll not have blood shed beneath my roof. Take Prince Lucerys back to his dragon. Now.”

Luke resheathed his sword, throwing one last look at you before he turned, hurrying out of the hall. Aemond let out a huff of frustration, throwing a dirty look at Lord Borros, exiting the hall without waiting for you.

“Aemond, wait,” you called after him, hurrying to keep up with his long strides. “You’re not thinking about following him on Vhagar in this horrible storm, are you?”

“He cannot get away with it, not again.”

Aemond’s voice was angry and you let out a breath, trying to keep a clear head.

“This is a thing from the past!” you reminded him. “Did you not gain a dragon from it?”

“You were not present when he took my eye!” Aemond hissed, taking a turn before you had reached the courtyard, just in time to see Luke on Arrax, flying out of Storm’s End. It was raining so heavily, you could barely see him, dark rain clouds swallowing Arrax and his rider easily.

Aemond was already walking towards Vhagar, the rain soaking, as you stayed put under the roof, hesitant.

“Are you coming, or staying?” Aemond shouted, climbing on top of Vhagar. You could feel the anger rolling off of him, something that Vhagar no doubtedly was feeling as well with the way she was growling and you wanted him to stay, calm down, but you knew it was no use, so you exhaled deeply, lowering your head.

“I am coming.”

You took his outstretched hand and he pulled you into the saddle behind him; you had barely settled in before Vhagar already leapt up in the sky.

The rain felt like small icy daggers in your face as you ascended higher and higher to the sky, easily catching up to the smaller dragon carrying Luke. Vhagar let out a roar, snapping her jaws at Arrax, as the smaller dragon breathed fire in your direction. It was clear that Arrax was no match for Vhagar.

“Aemond stop!”

Your voice barely carried over the rain, but Aemond disregarded you, his Vhagar as she darted to the left. You tightened your hold on Aemond, nerves coursing through you.

“What is it you’re trying to achieve, Aemond? You yelled, shaking him. “Are you trying to kill him?”

“That boy needs to learn how to fear me,” he only replied, tightening his reins on Vhagar, the distance between you and Arrax growing.

Aemond let out a frustrated growl, urging Vhagar to fly faster and you could feel the adrenaline rising as you almost caught up to Arrax again. You knew you were at a cross roads, and what would happen next would change everything, with Aemond consumed by his anger, and Vhagar following his emotions, someone was bound to get hurt. You had to do something. So as Vhagar descended upon Arrax, her jaws opening, you let go of Aemond, leaping off of Vhagar, almost immediately regretting it as Aemond yelled out your name, before you landed on Arrax, the wind being knocked out of your chest.

The young dragon let out a screech, dropping several feet down with the sudden added weight, just barely escaping Vhagar’s jaws.

“What are you doing?!” Luke screamed, the rain pelting against his face as he held onto his saddle tightly, Arrax roaring.

“Saving your life!”

You scrambled to find anything to hold onto, trying not to fall a gruesome death, your hands gripping onto Luke’s shoulders.

Vhagar’s shadow disappeared, but you knew her and Aemond were lurking inbetween the stormy clouds, you had to act fast. Your eyes were straining against the heavy rain, hand gripping into Luke’s shoulders.

“Do you trust me?”

“Not particularly, no!”

You grumbled, knowing his feelings were warranted, but this was not the time.

“We’re vulnerable. We need to find a spot to lay low, where Vhagar cannot come in.”

“Arrax is faster, I just need to get back home. It’s not that far!” Luke yelled back and you shook your head, even though he couldn’t even see you.

“That’s what Aemond is counting on! Please Luke, I know you don’t trust me, but I am trying to keep both of us alive.”

Luke groaned in frustration before tightening his reins on Arrax.

“Ilagon, Arrax!” Luke instructed. “Īlon jorrāelagon naejot jurnegon syt ruaragon.” Down, Arrax. We need to search for cover.

Arrax roared before you dropped several feet, flying by a range of mountains. You squinted your eyes trying to see anything in the rain, when you saw a cave several feet down.

The opening was small, too small for Vhagar to get in, but large enough for Arrax.

“Luke,” you said, squeezing his shoulder and pointing to the cave. “Down there.”

Luke nodded, leaning down to guide Arrax into the cave, and soon enough, the both of you were back on solid ground.

Arrax whined and Luke whispered to him gently, stroking his snout. “Lykiri, Arrax,” he said, leaning his head against his dragon’s. “Īlon jāhor jikagon lenton aderī, syt sir, ziry iksos daor ȳgha. Lykiri, issa valonqar.” Calm down, Arrax. We will go home soon, for now, it’s not safe. Calm down, my boy.

Arrax let out a soft whine, before curling in on himself, letting out a puff of smoke. With slumped shoulders, Luke sat down against the cave wall. You took off your cloak, laying it down so it could dry off before you sat down next to Luke, even as the boy avoided eye contact with you.

For a while, the two of you sat in silence with the occasional huff of Arrax, listening to the storm raging on outside. You hoped Aemond would cease his need for revenge soon. As a particularly loud thunder sounded, Luke jumped and you glanced at him, your heart aching.

“Are you well?”

Luke glanced over to you, trying to hide his tense shoulder by tightening his wet cloak around himself.

“No. But I’m unharmed,” he replied, his lips unmistakably shivering.

“It is better when you take off wet clothes, otherwise it might make you sick,” you said, leaning over to him to help unfasten his cloak, but Luke flinched away at your touch and your hands froze midair.

“I am sorry,” you said, breath bated. He must still be shaken, after seeing The Stranger right in the eyes. Luke let out a small breath, his fingers tightening in the fabric of his cloak.

“Did you know my uncle came to Storm’s End to kill me?” Luke asked, his voice small. “Did you come to make me lower my guards?”

“Forgive me?”

You knew their family affairs were difficult, strained from what had happened in the past, but you were stunned that he would expect this from Aemond, or you.

“I cannot speak of Aemond’s intentions,” you said truthfully. “Only of mine. I never wanted to harm you, and I did my best to keep you safe as soon as I realized that Aemond was too blinded by his need for revenge…”

Luke sniffed, wiping his cheeks and you moved to sit down in front of him.

“I’m only here to help you,” you assured him, holding your hands up in defense. “Arrax would turn me to ashes if I even touch you the wrong way, right?”

Arrax let out a soft growl at that and Luke gave you a small smile, nodding.

“Yes he would.”

“See, you’re in no danger,” you told him, your hand slowly reaching for his cloak, careful, as to not spook him. “Now take off your cloak and lay it down, it will dry off faster this way.”

Luke nodded, unfastening his cloak and laying it down next to yours before he took a seat beside you. Even though he had grown considerably in the years you had not seen him, he still was the little cheeky boy you remembered from before you had left King’s Landing.

“You have grown into a fine young Prince,” you told him. “I almost did not recognize you when you walked into Lord Borros’ hall.”

Luke quirked a smile at you, ducking his head. “I’m almost as tall as Jace now. He despises it.”

You grinned, pulling your legs close. You could imagine Jace just all too well, squinting at the mirror standing next to Luke.

“How is Jace?” you asked, your chest tight. You couldn’t believe how it was mere moon’s turns ago where you were exchanging letters, wondering why his replies seemed to become rarer.

Luke let out a small sigh, like it was a question that plagued him.

“Jace is… Angry. Ever since my uncle usurped the throne he has been trying to take action, fight for my mother’s claim.”

Your forehead creased.

Usurp?

“Pardon… Are you saying Aegon is not the rightful heir to King Viserys?”

Luke stared at you, mouth agape. “… Yes. He stole my mother’s inheritance.”

You only blinked at him, letting the news sink in as you leaned back against the wall, stumped.

“Now everything is falling into place… Why Aemond was questioning my loyalties, Rhaenys! Gods!” You covered your face with your hands, a gasp escaping your lips. “Daeron. I’ve left Daeron at King’s Landing without telling him that I’ve gone.”

You didn’t want to imagine what story Aemond has spun to make you a villain, to draw Daeron on his side.

“I’m sure all will be well,” Luke assured you, patting your hand consolingly. You only nodded, even though you were making up the worst scenarios in your head. Luke gave you a small smile, turning his hand when a yawn overtook him; Arrax had long curled up, his snores filling the cave.

“You should get some rest,” you told him, glancing over to the entrance of the cave where it was still pouring rain. “It might be a while before the rain ceases. I will wake you, when it is safe to leave.”

Luke semed hesitant, but then gave in, settling back against the wall, closing his eyes. As he slept, you noticed how he looked even younger, too young to be thrust into a war like this. Was this the fate that would meet Daeron, Helaena or even Joffrey? The thought unsettled you.

Time passed for a while, and it seemed like the clouds would never pass, but surely enough, the rain lessened, before stopping completely.

Gently, you shook Luke awake, feeling bad for waking him, but you knew he’d want to go home as soon as possible.

“Luke, the rain has stopped,” you told him, waiting for him to blink at you sleepily before you got to your feet, collecting your cloaks off of the ground. You handed Luke his cloak, fastening your own around your shoulders.

“It should be safe now. Aemond must be long gone.”

Luke nodded, glancing at Arrax and then back at you, hesitating, and you knew what he was thinking. You had been thinking it ever since you got to the cave.

“It is alright, Luke. Arrax is too small to carry us both all the way to Dragonstone. Go.”

You tried to be brave, giving Luke a smile but your voice was shaking, whether it was from fear or cold, you weren’t sure. You were a high born lady, you were in no way capable of fending for yourself. Luke leaving you here would mean a certain death, but he didn’t need to know that. Luke looked at you with big eyes, saying nothing before he walked over to Arrax, whispering to him as he stroked his dragon’s neck gently.

You let out a small breath, taking another look around the cave, resigning yourself to your fate when Luke called your name.

“Come, we need to leave before the weather turns again.”

“Luke, no,” you argued but Luke shook his head.

“You saved me. I am not leaving you behind. I would never forgive myself, and neither would Jace,” Luke said, and you let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. “Arrax can carry us both, it is not much longer until Dragonstone.”

You ducked your head, a smile on your lips. Rhaenyra really raised amazing children.

“Very well.”

The two of you squeezed into the saddle on top of Arrax, who let out a small huff as he walked to the entrance of the cave.

“Mēre mōrī kipagon gō īlon issi lenton, issa valonquar,” Luke said to Arrax, gently caressing his neck. “Soves.” One more flight until we’re home, my boy.

Arrax leapt into the air, letting out a screech before stretching his wings, making his way home. As you flew through the skies, your eyes darted around constantly, looking for any sign of Vhagar, but it seemed like the coast was clear. Soon enough, you could see the outline of Dragonstone, and just in time; as you had noticed Arrax growing tired the more you lost on altitude.

“Īlon issi bē konīr, Arrax. Sepār mirrī tolī.” We are almost there, Arrax. Just a bit more.

Luke’s voice was gentle as he spoke to Arrax, despite his nerves. You nearly sighed in relief when Arrax flew towards the small opening to the dragon mount, and you thanked all the Gods when both you and Luke climbed off of Arrax onto solid ground again.

“Prince Lucerys!”

A knight came hurrying into the dragon pit, his eyes flickering to you before turning his attention back to Luke.

“Her Grace has been awaiting your arrival.”

Luke nodded, watching Arrax climb into the depths of the cave to get some much needed rest before he turned to the knight. “Take us to my mother.”

The knight bowed, leading you and Luke into the Keep, stopping in the doorway. Rhaenyra was pacing in front of the fire, her face worried. You hadn’t seen her for so long, but she looked almost exactly the same.

“Prince Lucerys, your Grace.”

Rhaenyra ceased her pacing, looking up and the relief was obvious on her face as she ran toward her son.

“Luke!”

“Mother!”

Rhaenyra threw her arms around her son, embracing him tightly and your breath stocked in your throat as you stayed back. You couldn’t believe how everything could have played out so differently if you had not intervened.

Rhaenyra pulled away, cupping Lucerys’ face with her hands.

“What happened?”

“Aemond and Vhagar were already at Storm’s End when I arrived. Lord Borros refused to stand by his oath… When I left Aemond followed me on Vhagar; if she hadn’t intervened…”

Lucerys paused and Rhaenyra glanced over to you; you, who had stayed behind to give them privacy.

You bowed your head, mostly out of respect but also because you had no idea what to do.

“You’re Helaena’s lady in waiting,” Rhaenyra said.

“I was. I have spent my last eight name days in Oldtown with Daeron.”

Rhaenyra gave you a small, grateful smile, but before either of you could continue your talks, shouts interrupted you.

“Mother! Luke!”

You turned around just to see Jace storming into the hall, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Your heart stopped in your chest as you saw him again for the first time in so many years, relief washing over his face as he saw his brother stand with his mother unharmed. Then his eyes laid on you, and you gave him a shy smile. Jace only blinked at you, eyeing you from head to toe before his eyes widened; and for a second, you thought he’d be happy to see you. Instead, his forehead creased and his mouth curled downwards.

“What are you doing here?”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author’s note: omg the drama...what are we thinking??

[cleo-fox]

Conquer

Part 1 of 5

Series Masterlist

Summary: The king intends to take a bride.

You just never thought it would be you.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex (fem receiving), teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: I’m kind of fascinated by the concept of a soulmate AU where Loki wins and this is just another take on that thought. If you've read my fic Surrender, this one is a different universe (an AU of an AU? Is that a thing?)

I am indebted to @infinitystoner, who was kind enough to talk me through some of my doubts about this fic. This one is for you, K. (Also, everyone should go read her work, it's fabulous).

The king intends to take a bride.

At first you think it’s just a stupid rumor, but with time, it becomes clear that it’s not merely a stupid rumor, but a true rumor about a stupid plan. He hasn’t found his soulmate; the speculation is that this is about producing an heir or something similar. Which is also stupid because he’s the one who took over your fucking planet. He can make new rules for succession if he wants to. He doesn’t have to make other people suffer.

You, like most people, still harbor a lot of anger and resentment toward Loki.

You don’t know who he’s going to rope into this plan, but you feel bad for her already. Imagine not only having to be married to that monster, but being in this weird second place to whoever is unfortunate enough to be his soulmate. Imagine having to fuck him, to try and have his kid, all the while knowing you’ll be discarded once he finds his soulmate. Imagine having to go along with all of this and never being able to say what you really think.

The only person you feel sorrier for is whoever turns out to be his soulmate.

Later, all of this will strike you as absurdly ironic.

But you don’t know any of that yet.

*

You took a job at the hotel because you needed a change of pace after Loki took over. It was just a front desk job—you checked people in and out, answered questions, and said “let me get my manager” whenever there was a serious problem with a guest. It wasn’t glamorous or fun, but it was straightforward and you never had to bring work home with you.

The one thing that you never really considered was whether you were inadvertently choosing a job that would bring you into closer proximity to the man you were trying so desperately hard to not think about at all.

You probably should have considered it—you knew when you took the job that he did a fair amount of travel. You never really understood why—he conquered the entire fucking planet, you think he’d be content to just chill in his palace or whatever. But no. He was constantly on the move, constantly showing up and demanding to be accommodated, and people put up with it because what else are they supposed to do? You can’t exactly persona non grata the guy that successfully took over your planet and made himself king. If that worked, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.

You kind of assumed that he wouldn’t show up to your hotel—it wasn’t conveniently located to anything useful and while it technically had a five star rating, you didn’t think it offered the same caliber of accommodations as the places he was known to stay.

As it turns out, you were wrong on all counts. Hilariously wrong. Because now his steward is here in your hotel lobby. Or his…emissary? You’re not sure what this guy’s official title is. You recognize him from the news—he can often be spotted in the entourage of guards and staff that accompany Loki everywhere, but you don’t know his name. He is rattling off a monologue of sorts—the king requires accommodations, only the finest rooms, and so on. You feel as though you are having an out of body experience as you click through the booking software and confirm that the penthouse is available. You breathe an inner sigh of relief—it would have been manageable to evict whichever rich person had booked it, but it would have fucked up the cleaning crew’s scheduling for at least the next week and you know that corporate is already up Marisol’s ass about your location’s overtime.

You don’t really expect him to show up during this transaction. If you had, you would have said “let me get my manager” and washed your hands of it—you don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with self-proclaimed kings. But as you are booking the room (who the fuck are you supposed to list as the guarantor on the invoice? This wasn’t covered in your training), Loki storms in, followed by a cadre of guards.

You’re not really prepared to see him in person—that’s partly why you freeze. He’s so tall and well…real. It sounds stupid, but it’s jarring seeing him in front of you instead of on a screen or in a picture. He’s not exactly more frightening, but looking at him makes your pulse quicken.

He’s scolding the steward (emissary?) about something—you’re so distracted that you miss exactly what it is that has him so annoyed.

And then you realize that the mark on your left wrist is burning.

You swallow hard. No. Not him.

Loki looks up and his eyes lock with yours.

Fucking hell.

*

The wedding is a spectacle, to say the least.

Your dress is fucking ridiculous. Instead of the traditional white, you are draped in yards of green fabric covered in thousands of emeralds and diamonds and painstakingly embroidered with thread made of real gold and silver. It is very much a statement about who you are and who you belong to. You don’t care for it, but you don’t really have a choice—the details of the ceremony have been largely left to other people to decide. Part of you thinks they must have been planning for this for years, based on the number of things that are already prepared. Or maybe having access to magic negates the need for planning ahead.

You are much too angry to actually ask Loki about any of this. Not that you see much of him before the ceremony anyway.

You go through the motions of the ceremony, trying to keep your cool. It’s only been a week since he found you at the hotel, so the fact that you haven’t consummated your soulbond is more akin to an annoying itch than anything more disruptive, but when he kisses you at the conclusion of the ceremony, it's…intense, to say the least. The mild ache that settled itself between your thighs last week seems to swell, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core. When he slides his tongue past your lips, all you want to do is release a wanton moan directly into his mouth and rub yourself shamelessly against him. The fact that you’re standing on a platform while the entire world looks on is really the only thing that stops you.

The fact that this is your immediate reaction scares you a bit. You know it’s biology—soulbonds are meant to be consummated isn’t just a saying—but there’s part of you that feels like you should have a stronger handle on that impulse. You are mad at him, you remind yourself. He took over your entire planet, installed himself as king, and then had the audacity to be your soulmate. Focus. Be angry.

You wonder if your family and friends are watching. Your phone ran out of battery the night after he found you and you haven’t had the heart to charge it. You’re barely managing your own emotional reaction—you’re not ready to invite anyone else into it just yet.

The rest of your wedding day is a blur. You meet a bunch of important people and retain exactly none of their names or roles. There is an elaborate multi-course feast and you manage to eat without spilling food on your dress, which feels like a small miracle. You meet more important people and somehow retain even less information. You dance—a few dances with important people whose names you’ve forgotten, but mostly with Loki. The sun sets. They bring out an elaborate dessert course. You dance again. Loki’s hand on your waist fans the flames of desire that you’re trying so hard to ignore.

Finally, you’re whisked away to prepare for bed. It took three people to get you into your dress, and it takes just as many to get you out. They help you into a nightgown that you also didn’t get to pick out—and in fact, it’s the first time you’re seeing it at all. It’s almost too pretty to sleep in, though you suppose that’s the point—you’re supposed to fall asleep naked and sated in the arms of your new husband (god, it’s so weird that you have a husband). You’re not so sure that this is the specific fate that’s in your cards, but you anticipate the nightgown will be coming off at some point this evening. In the interim, you look stereotypically virginal in white lace and chiffon, a glittering emerald pendant resting in your cleavage.

You’ve been staying in a guest suite since he found you, but tonight, they bring you to his rooms. Your rooms, you suppose. Somehow, you doubt he’s the sort who believes that husbands and wives should sleep separately.

The lights are on, but it’s quiet. You wonder if he’s even here.

You approach the couch that sits in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. You can see fireworks and twinkling lights of different celebrations and your stomach clenches like a fist. It’s supposed to be in honor of you. Earth’s new queen. A title that shouldn’t even exist, let alone belong to you.

You turn away from the window and sit down on the couch. You stare at the wall, hands twisting the delicate fabric of your nightgown in your lap.

You hear a sound in the other room—his study, you think—and your heart leaps to your throat, practically buzzing with an emotion that feels like the strange cousin of anxiety and anticipation.

You keep your eyes locked on the wall as you listen to his footsteps draw closer.

“It’s customary to announce yourself when you enter someone’s quarters, you know.”

You pause for a moment before letting your gaze trail to him. It’s a conscious, obnoxious power play on your part—you are trying to show him that you still have agency, that he has not yet won your respect or admiration.

You’re not even sure that it registers, which only serves to irritate you further.

He is still wearing most of his wedding clothes, though he’s taken off the fine surcoat from the ceremony, exposing the soft tunic he was wearing underneath. He is smirking—that seems to be his expression of choice, you’ve noticed.

“Aren’t these my rooms too?” you ask. “Is it customary to announce myself in my own space?”

You are trying to be rude, but it doesn’t seem to matter: he simply laughs.

“You are spirited,” he says, looking you over appreciatively, stirring a wild and burning need in your hips, slickness collecting in the lacy white underwear that had been chosen for you.

“And you intend to break me, is that it?” you snap with more venom than is perhaps wise.

“Of course not.” His answer surprises you, though you are determined to not let that show in your face. “Your will is part of your appeal. I’d no sooner crush a rose beneath my boot.”

You are skeptical of this claim given the amount of damage he did to New York City, but your traitorous cunt throbs at his words nonetheless.

“I’m not happy about any of this, you know,” you say, hoping that your anger will act like roiling floodwaters on the firestorm of lust that’s continuing to build in your hips.

It doesn’t, of course. What’s worse: he laughs. Again.

“I’d gathered,” he says. “You are wonderfully unsubtle when you’re angry.”

“I mean, are you surprised?” you say irritably. “I didn’t even get to pick out my own wedding dress, for fuck’s sake.”

“This is the burden of the office, I’m afraid,” he says. “Your wants and desires are often secondary to the needs of the crown.”

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from screaming at him. “I think you’re missing the point.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not.”

You let out one long breath. “Are you trying to irritate me?”

Another smirk. “I’m afraid I simply have a gift for it.”

You finally give in and scowl. “Great. This is going about as well as I had expected.”

His eyes drift down the column of your throat to the emerald pendant resting in your cleavage and then to the bodice of your nightgown. “Perhaps it’s time we concern ourselves with activities that require less talking.” He licks his lips and brings his gaze back up to yours.

“I’m not entirely convinced anything would stop you from talking,” you say.

“I suspect letting me bury my tongue in your cunt might do the trick.”

For the first time today, you are entirely speechless. The fire burning low in your hips roars into an inferno, like someone has poured accelerant along your nerves and Loki has struck a match. You take in one shaky breath, your heart thrumming in your throat.

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a dark sort of smugness. “To bed, wife.”

You steadfastly ignore the way your stomach jumps when he calls you ‘wife.’ Why is that hot? It shouldn’t be hot.

You’re tempted to argue with him some more—you don’t like giving him even the vaguest impression that you’re following his orders or anything like that—but one smoldering look from him has your heart pounding and another wave of fresh arousal flooding between your legs. You follow him to the bed, trying to keep your expression neutral and indifferent.

He pulls you firmly against him and you wonder if he can feel your heart pounding in your chest. There’s no space between you—you can feel his stomach muscles expand and contract with every slow intake of breath, the press of his slowly hardening cock against your stomach.

He tilts your face up to his and claims your mouth in a devouring kiss, and this time, the moan that you’d held back during the ceremony slips from your lips almost immediately. He makes a low growling noise in return, his hands sliding to the row of small pearl buttons that hold up the back of your nightgown.

You suspect that beyond aesthetic and functional value, the purpose of these buttons is to facilitate a slow, sexy reveal; Loki undoes exactly two and a half buttons before roughly pulling the edges of the fabric apart, the remaining buttons snapping from their threads and pinging against the floor.

You pull away from him, immediately annoyed. “Do you make a habit of ruining other people’s things? What if I wanted to wear that again?”

He laughs, tugging the fabric off your shoulders. “Perhaps you forget the extraordinary powers I have at my command,” he says, staring greedily at your breasts as he tugs the nightgown down your waist, pulling it off your hips so it falls to the floor. “I could tear this gown off you every night and remake it every morning with no more than a click of my fingers.”

Fucking magic powers undercutting your goddamn fucking point.

“Yeah, well, you’re still a jackass,” you say sourly, unwilling to concede the point any further.

His smile is sharp in a way that makes you shiver and he slips his hand into your underwear, his smile growing as he feels how slick you are. “It doesn’t seem to bother you all that much, does it?”

You try to keep your expression stern, but his fingers find your clit and you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips.

“Your sweet cunt is so ready to come.” He slides a finger into you and you whimper. “It’s obscene how wet you are for me.”

You bite back a plea and kiss him instead. His mouth is rough on yours, teeth nipping at your lower lip, tongue plundering your mouth. He slides a second finger into you and you keen.

“Yes,” he groans against your mouth. “Take it like a good girl.”

You clench around his fingers and your hands seek purchase in his hair. You tug on it lightly and he growls with pleasure before he pulls away, his hands moving to the waistband of your underwear and tugging it off your hips.

“Get on the bed.” His tone brooks no arguments. “Now.”

It’s tempting to talk back, tempting to resist. You are still angry about every aspect of this relationship and this stupid fucking wedding. But you know you need this—the dull ache in your hips is only growing more pronounced with every passing moment and the brief feeling of his fingers on your clit was nothing short of heaven. Soulbonds are meant to be consummated and your body seems to be doing everything it can to propel you toward that end.

You kick your underwear the rest of the way off before sitting down on the bed and lying back on the pillows.

He pauses for a moment to look you over, his gaze trailing lazily over your bare skin, his hand absently moving to palm his cock through his trousers. “Spread your legs,” he says. You do and you catch a breath of a groan from him as he stares at you. Your cunt throbs in response and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whimpering.

He allows himself one moment before he crawls on the bed to join you. He kneels between your legs, staring greedily at your exposed cunt, running a thumb along the edge of your folds. Your hips rock upward involuntarily, chasing his hand, seeking friction.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he murmurs. “So soaking wet, so desperately needy for my touch.” He pauses again, licking his lips. “I think I might need a taste.”

Your breath stutters in your chest and he kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly licking and sucking his way upward in a tantalizing preview of what’s to come. You’re already soaking and you can feel yourself growing wetter as his sinful mouth draws closer and closer to your aching need.

You’re not entirely sure whether it’s a moan or a whine that passes your lips when he finally licks that first long, lazy stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit. He groans low and wanting against your cunt, his tongue rolling over your clit once more before he catches it between his lips and slowly begins to suck.

There is no getting around it: Loki is a pro at eating pussy.

It would be easier if he wasn’t, you find yourself thinking somewhere in the haze between orgasms. If he were mediocre, it would make it so much easier to be angry at him, to resent your current situation. This is not to say that you’ve abandoned your anger at all—you are still mad. But your anger feels so much less effective when he’s spent a solid ninety minutes with his head between your legs and you’ve lost track of the number of times he’s made you come.

He is—predictably—infuriatingly smug about all of this.

Your first orgasm arrives so quickly that it seems to take you both by surprise. And indeed, he lifts his head moments later, already smirking.

“That was awfully quick, wife,” he says. The glint in his eye tells you that he absolutely noticed how you reacted to that name earlier and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from scowling.

“Maybe you’re out of practice,” you say. Even as you say it, it doesn’t sound convincing (it doesn’t even make sense when you think about it later) and Loki laughs outright.

“I think not,” he says, carefully sliding one long index finger inside of you. “I think your poor cunt has been sorely neglected, either by you or some subpar lover you took to ease the ache of missing me.” He adds a second finger and you bite your lip to keep in a moan. “I think you’ll be begging for me before the night is out.” His fingertips press teasingly against that spot inside you and you take in a sharp breath.

He starts lazily moving his fingers in and out of you and while it feels good, you know it’s not going to be enough to get you there. You suspect, from the way that he’s smirking, that he knows this, too.

“Do you want my mouth again? I don’t think you’re done.”

“You’re trying to be a jerk and I don’t like it,” you say.

He laughs and draws his thumb briefly over your clit. “Darling, I only want you to tell me what you want.”

Your eyes narrow. “Why?”

“I think you can understand the appeal of hearing a beautiful woman beg for your touch.”

His compliment immediately clashes with the suggestion that you begging for him is a possibility.

He smiles, catlike, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“You need my mouth again,” he says, fingers curling inside you. “You need more. I can feel how wet you are, sweet thing.” His thumb presses against your clit and retreats as soon as your breath hitches.

“I could keep you like this for hours. Days, even,” he says, lazily stroking his fingers inside you. “I could keep you right on the edge, begging for your release. But I don’t think you want that. Even I don’t want that. I think you want to come again right now and I think you want my mouth.”

“I’m not begging you for it,” you say.

“I’ve only asked you to tell me what you want,” he says. “I’ve merely expressed that I find the idea of you begging very appealing.”

You want to smack him. With your luck, though, that would turn out to be one of his kinks and then you’ll really be in for it. Your fingers flex against the sheets.

“Do you want to come, darling? Do you want my mouth again?” he asks with a feigned innocence that suggests it’s not a loaded question, even as the glint in his eyes tells you it is.

You’re silent for a beat and then his thumb returns to your clit, pressing and stroking as his fingers curl inside of you. Your hips rock with his hand and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning aloud when he stops a few seconds later, his eyebrows raised like he’s expecting your answer.

This exchange repeats four more times. On the fifth, you finally break.

“Please,” you whimper. You sound more desperate than you would prefer, but your overwhelming need to come has quickly superseded whatever shreds of decency you have left.

“Please what?” he asks, radiating smugness.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl, which he only laughs at.

“I’m waiting…” he says, his fingers curling in a teasing way.

You know there’s no getting around this. “I need to come.”

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, like he’s expecting more.

You resist the urge to sigh. “I need your mouth. Please.”

He barely spares a second for a wicked grin and a growl of praise that only elevates your need before he’s lowering his mouth again to your clit.

Your second orgasm is somehow even quicker than the first, only this time, you’re already whimpering for the next one as soon as you catch your breath.

Mercifully, he doesn’t lift his mouth from your cunt this time, though he does give you a wicked look that more or less says the same thing.

His fingers are wonderful, but you know they’re no substitute for his cock. And while he has made you come so many times already, the need to have him inside of you continues to grow, settling into a dull ache in your hips.

“I need you to fuck me,” you finally breathe as the aftershocks of your latest orgasm fade back to that ache.

He lifts his head for a minute. “I intend to, but I don’t think you’re done yet.”

Your eyes widen as he seals his lips back around your clit.

“I mean, I’ve just—fuck—I’ve just had more…c-consecutive orgasms than I’ve ever had before in my life, you’re—oh my god, yes—you’re not exactly leaving me wanting—oh fuck.”

He stays silent, but it’s because his tongue is working over your clit. You, on the other hand, are in the process of undercutting your own point. A few more strokes of his tongue and you are coming again, your hips jerking hard against his mouth.

He doesn’t stop after that, either—he draws more orgasms from you, groaning into your cunt when you pull on his hair.

Your pleas for him to fuck you become increasingly desperate with every orgasm, until he finally lifts his head.

“What was it that you wanted?” he asks with a smirk that tells you he needs absolutely no clarification whatsoever.

“Fuck me, please. I need to be fucked, I need your cock,” you say. You feel restless and desperate, the ache inside you growing with every passing second.

“Oh, darling, all you needed to do was ask,” he says, his tone overly cloying.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl. “I have been asking. Repeatedly.”

He laughs and begins to undress. You suspect he’s doing this to torture you—you know he could remove his clothes in one go if he wanted to.

He peels his shirt off first and your lips part involuntarily as you take in the firm expanse of muscle of his chest and abdomen, your fingertips itching with the need to touch him. You grip the sheets instead in the vain hope that it might make a difference (it doesn’t).

But even the enticing expanse of his chest is no match for what’s to come.

He removes his trousers with achingly precise slowness. You expect him to be hard; what you’re not expecting is the primal response that it invokes in you. His cock is long, thick, and hard, the head already slick with pre-come. It’s not just for you—it’s because of you.

You swallow hard as he turns to face you fully. You’re so distracted by his cock that you almost miss the smug smirk, which he makes no attempt to hide. He knows he’s hot, he knows he has a beautiful cock, and he knows that you are absolutely aching for him. It is profoundly irritating.

He wraps his hand around his cock, wetting his lips as he casually strokes himself once. “Do you want me?” he asks with the sort of tone and expression that tells you he absolutely knows the answer.

You could yell at him. The prospect is certainly tempting. But you’re not sure that it’s worth it, not with the way your cunt is throbbing with the need to be filled with his beautiful, thick cock.

“Loki, please.” It comes out as more of a whine than you’d like, but you decide that you can live with it.

You are treated to a particularly wolfish grin before he starts stalking towards you.

There’s a large part of you that expects him to flip you over and take you from behind, rough and fast and impersonal. But instead, he climbs on top of you and draws you into a kiss. It’s deep and slow and heightened by the heavy weight of his bare cock pressing against your belly, drops of pre-come smearing against your skin.

Your back arches and your right leg snakes around his waist, trying to pull him closer, urging him to finally ease the ache inside of you. But he takes his time, kissing you slowly, running his hands over your breasts and hips, rocking his cock against you, but not inside of you.

You don’t like begging—it feels too much like offering up a vulnerability—but it becomes increasingly difficult not to give into the urge the longer he stays on top of you like this.

“Loki,” you finally say when he starts peppering sharp, sucking kisses against your throat.

“What is it, my love?” he asks with a faux confusion that you can see through right away.

“You know what I want,” you say as evenly as you can manage.

“Mmm, let me hear you say it just once more,” he says.

“Please fuck me.”

You’re expecting another negotiation, another battle of wits, but instead, he gives you a rather sharp grin and adjusts his hips so he can rub the tip of his cock up and down the length of your cunt. And then, to your surprise, he lines his cock up at your entrance and slowly begins to ease inside of you.

There’s a part of you—a large part of you—that’s surprised by how careful he is. He’s gentle, slowly pressing into you, giving you time to adjust, his movements careful. He does this all in such a way that you might not notice if you didn’t think to look—he wants you to think that he’s not doing any of what he’s doing. He wants you to think he’s not thinking of you when he is, that the care and precision of his movements are merely a pleasant coincidence. You’re not sure how you know this, but you feel certain.

He waits to kiss you until he’s pressed fully inside you, and you realize this is another illusion, another cover so you don’t realize that he’s giving you another moment to adjust to him.

It’s oddly considerate—irritatingly so. The coals of your anger still burn bright in your heart, but they flicker for just a moment.

But then he begins to move and coherent thoughts flee your mind entirely.

He feels so good. You’re not sure if it’s the soulbond itself, the dopamine and serotonin, or if he just knows the perfect way to move, but the first thrust has your toes curling and that warm heat stirring in your belly. You’ve already come so many times tonight that it feels impossible that your body should be capable of more, but you know immediately that he’s going to bring you right back over the edge if he keeps moving the way he is.

And he’s showing no signs of stopping, either.

“Norns,” he breathes, pressing a kiss against your neck, “you feel perfect. So warm and tight.”

You shiver, your cunt clenching reflexively around his slowly stroking cock. He grins and presses his lips up against your ear.

“Do you like hearing how your snug little cunt fits me like a glove?”

You would prefer to be able to lie in this particular moment—instead, your body immediately betrays you and your legs tighten around his waist as your cunt shudders around him.

You can practically feel his sharp, hungry smile as he nips at your earlobe. “I can feel how much you do,” he murmurs. A devastating swivel of his hips has you uttering a gasping whine that you are not at all proud of.

“That’s it.” He’s swiveling his hips on every other thrust now and you know the moment he switches to that exclusively, it’s all over. “You’re so close,” he purrs with confidence that annoys you just a little, even in your pre-orgasmic stupor.

But then he swivels his hips again and you shudder before you can hide it and he notices…and does it again.

And again.

Fuck.

Your orgasm starts barreling toward you at an impossibly fast pace and his eyes glitter because he knows.

“You’re going to come for me.” It’s not even a command—it’s just a statement as he rolls his hips in those devastating thrusts.

You whimper, your back arching.

“Give into it. Let me feel you.”

One more push of his cock against that sweet spot inside you and you can’t fight it any more. Your muscles tense one last time and you cry out as you come hard on his cock.

“Oh, beautiful,” he groans, his eyes closing as he fucks you through it.

It seems to last a long time, drawn out every time the head of his cock drags against that sensitive spot that sent you over the edge in the first place. He pauses briefly to bring your legs up over his shoulders, which makes his cock hit a spot even deeper inside you that feels so good it pulls a strangled sob from your throat.

Loki groans, his pace increasing, one hand falling between your legs to rub at your clit. It’s so much, but it feels better than anything. You feel another orgasm rising in your hips and you whimper.

“Good girl, fucking take it,” he slurs. You can tell that he’s getting close from the way his thrusting is becoming more frantic, how he tips his head back and grips your hips even harder.

“Come for me,” he growls. “I’m going to fill your lovely cunt with my seed. Come for me.”

Your vision whites out and your back arches as you come. If you were capable of rational thought, you would be angry that your body simply obeyed this simple directive; as it is, it’s hard for you to process anything other than how good he feels inside of you.

You can tell he’s approaching his end and he’s utterly captivating to watch. His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed and lips parted as he lets out a low groan that makes your toes curl.

His eyes open in the final throes and he surges forward to kiss you. He moans softly into your mouth as he comes, his whole body shuddering.

You feel dreamy and sated as he slows to a halt, lowering his head to the crook of your neck. The restless ache inside you is finally quiet—at least for now.

You expect him to roll off you and fall asleep—the portrait of a cliche. Instead, he stays with you, the warm heat of his breath ghosting over your shoulder. You can feel his cock still throbbing inside of you.

You should push him away, reclaim the distance between you. You’re angry at him, after all.

But also…it feels nice.

It’s just the endorphins, you tell yourself. It’s hormones. It doesn’t mean anything.

You can feel the lie prickling at the edges of the thought, sharp and needling, like ground glass pressing against bare skin. It means a lot of things; you just wish it didn’t.

Be angry.

His lips brush against your shoulder. More of your muscles relax. It’s nice.

Be angry.

You’re tired though. It’s been a really long day and the bed is soft and the weight of Loki on top of you is oddly reassuring.

Maybe just for tonight. Maybe just this once you’ll allow yourself to fall asleep in his bed.

“I’m still mad at you,” you say. It feels too sharp, too strident. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. He doesn’t know you, though, not really, and so you can only hope that he misses the subtle catch in your voice, that little note of uncertainty.

“I’d expect nothing less.” His voice is slightly muffled against your shoulder.

Goddammit, why does this have to be so comfortable?

He shifts slightly, easing out of you. You feel the resulting mess vanish before it even hits your thigh. At least he’s considerate.

You scowl at the thought.

“Sleep,” he says after a moment. “You’ll need your strength to rage at me in the morning.”

“I can rage at you in my sleep,” you say as your eyes slide shut.

“I’m sure you can,” he says. “Sleep.”

And despite all your complicated feelings—your anger, the inherent feeling of ease you get from his embrace, your unease with your new title, your homesickness—you find that the pull of sleep is too tempting to resist and the world slowly fades away.

Next chapter

[bonefall]

how much of Stormpaw’s demon are Maple’s curse vs just things that happen (cause in canon it’s really vague about whether Maple causes all those tragedies or has the ability to see his future for some reason)

EVERYTHING that happens in Stormpaw's Demon involves her. It's not being so dramatically renamed for nothing, she's a major driver and cause of the plot! Crookedstar's young name is in the title; but really, his demon is driving the misfortune.

That said... It's been a while and I'm heavily considering retooling the narrative.

Since I last REALLY worked on it, BB has changed in the sense that I'm a lot more willing to alter canon than I used to be. While my driving mindset used to be "telling a better version of the original story," and that IS a value I still hold... I've lost patience with the misogyny within the original work.

I've spoken at length about the way Crookedstar's Promise grinds my gears (PLEASE follow this link for a full breakdown of why), but in summary; it desperately tries to keep every male character likeable when they shouldn't be, saying nothing about the fact they are complicit in or even enabling abuse, while giving Crookedstar TWO flatly evil maternal figures. Even Brambleberry, who's heavily praised for being "like a mom instead," has a weird moment where she starts giving Crookedjaw the cold shoulder because she finds out he's chatting with a demon.

So like... I'm not sure if I want to make the "better version" of that story. That was the one that I already had, which had Mapleshade be acting entirely out of just the malice of wanting to hurt a child, while Hailstar and Shellheart are the excellent people canon wanted to see them as.

(not that it's even a BAD super edition, it's actually a really good one, but if it's my kitchen that's not what we cook here. Man I really do always massively overhaul my favorite SEs LMAO)

I think, specifically, I want to make Mapleshade slightly more morally gray and Hailstar more of an enabler. Shellheart is getting significantly retooled to make him more of the heartwarming parental figure I think he should be; someone loving to help balance out a very heavy rework.

And of course Brambleberry, I'm going to tweak her some. Try to make her flaws more consistent, get rid of that odd cold shoulder moment.

Old regulars will remember an old AU which is also still a massive favorite of mine; it was called Better Call Mapleshade, and it was kind of a commentary on how an environment can shape a person. Mapleshade, as a demon in heaven, was essentially their best prosecutor and defense attorney.

You can actually see how a lot of ideas from that AU ended up in Better Bones with the expanded trial system! I'm thinking of taking another page out of it, by making Mapleshade more aware of "the game" of Clan culture's structural unfairness, while also using it like a weapon against people she wants to hurt. A powerful demon of revenge.

Under the cut, what won't be changing, the way it was, and Draft 2 of Stormpaw's Demon.

(MASSIVE CONTENT WARNING FOR MENTAL AND PHYSICAL CHILD ABUSE including ableism. BB!Rainflower is WORSE than canon.)

WHAT WON'T BE CHANGING;

These are major details of Stormpaw's Demon that are different from canon. I'm working with these as givens and won't be changing between drafts.

Mapleshade does have a bone to pick with Appledusk's lineage specifically. One option might make her more discerning when it comes to her targets, but no matter what, she is going to have her eyes on this bloodline. She Haunts Applekin.

Rainflower is Hailstar's deputy. And I will make her downfall spectacular. If you were worried I was going to make her more sympathetic then you have no idea who I am LMAO

Shellheart is not Crookedstar's biofather While I want Hailstar to maybe be worse; I do want to fix Shellheart by making him a good parent. I've decided a good way to do this is to make it that Shellheart adopts Storm AFTER he's been abused by Rainflower. He didn't have authority over him before then. In general, I do want him to have a bigger positive role in this narrative. DEPENDING ON WHICH VERSION: Oakheart might also not be his bio-brother.

Crookedjaw is not a cruel name; it's an Honor Title. I've ALWAYS been frustrated by how canon treats scars and injuries as bad things. It's a BATTLE culture. Surviving brushes with death is their WHOLE THING. There is no "crookedkit" or "crookedpaw," he was Stormpaw until he earned his warrior name, with "Crookedjaw" commending the massive lengths he's gone to in order to survive, adapt, and honor StarClan.

Mentor change: Goodbye Cedarpelt, hello Magpiesky! I decided to repurpose one of the Barn Cats! Magpie from the books is a daughter of Perchshine-- the cat who killed Mapleshade. She joined RiverClan long ago. She's actually the one who points him in the way of the barn, and has to train him "as a punishment for teaching him disobedience" when he comes back. I actually have a couple of minor reasons for making this change but I'll spare them for now. He might start with Cedarpelt, but then run to the barn when Cedarpelt is basically refusing to train him properly.

Some family tree shuffles I need to update this tree to show Crookedstar's new situation with Shellheart (and also reflect some other changes I made like confirming Hallowflight fully being Lizardtail's honor title and Robinpaw being the apprentice who gets eaten by Ripwater), BUT, overall this tree is solid.

The ableism Storm faces is going to have a different flavor I have built BB in a way where him surviving his injury would be very respected, but he'd get badly coddled and pushed into early retirement. Him running to the barn is because he suspects he wouldn't have gotten training otherwise.

He kills a fox there because it's Cool. I might give him the tail to wear as a trophy of the kill because that's also Cool. The fox was very old and feeble at that point, which was why it was attacking chickens, but shhh

The Way It Was (Very Evil Mapleshade)

Darkstar's Commandment creating the Queen's Rights, that no queen would ever have to reveal the other parent of their kittens, wasn't enough to appease Mapleshade.

Nor was the damning of everyone that Mapleshade killed. In a fit of irrational fury at all the death, StarClan sent all her victims into the Dark Forest.

But she can't chase them. In the Dark Forest, you don't see someone unless you WANT to see them, not unless you're hanging out in a "land mar" (a sort of personal hell that all demons get).

on the off-chance she does see them, Frecklewish usually rips her to shreds...

Which is the next problem.

You can't DIE in the Dark Forest if you're a demon. You poof back into existence the next day, no injuries, no scars, nothing.

she's bored.

And vengeful. In spite of the wrong being righted, she still thinks she deserves MORE revenge, because what she wanted was really Appledusk.

She finds it unfair that HER legacy is snuffed out, that it's Darkstar's Commandment and not hers, that her babies were destined for greatness and by extension SHE should have been great.

So she takes up a hobby in tormenting Appledusk's descendants. She wants to eradicate them completely, but is spiteful enough that she'll just settle with hurting them.

The first one she managed to kill was Applefrost, Reedshine's son. Just by accident. She didn't know she had such power over the mortal plane.

After that, she managed to drown Duskwater. The daughter.

But she couldn't wipe out HER daughter in that storm... and she brought two more Applekin children into the world.

Stormkit and Oakkit.

So, naturally, Mapleshade turned her sight on the little fuzzball.

He would be an easy kill, in theory. She smashed Stormkit's jaw on the rock, but Oakkit pulled him out.

From there, it's similar to canon for a bit. His recovery is long and painful.

Rainflower is disgusted, and wants absolutely no part of helping him through this process.

That wasn't an injury gained in battle-- it's because he's careless and didn't listen to her. He's going through all this suffering, and for what?

To never become a warrior?

She's cruel to him, begins to neglect and distance herself from him. Discourages him from suckling.

Mapleshade LOVES this. It's worse than she could have imagined. Rainflower is horrible.

Gleefully, she realizes that Stormkit dying now is what Rainflower wants.

So, she kills two other kits in the nursery.

Fallowtail's only survivor is Willowkit, so she has plenty of milk. She starts suckling Stormkit.

(Graypool is now an older sibling! She's actually an apprentice at this time! Later, she encourages Willowkit to visit their father, who decides to just kidnap them completely)

Eventually, being the deputy, Rainflower had some kind of conversation with Hailstar.

During that conversation, she asked him to do something very cruel to Crookedkit.

And Hailstar LOST IT

He's the successor of Volestar, who was appointed by Darkstar herself to uphold the Queen's Rights and protect children.

How DARE you try to turn RiverClan into a place of disrespect?? To use my power this way?!

So, her power was stripped, and Oakkit and Stormkit were taken from her.

From there, Storm eventually goes to the barn as discussed, and Mapleshade continues to do things to hurt him.

This was my first draft, and now having thought about it a lot, I feel like it's not super cohesive. A demonic Mapleshade who's entirely malicious is neat, but I feel like this makes her flat. Shellheart's not tied in super well either, and Hailstar's stand feels kind of hollow because Rainflower hasn't actually used or leveraged the new authority I've given her.

But most egregiously? Rainflower's abuse being so close to canon tastes kind of bland. I feel like I can make it sooo much more intense, complicated, and painful.

Draft 2 of Stormpaw's Demon (Demon of Revenge Update) Essentially an outline for the first few chapters establishing Mapleshade by dealing with Rainflower and then fragments for the rest.

Mapleshade's still malicious, but this time, there's more to it.

Darkstar's Commandment, and the damning of her victims, DID appease this Mapleshade.

But is she satisfied? No.

She doesn't feel like she was wrong at all, actually. Without her killing those three in revenge for her kittens, StarClan's anger probably would have subsided.

She can't hunt her victims down again though, because, they don't want to see her. She fights Frecklewish every now and then but what's the point?

She WON already. She already GOT the euphoria of dragging them all down with her.

Punishing everyone who had ever wronged her was the highlight of her existence... but now it's done.

She's in Hell and she's bored. Her punishment is never seeing her kits again, but more importantly, her punishment is eternal shuffling through the leaf litter when she's SO GOOD at getting revenge.

Problem with revenge is, when you get it, it's gone.

She probably messed with Duskwater and Applefrost a bit, but if she killed one of them, it was accidental. It made her realize that revenge without a motive is just boring.

The prologue would probably open up with establishing her as a character. Who she is, what she wants.

Because the first chapter would dive RIGHT IN to Stormkit. The only child of Rainflower, the deputy.

Right along with Stormkit, you only learn in hindsight that he was born in a storm that killed his grandmother. It's clear that Rainflower reminds him of this often.

And that she's nasty to him. Giving him unclear instruction and finding things to critique, telling him to jump and then barking at him that he didn't ask how high.

She has great expectations for him, and reminds him of their family lineage often. Of who killed his great-grandfather, of what a fantastic pair of warriors Applefrost and Duskwater were

"I lost everything the night you were born. You'd better be able to make up for it."

Unfortunately, Stormkit is not the sort of child who's good at listening to those sorts of orders. He's stubborn and defiant; angry and oppositional.

When he doesn't understand why you do something, he doesn't want to do it

He "embarrasses" her a lot, and gets hurt for it.

In public, these are swats and whacks. The things you're "allowed" to do to discipline your child. In private these are a lot more severe.

So when Stormkit is given an order or a command, he obeys completely out of fear rather than respect. And sometimes he forgets his fear.

The other cats in RiverClan? Well... Stormkit is a problem child, and Rainflower is a fantastic, organized, respected deputy.

Hailstar especially, unfortunately. He feels bad... for Rainflower.

"It must be so hard for her to have such a little brat as a son. He never seems to learn his lesson. When will he stop wandering off? What's wrong with him? He certainly didn't get that from her."

His best friend, Oakkit, gets in the SAME trouble he does.

He's mischievous, fearless, and outgoing, and... never gets punished for it.

There's times where Oakkit does something and Stormkit physically recoils, just imagining what Rainflower would do if HE did something like that. Especially in how Oakkit talks to his dad, Shellheart.

For example, Shellheart will come to get his son for suckling time and Oakkit will tell him to his face things like, "I don't want to! I'm HAVING FUN!"

and shellheart doesn't flip out. He just. explains why it's important to eat on time.

"I know. But Fallowtail wants to go have fun too! She's waiting for you to come and suckle so she can go play."

"Well why can't she just play now and I suckle later?"

"When a suckler is full of milk, it makes their belly very itchy. She's uncomfortable when you don't come and eat on time."

"nnnh"

"Tough sell? How about I sweeten the pile with a badger ride back?"

"Hm. You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Dad."

Stormkit doesn't know why he hates it. He's all angry inside when he sees them acting friendly. He's polite because Oakkit's his best friend and Mr. Shellheart is really nice, but he just...

He's too young at the time to know he's envious. He wants what Oakkit has so badly it hurts.

Sometime after an exchange like that, Stormkit is visited by Mapleshade for the first time.

And they talk about Stormkit's anger and resentment. Stormkit lets it slip that he HATES his Mi.

Waits for Mapleshade to stop him and tell him, like everyone else does, that "she's still your mother."

...but she doesn't.

Besides Oakkit and Shellheart, she's the first person who doesn't tell him that.

She just lets him talk. Lets him go on. Starts making nasty jabs, which make him laugh.

"She says she lost everything the day I was born!!"

"What?! That's crazy! She got you that day!"

"Right?! It's like she's saying I'm nothing! Maybe she SHOULD lose everything, then she'd know what she's got!"

And then she asks, "Do you want her to die?"

Suddenly, there's a chill in the air. He's really shocked by the suggestion of that. He didn't... he didn't mean it to go THAT far. That's not what he meant... is it?

But she's fading back into the shadows, just her eyes visible in the dark. Tells him that she can see he's unsure. That's ok.

Holds up a budding sprig of sycamore, the maple she's named for. Its buds grow in a "deer hoof," with one large bud in the middle and two "toes" sprouting on its sides.

Teaches him that if he needs someone in his corner, all he has to do is call.

(to summon her, a bud is plucked off the sprig and thrown in the river.)

He wakes up with the sprig in his paw, panics, and shoves it under the nest he shares with his mother.

The experience shakes him. He probably ran to Brambleberry for the first time, who explains very seriously that he was contacted by a demon.

From the description... Mapleshade. The cat who killed his great-grandfather.

He BEGS her not to tell Rainflower. PLEADS with her. He can barely hear her already saying yes under the throbbing sound of his heart in his ears.

When he calms down, he hears her saying yes. On the condition she will need to smoke the nursery with sage and cedar, and that he will be needing a bath as well.

When he's still concerned that Rainflower will question him, she makes a plan to distract her for a day, long enough for him to do his cleanse and the smell to fade.

And, of course, that he will not follow any instructions that Mapleshade left him. He agrees. But does not tell Brambleberry about the sprig.

For a while he's very "well behaved." But it's not about him, never has been.

It really doesn't take long at all for Rainflower to get worse. Kids who are defiant like that are usually exercising a defense mechanism-- if they're not aggressive about their boundaries, their limits are pushed to a breaking point.

And after a big blowout like this, which was probably a public spectacle, Stormkit runs back to his nest and digs out the sprig, runs to the river, and throws a bud in the river.

Having calmed down from his shuddering fury, the dread begins to set in as a dead-smelling wind ruffles his fur. He can't help but feel like he just did something very stupid out of anger.

Looking at his reflection, he sees no cuts or swelling. The blows weren't "bad enough." He doesn't have the kind of injuries that anyone would do anything about. Equal parts guilt and frustration swell in him like a tide at full moon. How could he be sitting here wishing she hurt him worse?

So he tries to soften it, "I don't want her to die, I just, I... I just want her to lose everything like she says. Please..."

The wind whispers in his ear, "it will get worse before it gets better."

"I can handle that," he sobs, "I can do anything. Please. Make it stop."

After that, Oakkit probably runs to come find him. Stormkit doesn't want to be found. He makes up a childish plan, on the spot, to run away and join ThunderClan.

Oak says that's mousebrained, but Storm has DEVOTED himself to this plan he made just now.

And is crossing the stones.

Oak sighs, but if Storm's going to ThunderClan, he should really go with him because then they could totally fight off a small fox (Childish hubris)

Unfortunately, Rainflower found them. asks Exactly What He's Doing.

The kids freeze. Stormkit in particular has that horrible, twisting anxiety that you get when you hear The Tone that means you're in for an absolute wallop when you get home.

He's about to start running, but then the voice tickles his ear-fur again. Mapleshade tells him to go back. It'll be ok. She's on his side. She'll make her pay.

Oakkit is still frozen in place when, as if possessed, Storm's body stiffly returns to his mother.

There's a silence. The river trickling through the stepping stones. Storm looking with fear and anger up at her.

She's waiting for an apology, groveling. He doesn't give her one.

So she raises her paw and gives him an awful, hard blow.

His little body twists, flung off balance, trying to correct himself, and he can swear he felt paws pushing him a second time, whipping him downwards.

The feeling of falling fills his stomach, the water sloshes into his ears before there's a ring of a sound like CLUNK-CRUNCH, and then the river floods his nose and mouth.

It all goes dark.

When he wakes up, it's with a throbbing pain in the side of his jaw so intense that he can feel it all the way down in the tip of his tail. He learns from Brambleberry that Oakkit rescued him-- jumped right into the water to pull him out. And then Rainflower pulled him out. That was when Shellheart came and found them.

There's a LOT of arguing outside, but Storm can't ask what it is because it hurts to move his mouth at all. Brambleberry hushes and soothes him, telling him it's nothing he needs to know about.

(MEDICAL INFODUMPING: i do actually have a medical reason I want his injury to come from someone hitting him which causes him to fall. The injury he'd get in canon would actually be a really simple and common split in the front of the mandible, which wouldn't cause his mouth to have a dramatic twist and would heal very easily. He needs to come down on the rock at an angle to shatter the joint like that.)

From here, the tune about Stormkit starts to change.

Oakkit was distraught when they got back, telling everyone that Rainflower smashed him against a rock.

Rainflower's story is that he was running, and she chased after him. EVERYONE knows that he has a habit of doing this.

Then HE slipped and fell and hit his face on the rocks. His fault.

Oakkit was running away with him, he's lying.

Shellheart is FEROCIOUSLY taking the side of his son, furious that she would imply he raised a liar.

Hailstar is taking the side of Rainflower. It's two troublemaking kits against his deputy.

Yes, Rainflower's disciplined him before, but that's no indication she'd do something like this on purpose.

Brambleberry weighs in that the injury that Stormkit has isn't the sort of injury a kitten gets from hitting his jaw. The bone is shattered.

probably does some kind of visual to go along with it, using a stick and a stone

"The bones of a kitten are like the young shoots of a tree. When they fracture," she takes a young twig and snaps it in her paws. The fibers in the center are bent but unbroken, with the bark splintered around them, "they flay but don't snap."

She places the stick on the ground, "So for the injury that Stormkit has," and violently smashes the rock down onto it. It's shattered and pulped, the fibers flattened, "there would need to be a great force."

Shellheart hisses, saying that THIS is the evidence. Oakkit's story is consistent but Rainflower HAS to have lied.

Several cats are now on his side.

...But more are on Rainflower's.

"She's his mother. She loves him. Oakkit has to be mistaken."

"Why would she chase down her own son just to smash his face on a stone?"

"She wouldn't pull them out of the river if she really wanted to hurt him!"

Hailstar prompts if there's ANYTHING else that could explain this?

It comes up that Brambleberry cleansed the dens the other day.

She says that it's possible there is a demon's influence at work. She can't know for sure which one it is-- but it may have a grudge against Rainflower.

She allows them to reach the conclusion that it's probably Mapleshade on their own. She will be talking to Crookedkit when he's able, but she's not about to tell anyone about his dream yet.

She doesn't want him to have the extra scrutiny when he needs to rest and heal, but if she'd shared that an unnamed cat had a demonic dream, it would set off panic as cats accused each other of dark magic.

Rainflower manages to escape consequences by pointing out that it was likely Mapleshade that injured her son.

Oakkit is still trying to tell everyone SHE did it, he SAW it, Stormkit walked back and she hit him and smashed his jaw on the rock

But he's hushed. It's decided there's not enough evidence. And not enough reason to doubt the noble deputy.

She's never done something like this before, after all. It's more likely it was an accident.

There is a group of cats that are dissatisfied about this, though, and it only grows when Brambleberry explains that Stormkit's prognosis is not good.

There is a very high chance he will die. Even adult warriors can wither slowly from this sort of injury.

Recovery will be slow and it will be painful.

...but after that incident? Rainflower gets bolder. She got away with it in public. She got a taste of the leverage she has, how much they trust her.

Stormkit spends a lot of time floating in between his dreams and his living-world pain. There's at least one interaction where he speaks to Mapleshade, screaming at her that he TRUSTED her, he KNOWS she's the one who hurt him! How could she?!

She can't say much, kept at bay by a hazy smokescreen of sage. "You must live! You must survive!"

Her old words echo in his head; It Will Get Worse Before It Gets Better.

Throughout the recovery, Rainflower grows more cruel and more distant.

In public she likes to talk about how difficult this is for her, but he's strong, he will survive.

In private, she'll do things that hurt him, like repositioning his head in a way that "his jaw will heal better in." When he cries, she's unsympathetic.

"You brought this on yourself. This is for your own good."

Her definition of "private" is also changing. She's getting more comfortable with snapping at him in front of limited groups of people.

Since she's deputy, the other two parents in the nursery, Shellheart and Fallowtail, do their best to care for Stormkit while she's away. He's pulled away from them when she gets back, any ideas or suggestions they have vetoed.

When they try to go to Brambleberry about this, she shakes her head with frustration and tries to make them understand she knows... and she's just as unhappy with it as they are.

She tells them she keeps going to Hailstar, but he's still hesitant. Even though she's trying to tell him that Stormkit's recovery is being undermined.

"Rainflower's son has always needed tough love. She's his Mi and knows him best... she's still taking care of him. Give her a warning before suggesting anything drastic."

In the other draft, I had Mapleshade kill two of Fallowtail's kits to free up milk for Stormkit. I'm not sure I need that anymore honestly, plus, this rework's heavy enough! She can just have Willowkit without any deaths, while Graypaw remains an older sibling.

When Brambleberry informs Rainflower and Stormkit that the jaw isn't healing straight and it will probably be at an angle forever, Rainflower reacts with disdain.

"His first scar and it's nothing he earned?!"

She's reminded he might not even survive. He's lost weight. He's eating less. Stormkit curls up quietly. He hates how they talk about him like he can't hear them.

"Surviving is the bare minimum," she scoffs reflexively. There's a silence so thick you can cut it with a claw. After an uncomfortable heartbeat, she continues, "What kind of a life will he live if he-"

"a life," Brambleberry cuts in, "he'd live a life. And it can be a good one"

Rainflower growls, spitting that the twisted jaw is a disfigurement. He'll never be able to open his mouth all the way. He can't chew and he can't suckle forever. Stormkit will never become a warrior if he can't even dispatch a fish with a killing bite.

"Scars are the sign that StarClan has mended our bodies after fighting a good fight, making any Clanborn cat worthy of being an elder" Brambleberry preaches, "Names are what mark us, calling upon our ancestors to look down at us and witness our actions, Rainflower. Don't say anything you wouldn't want them to see."

Rainflower flicks her ear, seething, a rumble in her throat, "was that some kind of threat? As if I've said something wrong?"

"If you feel threatened, look within."

Stormkit resents all of this talk. He can feel his mother tensing up next to him, hears the low rumble progressing into a growl. When adults play stupid games with his mom, he's always the one who ends up dealing it. Why don't they get that?

It's only Shellheart who seems to have it click, "Hey, this is the nursery. Can you take it outside, please?"

As Brambleberry and Rainflower leave, Stormkit lays curled up in his nest, cold and alone. Oakkit leaves Shellheart's paws to curl up around his best friend.

Shellheart stares at them, shifting, but ultimately stays where he is.

There's a lot of words I could write there, between Storm and Oak. Ones where Storm speaks about how he just wants the pain to be done with. Others where Oak comforts him, tells him how much he means to him. More where they end up running into the wall that they're just two little kids and they've both learned the truth that they have no control over what happens when Rainflower comes back into that den.

But I think it would be good to end there, at the lowest point. Because it gets better.

Pissed off by being gently confronted, after her warning from Brambleberry, this is the moment where Rainflower goes too far.

Hailstar is gradually losing his patience. Every time this issue comes up, he's making some kind of new excuse for her.

She's still a competent deputy who holds the Clan together, but this has taken a toll on her reputation.

Her biggest mistake was becoming more open with her abuse after being emboldened. And I think Hailstar is beginning to feel like he's got "egg on his face."

After standing up for Rainflower several times, getting heat from Brambleberry, and now the Clan also starting to murmur...

It's getting very difficult to justify why he's sticking his neck out.

and maybe, part of him is starting to feel a little self-conscious about the way that his deputy is acting about her injured child.

When she comes storming up on this fateful day, interrupting whatever he was doing to make a proposition, it's the breaking point.

Her suggestion: "I've realized that there's only one way to ensure my son survives his injury. He's being haunted by our demon, which only started threatening him when he disobeyed me for the last time. WE need to teach him a lesson, and make sure StarClan gazes down upon him to acknowledge his mistakes."

"...how do you intend to do that?"

"Stormkit must be given a Dishonor Title."

A Dishonor Title, one of the greatest shames that a leader can put onto one of their warriors. A punishment that ranks just below exile in terms of severity.

"you want to put a dishonor title... on your child? one with a life-threatening injury?"

"One that acknowledges his carelessness. To protect him from the demon."

Protect him from the demon. "I see now what must be done."

Previously, I'd thought of Hailstar as someone who would be loud and merciless when he does this. Now I'm thinking it was something he put a lot of thought into. He stands up, brushes past her, and goes to talk to some of his most trusted cats. Brambleberry, his mate Echomist, an experienced warrior such as Piketooth or Ottersplash, and lastly, Shellheart.

So it's not a surprise to anyone but Rainflower herself. He doesn't want this to be dramatic. He doesn't want it to be another big scene. Stormkit has gone through enough.

When he eventually has this Clan meeting, he calls it quietly. In his address to the gathered cats, a crowd that Shellheart and his family are missing from at his request, he says that his greatest regret is that he didn't do this sooner. He even doubts that Mapleshade is haunting her at all-- now having seen her behavior, he says it's more likely that Rainflower bashed her own child against a rock and simply lied.

First, he announces that Stormkit will be removed from her care. He will no longer be of the Applekin bloodline.

She is banned from the nursery at the request of Fallowtail, and will only see Stormkit when supervised by his new Mi, Shellheart.

Brambleberry has already agreed to this necessity, and is performing a ritual so that StarClan may approve of this choice.

He also strips her of her deputyship, and appoints Ottersplash instead. (I might change this to a different deputy eventually)

Not everyone agrees with Hailstar. There's an uproar from Rainflower's supporters.

She was a VERY popular deputy.

More that are just uneasy, feeling that this was a BRUTAL punishment that she didn't deserve.

Lots are happy and optimistic, though. But the mixed reception is exactly why Hailstar asked Shellheart not to be here.

This isn't something Stormkit has to deal with right now.

When Darkstar herself, who created the Queen's Rights, was on her last life, she appointed Volestar to uphold the law as her legacy knowing that Oakstar might try to break it again.

Volestar appointed Hailstar, in the hopes that he would uphold her legacy in turn, to protect kittens and those who can't protect themselves.

He was late, and can only hope he was not too late. He hopes that Volestar can forgive him for that.

Meanwhile in the nursery, Shellheart, Oakkit, and Stormkit are alone, far in the back, where the padded moss keeps out arguing voices.

Oakkit, bless his little heart, is babbling with excitement because his best friend is his BROTHER now. And it's gonna be THE BEST.

He's talking about how it's fine he can't chew because now they can have soup, and they're going to make the nest bigger, and they can stay up later because they can whisper quieter if they're this close together

But Storm doesn't really hear him. His head's swimming, thinking about the dull ache in his jaw, how MAD his mom's going to be because he can't imagine her not finding a way to hurt him, how this is all his fault because he called Mapleshade.

He can't stop it anymore and starts sniffling, which turns into weeping. Still, he's TRYING not to bawl, knowing, knowing he looks stupid when he does that

Shellheart just pulls him in close, so he can bury his face in his fluffy chest. Tells him it's going to be ok. He's safe now. No one can hurt him there.

Not on his watch.

Unfortunately, it's not the last he sees of Mapleshade. After this...

Mapleshade shows him everything she did for him. Yes, she did smash his jaw-- but it was to get him away from his mother.

And she planted an idea here and there, just little whispers into Rainflower's ear. Nothing she wouldn't do all on her own.

And now... Mapleshade believes she's earned some respect.

Stormkit can't disagree... she did exactly what she told him she'd do.

And now that he's not Applekin anymore, they can be Real Friends. They could even strike up a partnership, of sorts. After all, what did StarClan do to help him?

It wasn't StarClan that answered his prayers.

I'm still figuring out what, exactly, she's going to want from him. I have a scintilla that she wants to give him a life, maybe as some kind of bridge to StarClan to see her kits?

Some strange "attempt" at redemption, perhaps? Which she ultimately doesn't get.

Not that she didn't enjoy doing all that for love of the game, mind you. She's very good at getting revenge and it's fun and exciting to pull it off.

But hey, if you're good at something, never do it for free.

What causes Mapleshade to ultimately turn, and begin haunting the bloodline again + Oakheart, is Crookedstar rejecting her in some way.

She comes to collect on her end of the bargain and he refuses, breaking their partnership. He chooses StarClan.

And then from there, it's ON again. Now she has another EXCUSE to do what she wanted to do, and take out her boredom and malice on his family.

This time, it includes Oakheart as well-- because he was Crookedstar's brother.

It was also her curse that harmed Willowbreeze and eventually Silverstream. She's on the warpath.

Maybe she actually helped make him leader on purpose. Like he explicitly asked so she helped him by making the squirrel omen, instead of just doing it for him unprompted. Still figuring it out.

Shortly after the scene where Stormkit cries, he needs to have a confrontation with Brambleberry about Mapleshade I think. She needs to explain why Dark Forest demons are seen as bad.

She's biased, of course, but it's not like she's TOTALLY wrong either. Cats like Mapleshade ARE vengeful, in ways many other spirits are not.

If you're curious, Crookedstar's dishonor title from Rainflower would have been something comparing him to a parasite and referencing his ""accident"" like Fleaskip or Midgefall.

The point she's trying to make with the Dishonor Title is that her son is an annoying bug who didn't listen, as well as subtly erase she fact she knocked him off that rock.

She wanted his name to say "everything that happened was my fault and my mom did nothing wrong"

Not that Hailstar got as far as even asking lmao

[jeankluv]

But daddy I love him - Gojo Satoru [epilogue]

short series

summary: If there was a phrase that could describe you, it was; good girl. You had been a good girl all your life, following your father's orders and being as modest as possible. You had focused your entire life on being a perfect lady, one who could be a good wife in the future. This is how you had been raised and how you had been instructed. But your whole world was shaken when one warm summer morning, your eyes met the bold, defiant and sharp gaze of a young man with white hair.

tags: +18, female!reader, set in 1700s-1800s, loss of virginity, misogyny language and thinking, oral sex, fingering, innocent oc, unsafe sex, vaginal sex, manipulative, eating disorders, abusive parents, no use of y/n, pregnancy talks

words: 3,6k

notes: so here is the epilogue of this short series that was a gif to everyone that started supporting my works on this app. Finally we close the story of Duke Gojo and angel. I hope everyone enjoys it 💋

ch.01 | ch.02 | ch.03 | ch.04 | ch.05 | epilogue

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist

It had been 8 months since you and Satoru met again. And as soon as Satoru could walk again you got married, it had been a bigger wedding than you had ever imagined, after all Satoru was a duke and a close friend of the prince so it had been something normal. Thanks to the wedding you also learned that Satoru was not as hated as your parents had made you believe, in fact Satoru was extremely loved by everyone.

Regarding your parents, you know that they were stripped of their titles and all their property and sent, along with others, to a prison near the border. Satoru didn't want you to see them, apparently they had completely lost their minds and he didn't consider it safe for you.

Satoru asked you if you wanted to stay with your parents' house, and go there during the summers. But although you will love that landscape and the smell of that place, the memories of those walls were mostly painful.

But those memories had been locked in a box and kept far away. Now you were creating new memories in that place you called home. You had arrived at the Gojo residence in winter and for the first time you had admired the snow. And you also met Megumi, Satoru’s nephew. Although the relationship they both had was more of a father-son relationship, after all Satoru had adopted him and taken care of him since he was 4 years old.

In those 8 months you had managed to feel at home and feel that you belonged to the family. Rose kept telling you how happy you looked, how bright you were again. And you also felt it like that.

Satoru had kept all his promises, from a library that you could never imagine to a summer house where you could enjoy the sea breeze again.

Now summer was starting again and that only brought back memories of how last year you were on the beach reading and a boy with a mysterious smile and sharp gaze approached you. Without knowing very well that that meeting would change everything about you.

“What’s my beautiful wife doing?” You felt how Satoru left wet kisses on your shoulder.

“I was just admiring the view and thinking.” You looked at him with a shiny smile.

“Thinking about what, my love?” He looked at you with the most loving expression.

“About us, about everything that has happened in the last year and how lucky I am.” You kissed him.

“I think I’m the one who is lucky.” He said.

Satoru began to kiss your neck, closing your eyes and pushed your neck back, giving him more space so he could devour you. You could spend years, but you would still be addicted to his kisses and his caresses.

“You know this white dress you are wearing today is driving me crazy.” He said, biting your ear.

“I thought it was cute for our getaway today.” You purred with a smile on your lips.

“Oh definitely it’s cute.” He smiled. “But I bet you look cuter without it.”

You could listen to Satoru say provocative things a thousand and one times and never get used to it. Despite the time, you continued getting nervous and blushing like the first time.

“Satoru…” You put your hand on his chest, feeling his buildup muscles under your hand. “We are on the beach.”

“That makes it even more exciting.” He smirked. “But no one will come, you know that.”

“You can't be satisfied, can you?”

“I will never get enough of you, my angel.” He says, before devouring your mouth again.

Satoru laid you down on the cloth that you had brought to sit on the sand and left a trail of kisses until he reached the cloth that separates your breasts from his lips. With a wicked smile on Satoru's face, he grabbed the hem of your dress and pulled it down, exposing your breasts to his blue eyes.

“So beautiful.” He whispered before introducing your nipple into his mouth and beginning to devour it only as he knew how.

Your back arched and your hands went straight to his hair, where they became tangled in the white hair. With each suck you felt your pussy getting wetter and wetter. You desperately needed Satoru inside of you.

“Satoru…” You moaned. “I need you.”

Satoru separated from you and smiled when he saw your state, disheveled, swollen lips, your nipples completely red and with your legs open, inviting him to enter. Taking off his belt and pulling down his pants, you felt your body react as his cock emerged from his underwear. It was hard, you could see it, very hard.

Satoru lifted your dress and yanked your underwear off, leaving you completely exposed to him. With his hand on his cock, he placed it at your entrance and with a grunt he entered you.

You purred as you felt Satoru fill you and begin to thrust into you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you reached out, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel the warmth of his skin and becoming one with each other.

His warm touch made you melt under his touch. Not only that, you become more desperate for more, wanting all of him to fill you, to kiss you, to adore you with passion. And you could see his hungry eyes, his frenetic pulse and desperate touch. He wanted you as much as you wanted him.

The shockwaves that ran through your body, made tears of pleasure run down your cheeks and inevitably made moans escape from your throat. Which luckily for you were silenced by the noise of the waves crashing against the coast.

Satoru growled your name with each thrust, his voice rough and full of intensity. The sound sent shivers down your spine, a mix of pleasure and anticipation washing over you. His hands, large and possessive, dug into the flesh of your thighs, leaving marks you would probably see the next day.

Every movement was deliberate and powerful, the rhythm relentless and intoxicating. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension in his muscles as he held you, his almost desperate grip on you.

Your mind struggled to keep up with the overwhelming sensations, each one more intense than the last.

Satoru's eyes met yours, his gaze was filled with hunger and that turned you on even more. His breathing became labored, you knew you were both close, you could feel it by the way he was throbbing inside you and the way your body was reacting.

Satoru spoke your name desperately with each of his thrusts, the way he said your name made your heart race even faster, and your breathing quickened with every movement.

His hands grabbed your hips with a possessive intensity, anchoring you against the sand that was under that fabric.

“Satoru.” You breathed, your voice shaking with the overwhelming sensation coursing through your body. His lips found yours again, swallowing your cries with a searing kiss that left you both breathless.

The desperation in his thrusts grew, each one more urgent and insistent than the last. Your nails dug into his skin, leaving marks.

You could feel the spiral of pleasure tightening inside you, his every movement pushing you closer to the edge. His name was a song on your lips, a plea and a prayer.

When your climax finally hit you, it was like a wave crashing over you, sweeping you away in a torrent of bliss. Your cries of ecstasy mixed with Satoru's guttural moans as he followed you to the edge, his release a powerful, consuming force.

Panting and trembling, they held each other, the aftershocks of their passion still coursing through their bodies.

Your chest rose and fell as you felt Satoru fill you. After a few seconds, Satoru pulled out of you and lay down next to you.

“Stop taking that medicine.” You said, still feeling your voice shaky and your body trembling.

Satoru turned to look at you confused. “What?”

You sighed and adjusted your dress back to how it was. “I heard you, with the doctor.” Satoru sat down. “I know you have been taking that medicine to prevent me from getting pregnant. And I know you did it because I was weak when we got married.” You said. “But ever since coming here, I gained weight and got healthier. Satoru, I want us to have a bigger family.”

“Angel…” He held your hand.

“Megumi has been asking me for a sibling you know?” You smiled. “And I really want it.”

“Megumi has said that?”

You nodded happily. “I want Megumi to have a little brother or sister. Don’t you?”

“I…” Satoru sighed and then looked back at you. “Yeah of course I would love that, but… you know how risky pregnancies can be.” Satoru’s eyes reflected concern, agony and fear. “What if…”

“Satoru.” You tried to calm him down. “I know the risks and I know what could happen but I think I’m ready.” You smiled.

Satoru sighed. “We will talk with the doctor and we will see, alright?”

You nodded and hugged him. “I love you.”

He chuckled and smiled back. “I love you too.”

You both hugged each other until the sun started to set down and the temperature of the day started to go down. Satoru picked you up bridal style and between laughter and soft kisses he carried you to the horse to return home. It sounded good, home.

It filled your heart with a warmth that you didn't know you could feel and a longing to return that you had never experienced. Normally you would extend your readings on the beach until the last ray of sunlight disappeared and the stars began to shine.

But at the Gojo residence, when you had to go out to attend to matters like the Duchess you were, you returned home with Satoru, with Megumi, who you could say had become almost like your own son, with Rose, Nanami and the household employees, who had given you affection and love from the first moment.

Entering the large hall you were greeted by several of the employees, including Rose, who had had a special glow for some time and you both knew what it meant.

“Ask the doctor to come tomorrow.” You heard Satoru speak.

“Duchess.” Rose bowed, you were still not used to that title and it still felt weird.

“Rose.” You smiled. “Did Megumi have his dinner?”

She shook her head. “He is waiting for both of you to have dinner together.”

You looked over to Satoru and this one smiled at you. “Let’s have dinner.” He held your hand.

You both walked to the dining room where you found Megumi concentrating on reading a book. Satoru looked at you and you gave him a warm smile.

“Gumi.” You called out to him and he quickly looked up from him to look at you both.

“Mom.” He put the book aside and ran over to you to hug your legs.

You still weren't used to Megumi calling you mom, the first time she said it you were completely paralyzed, not knowing how to respond or act, Megumi noticed that and regretted it but you told him that he did want to call you mom and then you would be very happy. And since then he had called you mom. On the other hand, Satoru was offended, since for years he had been trying to get Megumi to stop calling him simply Gojo, but the little boy didn't want to.

“I’m still offended that you don’t even call me uncle.” Satoru murmured.

You chuckled looking at Megumi. “Just give him time, right Gumi?” Megumi simply hide his face on your dress.

“A little bird told me that you want a brother or sister. But that won’t happen until you call me uncle.” Satoru challenged him and Megumi turned his face away from your dress and looked at him offended.

“Not fair.” He said.

“It is not.” Satoru smirked. “You just have to call me from now on uncle and you might have a sibling.”

“Satoru… you can not do that.” You said to him.

“Why not?” He looked at you with puppy eyes.

“He is a kid, give him time.” You said.

“Dad…”

“Yeah but why call me Gojo when…” Satoru paused and looked at Megumi. “What?”

“I’m not repeating myself.” Megumi walked away.

“Angel, did he just?”

“Yeah.” You smiled at him and noticed how Satoru was getting emotional. “Satoru…”

“Sorry, I just.” He shook his head. “I love you Gumi.” He shouted.

Megumi didn’t turn to look at him or say anything, but you knew that he was just embarrassed. Megumi opened out at you a few days after calling you mom from the first time about how he wanted to call Satoru dad but he was beyond embarrassed to do it. You found that heartwarming and adorable and seeing how they both reacted filled your heart with happiness and love.

The evening passed quickly between laughter, light conversations and Satoru's jokes and Megumi's protests for Satoru to leave him alone. You knew Satoru wasn't going to let go of the fact that Megumi called him dad and you felt a little sorry for him but it was fun to see his pout. Those new memories that you were creating with those new people that you didn't know a year ago filled your entire heart.

The next day the light passed through the curtains of your room, making you open your eyes to find the bed empty and the sheets cold, indicating that Satoru had woken up long before you. With your hips a little sore after your sex session last night, you got up to get ready to meet the doctor on that sunny morning with clear skies. Rose, like every morning I come into your room and help you.

Once ready, you left your bedroom and began to walk through the Gojo family's large house, still not getting used to all the wealth that you saw when you walked through the wide hallways, with their high ceilings and walls covered in ancestral portraits. .

Approaching the entrance you watched as Satoru walked near the large windows, his expression was a mix of concern and determination. Approaching him, you held his hand and gave him a comforting look, seeking for his agitated soul to relax under your touch.

The heavy entrance doors creaked open and the family doctor entered, whose presence attracted attention. Dr. Stone was a middle-aged man, with a kind but serious demeanor.

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Gojo.” Dr. Stone greeted with a respectful nod. His voice was calm and reassuring, a stark contrast to the turmoil you felt inside. “I trust you're both okay.”

“Good morning, Dr. Stone.” Satoru responded, his voice was firm despite the tension. “Thanks for coming.”

Walking down a hallway, the three of you entered an office where you could have a more private conversation. The doctor sat across from you, opened his case, and arranged his instruments with practiced precision. “So what was it that you wanted to talk about?”

You both looked at each other and Satoru took a breath. “We want to try to have a child.” You squeezed his hand. “And we wanted to know if my wife, well, if she doesn't run any significant risk by getting pregnant.”

Dr. Stone nodded and began his examination with a gentle, professional touch. After a few minutes he looked at you both and smiled. “There are certain risks, though.” He said he. “With careful monitoring and appropriate measures, I believe a successful pregnancy is within reach. It will require diligence and caution, but I am confident we can manage any complications that may arise.”

Satoru, who had been watching intently, let out a breath that he didn't realize he was holding. “Thank you, Dr. Stone.” He said with relief. “We appreciate his guidance and support.”

The doctor agreed, with an expression of understanding and empathy. “It is my duty and honor to serve this family. We will proceed with care.”

With a final bow, the doctor departs, leaving you and Satoru to digest the information. The room seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief, the tension dissipating like morning mist under the heat of the sun.

“Satoru...” You whispered looking at his expression.

But all the doubts you might have dissipated when you saw how Satoru smiled widely at you. "We could start now, don't you think?"

You rolled your eyes. “Always so needy”

Satoru's eyes, electric and searing, met yours with an intensity that made your heart race. He closed the distance between you in the blink of an eye, and taking hold of your face, he pulled you into a passionate kiss. His lips were insistent, full of desire and passion, wanting to claim your lips as his alone.

The kiss deepened, your tongues tangled in a heated dance, each moment fanning the flames of desire and igniting something fervent inside you. His hands slid from your face to your waist, pulling you closer to him, the heat of his body seeping through the layers of your spring dress. You could feel the hard lines of his muscles, his need for you as palpable as yours.

Without breaking the kiss, Satoru's hands began to work on the zippers of your dress. The fabric gave way under his skillful fingers, sliding down your shoulders until it reached your waist. The cool air of the room sent a shiver down your spine as he collided with your bare skin, but it was quickly replaced by the warmth of his touch as he explored your skin.

With a grunt, Satoru pushed aside the objects cluttering the desk. His strength and urgency left you breathless, your pulse pounding in your ears as he lifted you off the desk.

You moaned softly as his lips moved to your neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. His hands roamed your body, hiking up your dress until he bunched around your waist, exposing your legs. Each touch sent shivers of pleasure through you, your body arching against his in an invitation for him to continue.

Satoru's fingers found the hem of your underwear, teasing the delicate fabric before sending it somewhere in the room. You clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into his back as you writhed in pleasure, each touch bringing you closer to the edge.

With a final, desperate kiss, Satoru pulled away just enough to throw off his own clothes. Seeing him, naked and magnificent before you, made your heart skip a beat. He moved between your legs, his hands gripping your hips as he aligned himself with you, his eyes locked on yours with a burning intensity.

“You ready?” He whispered, full of need.

You could only nod, your breathing ragged as anticipation tightened within you. Satoru's lips captured yours in a searing kiss as he thrust into you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, an avalanche of pleasure that made you arch against him, your moans mixing with his moans of satisfaction.

He set a rhythm that was both tender and demanding, each movement taking you higher, the friction of his body against yours igniting sparks of ecstasy. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you surrendered to the waves of pleasure washing over you. His name was a breathless plea on your lips, a mantra of desire and need.

“Oh my lovely angel.” He said against your ear. “Can’t wait to fill you up with my baby.” You moaned loudly feeling how he grew bigger inside of you.

“Satoru.” Your body moved closer to him, wanting to be touch.

“So needy, my baby.” He said. “You want that right?” You bite your lips as he started to bite the skin of your neck. “You want me to put a baby in you huh?”

“Yes!” You moaned. “Satoru!”

Satoru's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate. With one last thrust your back arched and you felt Satoru come completely inside you. The room that just a few minutes ago had been filled with the sound of your voices agonizing from pleasure and your skin colliding, had now been plunged into a sea of ​​silence that was only interrupted by the soft sound of your breaths mixing, while you searched for it to return to normal.

“You know I love you?” He whispered against your now sweaty skin.

You smiled and touched his hair with love. “And I love you too.” You kissed his hair. “Thank you…”

“For what?” He looked at you with his eyes full of curiosity.

“For that day, for coming to me while reading and making me fall in love with you, for everything Satoru.” You smiled.

He shook his head and cupped your face with cherish and love. “I should be the one thanking you angel.” He smiled. “You don’t know how you change my life. I love you so much.”

And both of your lips connected in a sweet kiss full of love, understanding and commitment for one another. You were grateful for going out that day to read on the beach, for looking at those blue eyes, for going out to the back garden despite the warnings, for your heart, your body and your soul reacting to him. You were grateful that man was yours and you were hers.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Extra scene

You watched as Satoru whipped his tears away and Megumi looked at him with a weird expression, you wanted to laugh about the scene but your body was too exhausted to make a single movement, even for a simple laugh.

“You are going to scare her with that face.” Megumi said.

Satoru, still crying, shook his head. “Gumi, I can't help it. Look at your sister, she is so small.”

Megumi looked at her and nodded in agreement. “She is cute. Thankfully she looks like mom and not you.”

Satoru gasped offended and looked at you. “Did you hear that?” You hummed in response and Satoru walked towards you. “How are you feeling, my angel?” He sat down next to you.

“A bit tired.” You smiled. “But… she is finally here with us.”

“She is.” Satoru looked over to where your newborn baby girl was. “You did a great job.” He held your hand. “Thank you.”

Heavily you approached him and kissed him. “Thanks to you Satoru. I love you."

Satoru smiled. “How lucky I am that a woman as amazing as you wants to spend the rest of her life with me. I love you too my angel.” He whispered and kissed you again.

The kiss was interrupted by some small cries and you both smiled, realizing the new stage that awaited you.

Final note: thank you for the love and support ❤️ I have another Gojo fic called Birdie if you want to check it out, also a new Geto fic called The forgotten boy

🏷️: @catobsessedlady @zoeyflower @lavender-hvze @slashersgirlypop @tinydonkeysforlife @oddball08 @tttttttf @crybabytoru @fccxxxcvvx @augustine13028 @alwaysfreakingout @storacy

[chelseeebe]

and i never (saw you coming)

summary: coming back from college for the summer, you never would have expected to meet someone in your tiny town. and you most definitely would not have expected that someone to be steve fucking harrington.

a.n: so this is a henderson!readerxsteve BUT there are absolutely zero descriptors and no mention of being blood relatives or anything so please take the sibling relationship however you would like!! this is also a part one to a lil two part thing. set in s4 but i've changed it to be summer break rather than spring and i am finally writing canon material wherein the UD exists (part two) shout out to miss swift for the title xx

wc: 6k+

no smut but there may be in part two and as a baseline, i am an 18+ blog so please respect that. mentions of weed, drinking and sex. no use of y/n!

‎♡‧₊˚

Steve doesn’t usually make the effort to get out of his car to collect Dustin. But he had honked his damn horn five times now and was getting frankly sick of waiting for the petulant boy. 

He races up the gravel path, cursing under his breath about not being a fucking taxi and how he shouldn’t take him for granted. Steve’s sure there’s smoke coming out of his ears as he pounds on the door, prepared to give the boy an earful. 

His mouth is open when the door creaks open, “Dustin I have told you-,” it’s only then that he realises that Dustin isn’t the one behind the door. It’s you. 

“Excuse me?” you start, frowning at this apparent grown man who seemed to have a problem with your younger brother. As much as he got on your last nerve, you’d defend him to the moon and back. 

“You’re not- um, is Dustin home?” he asks sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck in utter shame. Dustin had mentioned you a few times and he was sure he remembered you from school but never really took much notice. 

“Why?” you ask pointedly, scowling at the man. He was from school, you knew that much. One of the basketball players that absolutely would have sniggered about you in the halls. 

“I’m giving him a ride to uh- to the movies,” he nods, realising that he sounded like an utter weirdo. 

“Aren’t you a little old to be hanging out with my brother?” 

Steve hesitates because yes, he probably was too old to admit that your little brother was his friend. Let alone the fact he considered him a best friend. 

“Uh.. I could see why you think that but mentally I’m probably more his age than mine,” smiling at you, genuinely not seeing an issue with his statement. 

Your eyes narrow, brows knitted together. You knew he wasn’t some dodgy old pervert but he had absolutely not helped his case there. “Right.. well, no. He’s not back yet so…” 

“Oh, well I’ll just.. wait in my car,” he nods, slowly turning to jump back into his car. Eager to not make himself look any stupider in front of you. 

You sigh, “you can wait inside,” opening the door wider for him, you wouldn’t hear the end of it from Dustin if you made his dear friend wait outside. 

He tiptoes into the house, eyeing the quirky decorations your mom had covered the house in. It was clear now why Dustin was so.. eccentric. He’s like a stray dog, hovering around the couch, too scared to sit down. 

You resume your spot, attempting to pay attention to whatever movie is on the TV but struggling knowing he’s still just standing awkwardly above you. 

“You can sit down, you know?” you bark, not bothering to look at him. 

He does almost immediately, running his sweaty palms along his knees. God, why was this making him so flustered? 

“You’re Dustin’s sister then?” the words falling out of his mouth without much thought. He wants to fall into the floor. Obviously you were his sister. Fuck. 

“Yup.” 

“Cool.. I haven’t really seen you before.. I’m uh-,” sticking his hand out for you to shake, “Steve.. Steve Harrington,” smiling as you glance at his outstretched hand, hesitantly shaking it. 

The mention of his name makes everything click into place. This is the infamous Steve that Dustin didn’t shut up about. You were in the same grade at school and had shared a few classes but had never really spoken. That might’ve been something to do with him being a gigantic prick the entire five years you were in school. 

“Oh,” you nod, trying to mask your apprehensions, “I remember you,” hoping that didn’t give too much of your distaste away. 

“Yeah.. I’m not like.. that anymore,” picking up on your obvious distrust. It’s not surprising that so many people still hold reservations about him, even he could admit that he wasn’t exactly a saint. 

You hum in response. You can mostly believe him because there was no way in hell Dustin would’ve ever become friends with someone like King Steve. In fact, knowing your little brother, he probably would’ve detested the kind of boy he was in school. 

“So.. you go to college?” he asks, trying desperately to change the subject. 

“Yeah.. uh, Chicago, I didn’t wanna go too far yanno?” not that you really could’ve. College was a last minute, fuck it kind of decision and you hadn’t really even planned on staying past the first week. But you had, and had even found yourself liking it. 

“That’s cool.. what do ya’ do? If you don’t mind me asking,” shifting in his seat, eyes dead set on you. 

“Language studies, it’s not cool or exciting at all but I enjoy it,” shrugging as you pick at the loose thread on your shorts, avoiding any direct eye contact. 

Despite Steve Harrington being a changed man, he still made you incredibly nervous and you felt like suddenly you were back in high school. He just had this aura to him and the way he carries himself, even now, was just intimidating. 

“No, that is cool? I wish I was smart enough for college,” chuckling nervously, “I bet it’s crazy out there.” 

Your definition of a crazy night meant smoking with Julia, your roommate, and eating a stupid amount of shit food. His definition of crazy definitely included some frat party and hooking up with some stranger in a crowded house. 

“Hah.. not really, I think maybe we have different definitions of crazy.” 

“Well, what’s your idea of crazy then?” 

You look around on the off chance Dustin and your mom had somehow snuck into the house completely silently, “getting high and eating a bunch of junk food.. not exactly the kinda shit you imagined.” 

“How d’you know what I imagined? Maybe I think that’s a crazy night too,” laughing at your assumptions, evidently he was still hanging onto that King Steve persona. 

“Nah.. you’re thinking of getting black out drunk at some party and then having sex with some girl you’ll never speak to again,” raising your brows, smug that you’d sussed him out completely. 

“Is that what you think of me?” jokingly placing his hand over his heart, shaking his head, “I don’t even like parties that much anymore and actually I think you’re right, that would be a crazy night,” smiling to himself. 

Because to him that did sound like a great night, and he’d kill to be able to do that with Robin and if it wasn’t for the fact that she got so intensely paranoid that one time they’d smoked together, they’d probably do it more often. 

“Oh, well.. you’ve surprised me,” giving him a small smile. You still had your reservations about him, but if he was good enough for Dustin, you were sure you could come to perhaps tolerate him. 

“Yeah, I do a lotta that nowadays.” 

“Well are you surp-,” you’re cut off by Dustin barging through the front door, nearly taking the damn thing off its hinges. 

“Steve? We’re gonna be late! C’mon!” he yells into the living room as if he wasn’t the one who had shown up fifteen minutes late. He’s huffing and puffing with his hands on his hips, clearly something inherited from your mother. 

“Woah dude, chill out,” he looks at his watch and jumps up out of his seat, “okay shit- sorry uh, oops let’s go,” rushing over to Dustin. He turns at the last second, waving at you over his shoulder, “it was nice to meet you,” a genuine grin on his face. 

“You too,” you call back, watching as your brother drags him out of the house. Muffled voices arguing over what time the movie started and how dare Steve enter his house without him present. 

Dustin’s still going on in the car after much push back from Steve that actually he was early and Dustin was the one who was late. 

“Your sister’s pretty cool,” Steve blurts out, driving along the bumpy road. He wants to rescind his sentence almost immediately after Dustin glares at him from the passenger’s seat. 

“Absolutely not. No, Steve. No.” 

“What?” flabbergasted that Dustin had so brazenly assumed he had some ulterior motive. He hadn’t even said anything. Not yet anyway. 

“Just no. I know you and I know what you’re thinking and I’m putting a stop to it now,” Dustin cringes, mentally perturbed by the thought of you and Steve even speaking. 

“Wha- dude, I was just saying.. you barely speak about her.. that’s all,” tapping on the leather steering wheel, playing it off rather smoothly, he thinks. 

“I know my sister’s cool.. way too cool for you, okay? So you should forget about it because it will never ever happen.” 

“I wasn’t even gonna.. you’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?” 

-

Steve’s sat in the booth, opposite what must be the worst date of his life. Dear God, Tammy Thompson was hot but holy shit was she annoying. Her voice agitating his ear drums with every word, irritating and nasally as she rambled on about her singing ‘career’. It wasn’t much of a career, Steve thought. Singing the national anthem in your high school gym was hardly a career. He thought it was quite sad actually. 

He nods along to her bullshit, maybe she would sound better when he got her into the back of his beemer. Well, he was hoping anyway. 

“You guys finished?” the familiar voice rings out across the table, his eyes darting from Tammy to find you standing at the end of the table with a fake grin plastered on your face. 

“I didn’t know you worked here,” he sounds confused, attention fully shifted from the blonde in front of him to you. Surely Dustin could’ve had the courtesy to let him know that you worked at his favourite date spot. 

“Uh.. yup, so you’re done?” still in customer service mode, trying desperately to ignore the awkwardness. 

“Oh, yeah.. thank you,” he smiles, pushing the empty plates toward you “how long have you worked here.. I’ve never seen you,” positively baffled but happy nonetheless. 

You shrug, “like sophomore year,” confused why he seemed to care so much, “I’m just doing part time over the summer..” stacking the plates as quickly as possible, wanting nothing more than to get far away from the awkward date you had stumbled upon. 

“That’s cool, I mean, I’m here a lot so..” 

Both you and Tammy flash him a look, granted hers was far more annoyed than yours. You mutter a small nice before scurrying off to the kitchen, relieved to be far from the impending disaster that was waiting to implode. 

-

Something’s not right. 

Even with Tammy practically climbing over the centre console to get to him, fully willing and eager.. he’s just not feeling it. Something or someone rather stuck in his head. They had been since last week and no matter how much he’d tried to shake it.. nadda. 

He pulls away from Tammy, sighing pathetically, “I’m sorry.. d’you mind if I just take you home? I don’t feel great..” he hopes it’s at least half-convincing. 

“Are you fucking serious Steve?” Tammy whines, staring across the car in utter disbelief.  

He offers an apologetic smile, shuffling in his seat to get away from her, “yeah.. must be something I ate.. sorry,” grimacing at this incredibly awkward moment. He couldn’t exactly tell her the truth, could he? 

“Whatever,” crossing her arms over her chest, frowning as she re-buckles her seatbelt, starting straight ahead. 

He starts the car with a sigh. She was a nice enough girl, but she just wasn’t.. well, she just wasn’t Dustin Henderson’s mysterious older sister who just hadn’t let this mind since you’d met last week. That was the problem. 

She doesn’t say a word as she gets out of the car, making sure to slam the door in his face when he leans over to say goodnight. He’s sure she’ll tell all her bitchpack friends who’ll vow to ignore him until he smiles at them over the Family Video counter and they’ll forget all about it. 

Why couldn’t that just work on you? 

-

You don’t see Steve for another week. Dustin normally runs out of the house the second he hears Steve’s car in the driveway meaning you don’t cross paths.

But now he’s sat in the exact same booth as last week, this time alone with a half empty cup of coffee in front of him. 

Your legs sort of work on their own, carrying your body over to the booth. It’s only when you’re stood at the end of the table do you realise you have no idea what you should even say to him. 

“Who’s the unlucky lady this week?” your mouth blurts out without second thought, startling him from staring out the window. His lips curling into a smile the second he realises it’s you. 

“No lady this week, flying solo,” internally dying from his choice of words. Yeah, that totally made him look cool. 

“Oh,” pulling the dirtied plate across the table, “Tammy Thompson didn’t work out then?” Why are you even asking? You shouldn’t care about who he dates. 

“Nah.. we didn’t really..” he mashes his hands together, “vibe,” smiling up at you from the seat. He obviously wasn’t heartbroken over it. 

“Well if it’s any consolation, I always thought she was a massive bitch,” and she was. One of those girls that prowled the halls waiting for somebody to humiliate. Bare in mind, Steve was too, he just picked on the weird boys rather than the girls. 

Steve chuckles, “yeah, she was.. or is.. I don’t know,” he’s sure that in her opinion, he was the bitch that didn’t want to hook up with her because his ‘stomach hurt’, and really that was a fair enough assertion. 

You give him a quick smile before picking up the plate, beginning to walk away when his voice calls out from behind, “what time do you get off?” 

“Nine.. why?” apprehensive as you answer. Spinning on your heel to face him. 

“I can give you a ride home? I mean, if you want?” 

You pause just before you reach the counter. It seriously would beat walking home in the summer heat. Dustin would certainly have a few choice words when you showed up at home in Steve’s BMW, but who cares? 

“Okay, yeah that’d be great.. thanks,” giving him a tight lipped smile, “you gonna sit there for the whole four hours?” 

“I- wh.. no,” laughing awkwardly because he hadn’t exactly planned what he was going to do until nine but he had assumed it’d be fine if just hung out here. “I’ve gotta go uh.. pick Robin up from work,” lie. He and Robin had worked the morning shift and she was off at some family dinner she had complained about all week. 

“Robin Buckley?” you ask, slightly confused as to how the two of them even knew each other. 

“You know her?” he perks up. 

“Eh.. kinda, we were in band together.. how do you know her?”

He’d love to tell you that they had become inseparable after nearly dying in a Russian basement with your little brother last summer. But he doesn’t. Because you, like the majority of Hawkin’s residents, were still blissfully unaware of the weird underworld that lived beneath your town. 

“We worked together last summer and now we’re best friends I guess,” it sounded far too simple as he said it out loud. 

He was an asshole in school and was well aware of that fact, someone like him would never have become friends with someone like Robin if it weren’t for the Upside Down. But he was grateful nonetheless, and telling you the shortened story was much easier than opening the can of worms that was the Upside Down. 

“Oh..” you nod slowly, “you really have changed, huh?” thinking back to Dustin’s constant appraisal of the new Steve and how you didn’t really believe any of it. 

“Yeah.. I don’t..” he clears his throat, “I don’t know if I was an asshole to you in school but if I was then.. I’m sorry,” looking sheepish as his head hangs low. In all honesty, he couldn’t really remember you ever being at Hawkins High but felt an apology was due either way. 

You nod, accepting the apology though the worst he’d ever done to you was the time he sat there and cackled as Carol Perkins knocked the pile of books out of your arm. 

“You want another cup of coffee or d’you have to go?” still clutching onto his dirty plate. 

He checks his watch, not that the time actually mattered as he’d leave here and probably end up driving around until it was socially acceptable to come back in. “I could do one more.. thank you,” grinning softly. 

You slip into the kitchen, questioning the warm, fuzzy feeling that had settled in your chest. Convincing yourself that it was only because he was being nice to you. Nothing more. 

-

Steve strolls in again at 8:40 after driving around the entire town, ending up parking in town and just watching the tiny clock in his dash until it turned 8:30 and he could slowly make his way back to the diner. 

It’s empty, has been pretty much all night bar the few regulars that seemed to spend their lives here. You’re sat behind the counter flicking through the Hawkins Post someone had left behind, reading about the upcoming bake sale. Riveting stuff, really. 

“You’re early,” you point out, looking at the clock that had moved incredibly slow all day. 

“I had nothing else to do so thought I’d try and squeeze one more cup of coffee from you,” he grins cheekily, testing the boundaries of this incredibly new.. friendship?

You roll your eyes, motioning over to the pot, “help yourself,” sending one of the clean coffee mugs over the counter so he could do your job for you. 

The clock slowly ticks over to nine and you do one last check around the place to make sure you’d done everything needed. Javie, the cook, had gone home already, thankfully cleaning the kitchen before disappearing. Begging you not to tell Kevin he’d slipped off early with a promise of whatever you wanted to eat on your next shift. 

You turn the key in the door as Steve stands behind with his hands shoved in his pockets, “are you normally the only one in there at this time?” walking beside you to his car. 

“No, Javie normally finishes when I do but he had a date or some shit so he left early,” shaking your head. It would’ve been useless to make him stay anyway. 

Steve jumps in front of you, grabbing the handle before you got the chance, pulling the door open, “Oh.. good, yeah that’s good,” closing the door and clambering into his own side. He wants to believe that he’s not sure why the mention of Javie’s name made him feel so funny.  

“You sound disappointed.. were you planning on robbing me?” chuckling to yourself. 

“No! No.. what? It just seems unsafe for you to be there on your own so late..” 

“It’s nine pm Steve.” 

“Yeah I know but.. there are a lotta weirdos in Hawkins yanno?” starting the car as quick as possible, not wanting to stick his foot in his mouth any further. 

You smile, it was very kind of him to look out for you after all. “Yeah.. I’m in the car with one right now,” glancing at him with a shit eating grin. 

“Oh ha ha.. you’re so funny,” rolling his eyes in jest though his lips twitch into a small smile. 

“I know that actually,” turning to watch the trees as they disappear behind you. The air is perfect, reminiscent of the summers you had here as a child. 

Steve takes the opportunity to look over at you admiring the night sky. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, this was going to be the death of him. 

Well, you were. 

-

Steve’s itching to just ask him, get it out while he’s driving so Dustin can’t run away. 

“So.. I have a question for you,” testing the waters before fully committing. 

“Uhh.. what could you possibly have to ask me?” Dustin asks, curious. 

“Well.. I need you to ask your sister if she’d maybe wanna come to the movies with me,” he holds up his hand to preemptively stop Dustin’s inevitable reaction, “I accidentally bought two tickets and I don’t wanna let it go to waste, so don’t start.” 

“Steve, I already told you that that is not happening.” 

“It’s not a date Dustin,” Steve hisses, “you said she liked horror movies so.. I thought she might wanna come.. that’s all.” 

Dustin looks incredulous, “since when do you like horror movies?” 

“Uh.. since forever?” lying through his teeth. Steve hated horror. Would point blank refuse to watch anything even remotely scary when Robin suggested it. 

“You’re a bad liar,” Dustin frowns, he’d had many of his own movie suggestions shot down by Steve for being inappropriate and too scary. 

He rounds the corner, pulling up onto your drive. He was running out of time to convince Dustin to do this for him. And see, he’d do it himself but that would mean he’d undoubtedly end up a bumbling idiot in front of you and that was not what he was aiming for. 

“Can you- will you please just ask her?” he begs, pleads even. 

“Fine,” Dustin rolls his eyes, sliding out of the car. His feet dragging along the pavement as he walks into your house, not bothering to give his usual wave to an idling Steve. 

He slinks up the stairs, banging on your bedroom door. Get it out of the way and then he could mourn the loss of both his sister and his best friend as quickly as possible. 

“Yeah come in,” you call from the other side, closing the notebook. 

“Steve asked me to ask you if you wanted to go and see some movie with him, he also wants me to tell you that he accidentally bought two tickets instead of one but I think you and I are both smart enough to know that isn’t true,” your brother rolls his eyes, perched in your doorway. 

You smile to yourself, rolling your eyes. It was childish but admittedly endearing, “tell him to ask me himself and I’ll think about it.” 

Dustin nods, frowning as he walks over to your bedroom window, leaning out of it to holler at Steve who was still sat in his car awaiting your answer, “she told me to tell you to ask her yourself,” sticking his middle finger up at him before storming off into his own room. 

You watch him leave, open mouthed before going to the window to find Steve looking up to your window. He points towards the door, shrugging. This really wasn’t how he’d have liked this to go. 

The door swings open and you blink at him, allowing him the opportunity to go first. This was his question after all. 

“D’you wanna come to the movies with me? I- Dustin mentioned that you like horror movies and I don’t wanna waste this ticket.. it’s cool if not,” Christ, he really needed to stop hanging around Robin so much. She had a knack for being completely defeatist before even receiving her answer and it was clearly starting to rub off on him. 

“Yes, I’ll go to the movies with you,” smiling softly at him. He really was light years away from the dickhead you once despised, now just some shy guy trying to ask someone out on not-date-date. 

“Okay,” he responds with far too much enthusiasm, “great.. Friday! I mean- I’ll pick you up on Friday.. eight o’clock,” cheesing as he walks back to his car. Throwing up a thumbs up before realising how stupid he looked and rushing to get into his car. Heart fluttering out of his chest. 

-

You’re shitting it. 

It wasn’t a date. No really, it wasn’t. 

But you couldn’t help the nerves bubbling up in your stomach as you wait for him to pick you up. 

“I think this is disgusting by the way,” Dustin pipes up, scowling as he paces the hallway. Desperately trying to conjure up a plan to stop you from going. He couldn’t think of anything worse than his sister and his best friend dating. He shudders at the mere thought of it. 

“Well it’s a good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion,” rolling your eyes, peering out of the window to see if his car had pulled up yet.  

“Why can’t you date any of the other losers in this town? Or someone at college? Why does it have to be Steve?” his shoulders slump, frown evident as he skulks into the living room. 

“Oh my God Dustin, stop it. Yanno, the more you complain about it, the more I’m going to make sure it happens,” letting go of the blind and giving him a smug smirk. For his sake, it probably would just be a movie. 

You weren’t exactly Steve’s usual type so you were certain that the second someone from school spotted you together he’d probably get embarrassed and drop this little crush. But hey, you could entertain the idea for the summer and perhaps you also had a tiny, smidgen of a crush on him too.

The doorbell rings out and Dustin lets out a ghastly wail, rushing to answer the door before you could. “You never come to the door for me!” he pouts, glaring at Steve who stood nervously on the front porch. 

“Because I don’t like you,” Steve jokes, attention quickly pulled from your younger brother as you appear behind him. “You look.. nice,” smiling as Dustin’s eyes ping pong between the two of you. 

“Thank you.. so do you,” barging past Dustin who looks positively distraught, “don’t cry too hard,” you call out, walking down the path beside Steve. The door slams when you reach his car and you share a look with Steve, giggling as he opens the door for you. 

The second you sit, the nerves come spilling over. This was no longer just a silly thing you could tease Dustin about anymore, it was actually happening and you were here and he was here and you were about to go on a not-date-kinda-date. 

You’re both fairly quiet on the ride to the cinema, exchanging small talk about your days and the movie you were about to watch. It was fairly obvious that he’d bought these tickets specifically with you in mind, because Steve Harrington would not willingly watch Friday the 13th, especially not on his own. 

“So you accidentally got two tickets, huh?” eyeing him from across the car. 

His cheeks flush, bottom lip trembling as he attempts to come up with something to explain his bullshit story, “I- fuck, no.. I didn’t,” looking bashful as he pulls into the parking lot, “I didn’t actually think you’d say yes.” 

“Why?” 

Steve sighs as he turns off the ignition, “I don’t know.. you’re like cool and in college and I’m just some loser from high school,” shrugging half-heartedly, finally meeting your eyes. 

“You’re not a loser.. you were a loser but, I think you’re pretty cool now.” 

His eyes widen, his smile fighting to come out, “I think most people would say the opposite,” he certainly didn’t hold the same level of prestige he had in school anymore. In fact, he’d sorta lost it in senior year when he’d decided that people like Tommy H and Carol were not the type he wanted to associate with. 

And it wasn’t like he’d lost it all, girls still fawned over him and the basketball team would still get excited to see him but he had kinda just slipped into the background. Another guy who had peaked in high school that was destined to stay in this dead end town with a dead end job and a wife he’d grow to loathe. At least, that’s what he had always pictured. 

“Yeah well, I’m not most people,” climbing out of the car. Not once in your life had you ever thought you would be telling Steve Harrington that you thought he was cool. Much less getting out of his car to go see a movie together. 

You’re met with a genuine smile from over the roof of the car, he doesn’t need to speak for you to know that he appreciates your words. 

For a moment you forget where you are until his eyes linger a little too long and your heart begins to pound again. Pulling your own gaze away and mumbling something about missing the trailers. 

-

It’s unfortunate and a little sickening but you can hardly focus on the film and even though it’s dark, you can feel his eyes shift to your face every few minutes, distracting you from the movie. You don’t look back of course, keeping your eyes firmly glued to the screen. 

His hand shifts suspiciously close to your knee, stopping just before he makes contact. You’re trying your hardest not to overthink it.  He’s just.. moving his hand. That’s all. 

Fuck. 

You were fucked. 

Your hands are practically trembling as you sit there. Finally gaining enough courage to look back at him the next time his eyes wander. 

Steve’s not like you, see. He’s a little nervous of course but he’s had years of experience with girls, knows all the tricks in the book to get them falling for him. And when it really came down to it, he could unleash his moves to have you right where he wanted. His eyes don’t flicker back to the screen, they lower, gazing at your lips instead. He wants to do it. He does. Urging himself to just lunge forward and close the distance between you. 

But you’re not like that. You wouldn’t have even looked at him twice in high school, immediately and rightfully passing him off as the dickhead that he was. These tricks were futile on you. 

“Watch the movie,” you whisper despite not watching it yourself, blinking rapidly as you feel your cheeks heat up. Praying that the dark of the cinema would shroud your flushed face. 

His lips twitch before slowly pulling his eyes away, nodding to himself as an acknowledgement to be on his best behaviour. 

It takes every single fibre of your very being to get through the rest of the movie without looking at him again. 

“Well I actually enjoyed that,” he professes loudly, walking out of the theatre a few paces behind you. 

“Oh? I’m surprised you actually saw any of it,” walking to his car in the pitch black parking lot. 

“I wasn’t talking about the movie,” grinning as he lays on that signature charm. It’s shameless and you feel like a fool for even falling for it. 

“Shut up,” you mutter, pulling on the door handle as his car remains locked. He sidles up to the passenger side, one side of his mouth curled into a small smile. 

“How tired are you on a scale of one to ten?” mere inches from your face. 

“Hmm.. a five.” 

“Great, get in,” leaning closer to open the door for you, outstretched arm keeping you between his body and the car. You swallow harshly, slipping past him and into the car.

You’re not sure if you like this version of Steve, the one that had the confidence to make you a bumbling fool for him.  

“Where are we going?” you eventually pipe up, bewildered that you had just let this boy drive you to this mysterious location without any contest. 

“You’ll see.” 

The very second he turns onto the darkened road you groan, knowing exactly where he had taken you, his motivations becoming increasingly clear. 

“Fucking skull rock?” you exclaim. Everyone had heard the rumours in school, this was his spot and girls were to be extremely appreciative if he brought them here. You should’ve known really, he hadn’t changed a bit. 

“Well yes, but that’s not why we’re here.. I swear,” only now realising how scummy this looked but the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind until it had yours. 

Your arms wrap over your chest, jutting your bottom lip out, “then why are we here?” you sounded disgusted with him. How could you have been so stupid? 

“Because I-,” the car stops in the tiny lookout spot, “wait, get out of the car,” he instructs, hopping out of his side. 

You don’t move a muscle, refusing to fall for his tricks once again. So he walks around the car, opening up your door, “look, I wanna show you something,” his tone is desperate and it makes you ever so slightly believe him. 

There was no chance he was that eager to make out with you surely. 

Your nostrils flare as you get out of the car, immediately wrapping your arms back around yourself. “What? What could you possibly have to show me out here?” 

“Just look,” pointing towards the sky. It was littered with stars, bright and twinkling with the view of Hawkins in the distance. It was breathtakingly beautiful, a sight you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. 

He chuckles, “I come here sometimes.. just to think and stuff,” scuffing his shoes on the loose stones, “I thought you’d appreciate something like this,” hands shoved into his pockets, gazing at you as you gaze at the sky. 

“Wow.. you can see everything from here,” still marvelling in the absolute beauty, blissfully unaware that he was doing the same, just not at the same beauty you were seeing. 

“I thought you’d like it,” dragging his feet along to the bonnet of his car, leaning back against the maroon metal. “I’m a little offended that you just assumed that I was tryna get you here for any other reason though,” laughing softly, what more could he do to prove that he was no longer that meathead jock from school? 

You finally break your gaze, looking at him as you join him on the bonnet. Heart pounding as your elbow brushes against his as you shuffle further up the car. It’s so silly, you feel like a fool, trying your hardest to contain your flushing cheeks. 

“I’m sorry..” admitting that perhaps you were a little harsh, “but can you blame me? We’ve all heard the stories,” purposely knocking your elbow into his arm, wiggling your brows. Turning your attention back to the picturesque view in front of you. 

“Yeah yeah.. that was a long time ago, I told you, I’m not like that anymore..” it’s only a tiny lie. He still made out with girls in his car and took them to darkened corners of your tiny town. But see, the difference was that he was actually trying to date these girls, mindless sex was no longer his goal. 

“Yeah I can see that now..” your shoulders slump, relaxing as your guard comes down, “thank you, this is a really cool spot and I’m grateful you chose to share that with.. me,” smiling softly. 

“You’re like the second girl I’ve ever shown this to.. by the way.” 

“Second?” poking fun at him. 

“Robin came first, obviously,” choosing to ignore your little dig. 

You had wondered why he wasn’t just dating Robin, he was a changed man now and obviously the pair got on like a house on fire so why wouldn’t he have tried it with her? Maybe he had and she’d shut him down. She seemed cool enough in band, definitely not someone that would ever be interested in Steve, no matter how much he had changed. 

“Ahh.. obviously,” trying desperately not to sound jealous. 

“So you like it?” watching your face instead of the sky once again. 

When you pull your eyes away from the sky to look at him, you’re taken aback to find him already staring back. “I love it,” the way the moon illuminated his face left you breathless, struggling to contain your heart in your chest. 

“Good..” he smiles before descending into some ramble about the stars and how he had discovered it. 

You weren’t interested. Focused on one thing and one thing only. Deciding against your better judgement to just do it. It was utterly reckless and someday you might live to regret it but you’d regret it tomorrow if you didn’t. 

Pressing your lips to his, quietening his little tangent. It takes him a moment to register what was happening and you doubt yourself, wanting to pull away and run through the woods hoping to never see him again. But it finally clicks and he springs into action, masterful hand snaking its way through your hair, resting on the back of your head. Keeping you right there, pressed to him just like this forever. 

Your hand nervously finds his cheek, brushing over the slight stubble that adorned his jaw. There’s no urgency, no ulterior motives. Pure and simple, only a desperate need to stay like this forever. 

You pull away, lips still lingering over his. A small giggle erupts from your throat, crumbling under his stare. “Sorry..” you mutter, still trying to catch your breath, “you were saying something..” 

“Sorry?” he exclaims, keeping his hand intertwined in your hair, “don’t ever be sorry for doing that.. like ever,” the stars reflecting off of his chestnut eyes back into yours, his features intricately lit up by the sky. 

“Okay..” laughing slightly, “okay.. I’ll keep that in mind,” shying away from his eyes, dipping your head. 

There was not one part of you that would have ever guessed that you would be the one to make a move on him first. Or that he could ever be so sweet, so kind and thoughtful and you feel awful for ever just assuming the worst of him without even giving him a chance. 

You’re pulled out of your head when his head dips down to match yours, “can we do that again?” thumb tracing back and forth along your neck. You nod quickly, chest bubbling with excitement as his lips connect with yours once more. 

It must’ve been gone three by the time you sneak back into your house. Praying that Dustin is already asleep as you sneak back up the creaking stairs. 

It’s too late. You’ve been caught. 

“Come here,” he whispers harshly, peeking out of his bedroom door, his brows furrowed. 

You oblige, slipping into his room and shutting the door quietly, “you gonna give me a lecture?” 

“No,” he sits cross-legged on his bed, “I was going to ask if you had a good time,” willing to put his pride behind him for the sake of his dear sister's happiness. 

Your frown turns into a grin, joining him on his bed, “I did.. he’s really nice, Dusty,” moving the deconstructed lego set from his duvet so you could scoot closer. “If you really don’t like it.. I can tell him that we can just be friends,” smiling earnestly at your little brother, it would suck but after all, he was Steve’s friend first.  

He sighs, swallowing his disgust, “you don’t have to do that..” this is hard for him to even get out, “if you’re happy then.. I’m happy,” giving you his brotherly blessing. 

You beam at him, “but, I have some rules that you’re both gonna have to agree to,” setting his boundaries for your budding relationship. 

“Shut up,” you giggle, ruffling his mop of curls before collapsing back onto his bed. 

You’re happy. Genuinely happy and you’re not sure anything could happen to change that. 

[alastor-is-best-deer-boi]

The Littlest Morningstar

Rating: Gen

Warnings: None

Tags: Pre-canon, fluff, domestic fluff, parenthood, canon compliant for the most part I think except maybe one headcanon

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Lucifer and Lilith Morningstar admire their newborn daughter, Charlotte.

Note: After episode five I just had to write this! I had it stuck in my head and needed to get it out. I know posting it right before new episodes tomorrow seems crazy, but better now than tomorrow I think. Hope you enjoy all the fluff! This is my first Hazbin Hotel fic, so I hope it's not ooc.

Also, I know the title is ironic considering Charlie grows up to be taller than her dad, but it fits in this context.

Additionally, we need more little Charlie gifs! I know it's not accurate to the fic, but it's the best I can do.

Also Read on AO3

Lucifer sat slightly curled up with his wife, Lilith, on their bed. The couple leaned against each other, taking in the quiet, peaceful moment with the newest addition to their family, their newborn daughter.

He watched how his wife doted on her sleeping daughter, bundled up comfortably in a soft blanket. Lilith whispered sweet words to the infant, a smile on her face. Lucifer felt like he’d fallen in love with his wife all over again, his heart full of love for his precious family.

“What’s on your mind, dear?” Lilith spoke, still keeping her tone soft to not wake up Charlotte.

Lucifer looked up at her, a small smile on his face. “Just thinking about how lucky I am to have both of you in my life… and, I don’t know, I guess I’m feeling a little overwhelmed with love right now.” He chuckled softly, wiping a tear from his eye.

Lilith beamed, taking his hand in hers for a moment, rubbing gentle circles with her thumb on his skin.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

She let out a small sigh, though still with a happy expression. “Tired… but overjoyed.”

“It was a lot to go through, but you, of course, handled it gracefully throughout the whole thing.” He kissed her hand.

“The whole thing? I feel like you may be exaggerating just a tad.” She joked.

“No, I mean it. How could I possibly lie about my beautiful, strong, and amazing wife, huh? It’s not something I’d do.” He grinned, meaning every word he said.

“Thank you, honey.” Lilith smiled and placed her hand on his cheek, leaning closer to kiss him.

Lucifer gladly accepted, closing his eyes and enjoying her presence. They eventually parted and rested their foreheads together; both smiling.

He pulled away when he heard the tiniest-sounding yawn he’d ever heard in his life; causing a wave of emotions in his heart. Lilith and he looked down at their tiny daughter. Her face had scrunched up, and with some effort, she opened her eyes.

“Oh, just look at her, Luce…” Lilith cooed, making sure her daughter was still settled comfortably in the blanket.

He could feel tears welling up again, quickly wiping them away and smiling. “She’s beautiful.”

“She looks like you, has your eyes.” She murmured, looking down at her with a small smile.

Lucifer felt a swell of pride seeing how similar his daughter’s eyes looked to his. Long ago, he struggled with some of the changes that had been done to him when he fell, the color of his eyes included. But seeing them in his daughter, they suited her wonderfully.

“Her eye shape is like yours, and she kinda has your nose,” he commented. “I think she’s a perfect mix of us, right?”

Lilith couldn’t help but smile again. “Absolutely perfect. Do you want to hold her?”

“Oh, really? You sure you’re ready to hand her over? Just look how small she is, practically the size of my hand! So fragile… I just… well, I…” He chuckled nervously, stammering.

“Honey, you won’t hurt her. It’ll be okay.” She cut off his anxious rambling, attempting to soothe him.

Lucifer looked up at her, slightly furrowing his brows and nodding, attempting to get his nervousness under control. “I’m sorry, you’re right… I guess I’m just…”

“Scared? I understand. You’re not alone in this.” She gave him an empathetic look. “We’ve been practicing for the whole nine months. You got this.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and nodded again. “Thank you, Lili. I’m ready.”

“Don’t forget to unbutton your shirt a bit. Skin-to-skin contact is important for newborns.” She explained.

“Oh, uh, right.” Lucifer muttered and worked on unbuttoning a few top buttons on his shirt. He was significantly dressed down for the whole experience, wearing a long-sleeved plain button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and slacks.

When he was done, he held his arms out, carefully taking the infant in a secure hold as his wife slowly passed her to him. Little Charlotte blinked a couple of times, looking around the room. She had managed to wriggle one of her tiny hands out of the swaddle, still having her little fingers in an instinctive fist.

Lucifer held her close to his heart, hoping she could feel all the overwhelming love coming from the people who loved her most. He smiled, listening to her soft breathing and quiet coos.

“We’re so glad you’re here with us, little one,” he spoke softly, noticing how curious she was, continuing to look around. “Yeah, it’s a big change… all these new sights and senses. But you’re safe here with us. I promise.”

Lilith rested her head against her husband’s shoulder, watching them both lovingly.

Lucifer gently touched her soft, chubby cheeks. His thumb carefully rubbed the adorable little red circles on her face. They were just like the ones on his face.

Charlotte made a little content coo, already heading for the process of babbling. Though it would be a long while to get to that point. She reached her tiny hand out, gripping Lucifer’s finger.

“Wow… she’s way stronger than she looks.” He chuckled softly. “I suppose she takes after her mother.”

Lilith placed her hand on theirs for a moment, not fighting the urge to smile again. “She takes after both of her parents.”

He nodded, feeling tears in his eyes start to well up again. “She’s perfect… thank you for giving me the opportunity to be a father, I mean it.” He looked at Lilith, feeling nothing but pure love.

She smiled and gave him a quick kiss. Next, she kissed her daughter’s head; causing the newborn’s face to scrunch up in surprise for a split second.

Lucifer chuckled at her adorably confused expression. “You okay, Char Char? I guess it’s another new thing to get used to.”

“Char Char?” Lilith repeated, an amused smile showing on her face. “She’s barely hours old and you’ve already come up with a nickname?”

“Ah, well, I guess I couldn’t help myself… she’s just so cute!” He blushed a little from embarrassment.

“Of course she is. Look who her father is.” Lilith teasingly flirted a little. She laughed shortly, seeing how red his face turned.

“Thank you, dear.” Lucifer smiled and looked away for a brief second before looking back down at his daughter, gaining his composure somewhat.

Even though she wasn’t at the age yet to know how to smile, the corner of Charlotte’s mouth pulled up a little, giving the appearance of a smile.

Lucifer rested his face against Lilith’s shoulder for a second. “I don’t know if I have the strength for this Lili.” His voice muffled slightly.

She picked up on why and chuckled quietly. “Why is that?”

“Just—look at her! My heart can’t take how cute she is,” he said in a hushed tone, turning to look at his daughter again.

“I guess you’ll have to get used to it.” She smiled.

“I have no choice.” He sighed, clearly smiling as well.

Charlotte cooed again, and he gently patted her head, feeling the soft golden curls of her hair.

“I can tell she’s getting sleepy again… or maybe hungry… or both.” He furrowed his brows. “I’m going to have to learn all the differences.”

“You’ll get them in time,” she replied.

“Do you want to take her again?” He asked. “I don’t want to hoard all the baby cuddles…”

“If you’re okay with it, and there’s no such thing as hoarding baby cuddles.”

Lucifer scoffed lightheartedly. “Yet.”

He kissed Charlotte’s little red cheeks before handing her back to her mother. He watched her settle back into her mother’s arms, yawning again.

“Oh, you were right about her being hungry… I’m guessing after this she’ll probably fall asleep again,” Lilith spoke, nursing her daughter.

“Sounds about right. That’s the life of a baby, especially one as new as her.”

Eventually, as they had predicted, Charlotte fell asleep. Lucifer listened to her calm breathing again, feeling at peace, which had been hard to come by in his life before.

“We’re parents now,” he stated. “This is our new life…”

“Still feeling glad about it?” Lilith asked.

“I’m overjoyed.” He spoke honestly. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

She nodded. “I’m sure after a bit we’ll settle into our new routine.”

Lucifer looked up at her and smiled, appreciating how wise she was being. What would he do without her?

“I know I sound like a broken record, but I’m so lucky to have you two… I love you both.” He managed to keep his voice steady.

Lilith kissed his cheek. “I feel the same.”

Lucifer hoped he’d be good at this whole father thing. He knew that realistically every parent made mistakes, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t give it his best. And it didn’t change the fact that no matter what, he would love his daughter with everything he had.

“I love you, Charlotte. More than anything.” He thought.

[waywardnerd67]

I Trust You

Title: I Trust You Summary: A chance meeting leads to midnight confessions and overcoming your deepest fears. Main Characters: Glen Powell, Reader Pairing: Glen Powell x Reader Rating: E - Everyone Warnings: RPF/Fluff/Angst w/ mentions of: touch deprivation, touch aversion Word Count: 3103 A/N: Trying to work out some feelings.

The party was in full swing. People were dancing, drinking and making out throughout the house. I happened to find a secluded corner in the backyard that no one seemed to notice. Still nursing the original beer I grabbed when I arrived hours ago. Watching all the celebrities and models mingling had me sinking further back into my little corner. I didn’t belong among the rich and beautiful, but my best friend insisted I come with her. Taking a look around, I found her sitting on some guy’s lap with her head thrown back in laughter. She belonged here.

I pulled out my phone to see if I could order an Uber home. It wouldn’t have been the first time I left a party without her. She meant well, trying to pull me out of my shell. It had been over a decade since I last felt like the woman I once was and going to some Hollywood party wasn’t going to change me back into her. I had been broken completely and beyond repair.

“Planning an escape?” A low, smooth voice said beside me.

Looking up, I was taken back by the handsome man standing there. Living in L.A. you get use to seeing movie stars walking down the street, but he happened to be one of her favorites.

“I’m Glen, by the way.” He held out his hand.

“(Y/N).” I said, taking his hand and willing mine to stop trembling, “And yes, I think it’s kind of obvious that I don’t belong here. Plus, I’m sure my friend will be taken well care of.”

His bright green eyes followed her pointing finger, “Ah yes, it looks like she has one of my friends wrapped around her finger. He’s harmless and won’t do anything stupid with her.”

“That’s good to know. She’s also a big girl and can take care of herself.” I forced my eyes to look away from him and back to my phone.

He squatted down beside me, “You know if you want to leave, I’d be more than happy to take you home. I haven’t been drinking tonight so consider me your DD.”

I smiled, “That’s kind of you, but I don’t want to pull you away from your own party. That would be kind of rude of me.”

Realization shined in his eyes as he chuckled, “So you do know who I am.”

“Oh yes. You’ve had quite the year with three major movies coming out. Hitman was in the running for my top movie this year until I saw Twisters. Can’t resist a tornado chasing cowboy.”

His laugh covered my skin in goosebumps, “I like that though you could just call me the Tornado Wrangler.” He let his full Texan accent come out, making me smile.

“I prefer cowboy to wrangler. Anyway, I should probably finish ordering this Uber and head out front. It was nice meeting you, cowboy.” This time I held out my hand to him.

He shook it, “Are you sure I can’t convince you to let me drive you home. It would be no problem and then that way I don’t have to worry about you ending up on the ten o’clock news kidnapped by a serial killer.”

I laughed as he still held my hand in his, “Are you sure? I live about thirty minutes away.”

“Let’s go.” He pulled me up from my spot and led me back towards the house.

I sent a text to my best friend letting her know I was heading home. I left out the part that it was Glen Powell who was taking me home. She replied with her usually be careful and talk tomorrow.

Glen handed his phone to me, “Type in your address.” I did, handing it back to him and he took off towards the highway.

It was a beautiful night for it being in August. The cool night breeze felt wonderful after a scorching day. Looking over, I found myself taking in every inch of Glen driving beside me. He had on a Texas Longhorns hat backwards, black tank top and orange colored swim trunks. One arm was resting on his open window while the other held onto the steering wheel. His long fingers kept beat to the song he was playing.

There was a comfortable silence between us and for the first time in a long time I felt relaxed in the presence of another person. Even with my friends or co-workers there was always an underlying layer of anxiety. The need to run from people always being my first gut reaction. Maybe it was the small amount of alcohol I had in my system or a miracle but I found myself drawn to Glen. Or it could be I had fantasized about being with him for years and my inner fangirl was showing herself more than ever.

“Everything okay?” He asked, glancing over at me.

I realized he must have caught me staring, “Yeah, everything is fine. Sorry if I was staring. Sometimes my inner fangirl shows more than I want her to.”

His smile was breathtaking, “Quite alright. Not everyday I can meet a fan who isn’t screaming, crying, throwing up.”

We both laughed, “Has a fan actually thrown up in front of you?” I asked.

He shook his head, “No. Just trying to keep up with all the cool sayings the kids say.”

“You make it sound like you're old and you're not.”

He touched his hand to his chest, “Why thank you for thinking I’m young. I will have you know that I’ll be thirty-six this year.”

I scoffed, “Meh, been there and done that.”

Glen took the exit for my house, “What? There’s no way you’re older than me.”

“Afraid so, cowboy. I will be turning thirty-eight this year. So respect your elder.”

His laugh filled the car, “Wow, I would have never believed you were older. What the hell is your secret?”

The answer was out of my mouth before I could even think about it, “I have no children and no spouse.”

It was the answer that I always said inside my head but never out loud. People asked me all the time how I could still look like I was in my late twenties. I always told them I had a baby face. The real answer was I lived alone and didn’t let anyone close to me. Hence, the no kids or spouse.

“So, no kids and no spouse. Does that also include no boyfriend/girlfriend?”

His question sent a shiver down my spin, “Uh… yeah. There’s no one except for Winchester, my maine coon. He’s all I’ve needed these last few years.”

Why was I being so open with him? I always avoid questions about my personal life with everyone. I looked over to see my house coming into view. A brief moment of relief swept over me knowing I would be safe inside my four walls of security soon. Then a sickening feeling pooled in my gut as Glen pulled into my driveway and shut off his car.

“Thank you for the ride. I appreciate you leaving your own party to take me home.” I unbuckled my seatbelt and placed my hand on the door handle.

“(Y/N), can I tell you something?” He asked, placing his hand on top of mine resting on the seat.

I tried to control my body flinching, but there was no use in it. Touch was always the one thing that set my nerves on edge. If he had noticed me flinched then he didn’t let on to it.

“S-Sure.”

“I’d been working up the courage to talk to you all night. The moment I saw you walk in, I asked my buddy who you were. He told me about your friend being a model and asking about bringing you to my party. Your friend told me that you were shy and to be aware that you don’t often talk to anyone outside your core group of friends.”

My heart was hammering in my chest, “She told you that? What else did she tell you, huh? That I’m a recluse and avoid all social interactions. That my ex completely broke me as a person. That I can’t stand to be around people or to be touched. That I’m all kinds of fucked up and damaged.”

I got out of the car and headed to my front door. My heart shattered into pieces from my best friend telling my darkest secrets to someone, especially to a man like Glen Powell. I made it to the door before I realized my keys were still in her car back at his house.

“Fuck!” I yelled, sliding down to the ground.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry, I swear that’s all she said to me.” He sat down in front of me, “What’s wrong? Other than the obvious.”

I sucked in a shaky breath, “My keys are back at your house in her car. Now not only am I completely embarrassed in front of one of my favorite actors but I’m completely locked out of the only place I feel safe.”

“Do you have an alarm system?” He asked.

“What?” I looked up at him confused, “No, why?”

“I promise I’ll pay for the repairs.” He said before he took off his tank top wrapping it around his fist and sending it through the window next to her door.

“What the hell are you doing?!” I yelled watching as he cleared out the glass then reached inside.

The familiar click of my deadbolt unlocking then Glen pulled out his arm twisting the door knob. It swung open freely and I could feel the tension in my chest release. Standing up, I noticed the blood dripping onto the ground.

“Shit, you’re hurt. Come inside and I can clean you up.” I said carefully walking over the broken glass on either side of the door.

I went into my bathroom to grab the first aid kit while Glen was sitting down at my kitchen table. Unwrapping his shirt from his hand, I found small knicks and shards of glass in his tan skin. The bleeding was coming from a gash on his arm from when he smashed through the window.

“You might need stitches.” I said, cleaning the cut on his forearm.

“You know, it looks way easier and cooler on TV.” He chuckled, “Ow.”

I wrapped his arm with gauze only then realizing he was sitting there shirtless. His well toned chest and abs on full display making my body ache in ways it hadn’t for years. The overwhelming desire to touch him nearly made my knees give out.

“Are you okay? You look like you might pass out.” He asked, grabbing a hold of my hips to balance me out.

A second realization hit me harder than the first. He had touched me and I didn’t flinch. I didn’t jerk away. I couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

“(Y/N), you’re scaring me.” He whispered, his grip on my hips tightening.

“Y-You’re touching me.” The words were barely above a whisper.

He reached over to grab another chair and guided me onto it, “I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t fall.”

I shook my head, unable to put the correct words together, “I… It’s just… I don’t know how to explain.”

His hands were resting on top of mine, “Whatever it is you can say it. I won’t take offense or have any judgments.”

I had no idea what kind of spell the man in front of me had casted but I found myself wanting to explain everything to him. Looking into his concerned eyes, I just knew I could trust him. Suddenly, I had tears falling down my cheeks.

“(Y/N), you don’t have to tell me anything. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” His thumbs were rubbing against my knuckles sending waves of heat over my skin.

“When I got divorced, I swore off dating. I wanted to work on being on my own, rebuilding my life and not focusing on a relationship.”

He smiled, “That’s smart. I’ve been doing the same thing these last few years.”

“One year turned into two and before I knew it a decade had gone by. No relationships. No kissing, hugging, cuddling, and definitely no sex.” He nodded, continuing to rub my hands as I continued, “What turned from learning to live alone became being alone. I desire to have someone in my life and have even tried to date, but it always turns out wrong.”

“How so?”

I took a deep breath, “Any time I thought about going out on a date I would have a panic attack. The thought of trusting someone to be with them that would lead to touching and that would send me into a complete spiral.”

Glen looked down at our hands, “Is this okay?”

I nodded, “Yes which is why I’m having a deliriously happy and panicked moment right now. I haven’t been touched by anyone in years. Sure, I will half heartedly hug my friend or family but it is always at some kind of distance. Hugging to me is the most intimate form of touch that isn’t sexual.”

His eyebrow arched curiously, “Go on…”

“Think about it. When you hug someone, you are trusting them with your whole body. Their arms wrapped around your body completely. Their whole being being pressed against yours. A hug is sex with your clothes on.”

He smirked, “I have honestly never thought of it like that. I don’t think I’ll ever see hugging in the same way again.”

“Humans need that intimacy. They need to feel that trust in their very soul and act it out physically. I…” I paused, looking into his eyes, “I haven’t felt that in over a decade. My therapist calls it touch deprivation that has formed into touch aversion. I’m desperate to touch someone and be touched, but my brain simply won’t let my guard down enough to allow someone in.”

I watched as his bottom lip disappeared beneath his teeth in deep thought, “The fact that you haven’t flinched or moved away from me is a big moment for you?”

I nodded with a fresh batch of tears flowing down my face, “Yes. I don’t know if it’s because you genuinely seem like a good person from all the interviews I’ve watched or from the good guy characters you’ve portrayed. It could very well be my fangirl delusion masking the pure panic waiting to come out. I don’t know. All I do know is I feel safe around you.”

I looked away feeling my cheeks burning. I had practically told my whole sad truth and ended with a lame love confession. Slowly, the panic was starting to seep through the joy and my hands began to tremble within his.

Glen squeezed my hands then stood up, pulling me up with him, “You feel safe?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

“Do you trust me?” He asked as I nodded again without even thinking twice about my answer.

He lifted my hands up behind his neck, interlocking my fingers. I knew what was coming and the rope around my chest began to tighten. My breaths were coming out in rugged puffs as his arms wrapped around my waist. They tightened around me as his head buried into the crook of my neck.

“I got you. I’m not going to let go or let you fall. I’ve got you.” He whispered and a strangled sob escaped my lips, “I’ve got you. I promise nothing will happen to you. I’ve. Got. You.”

My grip around his neck tightened and I pressed my face into his chest. He kept repeating his mantra that he had me and I could feel the rope around my chest being cut away. Finally, I took in a long breath feeling all the tension vanish from my muscles. Glen pulled back enough to look down at me with a brilliant smile on his lips.

“How was that?” He asked.

I could feel my lips spreading into a wide grin, “I… I hugged you. I actually hugged you. I can’t believe it.”

He scooped me up, picking my feet up off the ground and spinning me around. A loud giggle erupted from my lips that surprised me.

“That giggle is music to my ears. Proud of you! I know that must have been a big step to take and I’m grateful you trust me to take it.”

Seeing how happy he was for me stirred up a new emotion, a new line to cross and I found myself pushing myself up on my toes and kissing him. I felt his body tense up and immediately I backed away.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. I got caught-”

Glen pressed his lips firmly against mine once again. The kiss was simple, sweet and ignited an ember of passion within me. When he pulled away, resting his forehead against mine I knew he was holding back.

“You never, ever have to apologize for kissing me. I’m honored you trust me with your hugs and kisses.”

“I’m really scared I’m going to wake up tomorrow and find this all to be a dream.” I whispered.

He leaned in kissing me once more, “Tell you what. I will sleep on the couch and when you wake up tomorrow I can remind you that this was all very real.”

I knew I shouldn’t push myself any further, but the thought of him being on the couch while I was in my bed didn’t sit right with me. I bit into lip fighting with the urge to lead him upstairs to my room or to agree with him, leaving him downstairs.

“What’s the battle going on in your head?” He chuckled.

“I’m taking a leap of faith.” I said, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the stairs.

Glen stopped us at the bottom step, “(Y/N), are you sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything. I’m fine sleeping on the couch.”

Standing on the step, I was equal height to him, “I’m not saying that there will be cuddling or anything more. The thought of you sleeping down here doesn’t feel right.”

He leaned in, kissing me briefly, “Okay, but I’m going to apologize now if I happen to cuddle you in my sleep. I’m definitely a cuddler.”

“It’s okay. I trust you.” I laced our fingers together and continued walking up to my room.

-----

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[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 9: "A Truth Revealed"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 4.5k

a/n: After the entire fiasco with my cat destroying my previous keyboard, I am pleased to say I managed to buy a new one and still managed to get this up in time to hurt/frustrate you all a little more. We're inching closer to some comfort though! I believe the next installment will be titled "The Weight of Grief" for this series. Enjoy the angst and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705

Curled up on your couch, you were comfortably cocooned in a blanket and completely focused on the book in your hands. Over the last few nights after work you’d been reading it, taking some time to escape into a romance that actually had a happy ending–unlike your love life. You’d been looking forward to having a quiet night in tonight, especially after the long and stressful day you’d had at work. 

And also because you’d gotten another call from Matt earlier today. 

After the dinner at Matt’s apartment with your friends almost three weeks ago now, you’d really tried to consider what Karen had said. Maybe it was time to try to distance yourself from Matt. If he wasn’t interested in you as more than a friend, you really couldn’t keep torturing yourself over him. You needed to try to move on, to put some space between the pair of you, but you certainly couldn’t do that if you kept jumping at every opportunity to spend time with him. Which is what you’d always done when it came to Matt.

So you’d been distancing yourself from him. Avoiding him lately until you finally thought you might be ready to see him again. You felt bad for doing it though, especially because the calls from him seemed like they’d oddly increased over the past few weeks since that night. You had explained to Foggy and Karen what was going on and what you were doing. The pair of them had been happy to help keep Matt off your back and to keep him from thinking too much into things, though every time his name appeared on your phone screen you felt guilty for all the times you let it go to voicemail. Or the times that you’d lied and told him you were busy and couldn’t talk. 

You needed this though. You needed to find a way to let him go before your feelings drove you insane. Because Karen’s question that night had made you suddenly very aware of the fact that you hadn’t been happy for a long time. Not really. You’d been pining after Matt for years now, clutching onto the hope that maybe he liked you, or that maybe someday his feelings for you might change into something more. You’d held onto that hope with a death grip for so long that you’d realized it was gradually dragging you further and further down. And you couldn’t do that to yourself anymore. That other night a few weeks ago, when you’d flirted with Matt and made a complete ass out of yourself only to receive nothing in return from him that even so much as hinted at the fact that he was flirting back, you’d realized that you’d needed to finally release that hold on your hope. 

Matthew Murdock was never going to love you as more than a friend.

It was a line you said to yourself almost daily lately. Anytime the feelings would randomly crop up, you repeated that over and over in your head. It was a reminder that you needed to actually try to move forward this time.

Which was why this weekend you were letting one of your coworkers set you up on a blind date. You’d spent this past week trying to get yourself excited about it. Stephanie certainly seemed to think you and this Alexander would be a great match, and apparently he was an incredibly sweet and charming guy. Which was good. You needed to find someone nice. Someone who would be good for you. Alexander wasn’t going to be Matt but you were going to be open-minded when it came to that date.

Another thing you kept repeating to yourself daily lately.

Turning the page of your book, you were so engrossed in it that you almost didn’t hear the noise outside of your window nearby. Except you had. It was a faint, muffled noise that sounded like it came from your fire escape. You lowered your book, eyes narrowing as your head slowly turned towards the window.

Immediately you screamed, your book flying out of your hands and falling to the floor. There were two figures standing on your fire escape right outside of your window–one in all black and the other in red. Both of them had their faces obscured and it took you a moment to recognize the one in black as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, but you didn't recognize the other beside him who looked like they were struggling to hold him up. At least, you didn't recognize them until they'd reached a hand up and slid the mask down their face and leaned forward, knocking on your window. 

Your jaw dropped at the sight of Elektra Natchios in the flesh, smirking at you on the other side of your living room window. 

"Knock, knock, darling," she called out, voice muted by the glass. "Open up."

You froze on the couch. Letting Elektra into your apartment was the absolute last thing you wanted to ever do. You absolutely loathed her. And you also had no idea why she was toting Hell’s Kitchen's vigilante on her arm, either, but you figured the reason couldn't be good. 

"You're not welcome here," you called back, sitting upright on the couch. "We aren't friends, Elektra."

Her face contorted into a look of faux sadness and offense at your words before it quickly returned to its previous smugness. "I don't particularly care what you think of me," she replied, "but I'm sure you wouldn't want your friend here suffering outside in a dumpster."

Your face twisted in confusion as your focus shifted to the masked man clinging to her, his head hanging forward over his chest. He looked like he was in pain from the way he was slumped over. But why would she call him your friend? You'd met him once and you had been drunk–and managed to get even drunker after that encounter. He wasn't exactly your friend.

"I don’t even know him," you shot back, eyeing him through the window. "Take him to a hospital where he can actually get some help."

“Aww,” she cooed through the glass, one hand reaching up towards his black mask. “Are you sure you don’t know him?”

Your mouth opened to once again tell Elektra off, but before the words could even form she’d pulled back the black fabric from the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’s face. At first all you could see was a mess of dark hair, but then her hand still holding the mask grasped underneath his chin, raising the man’s head up so you could see him better.

You audibly gasped, jaw dropping wide open as you stared at Matt’s face on the other side of the window. For a long moment your brain became entirely devoid of thoughts as you sat on your couch staring at Matt on your fire escape dressed as the masked man.

“Still want to say you don’t know him?” Elektra questioned.

It took you a minute to slightly recover on the couch, your mouth finally closing but your wide eyes still staring in shock at the sight of Matt–the same Matt who you’d drank beers with, the one who you’d shared your insecurities pre-graduation with, who’d cried on your shoulder when he’d told you about his father–as the masked vigilante running around Hell’s Kitchen. The very same one who you’d seen grainy video footage of in the news with superhero-like fighting skills. 

“Can you open up already? He’s getting a bit difficult to hold onto,” Elektra called out.

“Matt?” you whispered.

On the other side of the window, you saw Matt’s lips twist into a small, apologetic smile. He nodded his head just once in response. 

Still in shock, you unraveled yourself from your blanket and rose from your couch, making your way to the window. You unlocked it, sliding it up and watching as Elektra tried to help Matt through the opening. Reaching out, you grabbed onto Matt’s shoulders and attempted to help her get him inside. Matt’s own hands darted out to grab onto your upper arms in return, groaning as he made his way through the window and into your apartment. 

You hadn’t been expecting him to lose his balance though, and he’d stumbled straight into you. You toppled over easily, his body falling with yours and pinning you to the floor beneath him. Matt’s hands had flown out just in time to catch himself so he didn’t fully crush you under his weight, his face hovering just above yours. You could see a few bleeding gashes across his forehead and cheeks as his sightless eyes focused along your right cheekbone, a pained expression on his face. 

A plethora of emotions raced through you in that moment. Part of you, a very small part, wanted to lean up and kiss him. You’d never been in such a compromising position with him before, and you certainly wished it was under different circumstances–though you knew you shouldn’t be feeling that way and you quickly tried to divert your thoughts. Especially because this was certainly not the time for those types of thoughts.

For the most part you were hurt and confused, though. Matt had been lying to you all this time about those injuries he’d been getting. He’d been going out and intentionally putting himself into danger. And it hurt you that he’d hid that truth from you, that he didn’t trust you with that information. 

But not only that, how the hell did Matt go out blind fighting bad guys like the masked man did? Clearly someone taught him to fight like that, something he’d never told you about before–more secrets he’d been hiding from you. But you knew he was blind, so how could he do the things the masked man did? That you’d seen actual video evidence of? How was that Matt?

And why the hell was Elektra in a similar crime-fighting ensemble? What pieces of the goddamn puzzle had you been missing all along without even knowing it? 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

With a grunt, he pushed himself back onto his knees before Elektra was at his side. She grabbed onto his arm and roughly tugged him up, Matt hissing in pain as she did. You winced at the sound, slowly rising back up from the floor after him. 

“He needs somewhere safe to stay while I finish…dealing with some things,” Elektra told you, leading him past you and straight towards your couch. “Your apartment was the closest. And he said he trusted you.”

You stood there gaping at the pair of them as she lowered his battered and bloody body onto your couch. Matt was making noises of discontent as she situated him along it. 

“What–what the hell is going on?” you stammered out.

When Matt was settled, Elektra straightened and turned towards you. She exhaled a rough sigh as she eyed you from top to bottom. 

“Well darling, your BFF is the masked vigilante roaming the city,” she said. “ Clearly . I thought you’d caught that already, but apparently you’re a little slow, I see.”

“Elektra,” Matt warned through gritted teeth.

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Someone beat him with a metal pipe,” she explained. “Now we’re thinking he’s fractured a rib and he’s honestly quite useless to me like this. So he needs to stay hidden here until he can get his ass home. Think you can manage that, darling?”

Your mouth had dropped open at the mention of a metal pipe and it had stayed that way for the duration of her explanation. Elektra groaned in irritation at the look of shock on your face, her head dramatically falling back over her shoulders as she did.

“He’ll be fine ,” she told you. “Throw a blanket on him and he’ll probably walk it off in the morning.” Attention shifting over her shoulder, she frowned when she glanced at Matt. “And it’s a damn shame I’ll miss seeing your ass walk it off. It’s certainly gotten so much nicer since I’d last enjoyed it. I remember–”

“Enough, Elektra,” Matt snapped.

Heat rose up to your cheeks in a mixture of awkward embarrassment and jealousy at what she was hinting at. But when Elektra’s eyes dropped down to where your book had fallen onto the floor beside the couch, you saw her head tilt curiously to the side, a grin slipping onto her mouth. Embarrassment won out as you watched her bend over and grab the book from the floor, slowly rising back to her full height as she examined it. Her attention slowly shifted back towards you, one of her perfect dark brows arching up on her pretty face.

“Didn’t realize we’d interrupted your fascinating read, darling,” she purred, eyes dropping back down to the book. “Romance novels though?” She tsked, shaking her head. “Doesn’t even look naughty. How positively–” her eyes landed back on you, an amused smile on her lips, “– you .”

“Shut up,” you muttered, heat burning at your cheeks.

“Still in love with your friend?” she taunted. “Love life a mess so you read this trash?”

Your arms crossed awkwardly over your chest, your gaze dropping down to your feet. Tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes at her words. She damn well knew you loved Matt and she was toying with you like it was entertainment to watch you hurting.

“Mmm, I see you’ve never actually told him then,” she continued. “All this time and you couldn’t–”

“ Elektra ,” Matt snapped.

Elektra had actually stopped mid-taunt, her lips thinning at Matt’s harsh tone. Even you’d been surprised at how irritated he’d sounded. Maybe he was finally seeing how rude she’d been to you for once. Though you doubted that would stop him from being with her; you were certain they would be back together if they weren’t already. Even if you knew Elektra would only be toying with him yet again. 

“You’re both no fun,” she said with a pout, tossing your book onto the coffee table.

You couldn’t look her in the face as she sauntered past you, tears still welling in your eyes. Blinking hard, you did your best to force them back. You didn’t want to cry in front of her or Matt. You were so tired of the tears.

“Don’t worry about getting up, Matty, darling,” Elektra said, sliding your window up behind you. “I’ll handle this one for you. But you owe me something in return.”

Elektra slipped back out of the window before you heard her slowly sliding it down after herself. Your apartment filled with silence at her absence, Matt’s head shifting towards you on the couch. There was a frown on his lips, his dark brows pulled together in something that wasn’t pain, but you couldn’t quite make out the meaning behind his expression.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your night,” he said softly. “And that you…found out. Like this. About me.”

“What the hell, Matty?” you breathed out. “How long have you been doing this?”

"Around the time Fog and I left Landman and Zack,” he answered.

You ran a hand across your forehead, trying to piece things together as question after question ran through your mind. You almost didn’t even know where to start.

But something in particular surfaced in your mind, panic flooding you. 

“So that–that night the man in the mask found me drunk in an alley,” you began slowly, the hazy memory coming back to you as Matt’s expression shifted to something even harder to read. “After I’d found Liam cheating on me. That was…you?”

“Yeah,” he whispered.

You grimaced, remembering how you’d unknowingly and drunkenly spilled your heart out to Matt himself that night. How you'd embarrassingly sobbed on him about being in love with him. Which meant that he knew you loved him, right? And he’d just spent all this time pretending you didn’t, like that moment hadn’t happened because he didn’t feel that way in return?

But of course he didn’t love you because as fuzzy as that night was to you, you remembered the masked man crying to you about loving someone, too. The conversation had been difficult to recall from all the alcohol you’d drank that night, but you remembered he’d been upset about a woman he loved. He must have meant Elektra, you realized.

Because of course he’d still be in love with her, even after she went and broke his heart. And now he finally had her back.

Swallowing the lump forming in your throat, you felt even more inadequate for Matt now. With whatever he was out doing around the city at night, apparently he'd found his match in her. Because you certainly weren't about to go out and play at being a hero with him. That only further cemented how wrong you were for him; you’d never be Elektra.

“If you’ve fractured a rib I should really get you to a hospi–”

“No hospitals,” Matt said earnestly, cutting you off. “I’ll be fine, I just need somewhere to stay until I can heal a bit. If that’s alright? Just–just for the night?”

“Matt,” you began slowly, “if you have a fractured rib, that could take weeks to heal, not one night.”

His lips pulled back into a sheepish smile. “I’m different,” he admitted quietly. 

Your head tilted to the side, eyes narrowing back at him curiously. He was different ? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Different how?” you asked him.

“I…have heightened senses,” he confessed. “And I was taught a long time ago how to meditate to heal myself faster. So a fractured rib really isn’t that big of a deal to me, but I–I can’t fight like this. And my place was too far from where we were. I just–just needed somewhere safe to rest and heal. But I’m truly sorry for dragging you into all of this.”

“I–” 

You stood on the opposite side of your coffee table utterly dumbfounded with this new information about a man you’d thought you’d known for years . Mouth opening and closing a few times, you struggled to figure out how to piece a coherent thought together.

“You–you heal yourself?” you asked in shock. 

“Yeah,” he answered.

Another few moments of silence passed, your brain attempting to wrap around that crazy bit of information. But then you remembered the other thing he’d said and a whole wave of new questions rose in your mind.

“What do you mean you have heightened senses?” you asked him nervously.

“I’m still blind, but my other senses are able to pick up on things that others can’t,” he answered.

You sucked in a breath, fear building inside of you. What the hell did that mean?

“Like what?” you hesitantly questioned.

“Well I can hear that your heart rate just elevated even higher than what it had been at after hearing that. I can hear your blood pressure increasing, too,” Matt told you. “And I can smell that your adrenaline and cortisol levels just rose–meaning you’re nervous or afraid.”

You saw the corners of his lips curve downward as he spoke, his focus lowering towards your coffee table. Though at that admission, you felt your own heart rate sky-rocketing. He could read you that well?

“So–so all of your other senses are able to pick up on small details like that?” you questioned.

Matt nodded his head solemnly. “I can hear someone’s heartbeat if I focus. Can even tell when they’re lying to me depending on how it beats,” he explained. 

“How long have you been able to do all of this?” you nervously asked. 

A sad smile slowly drew his lips upwards at the corner. Despite your panic about everything Matt had probably been picking up on with you for who knows how long now, you wondered how hard it must be to live like that. How much outside stimuli was hitting him all of the time? What all was he experiencing that no one else had to experience?

“Since that accident that blinded me as a child,” he answered quietly. “You remember the one I told you about?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I remember you telling me about it,” you replied. “But how come you didn’t tell me this , Matt?”

“How was I supposed to?” he asked back. “What I can do, it isn’t normal. I’ve always kept it a secret.”

“You don’t think I’d like to know that my best friend can hear my heartbeat? Or smell my–my hormones ?” you asked him. “That you always knew when I was lying? Or–or was afraid? Or whatever the hell else you’ve picked up on from me? This whole time?”

There was not a doubt in your mind now about Matt having known the truth about you at least liking him. Being attracted to him. How could he have not known? If he could hear your heart alone, he’d know it was always racing around him, that he always had an effect on you. But he’d never flirted with you, never taken an interest back in you.

The tears started falling before you could stop them, your hands flying up to your mouth to try to cover the choked sob building in your throat at that realization. The strangled sound still fell out of you despite your efforts to hold it back, though. Matt’s focus immediately shifted to you, something soft and sad reflecting in his own eyes.

“If you can pick up on all of these things happening with someone's body that–that means you’ve known then?” you asked, your voice cracking as more tears fell. “This whole time? That I’ve had feelings for–” you broke off on a strangled sob, unable to just say it.

Matt nodded his head slowly across from you. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I’ve known for a long time, I just–just never said anything.” 

Another sob fell out of you before Matt said your name so softly, but the sound of it only drew more tears. He’d always known you loved him then. And he certainly didn’t feel the same.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I do my best to give everyone privacy around me, but some things I can’t help but…pick up on.”

Your tears fell faster now as your hands slid up and you buried your face in them. You didn’t think it was possible to hurt anymore than you did when it came to loving Matt, but you certainly had discovered tonight that you were very, very wrong. Because his admission felt like it had torn your heart straight from your chest before he’d tossed it out of your window straight down to the street below to be repeatedly run over by traffic.

Matthew Murdock was never going to love you as more than a friend. Hadn’t you already been repeating that to yourself lately? Well, how fucking spot on you were.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry, I’m–”

“Who else knows about you?” you asked, cutting him off with your face still buried behind your hands.

You tried your best to ignore the way your heart twisted at the way he'd called you 'sweetheart'. He'd never done that before and now was certainly not the time for him to start. 

Matt expelled a rough breath, the sound causing you to peak at him between your fingers. His head had rolled away from you now, his sightless eyes focused on the ceiling of your apartment. 

“Foggy found out,” he whispered. “On accident. That’s why we fought and the firm broke up. And uh, Elektra has always known.”

“Of course she has,” you muttered bitterly.

“You’re upset with me,” he pointed out.

You shook your head, rubbing the heels of your hand along your cheeks to try to wipe away the dampness. “I’m not upset at you ,” you told him. “I’m upset that you knew so much about me and I didn’t–didn't know that you did. And that you didn’t tell me all of this back at Columbia, because I’d have wished you’d trusted me enough with this information about yourself.” You inhaled a shuddering breath, that aching, empty feeling in your chest somehow feeling like it was finally consuming you entirely. "And I'm upset that you–you knew . All these years and you've–you’ve always known ."

Matt said your name gently again, but you shook your head quickly, continuing on and trying to force down the tears and the feel of your heart breaking. Matt was hurt and he needed help, that was your focus tonight.

“What do you need from me then, Matt?” you asked, sniffling loudly. “Just a place to crash? Medical help?”

You watched as his eyelids slowly lowered, a frown deepening on his face. “A place to stay for the night so I can heal, yes. And if you could call Fog, ask if he’d bring some of my clothes from my place here. That way I can–can change in the morning before I leave.”

Nodding, you wiped your hand across your cheeks again. It was a moment later that you realized you hadn't spoken. 

"Sorry, I nodded," you muttered.

"I know," he whispered. "I could hear the way the molecules in the air shifted when you did."

You winced, suddenly uncertain what all Matt had always known that you weren't aware of. But yet again you tried to focus on your current situation instead. It didn't matter he knew you liked him, he'd always just wanted to be your friend instead. You’d cry about it later, when he wasn’t lying on your couch bleeding.

"I'll go call Fog," you informed him. "Get him to bring over your clothes. You can stay here tonight, Matt. You know I'll always be here for you. I've always told you that." Curling your hands into fists, you tried to stop the way they had begun shaking. "I'm going to get a washcloth, though. To clean your cuts. If that's alright?"

Matt nodded, his head turning as he focused on you across the room again. "Yes," he replied quietly. "Thank you."

Chewing your lip, you turned and headed down the hall to your bathroom. You switched on the light and made your way over to the vanity, bending down and pulling out a clean washcloth from under it. Rising to your feet, you set it on the counter before slipping your phone out of your pocket and dialing Foggy. It took a few rings before he finally answered, and for some reason the sound of his voice greeting you with your name had you crying again. 

"Hey, Fog," you said, voice cracking.

"Shit, are you okay?" he asked in a panic. "Did something happen? You sound like you're crying. Why’re you crying?”

Your eyes slowly slid up towards your bathroom mirror, taking in the sight of your red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You looked awful.

"I know Matt is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen," you breathed out. 

There was a long pause on the line after you'd spoken, the silence eventually broken by Foggy muttering a curse.

"Where are you?" he asked. 

"At home. Elektra dropped him off injured on my couch," you told him, your voice breaking as you spoke.

"I'll be right there," he promised.

"He wants you to bring him a change of clothes," you said, watching as more tears slid down your reflection's cheeks. 

"I'm on it," he assured you. "But we are definitely talking later when we're out of his hearing range."

"Yeah," you whispered. "We definitely are."

[alitheakorogane]

Freedom's Protection: Stirring Up a Hurricane

Summary: The bomb was finally dropped, leaving nothing but a series of chain reactions spreading around the area... Literally. Venti revealed himself as the Anemo Archon Barbatos to his people as a last resort for defending you, causing the entire nation of Mondstadt to go into chaos.

This is the fourth part of Mondstadt's storyline for the Reader Protection Squad SAGAU series.

Note: There are instances of grammatical errors, please bear with me. Also, the entire layout was now changed and I placed a title on them so I could not be confused while I write the next chapters. It's still the same story though. Honestly, I have a hard time writing this part, that's why it took me so long.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4 (current), 5, 6, 7

"You could say that I am more than just a mere drunkard bard, Miss Rosaria."

"After all, how could I ever spread blasphemous words about myself?"

------------

The bomb was finally dropped, leaving nothing but a series of chain reactions spreading around the area... Literally.

You wanted to slam your head on the wall or slap Venti to his senses. He just literally drop a bombshell on everyone regarding the non-so-subtle secret he had kept for months, and the ones who had heard of it were looking at Venti like he had grown a second head.

What the hell, Venti?!

There are some who don't get it, but those people who are quick enough to understand what the bard has implied were shocked to the core.

This drunkard bard was delusional, is he really the Anemo Archon? He must be drunk.

Diluc should not let this drunkard drink Dandelion Wine again, he looks young but he can drink an entire stock in one go like there's no tomorrow, and now he spewing nonsense.

Rosaria just glared as she asked her usual drinking buddy in disbelief, "What do you mean, blasphemous words about yourself?"

The young bard ignored the vigilant nun and turn to one of the sisters of the Church, who was just standing with the common folk, "Sister Gotelinde, do you remember the first time we officially met, where I was trying to borrow the Holy Lyre der Himmel?"

Gotelinde nodded as she remembered the first time she had talked to the bard personally and responded with a thoughtful voice, "Yes, it was the time of the Stormterror incident. You tried to borrow the Holy Lyre to save Dvalin but since you have no documents permitting you to borrow it legally, you had the guts to introduce yourself as the Anemo Archon. I never believed you that time because it's preposterous and it's impossible for a simple drunkard bard to be the missing Archon."

"WAIT, WHAT?!"

The citizens of Mondstadt had exclaimed when they heard the nun's outrageous statement, the nuns had exclaimed the hardest.

Deaconess Barbara's eyes widened as gears started to turn in her head as she now connected the dots. She remembered the time Venti had temporarily fixed the Holy Lyre der Himmel a few months ago, she and the nuns had found out that the Lyre was broken again after weeks, but she was still wondering how this bard fix a holy relic, although temporarily. Now she had found her answer, it makes sense that the only one who could restore it (although temporarily) is the Anemo Archon himself.

Then she remembered her actions towards Venti and his friends at that time. It was embarrassing, and she couldn't help but paled at the thought of her Archon seeing her breaking down in front of him and accusing him of destroying the Lyre... His Holy Lyre der Himmel.

Calvary Captain Kaeya Alberich, who was just silent the whole ordeal, was staring at the bard with searing intensity. He wondered if his drinking buddy was the Anemo Archon because if he really is the respectable Lord Barbatos, Venti may have already known about Kaeya's real nationality. After all, he was considered to be a sinner from a godless land that was destroyed hundreds of years ago.

Venti smiled sweetly, as he bowed down like he always does after finishing his performance, "Now you know my secret, citizens of the City of Freedom. Now my disciples, rejoice! Behold, the Anemo Archon, Barbatos has descended!"

He then stood up with confidence in his voice, his eyes glittering in mischief, "Shocked, aren't you? Don't you just want to cry out and rejoice? How does it feel to finally meet the god you've been serving?"

Everyone was in chaos, some of the nuns had fainted, and the Deaconess seems to be in a catatonic state, as she remembered her embarrassing interactions with the bard before. The citizens of all ages were astounded to hear the bard's remarks, the devotees of the Archon were paling at the thought of a homeless drunk bard being the regal and freedom-loving Lord Barbatos.

You could say that was kind of... unpleasant, to say that at least.

One of the senior nuns of the Church of Favonius, Mother Maria, then spoke to some Knights who were standing awkwardly at each other.

"Arrest that bard and his comrades immediately! We will execute him and that imposter for emulating Lord Barbatos and the Divine Grace, and imprison the others for colluding with the suspect!"

"Now, now, Mother Maria, I think this is a mistake," Jean spoke up as she tried to reason out why they can't do such a horrendous thing. The fact that Mondstadt hasn't conducted an execution, whether private or public, in a hundred years makes this decision a little bit unfair. Especially with Jean knowing Venti's identity, the bard being killed and sacrificed at the hands of his beloved citizens to appease the same person they had adored and held in high regard was a little bit ironic. It is not a good way to show praise to their Archon, after all.

The majority of the crowd agreed as they screamed their approval of the decision to arrest them. With slight hesitation in their eyes, Knights rushed into action, with no choice over the matter. The lower guards are tasked to calm down the crowd, while others are tasked to take the rebellious young adults to their custody, especially you and Venti.

For the first time in her life, Jean felt helpless. She may be the Acting Grand Master, but she was against a bunch of angry mobs who had records of being devoted to Lord Barbatos with the Church backing them. The Knights and the Church have equal power in Mondstadt to maintain peace and freedom in the nation, and they both swear to the power of their Anemo Archon to serve Mondstadt and its people, hence giving them equal authority.

They rushed to Venti to capture him, as you yelped and covered your eyes as you can't bear to see the scene unfold in front of you, while Bennett and Razor pulled you in their backs to serve their bodies as your meat shield. The Prinzessin der Verurteilung was pointing her bow while Oz was preparing to strike the other team with Electro.

"As much as I hated to fight all of you since I'm your Archon and it's my duty to protect you but you leave me no choice..."

Venti sighed as he raised his hand to raise a small wind barrier, encasing himself, you, and the rest of the current Benny's Adventure Team. The guards who tried to reach the bard first were hit face-first in the barrier. Eula and Noelle tried to hit the barrier with their claymores many times but it never shattered.

Unfortunately, Amber tried to hit the barrier with her Pyro arrows, but since Anemo is known to be reactive to elemental power besides Dendro and Geo, they just bounced back and created a Swirl reaction, hurting some Knights nearest to the barrier. You opened your eyes in time and gasped in shock, as you see the injured knights and citizens who were unfortunately hit by the Pyro-Anemo combo. There have slight burns on their skins, some of them unconscious.

Screams of anguish and groans of pain were heard in the area, as many people were shocked by the tragic scene in front of them. Many voices had been heard, making your ears hurt over the matter, but you couldn't help but stare at Venti instead, who was turning pale as his favorite flower.

"He used his Anemo Vision!"

"I kind of forgot that that bard was blessed by the gods... Why of all people deserved of them, why them?"

"They had been injured, please help them!"

But there is one yell from one of the people that makes you stop in your tracks, and you knew that Venti is going to hear these piercing words:

"IF HE WAS THE ANEMO ARCHON THAT HE REALLY SAID HE WAS, THEN WHY WOULD HE TRY TO HURT HIS PEOPLE?"

------------

The cliffhanger was a giveaway, isn't it?

Do I need to announce that Part 5 is in the works since this was intended to be long ass until I decided to cut it again into two parts? I got too carried away, it seems.

To be honest, I apologize for OOC Venti and other characters involved in advance if you feel like they are, it's just that it's my first time writing for Genshin Impact actually. I used to write for Detective Conan and Assassination Classroom before, and this was new territory for me. I'm so glad many appreciated the SAGAU fics I made for the fandom.

Taglist: @mulandi, @yuziriha, @multifandomvoyage, @chihawari, @angstylittleb1tch, @forgotten-blues, @yourlocaldrugdealerbutfancy, @shizunxie, @lunxa472, @foggyzinemuffinhands, @ann-aha, @birbtweettweet, @swaggyb0ke, @beezgobuzzbuzz, @that-boi-sus, @the-psychotic-blueberry, @campanula-rotundifolia, @fauxizs, @lilqi, @angstylittleb1tch, @forgotten-blues, @yourlocaldrugdealerbutfancy, @shizunxie, @lunxa472, @foggyzinemuffinhands,

[lowkeyrobin]

could you write a walker x transmasc!reader oneshot? if not, that is fine aswell! - 🗡️

of course I could!! just beware any random shit because I don't know much about being transmasc and I did a lot of research on reddit and tiktok for this for like mannerisms ans shit ; thanks for requesting and I hope you enjoy! ; for any regulars on my blog, ik I've enforced the gn reader only thing but I updated my rules list, where I'll only do trans masc/fem readers on request. that doesn't mean request a thing and add one of those solely for a set of he/him or she/her pronouns though. ; post writing robin and this was actually so fun to write LMAO I hope you like this even tho it's so short

WALKER SCOBELL ; the boys

summary ; youre transmasc and properly come out to walker and co + some stupid shit for two parts

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; idk shit about awards shows + imagine middle school auditorium seats for the first part

word count ; 723

masterlist

You, Aryan, Walker, and Leah sit in the audience at the 2025 Emmy Awards, chatting before the cameras turned on to watch the proper show begin. You and Walker sit together, with Aryan and Leah right behind you. The thick, tan, plastic chairs were going to do a number on your ass later. For a million-dollar award show you'd think they would upgrade the seat situation a little bit.

Leah and Aryan sit forward in their seats, holding a conversation with you and Walker, both turned around in yours.

"No, and like, you will not be calling me that, thank you!" You laugh and smile, "If you get your grimy hands on my legal name I will actually throw myself away. I am a man!"

"Wait, what?" Walker questions, eyebrows furrowed. "Legal name?"

"I changed my name" You clarify. "Cause like..." You look yourself up and down, hands following your gaze. "Y'know?"

Walker blinks, pushing his blonde curls away from his face. "Wait... you're trans?"

You nod, a playful yet unbelievable smile on your face. "How did you not know?"

"Even I knew" Leah comments, glancing at Aryan, who nods in agreement.

"I thought it was kinda obvious." You chuckle, seeing his surprised reaction. "I had to keep correcting people about my name like, a million times"

"I never knew you had another name? I thought it was always Y/n!"

"This is going on my story"

"Which one?"

"The Boys"

Walker smiles, his right arm slung over your shoulders as he watches you caption and post the picture you'd just taken with him on your public Snapchat story. It was titled The Boys, meant for you and all your close friends.

He was glad to see that you considered him one of your close friends, but also on such a deep level, though it was just a title to you. He saw the deeper meaning that you didn't. Like an over analyzing reader to a writer. He was happy you also considered yourself a boy, that you could happily parade that around and feel comfortable with your identity. He truly couldn't be more proud to see you happy and smiling in this moment.

You look back up at him, a cheesy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"What's that look for?" You ask, a little confused.

"Nothing" He replies, patting your right shoulder blade as he moves his arm around a bit. "We should definitely make a playlist and put it on your story for people to listen to" He suggests with a slight shrug.

"For what?" You ask again, a little puzzled as to where this was going."

"Just cause"

"Okay, Mr.-Won't-Explain-Shit-Scobell"

"You just went on a five minute tangent trying to avoid the word homophobia"

"I was testing the waters with your gaydar, cause apparently it was broken the first time"

"I don't have a gaydar! I'm just, like, here! I'm just a guy"

"Look at this handsome man! Dude, wear purple more, I'm so serious"

"Okay, I see you, Y/n!"

"Fix your tie!"

"I'm trying, I'm still learning! I didn't have this chapter of boyhood"

"Here-" The blonde mumbles, reaching forward to fix your black tie.

You tilt your chin up, giving him easy access to the cloth wrapped around your neck. Leah and Aryan watch, smug looks on their faces.

You send them a glare, trying not to alert Walker to it. He quickly reties your tie, sending you a thumbs up as he backs away. You quickly thank him, a warmth heating up your cheeks, physically unnoticeable.

"Walker, you look like a divorce lawyer." You comment, stuffing your hands in your purple pockets.

The blonde dramatically scoffs, a hand rested on his heart. "You're so mean to me! You're not welcome to the next boys sleepover"

"I don't wanna be a part of that dorky shit anyways"

"Okay, meanie"

"What are you, twelve?"

"...Did you just attempt to quote me?"

You shrug with a side nod.

Leah speaks for you, "Yeah, he did"

"How do you know?"

"He told us that he was gonna try and quote you at least once today" She chuckles.

The three look back at you, lining your jawline with your finger, clearly sucking up your tongue.

"Dude, stop mewing, we have to go out there in like, a minute"

[mvltiwritez1]

Culinary Genius - Angela Giarratana x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: during a two truths one lie video, Y/n reveals a truth that no one in the office knew.

WARNING(S): light swearing

DISCLAIMER: the truths and lie for Y/n may not be true to you but just imagine. Also not really romance, just a cute scenario.

————————————————————————

Y/n sat across from Angela with the last card in her hand. Angela had guessed each of her lies right and she guessed all of Angela's lies right but she knew that this last round would stump her.

"My first statement is; 'I once broke my wrist doing parkour' Shayne style, second; 'I have read 100 books since January and it is now May' and the last one is; 'I am considered a really good cook'" Y/n read off the options written on the card, a soft smile on her face as she looked back at her. Angela narrowed her eyes at the woman, thinking of a question.

"When did you break your wrist?" She asked, leaning forward. Y/n looked up to remember when.

"I broke it when I was about thirteen/fourteen. I was with a couple of friends and we just liked jumping around on stuff and one time I fell off of a playground structure and completely broke my wrist" She replied, holding up the wrist that went through the trauma. Angela looked at her wrist and nodded, thinking of another question. Murmurs commenced behind them from Amanda, Courtney, and Arasha but Y/n wasn't paying attention to them. She was waiting for another question.

"You're a reader so the 100 books isn't that hard to believe. And of course, I've never heard anyone talk about your cooking skills. I think it would've come up" Angela thought aloud and Y/n tilted her head innocently.

"I think you're lying about the 'good cook' thing. It definitely would've come up" Angela continued and Y/n raised her eyebrows slightly and brought her head back upright.

"Is that your final answer?" Y/n asked and Angela nodded, confident from her correct guessing the other rounds. She even went to get her gun but Y/n quickly reached for hers and shot at her first, causing Angela to gasp and look up at Y/n in surprise. She grinned widely at Angela and set the gun down, as well as her.

"What?! You're a 'really good' cook?!" Angela put air quotes over 'really good'. Y/n nodded, chuckling slightly. Angela looked at the camera and then at the gallery, seeing different surprised looks on the others' faces.

"No one knew but I learned a lot about cooking all my life. Family recipes, techniques for different cooking styles. Some people who have tried my cooking have told me I'm 'really good' it's not just a self title" Y/n scratched at the back of her neck nervously.

"That's crazy. You need to show me your skills soon" Angela chuckled. Y/n shrugged.

"I'm down" She replied, Angela smiled.

"Aweeee it's a little date" Amanda said in a baby voice and everyone laughed.

"Wait. What was the lie?" Angela asked and Y/n went to answer her question.

——

When they were done filming, Y/n's shirt had somewhat dried but she still brought another shirt to change into so she went to her bag at her desk and got the shirt so she could change in the gender neutral bathroom.

She was looking at her phone as she walked towards the bathroom, she collided with someone but quickly caught them before they could both fall. Y/n dropped her phone accidentally but focused her eyes and found Angela in her arms, flustered. Y/n smiled and helped her get back to her feet.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention" Angela blushed, picking up a bag off of the floor. It was probably a change of clothes as well. Y/n picked up her phone and held her new shirt tighter in her hand, checking the screen.

"It's no problem, I shouldn't have been on my phone" Y/n chuckled and put her phone in her pocket before looking back at Angela.

"Well I'll see you later" the brunette said, recovering from being caught. She left and Y/n continued on her route to the bathroom, having an idea.

——

The work day was done and Y/n set her bag on the hook near the door, taking her laptop out of the bag. She set it down on her couch before immediately going back out to bring her groceries into her apartment.

She had decided to make one of her signature grilled sandwiches, simple but did the job. She thought back to the time that she and Angela had lunch and the brunette ordered a plain grilled cheese. Y/n wanted to make it the way she usually did which was normally with sourdough bread, compound butter - to add an acidity and extra flavour to the bread - and sliced marble cheese. She wouldn't make Angela's until lunch the next day but she blended the butter with parsley, lemon juice, and a little bit of red wine vinegar. Y/n also put the butter in a container, ready to take to the office tomorrow.

Dinner for her was just one of those sandwiches since they were quite easy to make. Y/n changed out of her work clothes and brought up Angela's contact on her phone.

Y/n<3: Hey I just want to say, don't bring lunch tomorrow. Or buy it, ok? Also meet me in the kitchen at lunch.

Angela shortly replied,

Ange: ok...why?

Y/n<3: Can't tell you, it's a surprise ;)

Ange: lol alrighty then

Angela probably thought Y/n was crazy but she decided to go along with it.

——

Angela got done filming a Smosh Games video and Amanda walked up to her, a smile on her face.

"Lunch?" Amanda asked, seemingly knowing the answer.

"Sorry 'Manda, Y/n told me not to get anything for lunch and meet her in the kitchen and I said I would." Angela looked apologetic, Amanda smirked and raised her eyebrows.

"She's going to cook for you. She kept her word" Angela actually had forgotten what they'd filmed the previous day. It was close to the end of the week so that was bound to happen. Her eyes widened and Amanda chuckled.

"Enjoy Ange" Amanda said and went up to Courtney, striking a conversation with them.

Angela walked to the kitchen and saw Y/n in there, setting some things up. Angela smiled softly and walked in, causing Y/n to look up.

"Hey! You must've been wondering why I asked you not to get lunch or bring one" Y/n leaned against the counter, her uncovered arms holding her up as she looked at the slightly shorter woman.

"Well I think I know why now" Angela chuckled and approached the island in the kitchen, looking at the ingredients.

"What are you making?" She asked and Y/n smiled back at her.

"I'm glad you asked, I'm making a grilled cheese" Y/n said confidently and Angela snickered.

"Hey, don't disrespect my sandwich game baby" Y/n stood up fully and reached for the sourdough. Angela blushed at the pet name but cleared her throat to calm herself.

Y/n took the butter container and a butter knife and spread the butter on the pieces of bread, parsley in with the butter as well. Angela looked in confusion.

"What's that?" She knew how to cook, pretty well actually but she hadn't expected something other than butter.

"It's compound butter. Usually people use this stuff for enhancing the flavour in meats, vegetables, and even baked goods but I use it for sandwiches sometimes" Y/n explained and walked over to the pan on the stove with a plate of ingredients. Angela nodded, watching the process in interest.

"Is there anything extra you want on it? Or just cheese" Y/n asked, placing one of the pieces of buttered bread in the pan as well as the cheese.

"No thank you" She smiled. She kind of felt like a child but was excited about trying whatever Y/n cooked. Y/n smiled and nodded, putting the top piece of bread on the sandwich, closing it off. She turned the stove on and turned around to face Angela.

"You know you really didn't have to do this." Angela continued, her back leaning against the kitchen island. Y/n shrugged her shoulders.

"I said I would cook for you and this was an easy way to do so. Though it's a bit of a bummer it's not fancy" Y/n joked at that last bit. She then turned around and checked the bottom of the sandwich, it was a perfect golden brown so she flipped it over to cook the other side.

"Dude, you're literally making me a sandwich for lunch because you said you could cook. It doesn't have to be fancy. It didn't even have to happen" Angela said, stepping closer to Y/n. She stood beside her at the stove and looked at the sandwich, it looked amazing already.

"It's almost done" Y/n looked at Angela before pressing down on the sandwich to fully cook the other side and make sure the cheese is melted.

Soon enough, Y/n checked the other side and turned the stove off once she saw the golden brown colour on the bread. She then plated it and gave it to Angela.

"Your lunch Madam" Y/n put on a terrible English accent and Angela laughed as she grabbed the plate.

"Aren't you going to have one? Because I can wait" Angela asked and Y/n smiled at the respectful nature of Angela when it came to this.

"I already made one this morning so let's go sit" Y/n replied, dropping the accent. She would go back and wash everything she used after being done with lunch.

They both walked out and sat in the seating area. Angela let it cool off while Y/n opened her lunch bag, pulling out a sandwich cut into triangles.

They both took a bite at the same time. Flavour bursted in Angela's mouth and she made a noise in surprise. Y/n watched her and gauged her reaction to be positive. Angela took another bite as Amanda and Courtney sat at their table.

"Hey guys. What did you make?" Amanda asked, sitting down with a salad.

"I made a grilled cheese for her" Y/n replied and Courtney's eyebrows rose.

"Oh! Is Y/n's cooking skills as good as she says?" Courtney asked Angela. The brunette hadn't said anything yet but she looked up at them, a closed smile on her face. She nodded enthusiastically and Y/n blushed.

"Now I'm wishing I didn't get a salad" Amanda joked, winking at Y/n, Y/n and Courtney laughed.

"Honestly that sandwich smells really good. And I'm not usually a sandwich girlie" Courtney said, patting Y/n on the back softly.

"Thank you thank you. They're my specialty" Y/n flipped her hair jokingly as Angela finished off the sandwich.

"Good?" Y/n asked.

"So good. Holy shit Y/n, why did you hide this skill from us?" Angela asked and Y/n chuckled.

"Well I didn't hide it per se. I just never brought it up" Y/n smiled cheekily.

[pengweng-quack]

Being a Witch with Vampires

Carlisle Cullen x Witch!OC

Summary: Stella (A witch) and Carlisle (A vampire), and how they blossomed from roommates to friends(?) to partners

Chapter 7/7

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

Notes:

This was inspired by this fanfic on tumblr by lis-likes-fics titled "In My Defense, I Was Left Unsupervised"

This is also on Ao3 under the same title and same username too if you'd like to read it there (https://archiveofourown.org/works/53448940)

This is officially the final chapter, and thank you so so so much for the support that you've given this series

I will probably post some other stuff firsts before the other Carlisle series that I have been working on, so leave a follow if you're interested

Thank you so much! No words can explain what I feel for each and every one of you <3

Word Count: 3930 words

TW for this chapter: Smut

Timeline: After Breaking Dawn

Masterlist

~2007~

“Are we grandparents now?” Stella asked Carlisle while the two was in bed, hearing Renesmee play with Emmett and Jasper, hearing their giggles and laughs and screams as they seem to be having a pirate roleplay presentation for the other Cullens

“Why do you think so?” Carlisle asked

“I don’t know, we’ve always considered those five as sort of our kids, and you know, Edward and Bella have their own kid now so does that make us her grandparents?” Stella explained her point

“Mi amor, we’re not even married.” Carlisle answered with a small chuckle. They’ve always said that they’re married to the world, but has never really done anything to legalize it

The world knew her as Stella Cullen, but in reality, she was still Stella Allicere. Carlisle knew that he should change that by now.

It’s about time that she actually becomes his Stella Cullen.

“Everyone.” Edward called as Emmett, Renesmee, and Jasper was about to bow for their performance “I think Carlisle’s gonna propose.”

“What?!” Everyone shrieked in either shock, confusion, or excitement

“Yeah, he’s considering it after Stella asked if they’re grandparents.” Edward answered to everyone

“A wedding!” Alice said excitedly, clapping with a huge grin on her face

“We’re not getting married.” Carlisle announced, walking out the room with his hand around Stella’s waist “We’re doing something else.”

“He’ll be offering himself to me.”

~~

The setup was ready. Stella was anxious, if not, more anxious that Carlisle. He was calm, just watching as her and Sam was setting up the finishing touches of the ritual

“You don—

“I want to do this mi amor.” Carlisle said, kissing the temples of her head “But if you think that today isn’t the right time, then we can postpone. I can wait for an eternity for you.”

“But I don’t want you to wait.” Stella murmured “I just want you to be safe.”

“After all that has happened in our 287 years of being together, I am not letting you go anymore.” Carlisle declared

“Well?” Sam asked the couple “Are you ready?”

Stella looked at Carlisle, nothing but a content smile on his face. The kids were watching just outside the circle of salt, all were giving thumbs up to the couple.

He was excited, he was ready.

And that made her ready too.

“Ego Samuel Vi, benedictus superis, ut ligaturam darem Carlisle Cullen et Stella Allicere (I, Samuel Vi, have been blessed by the gods above to grant the binding of Carlisle Cullen and Stella Allicere).” Sam chanted, looking at the two with a smile on his face

“Beata potestate a dis facere ut (Blessed with the power from the gods to make them as one).” He continued, going and looking down on the book of bindings to for the flow

“Carlisle, announce your offers.” Sam instructed

“I am Carlisle Cullen,” Carlisle introduced, making Stella laugh “I may not have much as what others could offer you. But I promise to offer you the entirety of me. I promise to offer you eternal happiness. I will be whatever you need me to be. And I will be by your side for all of eternity.”

“Nunc nos invitamus ad magicam Stella Allicere ut eius oblationem exeat vel recipiat vel neget (We now invite for the magic within Stella Allicere to come out and accept or deny his offering).” Sam said. Carlisle got a wave of nervousness hit him, he thought that it was Stella that would accept or deny, not her magic

A wave of red flew out of Stella, it was a version of her. Ghostly, but so beautiful. She was always so beautiful, no matter what she is.

“I have heard a lot about you, Carlisle Cullen.” The ghost talked, a bored expression on its face

“You’ve caused her pain.”

“You made her wait too long.”

“You made her fend for herself too much.”

“You treated her as if she was weak.”

The ghost was listing everything that could be used against him. Did Stella actually feel of those? He got nervous, thinking that maybe he didn’t think this thoroughly through.

“Yet her heart calls for you.” The ghost countered from everything she listed “Not once have I seen a witch’s heart call for a vampire like you.”

“As the magic within Stella Allicere, I accept your offer to be her mate.” The ghost announced before flying back in Stella

Carlisle felt at ease, it was done. It was over.

They were as one now.

“Accepta tua oblatio, nunc te unum voco. Stella Allicere, tu nunc Stella Cullen (Having accepted your offer, I now call you one. Stella Allicere, you are now Stella Cullen).” Sam said with a gleeful grin on his face, closing the book of bindings

“In normal weddings, with the powers bested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife, you may now kiss the bride.” He continued, getting Carlisle to pull Stella and give her a deep kiss

The magic accepted him. Stella was at ease.

“I love you.” Stella murmured as they pull away from each other

“My turn for a proper wedding!” Alice said, clapping in excitement. Stella and Carlisle looked at each other

They couldn’t care less how extravagant Alice will do for their wedding, all they cared is now they get to call themselves husband and wife.

~~

Stella and Carlisle were making their way back near where the ceremony will be, the same place where Edward and Bella got married. They’ve given Alice their full support that she’s to manage the wedding preparation, too intoxicated with each other to even help in any preparation.

They’ve spent a week at a nearby cottage that Carlisle bought for them and was now just coming back to the main house to see what has happened in their week absence.

“Does no one here see a vision?” Alice yelled, watching as Jasper and Emmett tries to fix the place where they will have the ceremony

“Alice,” Carlisle called, a fond smile on his face “Give your brother and mate a rest.”

“Let her be,” Stella lightly scolded him, placing her hand on his chest “Those two definitely does not have a vision though.”

“We can here you mom!” Emmett yelled, causing the five to be quiet

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to—

“My son!” Stella yelled, running to tackle Emmett in a tight hug

No one among them has called Stella ‘mom’ before, only in public to put up an act. It was a shock, a sudden burst that came out of nowhere. It wasn’t unwanted, but was certainly welcomed. She did see them as her kids already.

“Hell yeah!” Emmett cheered, hugging Stella back tightly

“So, can we start calling you mom now?” Jasper asked behind them

“Yeah, everyone has been dying to call you mom already.” Edward said, joining them outside, Bella and Renesmee behind him “We thought it would be Rosalie that would fold and call you mom, or Jasper.”

“Did you bet who was gonna slip and call her mom first?” Carlisle asked, amused with the kids’ odd bets

“Yeah, there was a 5000-dollar bet that Jasper will go first.” Edward listed, excited to share what had been going behind the couple’s back

“There was a 4000-dollar bet that Rosalie was gonna be first to say it.” He continued

“There was a 2500-dollar bet that Emmett was gonna slip up and say it.” Rosalie added, going outside and joining them

“I think 700 for me. It wasn’t as high as the three, but I was following them.” Edward continued

“I told them that I already knew who was gonna slip up so I just didn’t join, but I did want to call you mom just as much as they do already.” Alice giggled as Stella moved back to be next to Carlisle, resting her head on his shoulders

“Well, I think you owe them 2500, mister.” Stella said, a grin on her face as she playfully looked at Emmett before he groaned and pulled out his wallet. Everyone fell into a line, waiting to receive their 2500 from Emmett

“Why they’d bet like that when their dad is loaded amuses me.” Stella said, before everyone looked at the two, shock looks on their faces

“What is it?” Carlisle asked, curious with the kids’ sudden shock

“You just made us lose!” Emmett yelled in shock, before laughing hard

“Did you also bet who was gonna call Carlisle ‘dad’ too?” Stella asked, amused with their reactions

“We thought it was gonna be Edward.” Jasper answered “Like 15000 was all on Edward that he was gonna call Carlisle ‘dad’ first.”

“Give some respect to your dad.” Stella playfully scolded, giggling like crazy. She felt Carlisle’s hand find its way to her waist, resting as he watches the kids in amusement

Their kids.

“Technically,” Stella said, raising her pointing finger with a matter-of-fact tone “I didn’t call him dad, I do call him—

“We do not want to hear about you and dad’s sex life!” Rosalie yelled, covering her ears like a little child. They all looked at her, laughing as she slipped up

“Damn it!” She could only yell in reply

Carlisle and Stella could only laugh as Rosalie rushes in the house to grab the 15000 dollars that was promised, begrudgingly giving it to Edward.

“Okay!” Alice said, clapping her hands together “Now that you’re all here, you can go and help me with the wedding preparations.”

“Go help your sister out,” Carlisle told them before moving his eyes to Stella, eyeing her from top to bottom “Me and my wife-to-be is gonna enjoy some few moments—

“Ew!” Emmett yelled, covering her ears again “We do not want to hear what you and mom do in the cottage.”

“Mr. Cullen, don’t terrorize our kids like that.” Stella teased, lightly slapping Carlisle’s chest but using her pointing finger to trail down his torso

Carlisle made eye contact with Stella, her grey eyes looking at him seductively. Her body was calling for him, every inch of her needing and calling for every inch of him.

And that made his pants a bit tighter than how it was

“We will be in the cottage, call us when the pre-wedding preparations are over.” Carlisle said, his hands tightly on Stella’s waist “You know who to invite.”

(Smut Scene)

The two didn’t hear what they were gonna say next, as Carlisle picked her up bridal style and rushed to the cottage and into their bedroom. Where Carlisle carefully placed her down the bed, his eyes on her like a predator on his prey.

“I need you.” Carlisle murmured, removing the shirt that he had to wear in visiting the main house, Stella watched as his cold tone body was revealed, making her gulp.

What a masterpiece.

Carlisle crawled to the bed, making his way to be on top of Stella, his hands slowly making its way on Stella’s waist, playing with the hem of her top before fully removing it, giving him more access to her skin.

“How you managed to keep me outside when you’re this ravishing astonishes me.” Carlisle whispered, indulging himself and leaving shallow bite marks on Stella’s shoulders, getting the witch to let out whimpers of pleasure. He used his free hand to undo her bra, having experience from her teaching him how to undo it.

Carlisle took his time on Stella’s shoulders and neck, leaving bite marks wherever his lips land on. Such simple action, yet his beloved Stella is already moaning in pleasure. He moved down to her legs, removing the shorts and panties that were preventing Carlisle from giving more pleasure to his wife-to-be.

“Carlisle,” Stella moaned quietly “No teasing.”

“I do not intend on teasing you, my beloved.” Carlisle answered, using his two fingers to rub the wetness that was forming in Stella’s pussy around “I only intend on taking my time with you.”

“Carlisle please,” Stella breathed out. Carlisle chucked at the sight of her, he hasn’t done anything yet Stella is already crying her pleas

Carlisle slowly inserted two fingers in her, allowing her to adjust. Stella let out a moan, throwing her head back. He decided to end the slowness, increasing the speed of his fingers going in and out of her as he places his mouth on her clit, using it to stimulate more pleasure in her.

“Carlisle,” Stella breathed out, Carlisle could hear her heartbeat speeding, it meant that she was getting closer to her orgasm.

“Yes, mi amor?” Carlisle asked, pulling away from her clit, a string of saliva following as he used his other hand to stimulate her more

“C-close.” She could only mutter, deep pants coming from her mouth

“I know.” He only replied, keeping the pace of his hands on her

It didn’t take long for Stella to let out a cry of his name, her back arching in pleasure as Carlisle kept the pace of his fingers on her, even going back and placing his mouth on her clit to stimulate her freshly orgasmed pussy

“Carlisle!” Stella squealed, grabbing a handful of his hair as she grinded her pussy on his face. Carlisle welcomed it, pulling his hands away from her and wrapping it around her thighs, keeping them in place.

Carlisle decided that he was gonna force another orgasm out of her before he even thinks of his pleasure. She was getting close again, he didn’t need his vampiric senses to figure that out. Stella was chanting his name like a prayer, her grip on his hair tight and her back arched.

“Carlisle, I’m cumming!” Stella yelled, lifting her waist up in instinct. Carlisle pushed her down, making sure that he gets to ride her orgasm before he pulled away from her

“How was it, mi amor?” Carlisle asked her, looking at her face. She was panting, and anyone would clearly be able to see just how used she had been

‘To think that it’s just been two orgasms’ Carlisle thought to himself, chuckling as Stella catches her breath

Stella didn’t reply, only grabbing his hand and pulling him down the bed and making her way on top of him. Resting herself dangerously close to his cock.

“Need you.” Stella murmured, before turning around and pushing the sweatpants off the vampire, revealing his semi-hardened cock

It was now Carlisle’s turn to moan as Stella had wrapped her hand around his length, slowly stroking it for his dick to fully harden. When Stella was satisfied, he aligned his cock to her pussy, lowering herself down. They shared a moan; Stella’s head was thrown back in pleasure.

“Such a pretty sight.” Carlisle complimented, placing his hands on her waist as she started grinding on him. Moans and whimpers were coming out of Carlisle’s mouth, watching as his Stella grinds on his cock.

“Such a good girl for me.” He continued complimenting, before grabbing her waist and taking control for her grinding “You like being on top of me?”

“Mhm.” Stella nodded; her eyes closed in pleasure as she continued to follow Carlisle’s rhythm “So much.”

“Fuck,” Carlisle breathed out. The sight of her was so divine, a masterpiece.

All his.

“So close.” Carlisle whimpered “You want me to cum inside you?”

“Please.” Stella mumbled, covering her flustered face on his shoulders, her pace suddenly got faster as so her heartbeat did, it was obvious that she’s just had another orgasm. 287 years and she still make his undead heart flutter

“What’s that?” Carlisle asked again “Couldn’t hear you. Maybe you should face me so I can hear your answer, mi amor.”

“Need you to fill me up.” Stella whimpered, facing him with blushing yet fucked face, she was panting heavily, after just having another orgasm. The sight itself made Carlisle cum then and there. He didn’t expect that he wouldn’t be able to hold it a little longer, letting out a strangled moan in pleasure as he feels his release.

“I love you.” Stella murmured, resting her head on his shoulder

“Three orgasms and you’re already tired?” Carlisle teased her, picking her up and laying her down the bed, strings of his orgasm dripping out of her

“Try having three orgasms and then we’ll talk.”  Stella said in a grumpy tone, closing her eyes in an attempt to sleep

(End of Smut)

“Come on mi amor. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Carlisle said, picking her up bridal style and carrying her to the bathroom

Stella allowed him to take care of her, doing what Carlisle was asking her to do. She usually had a higher stamina when they’re having some time alone but it seemed that today was just not her day. Carlisle prepared the bath for them, making sure that it was the perfect temperature for Stella before positioning themselves in it and feeling the water on their skin.

“Is it possible for a vampire to impregnate a witch?” Stella asked quietly, her head resting softly on Carlisle’s chest

“Mi amor?” Carlisle asked quietly, he was nervous if his carelessness of pulling out have led to something else. He had no physical heart, yet he felt something was pounding his chest.

“I’m not implying anything.” Stella assured him; her eyes closed as she was enjoying the water’s temperature “Just curious on it.”

“I would assume that it’s possible.” He answered to her curiosity “Since a human and vampire can procreate, I would assume that it would be possible for us too.”

“Would you want to have one of our own?” She asked again, though quieter than how she asked her last question

“Would you be happier if we did have one of our own?” Carlisle asked her back. He was curious and concerned with the sudden baby discussions and what Stella was implying with that

“I wouldn’t—

“Then we won’t.” Carlisle answered at once “Your happiness is my concern. If you think that having a kid will make us happier and will make you more fulfilled, then I will be willing to give you as many children as your heart desires.”

“I thought, seeing Bella and Edward have Renesmee, that you would want a kid of your own.” Stella confessed “You know, it opened a possibility for us, if you’d want to face through it.”

“I would not want to see you in such pain, knowing that Iam the cause of it. I have seen it once; I would not wish to see you in pain again.” Carlisle answered, kissing the back of her head in an attempt to comfort her

“Are you sure?” Stella asked again, she was craving assurance from him

“100% sure, mi amor.” Carlisle answered earnestly “And besides, the kids consider us as their parents. I don’t know about you, but I consider them to be my kids.”

“I love you. Thank you for understanding my doubts.” Stella said, scooting closer to him

“I love you more.” Carlisle whispered, kissing the back of her head and wrapping his arm around her “Never think that you need more just for me to love you. I already do.”

~~

Almost all of Carlisle and Stella’s non-human friends were guests in their wedding, it was obvious that no one got to stop Alice from inviting them whatsoever. There were familiar faces, and less familiar faces, all were there to celebrate the long-awaited union of the two

Alice informed them just before the wedding started that they were gonna have another wedding, with only their human friends to give them a bit of normalcy in their union. And also, because she was well aware that even them have been rooting for them since forever.

After all, Carlisle gets to do the garter tradition on Stella twice, so who was he to oppose to that?

“Good evening, everyone.” Edward started, tapping into the mic before continuing “I’m Edward, you may know me as the vampire that fell for a human and led to a lot of things to happen, but that’s all behind us now.”

“We’re here today to celebrate a different union, one that everyone has waited to see since the beginning of their journey together. I, personally, have been a witness of how much of a coward Carlisle has been and just how patient Stella has been with him too.”

His comment made the audience laugh and Carlisle to roll his eyes at his playful antics. Edward looked at the two with a fond smile on his face before averting his attention to the audience.

“All teasing aside, I do want to thank Stella for having such a kind soul for staying with us. I know that becoming a mom was something you didn’t think you would fit to be, but you decided to step up and become the mother that we didn’t think we would need from our transition from humanity to eternity.”

“Carlisle is many things, but he is always Stella’s number one. His actions betrayed the words that came out of his mouth, for it spoke what his heart always yearned for. Carlisle, you may have waited centuries for a chance with your mate, but you don’t need to worry anymore, because she is now by your side until the end of our immortal lives.”

“Everyone has been a witness of their pinning, me painfully so because of my telepathy and the time that I’ve spent with them. And everyone had one hope for the both of you, and that was for you two to realize just how deep the love and respect that you have for each other.”

“I am standing here today, not just as their eldest son, but also a man that witnessed their love and how it was always bound to withstand the test of time.”

“May you be blessed to have the love that you will choose to live for every day.” Edward ended, raising his glass of blood to initiate a cheer for the newlywed

Edward went down the stage and hugged Carlisle and Stella, whispering his congratulations to the two of them. Rosalie made her way up the stage, a wide grin on her face.

“So, Edward made a long, very proper speech.” Rosalie started, getting laughter from the crowd “I intend to keep mine short, but I don’t think I will be able to summarize the 287 years of pinning that they had with each other.”

“Oh, come on.” Stella teased, playfully rolling her eyes at Rosalie

“I’ve only been with them for 74 years. But in those 74 years, not once have I doubted the love between the two of them. It was always there, though acknowledged very very late. Carlisle showed his through words, always knowing the right things to say to be Stella’s solace. And Stella showed hers through actions, making sure that Carlisle never forgets that he deserved rest just as much as the humans did. Both subtle yet screamed what their hearts wanted to say.”

“I wish I was as poetic as Edward.” Rosalie joked, getting the married couple to chuckle at her comment “But we really do wish nothing more but your complete happiness in your life as an officially married couple.”

“Congratulations! And finally, you’re married.” Rosalie ended, clapping because she was right

Finally, they were married.

Carlisle and Stella looked at each other as Rosalie went down the stage, a fond smile forming on their faces, before sharing a kiss. Getting the audience to cheer and yell for them.

The kiss was soft, it was gentle.

It was everything that summarized their 287 years of pinning.

@kisekihany

[creepychippy]

Even the Ultimate Fanfic Creator can feel Doubt

(Note: This is a Tickle Fanfic which also includes a bit of Angst and Hurt/Comfort.)

Summary: Hifumi is doubting his own Title as an Ultimate. Celestia comes up with an unconventional Method in order to cheer him up and bring his Motivation back.

Delicately, Fingers flicked over the next Page of a Fantasy Novel bound in a black Cover. The Ultimate Gambler and the Ultimate Fanfic Creator were currently spending some Time together in the Dorm Room of the latter, each one following after their own Hobbies. As such, the Gambler decided on reading a Novel which told a romantic Story about a Princess getting lost inside a magical Forest only to be saved by a handsome Vampire who invites her back into his Castle while the Fanfic Creator was sketching away on his Graphics Tablet.

However, there was one small Problem - that being Hifumi's constant sighing. The first few Times, Celestia didn't pay any Mind to it, being too engrossed with the Story she is reading. After the fourth and fifth Time, though, her Concentration was pretty much in Shambles as red Eyes repeatedly scanned over the same Lines on the same Page over and over again as a last Ditch Effort to absorb any Type of Information. She contemplated on scolding Hifumi for his Carelessness, though the few Seconds of Silence made her choose otherwise, the Novel in her Hands being considered being much more worthy of her Time-

"Uugh..."

Another exhale from the other Ultimate nearby tore Celestia out of her Focus for the sixth Time in a Row. Annoyance bubbled within the dark-clothed Gambler, red Eyes torn away from the Book in order to glare towards the very Source of the Distraction.

"Hifumi, do pray tell as to why so much senseless Air is escaping past your Lips like a Balloon deflating.", she snapped towards him, though her Voice staying composed and elegant as ever.

"Ah, Ms. Ludenberg! It's a Tragedy, dare I say!", the nerdy Teen rose from his Chair dramatically and headed over towards the large Bed the Gambler was resting on, then let himself drop onto it which caused Celestia to slightly bounce up and down for a Moment, "It seems the Gods have abandoned me! Nay! Snatched my Passion from my very Hands!"

Celestia let her Gaze wander over towards the PC Monitor on Hifumi's Desk and noticed something peculiar. Many Sketches were either hastily skribbled out or had tons of Notes written beside them. On closer Inspection, said Notes included lots of Criticism and negative Descriptions in them. Weird, usually Hifumi tends to be very confident in his Work and not so harsh on himself, she thought to herself. Her Attention snapped back to the Teenage Boy as he continued with his rambling.

"My Inspiration gone! My Fancy not being tickled anymore! My Life Essence drained!", a frustrated Groan left him while he covered his Face with his Hands, "Am I even... still good enough anymore?"

Celestia's Annoyance melted away in an instant as she heard Hifumi's Tone change towards his last Sentence. It didn't sound eccentric and dorky anymore like usual, rather... unsure. Hopeless even.

"... Pardon?", one Hand closed the Novel with a quiet thud as she laid it aside.

"Ah, sorry, sorry!", Hifumi removed his Hands and showed a wobbly Smile, "Nothin' to worry about, Ms. Ludenber-"

"Hifumi."

Her Voice was stern and commanding, yet there was no Hint of Anger in it. As the Queen of Liars, she could pretty much tell that the Ultimate Fanfic Creator was displaying a fake Smile on his Face... not that it really took someone being the Queen of Liars in order to tell that he was putting on a Facade, so obviously forced was his Smile.

"There is definitely something going on here, so how about you spare any pointless Attempts at changing the Topic and just spit it out already?"

Hifumi fidgeted with his Hands, though as soon as his Head turned towards the Ultimate Gambler and his Eyes met hers, his Smile just... broke. Now, an Expression of Sadness presented itself, one that the female Teen has never seen before much to her surprise. His Mouth in the usual Shape of a three hung low and she could swear that she was seeing Tears stinging in the Corners of his Eyes. Celestia didn't want to admit it, but even she felt a Pang of Sympathy in her Heart upon catching that Sight.

"I-it's just... I'm not... What if I don't live up to my Title as an Ultimate anymore?", an audible Hic left his Throat for a Moment before he continued further, "M-my Artworks... Do they even carry the same Worth as my previous ones or have they fallen below Quality?"

Hifumi averted Celestia's Gaze, instead staring down onto the Floor which was littered with empty Bags of Chips and Ramen Noodles Cups. Nonetheless, the latter still intently listened.

"What if People don't find my Creations inspirational? Have they been hating it all along? What if... What if I suddenly don't know what to create anymore and run out of Motivation completely forever? Wouldn't that mean the End of my Career?... What if... ᴵ ʷᵃˢⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵒʳᵗʰʸ ᵃˡˡ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᶜᵃʳʳʸ ᵃⁿʸ ᵂᵒʳᵗʰ ᵃˢ ᵃ ᴴᵘᵐᵃⁿ ᴮᵉᶦⁿᵍˀ…", towards the end, Hifumi's Voice went quiet after revealing the Thought Spiral clawing inside his Head for quite a while now.

The Ultimate Gambler... was speechless and caught off-guard, to say the least. Out of all People, she expected the Teen Boy the least to carry such deep Worries within him considering his boastful and confident Nature. As Silence took over the Room, Tears threatened to spill from Hifumi's Eyes. Seeing that, she decided to do something she thought she would never do in her Life for once - actually console Hifumi.

"Hifumi.", Celestia cautiously took one of his Hands into her own, "Why do you doubt your own Title as an Ultimate in such manner?"

The Ultimate Fanfic Creator stared at her with Bewilderment as he was not used to receiving Compassion from her.

"If you were chosen as an Ultimate, then there was definitely no mistake in that. You should carry your Title with Pride instead of questioning it. Even if you tend to often create... rather questionable Stuff, there is no denying your Level in Skill... and Talent..."

Slowly, the Ultimate Gambler stopped in her Words as a Tear was rolling down Hifumi's Cheek.

"Ah! Sorry! Sorry!", he hastily wiped it away with his Sleeve, "I-it's just-... I didn't know I really needed to hear that... Thank you, Ms. Ludenberg."

Indeed, the Teen Boy appeared to be in higher Spirits compared to before, however there was still a Hint of Doubt audible in his Voice. Celestia was not really satisfied with that Result yet. Suddenly, an Idea sprung into her Head as she recalled one Word the Ultimate Fanfic Creator just uttered mere Minutes ago.

"You mentioned that you lost your Motivation-", she put on a sweet Smile on her Face which hid her mischievous Intention, "- so how about I help you by tickling your Fancy, hmm?"

"W-what do you mea-eEK!", before Hifumi could finish his Sentence, however, a ticklish Jolt ran through his Body as a Hand grabbed his Side and squeezed it.

"M-Ms. Ludenbeheherg, whahat are youhu-"

Black Nails dug into his Pudge, a sudden Snort emitting from him while his left Hand flailed lightly around, though it made sure to avoid accidentally hitting the Ultimate Gambler.

"Are you deaf? I said that I am helping you, so you are better grateful for me providing such a gracious Offer."

In a way, Celestia determined that this was a suitable Punishment for the Ultimate Fanfic Writer for his great Offence of repeatedly disrupting her during her precious reading Time. Even so, the Queen of Liars had to admit that messing with him in such a way was quite a lot of Fun, though she would vehemently deny that very Fact if asked, of course.

"Ohoffeher? I-ahah-Ihi wahasn't infohormed about ahany Offehe-HEHEHAHA, NOT THEHERE! NAHAHAT THEREHEHE!!"

Hifumi's Laughter pretty much jumped up three Octaves higher as Celestia's Fingers swiftly spidered along from his Side towards his chubby Belly, Nails scritching away at an especially sensitive Spot through his white Shirt there. His left Hand slammed across his Mouth out of Reflex, Warmth radiating from his Cheeks while a pastel pink Hue gradually spread across them.

"Ah ah ah~. If you want that Passion of yours to return to you, then you are not allowed to muffle your Laughter. You need to let it all out~."

Removing her Fingers for a Moment, Celestia guided Hifumi's Arm away from his flustered Face only to promptly poke and prod around his Stomach once more, resulting in him letting out a girly Screech followed by tons of high-pitched cackling.

"T-thaHAHat's naHAHAahat fahaHAHAIhihIHIhir!! I caHAHAhan feheheel m-my MaHAHANAha depleheHEHEhetiHIHIhing!!"

"Not everything can be fair. Such is Life as it tends to play cruel Jokes on us."

The Ultimate Fanfic Creator just about felt his Soul leaving his Body when Fingernails traced various Shapes into his Belly and he erupted into loud guffawing, even letting out a few funny Snorts here and there.

"LUHUHUDENBEHERG!! I-AHAHAHA- IHIT TICKLEHEHES TOHOHOHOO MUHUHUCH!!! EHEHEHAHAHAHA!!!", at this point, it would be no Surprise if the People from the Dorm Rooms next Door heard Hifumi's hysterical Laughter bouncing off of the Walls, that's how noisy it was.

Smiling sickly sweet as ever, a Feeling of evil Playfulness materialized within Celestia, choosing to tease Hifumi further so that his pastel-pink Cheeks would change into a bright red Colour.

"I sincerely hope that this tickles, else the entire Point in this would have been severely missed. Or did you genuinely expect to receive a Massage from a Noblewoman like me, hmm~?"

"PLEHEHEAHAHASEHEHEHE, BWAHAHAHAHA!!!"

Meanwhile, it was finally then that Celestia took Note of something: She was still weakly holding onto Hifumi's right Hand. This entire Time, he had not yanked it away from her, probably too busy with laughing and squirming his Torso around to fend off the devilish Nails tickling him. Come to think of it, he sounded like he was slowly running out of Breath, too. Well, he did kindly say please, now didn't he? Rewarding him with a small Break is the least the Ultimate Gambler could do for him. She removed her Nails from Hifumi's Stomach, allowing him to take in large Gulps of Air for a few Seconds. Then, Curiosity struck her and she placed her Nails onto his right open Palm, lightly scritching away at the Skin there in a circular Motion. Honestly, Celestia would have expected anything. Loud Pig-like Snorts. High-pitched girly Squeals. Nerdy and goofy chortling. Anything that basically screamed "Hifumi Yamada" or "The Alpha and the Omega" as he likes to proudly call himself. In her entire Existence, the very last Thing the Queen of Liars would have ever expected coming from him was the most innocent, most precious, most carefree and most lighthearted giggling she has ever had the Pleasure of listening to in her whole Life.

And yet that is what her Ears were hearing at this very Moment.

"Ms. Ludenbeheheherg, I-Ihi wahahasn't reheheahahady yehehet!", Hifumi squeezed his Eyes shut while his Face scrunched up into a bashful Expression. Because of that, he couldn't see Celestia staring at him with wide Eyes.

"M-Ms. Ludehehenbeheherg?" When he didn't receive an Answer from her like usually, he cracked one Eyelid open to look at her. Quickly, Celestia shook her Head to regain her Composure.

"The Turmoils of Life can take us such by Surprise, yes?"

She softly let her Fingers dance across his open Palm thus eliciting even more wholesome giggling from him.

"I suppohohosehehehe! Ahahahahaha!"

Unlike before, Hifumi was not flailing around anymore, instead sitting still on the Bed with his free left Hand placed on his Lap.

"May Ihi ihihinquihire for hohohow lohohong you ahare gohohoihing to-ahahaha-to keep tihihicklihihing mehe fohor?"

"Until that burning Motivation of yours returns to its rightful Place, that being your Mind. Has it done so yet?"

"I-I thihihink so, yeheahaha."

"You think?"

Celestia took the Opportunity of Hifumi's Uncertainty in order to increase the Pace of her Fingers spidering across his Palm.

"W-wahahaihihit! I'm certahahain! Ihihi am cehehertain nohohow!"

"There we go."

Truthfully, she was a bit disappointed that she had to stop tickling him, but her Objective in the first Place was to cheer the other Ultimate up, not outright kill him with Laughter. Thus, she finally let go of his Wrist, the latter rubbing the ghostly Tickles away with his Thumb as he regained his Breath in the meantime, his Chest rising and sinking with each Intake of Air.

"Yes... yeees! I think I can finally see it! The Glimmer of Passion is once more being ignited within me! I am blessed by the Kiss of the Muse!", Hifumi's Mouth quirked up in the three-Shape that everyone was so accustomed to, Glee radiating from him, "The Gods are passing down such marvelous Concepts into my Head! The Colours! So bright and emotional! I must capture it on my Canvas this instant!"

Hifumi excitedly jumped up from the Bed, though not before turning back towards Celestia. "Ms. Ludenberg, I must thank you for helping me out of this Predicament, even with such an, err-... unconventional Method. I do hope you understand that I must return to my artistic World this once!"

"I won't hold you up any longer. After all, I have my own important Matters to attend to.", Celestia referred to her Fantasy Novel which she picked back up.

Nodding, the Ultimate Fanfic Creator hurried back to his PC and immediately began sketching away on his Graphics Tablet, the Passion indeed having returned to him by the Sounds of it.

Before Celestia settled back into reading, she flashed one last Glance towards her Friend, a small genuine Smile hidden behind the Book.

[estelofrivendell]

You’ve Got A Friend In Me (Aragorn x Female Reader)

a/n: clara actually posting a one shot??? shocker, right? anyway, i started this months ago and only finished it now. it’s not really x reader, but oh well. also, there may or may not be inspiration taken from to kill a mockingbird. i won’t elaborate and you will see it when you see it. i don’t really see this as a part three of “a change of heart” but you can if you want to. also, don’t question the toy storyesque title.

summary: you’re convicted of a crime you actually didn’t do and all the odds are against you because of your reputation. aragorn is the only one to believe you are innocent and does what he can to help you get cleared of all charges.

word count: 2,1k

warnings: none really other than mentions of murder

During your first meeting, Aragorn prayed to whatever God was up there to have you locked up for your crimes sooner or later. He never thought it would actually happen considering how lousy the whole system was. Yet the wishes he no longer held were answered, which he thought was only done to spite him. When news of the lords declaring you a fugitive, he prayed you would be guided into safety and away from the authorities before asking why they wanted you.

���Do you need to ask?” A considerably young ranger laughed. “That woman is a menace. It was about time those poor souls were brought to justice, and this is long overdue.”

Aragorn growled. “That does not answer my question.”

The young ranger laughed once more, holding up his arms. “Calm down. They say she murdered one of those great lords in cold blood. Witnesses saw her near the castle when all the mess was going on. Can you believe it?”

No, I do not. She would never do that, not anymore.

Finding you wasn’t so difficult anymore. You were a slippery little snake that it took Aragorn a while to master the task of locating you. Today felt strangely easier than it was and he wondered if that was deliberate and you had been hoping he would find you.

You sure did not expect his visit as you aimed your knife at him, the tip close enough to his chin that it made a small cut, but you lowered it the moment you realised who it really was.

“Aragorn? What brings you here?”

“I believe you know what brought me here. Did you do it?”

“Kill the lord? No, though I would love that honour. I cannot tell you I am entirely innocent in this matter.”

You didn’t change entirely, you see. You still took payments (especially when the money came from a high bidder) and you were more than happy to carry out the execution of the worst of men, and the lord was no kind man. He was someone no one wanted to be around and Aragorn didn’t need to be told that you would love to kill him, yet he felt it in him that if you were going to be arrested for any crime, this was not it.

“Well, it doesn’t matter anymore,” you said, turning away from him. “You need to get out of here. I don’t want you seen with me and I most certainly don’t want you to be involved in my problems, so do yourself a favour and save your sorry self from a conviction.”

Aragorn raised a brow. “You involve yourself in my affairs, why can I not do the same?”

You shot him a glare. “That is different, I was helping you. And if-”

“You don’t think I’m helping you? I’m telling you I believe you’re innocent, and no matter what you say to make yourself look bad, I’ll find a way to make sure you’re not tried for anything.”

“Then run away with me.” You offered your hand. “A life in the forests away from the city sounds nice. It’s what I always dreamed of as a young girl.”

If he wasn’t destined for something so big, he would not hesitate to take up your offer. Even then, he imagined a life with you and he believed it to be so cozy and perfect. He was no stranger to waking up beside you and he longed for your company that getting to do it every morning sounded like a utopia.

“I… cannot.”

“Why not? You have nothing going for you. Just the same old rangering, nearly getting yourself killed while the people you protect don’t thank you for your service. Would you prefer a life with me, where we have all the freedom we can get? We can explore the world together, unbounded by expectations and obligations.”

“I may not like what I do, but it is still my duty to protect the men of Bree.”

Hurt, you turned away from him and left. “Well, you made your choice and I have made mine. I am sorry they are incompatible, but there is no use to convince you. I wish you all the luck if there is any left.”

-

Each day, Aragorn misses you, but does not regret not following you. He would kill for you, but he would not pick you over the crown. It was the heaviest price he ever paid in his life and he is sure nothing else can compare.

Over time, his life is the same as it was before he met you. Hunt orcs, occasionally meet Gandalf, return to Rivendell, eat and sleep. Rinse and repeat.

It had been three months, shy of Midsummer when he heard about your whereabouts. Expecting neutral at worst news, he ensured to look like he was not paying attention and almost lost his train of thought when they started to go into more detail.

“Word has it that the woman thought to murder the lord had been found by authorities just last week. She put up a good fight, killing the guards and escaped the first time, but they caught her this time, not without issue though. She’s been brought back here for a trial.”

“Here? Why?” A young man asked, stupidly.

“Because this is where the murder happened,” said the man calmly. “I’m more surprised she’s getting a trial in the first place. Murderers like her deserve a lifetime sentence, plus 150 years, without the possibility of bail. In fact, the guillotine will do.”

A young woman around the same age as you spoke up. “There’s no way she’s getting a sentence lower than that. I mean, she steals a lot, and that’s not worth a death sentence in my book, and all those conspiracy murders everyone spoke of had no evidence, but this one did.”

“So, when is the trial?” The young woman asked.

“In two months time, assuming no delays.”

-

After a lot of difficult convincing on his end, side eyes he received, and suspicion that he was someone to not be trusted, Aragorn received the location of the maximum security prison and the specific cell you were held at. The guards asked him a lot of questions before letting him see you, let alone giving you privacy. 

When you saw him, you shot up and clenched your hands around the bars. A friendly face was long overdue. “It’s over, Strider. No point in making me feel better. I lost the moment they found me and there’s no turning back.”

“Don’t say that. Have some faith in yourself. I know you didn’t do it-“

“And do you have proof for that? God, I’m grateful to have you, and I’m grateful that you believe I didn’t do it, but you’re a delusional man. Go home. Find a woman to fuck, marry and have babies with. Forget about me. You’re smarter than this.”

“I know many people that can help you. I’ve been looking around and speaking to them, and they agreed to look into it. Some of them have been given permission to investigate.”

“Strider.” Only until now did you start crying, and Aragorn never saw you cry. He thought you crying was something he never thought he would see. “Stop that. You don’t have to do that.”

“What friend would I be?”

“You’re risking your own life for me.” You sobbed. “I don’t want you to jeopardise your own life to save mine. Please, stop this, go home. You have nothing to do with this.”

Suddenly, the door opened and two guards roughly grabbed Aragorn and pulled him away. “Time’s up,” one of them gruffly said to him as you mouthed “don’t resist.” He reluctantly listened. He was a lot stronger than everyone here combined and could knock them out in one hit, but if he wanted to finish his plan of ensuring you were proven innocent, beating up the guards was not the way to do it.

Once he was thrown out of the prison, he looked at the architecture and noted how miserable it was. He could tell you were losing your mind each passing minute and only hoped that you would recover as soon as you were released.

-

One of the people he paid to investigate the lord’s death had summoned him to a private place at night. 

“I think you need to hear this. Last night, we went over the body and we discovered enormous hand marks on the victim’s neck and marks on his right eye. The hand prints are too big to belong to a woman and the injuries on his eye could mean a left-handed man did it.”

Aragorn has met women with quite large hands, but the news only confirmed that you didn’t kill him, as he was aware you had small hands. You were also indeed right handed.

“With this proof in mind, it’s hard for me to believe she did it. I don’t know who did it, but I don’t believe it’s her.”

-

Aragorn snuck his way in your trial and watched from above, making sure to keep discreet. After the introduction and overview of your charges, and people fighting it out with you remaining silent, you were suddenly asked a question that piqued his interest.

“Can you read and write?”

“Yes, I can.”

Everyone present stared at each other, muttering amongst each other, shocked that a woman who was most certainly not noble and was uneducated knew how to read and write.

You were asked to write out what the judge said, word by word with both hands. The most eloquent speech with advanced words yet you had no struggle writing them down, with your right hand, confusing everyone.

The man that asked you to write remained calm the entire time, as if he was unsurprised, startling you a bit.

“You see, the woman here wrote with her right hand, with perfect handwriting, while her writing with her left hand is nearly illegible. This could only mean she is right handed. The lord was discovered with bruises on the right side of his face, which if we assume she is the murderer, would be probable if she is left-handed. But she is not.”

“Secondly, there were big handprints around the lord’s neck. The woman here has quite small hands. A woman’s strength could only do so much to try and choke a man let alone with small hands.”

The trial went on and on, but came to an end, a good one, since you were cleared of your charges. Due to the everyone’s shock and confusion, and how the evidence countered their expectations, no one cheered nor jeered at the decision. It was dead silent and everyone left without uttering a single word.

Aragorn only smiled to himself, but his smile fell when you ignored him.

-

And life in Bree went on.

Everyone spent a week talking about how they had wrong thoughts of you, while others were still convinced you didn’t do it. A couple others just didn’t care and were annoyed to even hear about you. But after a week, the chatter all died down and everyone minded their own business, unless it was something about their married neighbor beginning an affair with another woman. 

Aragorn found you at your place, cleaning your home with a lot of things packed.

“Going somewhere?”

“Finishing what I did not get to,” you said, not looking at him. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see if you are well.”

“I am… well, I suppose. I’m not in a shitty cell with a similar embodiment to hell anymore.”

“I don’t expect a thanks or-”

“Thank you,” you suddenly said, finally facing him. “I’m sorry for doubting you. I really did think it was over for me.”

“I don’t blame you for doubting me, but I am your friend. You helped me before and it’s about time I returned the favour.”

“I am still going away for a while. I do not think I want to come back to Bree after a short time with everything that has happened. I understand you do not want to come with me, but I will come back, I promise.”

“About that. I think I decided that I do want to travel with you. It’s that this time, we’re not running away from something terrible.”

You ran towards him to give him a hug, perhaps the biggest hug he ever had in his life, and he heard you start to cry again. This time, you were not crying out of desperation.

No, you were crying of happiness. Happiness because you get to travel around the world with your favourite person, and the only person in your life left that mattered.