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luminousvision · 1 year ago

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Everland

The line into Everland spun several loops and twirls through the parking lot, like a ride of its own. Many faced forward in line, bowing slightly, looking at their phones. The kids around us squirmed but we were now old enough to know that life takes its time. I stood in line with my sister, Wendy.

“Kind of uncreative, don’t you think?” I asked.

“If you’re going to complain about a free trip to Everland, you can leave,” Wendy replied. “I’m officially an adult now.”

She strode up to the ticket stand once it was our turn. “Two adult passes,” she said, standing up very straight. Wendy looked quite tall. She handed her ID to the bored clerk who raised an eyebrow.

“Exactly fifteen,” Wendy said.

The clerk mumbled something and handed us two red bracelets. Wendy put one around her wrist and then put one on mine.

A giant golden fountain greeted us at the entryway into the park. It looked exactly as I remembered from childhood. Little kids wearing green bracelets ran around the edge of the fountain, screaming and cheering. The parents watching looked tired already.

“Where do you want to go?” I asked, opening up the Everland brochure. Colorful drawings dotted the oval-shaped amusement park.

“Let’s try everything! Oh, we have to go through the Alice in Wonderland tunnel. That’s my favorite.”

“Really? Do you enjoy the Queen of Hearts jumping out at you screaming ‘off with your head’? She gave me months of nightmares.”

Wendy laughed. “But it’s so funny! You take things too seriously.”

We had just passed the fountain of kids when a girl waved at us. “Wendy?” she called.

“Juliet! What are you doing here?” Wendy exclaimed. She ran to hug Juliet, who was holding hands with the boy beside her.

“Well,” Juliet began, drawing out her words, “we thought it would be fun to spend the day together.”

They smiled and looked into each other’s eyes. They wore green bracelets.

“Any rides you have in mind? Eternal Vortex looks wild,” I said.

“Not really, since we can’t do much with these,” she said, holding up her arm. “We’d just rather disappear together out back anyway,” Juliet said, winking at Wendy. “Wouldn’t you two?”

We looked at her. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t introduce you to my brother Peter,” Wendy said. We shook hands all around.

“We’re going to the clock tower. That’s probably the best place. Do you want to join us?” Juliet asked.

“Is that a ride?” Wendy asked.

“No, it’s just the clock tower.”

“You two go have fun—let’s meet up for lunch,” I said. We agreed this was a good idea.

“Wonder what’s so interesting about the clock tower,” Wendy said after we parted ways.

“Really?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind,” I said. I put my hands in my pockets. “Want to go on that?” I pointed to a red and pink rollercoaster on a hill in front of us.

“Sure.”

We climbed several flights of stairs and queued behind a lively family.

“I’m going to take your phone if you keep texting.”

“We’re sitting in line. There’s nothing else to do.”

“Ariel, listen to your mother.”

“Besides, I talk to lots of people over the phone, mom. I’m social. It’s good to build social skills. It’s an important life skill.”

“You’re stupid.”

“Be nice to your sister.”

“Shut up, Andrew. People like talking to me. Lizzy said I was the best call girl at school.”

“What!”

Wendy stifled a laugh.

“Most kids prefer texting, but they don’t know how to have a real conversation.”

Thankfully the line moved fast. Wendy beamed when they checked her bracelet and let us in. We were lucky to be the first of our batch, giving us the front seats on the rollercoaster train. It was one of the inverted ones, one that drops you off the platform right from the beginning without the suspense of getting pulled up into the sky. It sent us through a bunch of loops and corkscrews plus a gut-wrenching second dive before the train swirled through a few turns and clicked onto the final chain.

“Anti-climactic, don’t you think?” Wendy shouted as we climbed up into the station.

“Aren’t they all? The drop can’t come last.”

“I guess. Want to go again?”

We couldn’t even see the end of the line anymore, so we went back down the stairs. We got ourselves dizzy on the teacups and played games at the arcade. I kept thinking about how Wendy was much taller than either Juliet or that girl on her phone.

About two hours later, we ran into Juliet and her date again at the Alice in Wonderland tunnel. They now wore red bracelets. Juliet said she snuck them from a friend who worked at the clock tower. The crew put the four of us in the same boat with me and Wendy in the back. With a light and a beep, we began to move. The tunnel was dark except for the various light acrobatics and the strange characters from my childhood memories. Kids somehow enjoy a book or tunnel with a giant talking mushroom, a flock of birds reading books and a cat with only a creepy smile and no body. Wendy giggled when the Queen of Hearts jumped out at us at the end, threatening to behead us all. Juliet and the boy spent more time looking at each other than anything else but I supposed they had fun all the same. Afterwards, we grabbed greasy burgers for a late lunch.

“Alice in Wonderland brings back so many memories,” Wendy said, sighing.

“I didn’t remember much from the books. It’s been a while,” Juliet said.

“Yeah, I remember it being weirder, scarier, and funnier,” I added.

Wendy turned to Juliet. “What else did you two do? Which ride did you enjoy the most?”

The couple looked at each other and giggled. “We had fun at the clock tower,” Juliet said.

“What’s so special about this clock tower? It’s not even a ride.” She sounded irritated.

They giggled again. “You should go check it out. It’s a really nice clock tower, especially if you go all the way to the end.”

“They have a call girl there,” I said.

They all looked at me. “What’s a call girl?” Juliet asked.

“You didn’t see her at the clock tower? She can dial for any one of many phones around the park. When they ring, you’re supposed to pick it up. It’s a surprise who you talk to.”

“I didn’t see any of these phones,” the boy said.

“You have to look for them. I’ll point it out the next time we pass one.”

“I didn’t see anything like that at the clock tower either. Besides, who wants to talk to a random stranger?” Juliet asked.

“The call girl doesn’t seem to mind. She does it a lot.”

“It seems rather rude to call someone and then make up a conversation, don’t you think?” Wendy asked, making a face at me.

“I don’t see the harm in a funny call every now and then,” I said.

Juliet and her boy were busy looking at each other again.

“Anything else you found fun or would recommend? You had your red bracelets.” Wendy turned to Juliet.

“Not really. There wasn’t much to do. And certainly can’t recommend this burger,” her date said.

“Can’t expect much,” I said, eating two fries at a time.

Wendy turned to me. “Oh yeah? Well, I expected better,” she said.

“I can’t finish it,” Juliet said, stretching. “It’s been a long day. Let’s go. What do you think?”

We said our goodbyes. I stood at the entrance of the food court and watched them hold hands in the distance, standing tall with their red bracelets.

“You’re a jerk,” Wendy said.

“I hoped they’d shut up about the clock tower.”

“Do you know Juliet?”

“No, why?”

“Do you know what her friends say? You can’t be serious.”

“I really have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Ugh, you’re such an older brother.” Wendy shoved me. “Be nice to her. What’s at the stupid clock tower anyway?”

I laughed. “Do you want to see it for yourself?”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, let’s go.”

It was on the other side of the park so we had to walk for at least ten minutes. We passed by a lot of fun-looking rides, but Wendy wasn’t interested.

The clock tower was a four-story-tall concrete structure. We and a few others climbed up to look out from the top. The clock itself was translucent, so anyone down on the ground looking at the clock could look at us too.

“Where’s the call girl?” Wendy asked.

“What?”

“The girl working the phones,” she mocked.

“She already left,” I said.

We found a shady path behind the clock tower that led to these slabs of concrete that seemed to serve as benches or something for kids to run around on. The dense trees overhead filtered out a lot of the sunlight and dampened the din of the park. We passed through four blocks of these concrete structures. There was one family just talking amongst themselves in the first block. They seemed happy and loving. A couple whispered to each other in a corner of the the second. The third and fourth were empty. These two blocks were much darker and we couldn’t see much. The path eventually brought us back into the Everland open.

“I wonder what was so exciting. There was nothing to the clock tower,” Wendy said.

“I don’t know.”

Wendy kicked an empty bottle on the ground. “Peter, what dating like?”

“Don’t ask me. What does that even mean? And why are you asking your brother anyway?”

“Oh, never mind. I know it sounds weird, but that’s probably not what most people think when they look at us.”

“Who cares?”

“Feels strange, no?”

I shrugged.

She looked into the sky for a second before she pointed at a purple building up ahead. “Let’s try that,” she said. We walked into a house of mirrors.

The mirrors distorted my arms, legs, hips, and head. The kids behind us thought it was funny and shrieked with laughter. Wendy, who had already wandered elsewhere, was not likely to find it nearly as funny. The next room flipped me upside down and sideways and then into another where it disfigured my face almost beyond recognition.

Someone screamed. It sounded like Wendy. I darted forward, left, then around a corner. I halted once before running into yet another mirror. Thinking the sound could have reverberated from behind me, I turned around only to see Wendy’s face smash into mine. I put my hand to my lips and found hot blood. Wendy did the same. She stared at her hand. Blood ran from her lips and dripped onto her skirt.

A mother of two small boys rushed over. Yeah, we were okay. Wendy silently nodded a few times, letting another drop of blood fall onto her skirt. I asked her if she was okay. Wendy replied this time—she was fine. I grabbed her hand to help her up. We navigated the labyrinth of mirrors, doubling back out of several dead ends in frustration before we found the exit.

The late afternoon sun threw our shadows far across the concrete. A tall couple leaned against a fortune teller’s booth, glued together at the hips and mouth. They stopped kissing to look our way. “Looks like you two had fun,” the girl said. Wendy blinked several times before her cheeks reddened.

We found a few napkins from a hot dog stand and dabbed our lips, which had stopped bleeding.

“Is this really happening on my birthday?”

“Sorry about that. I looked for you. Was that you screaming?”

“Yeah. I thought I saw something,” Wendy said. She looked up into the sky away from me. “I figured out what Juliet did at the clock tower.”

“What? Tell me.”

“I’d rather not. I don’t want to think about it.”

We sat down at one of the tables. She stared at a ketchup stain.

“You want something to eat?” I asked. “It’ll help you feel better.”

“Hot dogs? No thanks. I don’t think I could eat one anyhow, not with these lips.”

A pack of teenage boys passed us, laughing.

“Want to go home?”

Wendy tore at her hair with her hands. “With a day like this?”

I held her forearm. She put her other hand over mine. The dry, warm, afternoon wind brushed through the fuzz on my arm. Wendy closed her eyes. Straight black hair waved across her face. Her shoulders relaxed.

“Nobody’s watching us. Are they?” she said, her voice even and controlled.

A group of girls had looked our way several times from their table. And certainly many passing groups and couples had at least glanced over.

“Well, I don’t think—“

“Not today they’re not,” she interrupted, gritting her teeth. Then she smiled. I had never seen her so happy. “Let’s get ice cream. That’ll be good for our lips.”

We stood in line together at the ice cream shop selling giant cones, the biggest I had ever seen. She held my arm. We marveled at the size of the ice creams. We sat down with an enormous vanilla ice cream cone, big enough for both of us to eat it at the same time. They were out of spoons this late in the day, so we got ice cream all over our faces. But nobody was watching, Wendy said.

We visited the souvenir shop. I picked up a hardback copy of Alice in Wonderland, but Wendy shook her head. We bought a snow globe each instead, ones that had little white objects floating around in it, not just glitter. We shook them violently to no avail, even though it looked cheap enough to explode. Nobody was watching, except a store clerk who gave us a look and asked if we were happy with our purchase.

In the parking lot, Wendy tore off her red bracelet and crumpled it. She tried to throw it into a nearby trash can, but missed. Wendy picked it up and dropped it in.

“What about yours, Peter?” she asked.

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flowersandcandy06 · 1 year ago

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Update:

I got a random Japanese man to confess his feelings to one of my irl aunts and now they're "very much in love"

Brutus mii can work a grill; it cooked for the girlies at the park today and well. Screenshots below

Brutus mii is now (as of writing this) at some rich blonde girl mii's place and farted. Awesome

Played games with my Gina and Colette miis; Colette made me play the catch game and Gina let me play the "guess the pixelated mii" quiz game, therefore making Gina the better woman in this situation. I'm sorry Colette 💔

Kaorin Azumanga Daioh at the fountain, what is she thinking about

One of my mii family's had a baby so now the island has had 4 kids so far. Wowzer. Update: it's a boy and um

..slay? Slay baby? *Gets taken out back and pummeled with a big stick* (name of the kid is Damian and he's an independent thinker so. Woohoo)

Fishing...

I keep giving the miis clothes that they think are "okay" this SUCKS

Sakaki mii with kitty. LOOK.

Lizzy (one of the cute miis I have on the island) is now friends with the Hamburger wizard lord. Dear God how did this happen

Most people on the island that I give PB&Js to really like them, except this one mii (peenais - the girl mii who is really short but has a very deep voice) thinks they're just okay

And now Sakaki is at the fountain thinking about something as the married couple with the kid named Damian (as stated before) walks around - I wonder what she's thinking about??

Lauren Half-Life mii and Gumi VOCALOID mii are friends and are at the amusement park. Oh my god

Also here's another pic of the sakaki at the park thing - this one looks even more dramatic than the last one, think

Oh god I have to do the marriage game this is gonna suck

Think I'll stop here lol

I should check up on my miis I think they've been pretty lonely

#flowerposting

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grandmaster-anne · 2 years ago

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The Queen’s favourite horses

By TERRY PENDRY LVO, BEM STUD GROOM AND MANAGER TO HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN, WINDSOR CASTLE

Horse & Hound | Published 11 June 2020

IT’S almost impossible to name all the horses and ponies that Her Majesty has enjoyed over the decades. You have to bear in mind she breeds racehorses, carriage horses, hunters, sports and riding horses, and also polo ponies when, back in the day, His Royal Highness the Duke of Edinburgh was playing at a very high level.

There are, of course, the rare breeds such as Cleveland Bays for the carriages at Buckingham Palace and of course her beloved Highland and Fell ponies.

Here, we cover just a few of Her Majesty’s special horses and ponies. It only scratches the surface of all those The Queen has bred. There are so many more that could be spoken of. Her knowledge and expertise is well known. She names all of her horses and ponies herself and can remember the parentage of every single one.

She still enjoys riding to this very day, and it is an important part of her life. Her Majesty has a fountain of knowledge in all things equine, you might say a living encyclopedia.

Betsy

WE would have to start with Betsy, a 15.2hh black-brown mare that Her Majesty used to ride in the 1960s. Betsy was full of character and spirit and much enjoyed by The Queen.

Burmese

BURMESE was presented to Her Majesty in 1969 by The Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and The Queen rode her in Trooping the Colour for 18 years before the mare retired in 1986 to Windsor. There she enjoyed four years before passing away at the age of 28. Burmese is buried in the grounds of the Home Park private.

Doublet

PRINCESS ANNE, as she was then, won the European Eventing Championships at Burghley on Doublet in 1971.

Would you believe he was bred to be a polo pony? But he obviously grew and could jump, so became a fine ride for Princess Anne – meaning that The Queen bred both the horse and rider!

Columbus

A FEW weeks ago, the Horse & Hound featured Captain Mark Phillips in its Legends series (21 May). One of the horses he mentioned was Columbus, a 17.1hh grey sired by Colonist – who was Winston Churchill’s stallion that stood at Sandringham Stud for a period of time.

Princess Anne first evented Columbus at novice and intermediate level but found him too strong, saying that he was more of a man’s ride. His stable name was The Monster.

Although Columbus was plagued with leg injuries, he won Badminton in 1974 — which made Her Majesty very proud. He also hunted and team chased, and even jumped round the old Grand National course with relish and ease. Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother always said he was the Grand National horse that never was. She would have loved him for herself.

Sanction

THIS brown riding horse was a firm favourite for many years. The photograph was our Golden Jubilee picture with a beautiful acer tree with its golden leaves in the background.

Sanction, this issue’s cover star, was almost telepathic and had a very strong bond with Her Majesty and would almost know what The Queen wanted and in which direction she would like to go before instructed to do so.

He sadly passed away in the autumn of that same year, 2002, at the age of 24. He is also buried in the grounds of the Home Park private.

Sanction was the last home-bred horse that Her Majesty rode before making the decision to start riding native ponies. A little nearer to the ground, so to speak.

Balmoral Jingle and Balmoral Curlew

TWO beautiful Highland ponies made for a most natural choice. Balmoral Jingle (above, left) and Balmoral Curlew were shown by Lizzie Briant before joining The Royal Mews at Windsor. Both ponies were a huge success in the show ring and eventually went on to become broodmares at the Balmoral Stud.

Emma

FROM Highlands to Fells. This lovely picture is of Fell pony Emma. Again produced in the show ring by Lizzie Briant, Emma has been a wonderful servant to Her Majesty and is still going strong at the age of 24 as one of The Queen’s riding ponies.

The Fell Pony Society came to honour The Queen’s 90th birthday and said they would like to bring 90 ponies. They came with 120! They lined the red route of the castle for Her Majesty, who sat on His Royal Highness’ driving Fell pony team followed by Emma. It truly was a wonderful day.

Pictures by Godfrey Argent, Getty Images, Cyril Diamond, Tim Graham Photo Library via Getty Images and Henry Dallal

#when he was talking about doublet and said #'The Queen bred both the horse and rider!'#lmaooo 😂😂😂#queen elizabeth ii #prince philip #duke of edinburgh #princess anne #princess royal #queen's favourite horses #h&h #article

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donutloverxo · 3 years ago

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A Royal scandal 4

Modern royalty au

Image from Instagram

cowritten with @lizzygal

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

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

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

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

Pairing - King!Steve x reader

Word count - 7.8k

Story masterlist

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

She had tried. In truth she had.

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

There was little she could do.

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

Everything was wrong. So very wrong.

Outside the palace was normally empty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hope looked lovely as ever.

Tanned. Dressed exceptionally well. Smiling exuberantly.

It almost warmed Sarah’s icy heart.

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

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

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

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

“I was about to ask you the same.”

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

“I’m-I’m sorry?”

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wanda?

No.

It was not Wanda.

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

“You are the King’s Chief of Staff?”

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

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

Ok. Well. Maybe you thought too soon.

Maybe Wanda was preferrable over this person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Typing. Typing. Typing.

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

And done.

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

“Of course,” Ekta answered coolly.

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

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

Ekta said nothing.

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

You looked to the left.

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

How had you gotten so lucky?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And this was news to you too.

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

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

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

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

“Is the Duchess Hope here?”

For that you had no answer.

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

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

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

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

Well then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

When did Sarah turn into such a bitch?

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

When did Sarah turn into such a horrible host?

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

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

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

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

This was just ridiculous.

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

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

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

Valkyrie followed her closely. That bitch.

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

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

Not that the room was empty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A shrug came from the senior guardswoman.

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

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

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

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

Pursing her lips unhappily, Nakia stepped back.

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

Which was fine with Hope.

Hope couldn’t get away from Nakia quick enough.

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

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

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

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

This was not the Steven she remembered.

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

Now?

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

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

Another noise came from the king, a derisive snort.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh this was bad.

This was really really bad.

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

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

“Steven! Listen!”

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

It didn’t.

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

Nothing was there anymore.

When he looked at Hope there was nothingness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His Majesty.

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

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

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

Minutes.

“Steven!”

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

Her eyes went wild.

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

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

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

***

Lipstick?

No lipstick?

It was a question for the ages.

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

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

Lipstick?

No lipstick?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you ok?”

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

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

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

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

Some memories could just never be wiped clean.

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

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

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

Steve never questioned you or thought twice.

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

But you seized the moment! Pounced on the opportunity.

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

His dick hung softly between his muscular creamy thighs.

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

Steve clung to your purse like a lifeline.

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

It’d been at a fundraiser.

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

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

Not the two of you.

No.

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

Tonight was the night though.

You were determined.

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

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

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

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

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

Not that you’d cared.

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

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

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

Erect.

Hard. So hard.

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

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

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

His voice was a bit concerned. Embarrassed even?

Was he embarrassed about this behemoth in his pants?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you thinking about, My King?”

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

After a few seconds.

After a deep breath from Steve.

After that, he managed to get out.

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

Your maidenhead?

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

In your hand his penis twitched.

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

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

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

Something hit the floor.

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

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

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

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

It sent his thoughts spiraling along with his words.

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

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

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

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

Even then you weren’t done.

Helpless. Awestruck.

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

Rendering him panting and sweaty.

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

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

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

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hannahhook7744 · 3 years ago

Text

Hunelim;

This is a throuple ship headcanon list and aesthetic with Hunter, Elisa, and Jim Jr.

🐩🐈‍⬛🕊🐩🐈‍⬛🕊🐩🐈‍⬛🕊🐩🐈‍⬛🕊🐩🐈‍⬛🕊🐩🐈‍⬛🕊

Jim Junior's actual full name is James Brown, Jr.

Everyone calls him 'Jim', 'Jimmy', or 'J.J' though.

Jim loves dogs and cats, and so does Hunter.

Elisa, on the other hand, loves birds (mainly doves).

His parents still call him 'Little Sweeper'. His friends think it's hilarious.

He still owns Scamp, though the dog is much older now.

Elisa has a pet dove named 'Dearie'.

Jim also has a simease cat named 'Mischief'.

Hunter still has his pet cat 'Cuddles'.

He also has a pet chicken named 'Peaky'

Elisa's full name is Elisabeth Marceline Fae.

Hunter's full name is Hunter Claudius de Vil.

Elisa is the oldest at 29.

Hunter is the 2nd oldest at 28.

And Jim is the youngest at 26.

Elisa and Jim went to school together and were friends before they all started dating.

And they met Hunter at family day when he was alone and eating from the chocolate fountain, each of his pets slung over his shoulders.

For the most part, their families were supportive.

Cruella was the exception but no one really cares about her.

Most of their dates take place at the zoo, various pet cafes, book shops, and occasionally carnivals and amusement parks.

Jim works at a candy shop because he adores sweets.

Hunter and Elisa do too, and always get a discount when they come in.

But Jim definitely has the biggest sweet tooth.

Hunter and Elisa both call Jim Jr various affectionate names including but not limited to; Little Sweeper, Jimmy, Jamie, Jim-Jim, slim-Jim, J.J, Jam, and Brownie.

Jim and Elisa call Hunter various affectionate nicknames to including but not limited to; Hun, Hunt, Huntie, Hunny, and Hunny bunny.

Jim and Hunter have nicknames for Elisa too and here they are; Elle, Lisa, Lizzy, Birdie, and Liz.

Elisa wears and smells like flowery perfume, Jim wears fresh scents and candy, and Hunter smells like musk, ink, and earthy scents.

They all also smell like their pets to an extent.

None of them notice.

They all have different types of music; Elisa likes bubblegum pop, Jim likes Classical, and Hunter likes Jazz and rock.

Their song is 'They don't know about us' by one direction.

They kept their relationship a secret for the first year because they weren't sure how people would take it.

They all love chocolate, spaghetti, and fish and chips.

And tea and coffee and energy drinks. And sweets.

They all know sign language and Morse code, which they communicate with constantly.

It can be annoying.

They are all very supportive of eachother but Hunter is usually the one to talk sense into the others.

He is also more graceful than both of them, which annoys them both greatly.

Hunter works at a tech repair shop and is also a part time mechanic and youtuber.

He also keeps his younger cousins out of trouble as the oldest.

Eliza does the same with her cousins.

Eliza works as a magazine editor and is alot more confident and popular than Jane.

Jim often helps them with their younger cousins because he doesn't have anything better to do.

They return the favor when he discovers that his Aunt Sarah has a child named Eddie Balthazar, who is a bitter teen detective with very little impulse control.

They also stop the panic attack that ensues because Jim really doesn't think he's cut out to be a role model yet.

Elisa and Jim comfort Hunter after his own panic attacks and nightmares that were brought on by Cruella's continued mistreatment of him and his cousins.

Strangely enough a restraining order against Cruella de Vil is ordered on behalf of the de Vil cousins despite the fact non of them asked for one.

Niether Jim nor Elisa will admit to having played a part in it.

Hunter knows and is grateful.

They often listen to each other rant about their various differing interests without complaint.

When one of them is sick , the other two will do anything to make their day.

They also read and show off to eachother often.

They are friends with Varian, Cassandra, Keira, Catalina, and Diego's friends.

They love road trips and theme parks.

And movie theaters, drive ins, food trucks, and circuses.

Jim and Elisa patch Hunter up whenever his inventions/experiments/interent challenges go wrong.

Sometimes they scold him, sometimes they don't.

They all say they are the best things that have ever happened to eachother.

They all plan to get married one day because that is allowed in Auardon and on the isle.

They share clothes and food with one another and no one else.

Jim has to constantly stop Elisa and Hunter from blowing things up.

He is the only one who doesn't blow things up on accident or on purpose.

None of them like swimming other than Hunter. Even he doesn't like it that much.

They eventually move with eachother.

Carlos lives with them until he is 18. By choice mind you.

All of the de vils are claustrophobic.

Elisa is ironically afraid of heights.

Jim is afraid of needles.

Jim and Elisa both hate Cruella with every fiber of their being.

Elisa and Jim's families do too.

Jim's relationship with Hunter makes his attempt at a relationship with Eddie, Aunt Sarah, and Edgar Balthazar go alot smoother.

Elisa was in alot of clubs when she was in school (Auardon Prep) and so was Jim.

Elisa taught Jim how to drive.

They both taught Hunter how alot of things in Auardon work.

They have alot of throuple things. Mainly so no one will be dumb enough to ask the obvious.

They adore eachother's pets and younger cousins.

The de Vil adults approve when they see Jim and Elisa are good enough. Except for Cruella but again, no one cares about her.

Jim's parents and Eliza's family were wary of Hunter at first but got over it quickly.

They have matching tattoos that they let Diego do so he'd shut up about it. Not alot of people know it.

Their anniversary is March 18th.

Jim and Hunter often take care of Elisa when she gets writer's block or magical burn out.

Hunter has burn scars on his hands from his inventing.

And shakes occasionally from years of not having proper medical care after being (repeatedly) electrocuted.

Jim and Elisa stop liking Beast and Belle when they discover this.

And Fg gets a bloody earful from Elisa.

Jim is allergic to peanut butter but still eats it. It leaves him rashy.

It drives Hunter and Elisa crazy.

Hunter carves their initials into things often.

They have video game competitions often.

Jim likes crafting miniatures and makes them for his loved ones often. Especially Hunter and Elisa.

He also collects toy trains.

He and Eddie have alot in common surprisingly.

They both like detective novels and vintage music and photographs etc.

They can have children with all of their genes cause magic.

Jim is a theatre kid.

Jane is the maid of honour for their wedding. And Carlos and Eddie are the best men!

Ivy is one of Eliza's bridesmaids and Diego is one of the groomsmen on Hunter's side.

Her name was Eliza as a kid but now she preferred Elisa cause it sounded softer.

(@eahravinqueen and @descendants-extended helped me with this and are allowed to add in the comments. Anyone who thinks of any hobbies for Jim let me know).

#descendants #disney descendants #lady and the tramp #jim jr #disney cinderella #disney #my babysitter cinderalla #101 dalamatian tv series #101 dalmation street #101 dalmatians #descendants ships #disney descendants ships

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bad-at-names-and-faces · 3 years ago

Text

Have You Heard?

Day 12, “amnesia”... I was originally trying to do something more obvious with this, but then I had this idea... Elizabeth/Darcy, except...

Elizabeth tried to recognize the room she woke up in. There was a window near the bed letting in the winter sunlight. Her head ached terribly. It was a comfortable bed, though.

“Lizzie?” she heard Jane ask.

“Jane!” Lizzie exclaimed as her sister rushed to her side.

“We were so worried about you. Charles and I dropped everything to get here as soon as we heard what happened!”

“Charles?” Elizabeth asked, trying to think who she knew by that name.

“Mr. Bingley, Lizzie,” Jane said, sounding equally confused. “Surely I’ve called him by his Christian name with you before?”

“Bingley…” She couldn’t remember anyone by that name. Elizabeth realized she still didn’t know where she was. She squeezed her sister’s hand. “Jane, where am I?”

Jane frowned, glancing back at the door. “Do you not know where you are?”

“I imagine I must have been visiting somewhere, and my head hurts, so I suppose I must have hit it. Jane, can you tell me what’s going on?”

“You weren't- I mean, you slipped on some ice last week and hit your head on the side of a fountain. It was quite frightening from what Mr. Darcy told us.”

"I don't remember that, but I suppose that happens. I take it this is Mr. Darcy's house then? It is quite nice."

"Lizzie? You really don't remember?"

Elizabeth shook her head.

"Excuse me, I-" Jane stopped and got up, quickly exiting the room. Elizabeth heard some muffled talking between Jane and some man. No, there were two men. The voices were obviously different men. "Are you sure?" Jane asked as the door opened again.

Jane stood in the doorway as a man walked in. His face was drawn with worry as he approached the bed. He seemed to know her.

“Elizabeth?” he asked, sitting down in the chair where Jane had just been. The familiarity caused her to tense up. How much had she forgotten? It appeared as if he had been about to take her hand, but he pulled it away.

Elizabeth looked to the door to see a sign from her sister, she had stepped back into the hallway.

“I apologize, Sir,” Elizabeth said, “I really don’t remember who you are. I assume I should thank you for your hospitality.”

The man sighed, closing his eyes. He put his hand to his mouth, nervously contemplating. “What is the last thing you remember before you woke up?”

Elizabeth stopped, trying to think. “I remember being at home. I remember Mother trying to get father to go visit the gentleman who had just moved to Netherfield Park. But that couldn’t have been when I fell; it was summer. Goodness, what was that man’s name?”

The man’s face fell. He stood up without a word and walked out of the room.

She heard Jane’s voice again. “You really think I should tell her?”

“Darcy, don’t you think we should ask the doctor first?”

“Bingley, I- I don’t know.”

Bingley! Elizabeth suddenly remembered. The man who had just moved to Netherfield Park. But-

“Lizzie,” Jane said, rushing back into the room. “Lizzie, we’re going to call for the doctor. I hope he’ll know what to do.”

#FFC 2022 #amnesia #pride and prejudice #Elizabeth Bennet #jane bennet #mr darcy #mr bingley

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heartfullyferal · 3 years ago

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"Over There."

It's literally the middle of December. Lizzy and Wesley have met at the Mystic Fountain of Mystic Falls at around 8pm, behind people's backs, to b o n d. But amidst the lovely soft gazing at each other with all the love in the world, Lizzy broke the silence with two words. Pointing towards the dark and shrouded park.

"Over there."

Her eyes widen, her shoulders lift with tension at the sight of the strange creature, and the poor girl shivers because its not a sign of arousal or comfort Ash but rather a sign of disgust and repulsion as she takes a step closer to Wes and gently grips his arm for an added sense of security. "I saw him." Lizzy whispered, brow knitted together gently, her features tensing. "Tony."

@the-11-doctor

#stagheringlytony

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aniray · 5 years ago

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Into The Mist

A little oneshot for Tommy and Lizzie.

~*~*~

The rally had gone without issue.

Lizzie had sent Ruby and Charlie off to bed after supper. They’d complained a bit about not having her read a story, but she’d shooed them off fairly easily. Then she’d dismissed Frances and the other staff for the evening. Turing on the radio, Lizzie had taken her seat in the library. And she waited, like Tommy said. And she listened, like Tommy said.

And the rally went on without issue.

Mosely spoke his lies and filth. The crowd cheered. And still she sat and she waited and she listened. Then the event was finished. The sounds of a crowd dispersing peacefully came through the speakers for a moment. The evening program turned to static. And still Lizzie sat. Because there had been nothing- no gunshot, no screams and chaos- nothing Tommy had told her was to happen.

But that had been hours ago. The day was beginning to make its presence known out the window of her bedroom. She had waited up for Tommy- she didn’t know why. She had listened all night for the crunch of tires on gravel. And yet the sound only came now, as the weak morning sun failed to break through the thick fog that had surrounded Arrow house in the night.

She saw Arthur park the car in front of the fountain. She watched as he got out and half stumbled his way to the other side. For a moment she wondered if Tommy had been injured, what with Arthur dragging his brother from the car. But there was no blood that she could see. And after a moment Tommy had righted himself. Well, he stood unaided, at any rate.

A chill seemed to wrap itself around Lizzie as she watched her husband. The man was always a bit stiff, a bit distant, a bit cold. But never frozen- not even the night he’d lost Grace. But now… Now, Lizzie felt as if he had turned to ice. A part of her- the part she often hated- said go to him. But the smarter side of her said that she’d be of no help. And she couldn’t handle his abuse this early in the day.

So she stayed where she was and watched his brother speak words she couldn’t hear and didn’t care to know. She pulled her arms tighter around herself as if to ward off the chill that Tommy sent out- reaching her even through the walls and distance between them. Her mind took her to the day’s events- visiting Ada, helping Charlie with his lessons, trying to keep Ruby from ruining another of her dresses. She stood at the window and planned the dinner menu and what letters needed writing for the many Shelby charities.

So she almost missed him when he left.

He’d turned towards the field- the one that he’d blown to kingdom come not too long ago. He marched towards it as if he were heading into a meeting- preparing for a fight. And just before the fog pulled him into its cold embrace, she saw it. The twitch of his hand at his side. The sharp yank as he pulled his gun free of its holster. And suddenly she was made of ice.

‘Should you choose to depart…’

Her feet were moving before she’d had time to tell them where to go. The corridor seemed to last for ages instead of the mere seconds it usually took to get to the stairs. She barely felt the cold of the floor on her bare feet as she ran to the front door- her coat left on its hook. It had been a long while since she’d had to run barefoot outside- but her body could never stop being used to pain or forget how to push through it.

‘Either by your own hand or another…’

She heard Arthur call after her, but she ignored him. Because she could still see him- just a bit. The swish of his black coat was still there through the fog. So she chased after it. She couldn’t lose sight of it. Gravel gave way to damp grass, then grass gave way to mud and still she kept going. She could hear him now, just barely- talking to ghosts, talking to himself- talking…just talking.

She tripped.

She lost him.

Lizzie scrabbled back to her feet, careful now. She knew he was in front of her, and she knew he’d shoot her by mistake in the state he was in. So now she moved slower. She listened harder. And she heard him. Close, muttering about Irish whiskey and dead horses and barmaids not counting for something. But Lizzie didn’t give a shit what he was saying so long as he kept saying it. So long as she found him before he…

Then he was there. Appearing in front of her like a ghost out of the mist. And she wished she hadn’t seen him- not like this. She winced in pain as he screamed into the void. Her knees felt weak as she took in the gun digging into his temple- the gun held in his own hand. She crept closer, her cold feet sinking into the muck. She moved round to his front, slowly.

He was mad. She’d wondered for years, suspected for months, but now she knew. She could see it in him. In his eyes and his face and the way he held himself. Sanity had fled the confines of Tommy Shelby’s body. At least for this moment. Lizzie moved in front of him- right into his line of sight. His eyes flashed to hers- then through her to some other realm.

“Tommy…” His lashes fluttered and the gun pressed harder to his head- the skin blanching from the pressure. “Tommy, it’s me, Lizzie. Lizzie Stark.” For a moment she saw him- the boy from before the war. For a moment she saw the man who’d stolen her heart from her chest. “You used to walk me home from the pub when I had late nights. Can you walk me home, Tommy?”

She reached out- slowly, keeping her hand palm up where he could see it if he looked- and carefully wrapped her fingers around his on the gun. It was a terrible moment. She could feel it- a dark power rising in her. One twitch of his finger and he’d be gone. One instant of weakness or fear. One small thing and Tommy Shelby would be no more. And she could stop it.

Or she could not.

Her hand shook over his as she stayed still. Her index finger slid to rest over his on the trigger. How many times had he hurt her? How many times had he used her for business or pleasure and given nothing of himself in exchange? How many evenings did she spend watching Ruby and Charlie grow still at the sound of the door, only to relax when it was Finn or Ada or anyone not their father? ‘In my head I still pay you for it…’And she’d taken his price, hadn’t she? She’d paid it over and over with blood and tears and bruises- from him and others. He’d turned her love for him into a tool.

But how many times had he held her after she’d had a nightmare? How many times had he gone to the kitchen himself to bring her a sweet when she’d been carrying Ruby? How many times had he laughed with her in the office and joked at the Garrison? How many times had she watched him slip into Ruby’s room to kiss her goodnight?

Her hand slid back down, fingers curling around his wrist. Gently, she coaxed his arm down to his side. She put the safety on and nudged his finger off the trigger. Then Lizzie put her arm around his neck and held him close- held him tight. A heady rush of emotions bombarded her as she felt him take a shuddery breath. Tears threatened to spill as she buried her head in the crook of his neck.

“It’s alright, Tommy.” Her voice was shaky as was the rest of her- or maybe it was him. Maybe it was the both of them at once. His hand still held the gun and hers still held his wrist and it seemed appropriate. It seemed like the sum of their marriage. Him, cold and steady and destructive. Her, warm and rash and keeping the peace. “It’s gonna be alright.”

A hot tear landed on her neck, left a warm trail along her skin. But she didn’t say anything- she didn’t so much as move. Tommy’s arm came up to rest on her lower back. She let him, she fought back her tears and she held him tighter. And she didn’t know how long it was that they stood together like that, but Lizzie wasn’t moving until he did.

Finally, he pulled away. Lizzie let her arm fall from around him. There was no space between them, but there was distance now. He was back in his head, back in this world with her. She let go of the hold she had on his wrist and watched as he stared down at the gun. He took off the safety and Lizzie’s heart clenched. But she didn’t move. Tommy raised the gun, aiming at something she knew she wouldn’t see if she turned around. She didn’t flinch when he fired.

Tommy tucked the gun back into its holster. He pulled out his pack of cigarettes and his lighter. He handed her one, and Lizzie took it with a slight nod. She watched the flicker of the flame as Tommy lit her cigarette and then his own. The brightness of the flame seemed to shock her body into awareness. Suddenly her feet ached and her toes were going numb. Her bare legs and arms were cold and she hugged herself to hold in whatever heat there was to hold.

Her movement had Tommy shrugging off his coat and wrapping it around her. He took hold of her hand and pulled her along through the field. Every step was agony, but Lizzie kept quiet. The moment felt too fragile to disturb. She was afraid that one wrong thing would send him back to screaming at nothing and pressing guns to his head. She’d not risk it so soon.

Arthur met them at the edge of the drive, but Tommy didn’t slow. Lizzie sent what she hoped was a reassuring look back to Arthur, but his eyes were on the ground and he was turning back to his car. She’d have Polly go round and check on him later. Facing forward once more, Lizzie watched as the front door opened. Mary stood, concerned expression clear on her face, as she took in Lizzie’s bare feet. The usual insecurity she felt when the staff disapproved of her were absent this time as Lizzie walked into the house.

Tommy let go of Lizzie’s hand. He walked into his study and she made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. She slipped out of Tommy’s coat and tossed it on the bed. Then she went into the bath and turned on the water, letting the tub fill. Her dress was discarded on the floor and with only a bit of discomfort Lizzie sank into the hot water.

The warmth had seeped into her muscles and the sting from rocks and sticks was fading by the time the door opened. Her eyes were closed but only Tommy would come in while she was bathing and not announce himself first. Cold fingers came to rest on her stomach and she opened her eyes to see Tommy settled on the floor next to tub. His eyes met hers as his thumb drew circles into her skin. She wasn’t sure what she saw in the blue of his eyes, but it was heavy.

“What stopped you?” She bit her lip, and feigned confusion. That moment in the field was a bit too much for her think about just then. At least it was too much to think about honestly. But Tommy being Tommy couldn’t let the question alone. His hand left her stomach and he wrapped his fingers around her wrist-like she had done. “All you had to do was press down. A small thing to end Tommy Shelby. So what stopped you, Lizzie?”

She couldn’t tell him. She wouldn’t. She’d not give him anymore of her to tear apart when he got angry or use when business dictated. He knew why, and he was a prick for asking. Her hand pulled free of Tommy’s grip. Her eyes left his to stare at the ceiling instead. “Charlie and Ruby’d miss you,” she said, voice flat and empty. She saw him give a slow nod. “Besides, it wasn’t me that stopped anything. When've I ever stopped you doing something you wanted to do?”

Tommy stood up slowly. She could almost feel the ache of his muscles in her own body. His eyes were on her, she could feel it. But she didn’t look. She let her eyes fall closed again, trying to ignore Tommy and the field and Mosely and just everything. And it was almost working- she had almost got her mind to stop buzzing and her heart to stop aching.

But then he spoke…

“She was calling my name.” Don’t look at him. “I could see her waiting for me.” If you look it’ll only be worse for you. Her teeth sank into her lip as she tried to push out the words. They were too much- the weight heavy in her gut. She didn’t need this. God, she didn’t need this. “But then you were there- asking for a walk home.” She took a deep breath and held it- kept holding it. “So you did. Stop me. You stopped me, Lizzie.”

Then he was gone and she was sat trying to figure out what the fuck to do with all these feelings he’d left her with.

#peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby #tommy x lizzie #lizzie shelby #tommy shelby fanfic

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toothpastecanyon · 5 years ago

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Beauty and the Beast, Chapter 5

Alcor meets Mizar. It's a tale as old as time.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

________________________________________________________________

“You’re gonna love this!”

“Basden?” Lizzie snorted as he tugged her towards the basement. “Basden, honey, slow down. You’re 'bout to pull my arm off.”

“B-but you’ve gotta see! I finally figured it out, i-it works! It actually works!”

“What works?”

“The thing, the… I’ll show you!” Hands trembling, he unlocked the big steel door and hefted it open for her. “Come on, Lizzie!”

“Wow, you really are excited, aren’t you?” She chuckled as she descended the steps. “I can’t wait to see this.”

He turned on the light, and it flickered to life, illuminating the little room. The basement looked the same as it always did, mostly empty space except for the far corner where his desk sat. Papers were strewn over the wooden surface, and more were crumpled up and tossed in the general direction of his waste basket. The only thing that had significantly changed was the addition of a sledgehammer; Lizzie spotted it, and he watched her eyebrow arch up.

“What did you buy a sledgehammer for, Bas?””

“Um...” He checked a couple of symbols etched into the bottom of the door. They were glowing blue: active, good. “It’ll all make sense in a second, I promise.”

“Alright... So!” She clapped her hands together. “Show me whatcha got!”

Basden closed the door, and hurried down the stairs. “Yes, I’ll show you. Or, uh, I’ll demonstrate - it’s hard to explain, but you’ll see.”

He felt Lizzie watching him as he hurried over to his desk. He picked up the sledgehammer, and she let out a snort.

“I’m loving this demonstration already.”

“Haha, yeah- Oh!” He hefted it up, and stumbled back from the weight. “I’m okay! This is, heh, heavy.”

“You need help?”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Alright. Be careful, honey.” She looked around. “What are you hitting with that? Not the walls, right? Pretty sure these are load bearing.”

Basden stared at his desk. His precious desk, worn and scratched from years of work, with his favourite fountain pen and pictures of his family sitting on its surface… he lined up the shot, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

A leap of faith. This was going to work.

Then he brought the hammer crashing down. There was a snapping, a shattering, a fluttering of papers as the desk splintered in two. Behind him, Lizzie let out a yelp.

“What did you do that for?!”

“It’s fine! It’s a demonstration!” He backed away, staring, pointing. “Look! L-look, it’s working!”

Basden watched with bated breath as the rubble of his desk started to shudder. The two halves rose back up to their original position, splintered edges stitching themselves into one. Broken picture frames fixed themselves, and shards of glass fused back into a smooth surface.

He watched that, and then he watched Lizzie. Watched her eyes go wide, watched her jaw go slack, watched her keep staring long after the desk had repaired itself, her lips moving as she struggled for words.

“What do you think?” Basden couldn’t keep a grin off his face. “I-I made an enchantment for safety and repair, then I transcribed it into a ward and etched it into the door. As long as you’re inside it…”

“You can’t break anything,” She breathed.

“Yes, exactly. I think this could really improve public werewolf shelters - it could even be an alternative to them! I’m going to request permission from the government to start testing it, um…” He chuckled. “We’ll, uh, we’ll see how long that takes, but-”

Lizzie suddenly turned and crashed into the wall. She dug her nails into the concrete, let her claws grow out, let black fur grow in, grow shaggy over her forearms, and tore down ; the gashes she left were long, deep, crumbling… and almost immediately sealing themselves over.

In a matter of seconds, it was like she never made them at all.

“Oh, my stars.” She looked down at her paws, then back up at the wall. “Haha! This is amazing !”

And before Basden’s eyes, she just unleashed herself. She ripped and slashed and hacked and threw up great big clouds of concrete dust; chunks of rubble went flying, and he stepped back. He stared at her, wide eyed, his mind flashing back to when he’d seen her act like this before. He’d seen her under the full moon, he’d seen her lose her mind to the beast and destroy anything and everything within reach. The rage, the bloodthirst… it was an intimidating sight, and one he had always found rather hard to watch.

That side of her, he had rationalised, was not Lizzie, just like it was not Marla. That was not who she was; that was a curse she bore one night a month, a beast that was within her, but separate from her. Apart from that one night when it forced its way to the surface, he thought her to be like any other normal human.

That was who she really was, he thought, and that was the part of her he loved.

But looking at her now… it didn’t fit. It wasn’t the full moon, and yet here she was, sprouting fur and tearing at the wall with razor-sharp claws. Here she was, both snarling and laughing. Beast, and human. Neither fully one, nor the other.

Looking at her now, Basden realised the two halves of her weren’t quite as separate as he’d thought. And when she pulled away from the wall, breathing hard, a wild and beaming grin slashed across her face as she watched the claw marks heal up…

He thought that maybe wasn’t such a scary thing.

“Wow,” She huffed, and her voice was gruffer than her fully human one. “I have… I’ve never been able to just… to let go like that… Wow. Wow!”

She laughed that wonderful laugh of hers, and before Basden could react she scooped him up with her furry arms and spun him around in the air.

“Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!” Lizzie squeezed the breath out of him and set him down. “Basden, you have no idea how amazing this is going to be, you…”

She must’ve seen something in his face, something that made her trail off. Something that made her smile shrink a bit, made her blink and shed some of the brightness in her eyes. Looking down at her fur, her claws, the straining buttons on her shirt, something seemed to click.

“Oh... Oh, I’m sorry, honey!” She stepped back, shrank down. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I’ll just-”

Basden found his voice. “No, no, it’s okay! You didn’t scare me, you just… just startled me.”

“Yeah, I got way too carried away. Sorry-”

“No, don’t be sorry.” He stepped forwards. “Don’t be. You don’t have anything to apologise for.”

Lizzie froze at that. She just stared at him, wide-eyed with shock and only getting wider as he kept stepping forwards, kept approaching her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, close, so close that years later just the memory of this moment would wake him up at night; the fabric of her clothes and the rips in them, the warmth of her skin, the sound of sucked-in breath, and the hesitation before she hugged him back.

Gently, at first. Like she was scared to hurt him. Then tighter.

Then tighter, and she took his breath away.

He buried herself in her shoulder, and thought about how wonderful she was, how lucky he was to have someone like her. So warm, so loving, so… so Lizzie , because that was exactly the kind of person she was.

There were sides to her that he would never understand, parts of her that she’d rather not share with anyone, and that was the kind of person she was, too.

Basden smiled, and in that moment, he swore to give her a place where she could be herself.

________________________________________________________________

“So we’re there, alright!”

Gaston’s voice. Basden nods at the sound of it. “Okay.”

“We’re in the door, we’re in the elevator, alright!”

“Okay.”

“It was playing some music. I didn’t really pay attention but LeFuté mentioned it, he was like ‘Do you know why all elevators play the same sort of music?’ and I asked ‘Why?’ and then he explained.”

“Mhmm.”

“I forgot what he said, but it was interesting. I think. He’s smart, isn’t he?”

Basden taps a hand on the wall. “Yes, um... the meeting?”

“Pushy, pushy - I’m getting to that!” Gaston shuffles through some papers. “Alright, so we pitched your werewolf safe room to the board, and I’m not gonna lie to you, we knocked it out of the park! They were ready to sign any piece of paper we handed to ‘em, Bas!”

“Oh, good. That’s good… it’s, uh, not just a safe room, though. You remembered to mention it’s been approved to contain werewolves during the full moon?”

“Yeah, yeah, we mentioned all the perks. Had a whole slideshow going. They loved it! We’re gonna be rich!”

“They loved it? That’s good.” Basden feels a tug on his sleeve; looking down, and sees Pauline with her schoolbag. He motions for her to wait on the couch. “That’s really good, um, so how fast do they think they can start installing them?”

“Let me see here… Um... Uh…”

Gaston keeps flipping through some pages, and Basden paces in place. Flashes a grin at Pauline. She giggles, and he sticks his tongue out.

“Who is that?” She whispers.

“Just your uncle Gaston.”

“Oh, cool. Can I talk to him?”

“Yes, in a second, Pauline… Uh, Gaston?”

“Still here!” He snaps. “Just finding the stupid… Oh, there it is! On page two... it says six months, Bas! Six months - fast, eh?”

“That is fast. Wow.”

“What can I say, buddy? We’re the best at what we do!”

“You really are. You really... Yeah, that sounds like you did really good. How much are they going to be selling for?”

“Selling for?” More page flipping. “Um… Uh…”

“A-actually, don’t worry about it. Where’s LeFuté?”

“He’s still talking with the board guys. I dunno what’s taking him so long, but once he gets back, we’re going out to celebrate! We’re going up on this London Eye thing... you ever heard of it?”

“Oh, the London Eye!” He smiles. “I wanted to go on that; it’s this big observation wheel in the middle of the city. Really pretty view, you’ll like it!”

“I know what it is, of course.” Gaston chuckles loudly. “Duh! Yeah, it’s gonna be real fun. I bet you wish you were here!”

“Huh? Oh, well-”

“Instead of being at home! Hey, have you been ‘kidnapped’ since you got back, or did Janet lock you outta the liquor cabinet?”

Basden forces a laugh back. “Haha! Um… Pauline’s here, you want to, you want to talk to your niece?”

“How’d she take the news, huh? ‘Dad, what’s a shummoning shircle?’”

“I-I didn’t see one of those, but-”

“You really still think it happened, don’t you? Hah!”

“Do you want to talk to Pauline?”

“Huh?

“Pauline. Do you want to talk to-”

“Oh, uh, sure, why not? Hand ‘er over.” He gives a little snigger. “I’ve got a little time to sacrifice .”

Deciding not to remark on the pun, Basden takes the phone away from his ear, turns, and hands it to Pauline.

“Here he is.”

“Uncle Gaston! Hi!” She smiles. “Yes, I’m doing good! School’s going, um, well. How are you? How is England?”

Gaston’s reply is just a muffled sound, but he sees Pauline giggle and hold the phone a little closer. With a pat on her shoulder, he leaves her to it and walks over to her schoolbag on the couch.

Her homework’s already open on the table. He gives that a quick glance over - just some introductory algebra problems, nothing he couldn’t walk her through in a couple minutes. She probably only needs a little extra nudge, anyway; kids do tend to get confused when people start adding letters to math problems.

He might’ve even gone over this with Marla when she was Pauline’s age… or did Lizzie do that? Lizzie did the homework help more often, but he had a specific memory of helping her with this. Huh.

Basden pushes up his glasses. Well, it doesn’t matter either way.

After shuffling through the papers a little longer, he looks up at Pauline. She’s still on the phone, listening to him talk, and she shoots him a quick smile when their eyes meet. He smiles back, but-

Oh. It’s cold all of a sudden.

The hairs on the back of his neck - they all stand on end.

Basden frowns at this. His eyes shift to the right, through the doorway to the kitchen, and find - ugh, of course - the dark, toothy figure of Alcor the demon staring back at him.

What does he want this time? Basden tries for a nervous smile but the demon just stands there, still as a statue. His expression is unreadable.

Piercing, just like it was in the car. Almost looking through him… or looking for someone else.

Someone different .

Basden can’t help but grimace at the thought. Before he can think on it too hard, however, a little gasp brings him back to the present.

“ Kidnapped? What?” Pauline’s voice rings out with tones of shock and uncertainty, making him whirl around to look at her. She’s gripping the phone, a confused frown on her face. “Uncle Gaston? What are you- wait, did you say Dad got kidnapped?”

All Basden can make out from the phone is laughter. Her frown deepens.

“Uncle Gaston? U-Uncle- no, wait, what did you mean by, by Dad getting kidnapped? Was that why he came home early? What did you mean? Uncle Gaston?”

Basden jumps to his feet. She stares at him with wide eyes as he walks over, offers his hand.

He’s about to ask for the phone when there’s a flicker in the doorway. A shadow. He glances over at Alcor- But it’s not Alcor.

It’s Janet, and she stalks towards them with such fury in her expression he finds himself scrambling back. She doesn’t spare him a second glance; her eyes are trained on the phone, and she snatches it right out of Pauline’s hands.

“Gaston!” She shouts his name loud enough to hurt. Pauline yelps and darts behind the stair rail. “What the hell do you think you’re saying to my twelve year old daughter?!”

The reply on the line sounds distinctly squirrelly now. Janet cuts him right off.

“I can’t believe you! My twelve year old daughter doesn’t need to hear your stupid jokes about Basden! I don’t- No, stop! I don’t even care what happened at this point, I’m sick of hearing about it and I absolutely don’t want you scaring my daughter with it! She’s twelve, Gaston! You should be ashamed of yourself!”

Basden shirks away from Janet as she paces past the couch. He watches her turn, cringes a little at her red face and set jaw. She glances over at him and rolls her eyes; he tries for a sympathetic smile as she opens her mouth again.

“I don’t care about your stupid sale!” She stalks back into the kitchen, still shouting. “I hate it when you act like this! Why don’t you- Don’t tell me to calm down! You’re being impossible, and you know what? I don’t want you coming to dinner Saturday! No, I don’t! I don’t want you messing around and cracking completely inappropriate jokes about cultists in front of my twelve year old daughter!”

Basden can hear her open the screen door and step outside; she slams it shut with a bang that makes him jump. He can still hear her voice, but it’s slightly muffled now... emphasis on the ‘slightly’. Hopefully the neighbors aren’t trying to sleep.

After a moment, he takes a deep breath, forces his shoulders down. Leaning forwards, he picks up Pauline’s homework and glances around for her, but she’s nowhere in sight.

“Pauline?” He calls out. Stands up. “Do you wanna, uh, work on your homework? Hello?”

He walks towards the stairs, but she’s not there. Up on the second floor, light is shining from behind her bedroom door.

Basden sees that, and heaves a sigh. He grabs her backpack - slings it over his shoulder - and shuffles upstairs. Hand on the rail, he feels the wood sliding past his fingers. Hears the shouting coming from outside, and listens to the creaks in every step he takes.

Pauline’s bedroom is the closest to the stairs; her door is undecorated, a clean, sterile white. He knocks, and almost instantly there’s a “Coming!” and the handle turns.

“Dad?” Pauline stares up at him as she opens it. “Oh, um... do you need something?”

He motions to her homework. “No, you, uh, left this downstairs-”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like you were in trouble, kid.” He smiles at her. “Just wondering if you still wanted some homework help?”

She blinks, like she’d completely forgotten about that. Then she nods.

“You sure?”

“Um, yeah! I mean, i-if you’re okay with it…”

“Of course I’m okay with it.”

“Okay. That’s good.”

“It is.” He waits for her to let him in her room, but she doesn’t move. “Um, so…”

The shouting from downstairs makes Basden trail off. It reaches a height, and he watches Pauline stiffen. She hides behind the door a little more, looks at him with worry shining in her eyes. It strikes him how young she looks, how scared she is, and he feels a twinge.

“Dad?” She asks, slowly.

“Yes?”

“When you, um, when you came home early… did you really get…?”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but the word still hangs between them: kidnapped. Basden has really tried not to think about it since he got back, tried not to remember the toilet stall he was held in, or the flashlight sweeping across the dark cells, or the coldness or the fear or the screams of a man he saw Alcor burn to death - it was all so strange, so violent, so, so far away from his ordinary life.

Like a bad dream, it feels unreal. It feels like Gaston is right, like there’s no way it actually happened, like he’s being ridiculous… and he’d feel so much better if he could just say that.

But he looks down the hallway, and he sees a darkness staring him down from the foot of Marla’s door, and he can’t.

“...to my twelve year old daughter!” Janet’s voice rings out loud, and jolts him out of his thoughts. He looks back to Pauline, who hasn’t said a word, and tries for another smile.

“It’s, um, complicated, kid. Why I came back.” Basden rubs his neck. “But mostly, I-I did it ‘cause I missed my family.”

She frowns at him. “Really?”

“Really. I was a whole ocean away from you guys, and I got homesick. I wanted to see you so much, I just couldn’t wait a week.”

“That’s weirdly impatient of you.”

“Heh, I guess it was, but I wasn’t staying there a second longer.” He reaches out and touches her shoulder, draws her into a hug. “I needed my family.”

“I need you too.” Pauline holds him tight, speaks in muffled tones through his shirt. “Don’t get kidnapped, Dad.”

Basden pats her back. He pats her back, and looks over at the golden eyes peering at him from the end of the hallway.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”

She squeezes him even tighter, and that makes him want to smile. He doesn’t, though; it doesn’t feel natural.

Not when he’s being watched.

Basden glances over at the demon sitting alone in the shadows. Its stare makes him squirm even more than before; there’s something new in it, he sees… or something familiar. It brings him back to the kidnapping nightmare, back to the demon cornering him in the bathroom stall, demanding Mizar, I want Mizar, GIVE HER TO ME...

He sees that same hunger now, in the way it watches them embrace.

It sends the same shiver up his spine, and he draws back. Clears his throat. Smiles down at Pauline, and motions to her door.

“Well, um,” he starts. “That was that... L-let’s have a look at that homework now, shall we?”

#transcendence au #toothwrites

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