#simply because HE is and with his peers I suspect he talks a lot more

[itspileofgoodthings]

.

[lynnlovesthestars]

Hi! I’m new to your blog and have been loving all of your works!

If you’re comfortable with it, I was wondering how you think Astarion would react/feel about a virgin tav/reader who went through SA when they were younger, and wish to wait until they are both completely ready and comfortable with being intimate?

Hii, I can definitely do it, though i will merge it with another ask I received- asking to write hcs about Astarion learning Tav is a survivor.

I will say, making it with the hc has been a little easier on me, usually when i write about SA i spend an insane amount of time making sure i'm comfortable and you (readers) are as well, and i hesitate a lot before publishing it *(queue up scars and blood, that I wrote on an impulse after a nightmare, and it took me a solid week before publishing it)*

ANYWAYS.

ofc I hope this will be of comfort to you, and it won't trigger you.. sometimes all we want is to find solace into our favourite characters, so i wish tonight this will in a way comfort you...

and if anyone needs to vent, or talk, feel free to hit up my dm's, they are a safe space for anyone and i'll always offer up comfort.. we don't need to struggle alone, and sometimes being heard is what we need to make a new step forward<3

As always, my little stars, excercise kindness! we don't know who's gonna pass by this, and we don't know how hard it can be for them.

This being said, I hope you'll like it!

Headcanon: Astarion learning Tav is a survivor.

Pairing: Astarion x reader. Warnings: mentions of past trauma and SA. wc: 1.7k

-He starts suspecting something about it around the time of the tiefling party. He had offered to sneak out while everyone was asleep to "enjoy yourselves", but you refused right away. He definitely picked up some involuntary movement you did that told him there was more to the "I'm not ready". You probably flinched or jerked away, usually it would go unnoticed, but Astarion could recognize the subtle harshness hidden behind your reaction.

-He doesn't want to pry into it, as much as he needed to know as much as possible about you- he says for the sake of his undead skin- he wasn't entirely confident you trusted him enough to share your past. Also he wasn't sure he could handle someone confiding in him, but he would never admit it. At the end of the day, all he knew about social interaction were faint memories of his magistrate life, or means to survival. He simply wasn't sure he could have the empathy to deal with someone else's emotions, both in good and in bad.

-When you meet the gur, and you start peering into his past, he can't hide the very obvious rock in the shoe, Cazador and his spawn life, and it is because of the gur that you actually open up to him. When he starts going deeper and deeper into Cazador's orders to him and his repulsion towards sex, you do feel like you can share something so intimate, that's been heavy on you, well since it happened. 

-The first time you mention it though, you are very blunt.

-"And honestly I don't know anything else besides disgust for it" He'd admit as he bit the inside of his cheek.

"I'm sorry, Astarion" You'd start, you wanted to hold his hand to comfort him, cause that kind of pain you knew. "I understand how you feel though. If you need—" He cut you short, anger was bubbling quickly in his stomach. You swore his face almost reddened in anger as he raised his voice.

"No, you don't" He was one sound shirt from hissing at you. "You cannot understand what it feels like" He'd sneer at you. "No one can understand what it feels like to be stripped of your bodily autonomy". In a way the harshness in his voice was like a slap to your face, cause you did in fact know. From the other, you didn't expect your brain to beeline directly towards that sealed drawer in your brain where you tried to hide the haunting memory. 

“I went through it myself, you shithead” You got up, uncaring of whatever reaction he could have in that moment, and you just left.

-He was taken aback, on different levels, both because of your sudden shift in mood, because of the blunt reveal, and deep down because he was sorry, though again he’d never admit it out loud.

-You ignored him for the rest of the day, avoiding his stare and disappearing in your tent right after you were done setting camp, and that unsettled him so much that he was weighing the possibility of apologizing cause, of course, he didn’t know.

-You skipped dinner, and even when everyone else was asleep, you didn’t come out from your tent to take your usual nightly walk. The pang of guilt was becoming more like a stab as he saw the light in your tent still burning, and the faint shadow of you moving around restless.

-He prepared a peace offering, a bowl of the leftover stew, as he had to muster the guts to apologize. 

-”Sorry, I was an asshole earlier, I brought you food” He blurted out right after he knocked on the wooden support of the tent, and he was surprised when you still let him in.

-Initially it was awkward, cause you were eating and not saying anything, but after a while he mustered up the courage to offer his shoulder to you. “If you even wish to talk” He’d say.

-You told him a bit of what happened, without going too much into detail, since you were still shaken from the memories that resurfaced.

-Since then he started to learn your boundaries: how to catch your attention without startling you, what were triggering topics for you, how you liked physical touch, and how it triggered you as well.

-In a way he becomes very protective of you, especially if you open up more often about your trauma, and you can see it.

-He made sure everyone respected your boundaries, whether it was Gale with his weave thing pulling you too close, or a stranger breathing on your neck, he was always ready to remind them of their place. 

-”Don’t you see our dear captain doesn't want to be that close?!” “Keep your hands to yourself, they don't like being grabbed by the wrists” “Get away from her, before I stab you” 

-He noticed how you always double checked the perimeter of the camp before the sun would set, and before getting in your tent you’d always look around in the distance, trying to spot if something was out of place. So he joined you in your routine, helping you check around and make sure you were ready in case anything could have happened.

-As you get closer, and you both open up more to each other, he even suggests he moves his tent closer to yours. “I can keep an eye around” Was his explanation, when he first brought it up. 

-And it helped so much with your sleep, you felt a little safer.

-If you didn’t feel safe at night, he’d suggest putting your tents together into one. Maybe it was a way to keep you closer, or he needed reassurance, but he made sure you knew you could place your bedroll anywhere as far or as close to him as you liked.

-Eventually as your bond would deepen and deepen, and you’d grow fond of each other, you found yourselves rediscovering your touch together. It started with your fingers tapping on his arm as you were walking, or a strand of your hair being pulled behind your ear. Some nights you’d sit close in your tent, and would hold hands, caress each other’s cheeks, and slowly even reach out for a kiss or two.

-It was a slow process, where you really got to know each other like no one else ever did. You could read each other like a book, yet you never shied away from asking each other for consent for anything.

-”Can I hold your hand” “Can I kiss your cheek” “Can I rest my head on your chest”

-The thing you both struggled with the most, was falling asleep holding each other. You’d panic very quickly when you would feel your chest becoming tighter. He’d move away as quickly as possible, and give you the space you needed.

-When he confesses he has been falling for you, it’s time to approach the very delicate topic of sex. You opened up about the fact that you wanted to wait ‘till you were ready, and he agreed without hesitation. Of course because he understood where you came from, he never asked for any help either, if he’d feel like he needed some release, he’d disappear for a bit and deal with it himself, without making you feel like a burden.

“I just want to make sure we are on the same page on this” You’d say as you crossed your arms, almost as if you wanted to fold yourself in and away. “If you want to have sex, I can’t right now” You’d start saying, but stop on your tracks for a second. “Wait, not that I can’t. I don’t want to have sex at the moment” You’d correct yourself, confident in your statement, he wasn’t even thinking about it, though he respected completely.

“I get it, and it’s okay my love” He’d say, patting your shoulder, and wondering whether he wanted to hold your hand or kiss it, he wanted to let you know he truly understood. “I don’t want to either” He smiled, and in that moment it was like both you two finally breathed. You’d reach for his hand to hold it in yours.

“It’s not because of you though” You wanted to explain to him, you were so close it was something you were ready to share, especially since you were slowly walking towards a different level of intimacy together, he had to know. “I want to do it when we are both ready” 

“I understand, my sweet, there’s no need for explanations” He’d smile again, one of his fangs slightly poked out against his lip. “You said you don’t want sex yet, so it’s no” 

“I’m a virgin” You’d blurt out, and that was something he didn’t entirely expect.

“Oh” He’d say at first, but as he noticed your cheeks slowly warming up, he pulled you closer to him, his forehead against yours. “It’s okay, I don’t care about it” He’d exhale. “As long as it’s you, I don’t care about anything” 

-When you reach Baldur’s Gate and finally you settle in the elfsong tavern, you made sure you always had a corner of time dedicated to helping each other relearn touch. 

-You'd lay next to each other in different levels of nakedness depending on how you felt at the moment, and you'd spend your time tracing each other's features. Whenever you'd feel comfortable enough to venture into a new thing, he'd ask for permission. 

-"Would you feel comfortable if I touched your hips?" "Can I trace your scars with my fingers?” “May I pull you closer?”

-You didn't fight time, you didn't rush towards sex. It came slowly and it was a process full of ups and downs. Some attempts ended up with you both sobbing, too overwhelmed. Other's ended up with panic attacks. Eventually though, after a lot of work together, you reached a point where you'd be able to make love.

-it was a very soft moment between you two. It involved a lot of comforting, kisses and patience, but it was something so profound, it wasn't only about shared pleasure, but it was about connecting your bodies and your souls. In a way it was like a wedding for you two it was the peak of trust you could have with each other. 

-He'd whisper so many times how proud he was of you, how much he loved you, and how glad he was that you were the one that would spend their life with him.

-Tears eventually arrived, they were the tears of two souls that finally had reclaimed a bit of their freedom. It was the cries of someone that was finally healing. 

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

i assume you'll be coming for blood (that makes two of us)

Chapter 1

Ao3 | 1.9k words | Sweetheart's POV

You'd never even heard of shades when the file slid across your desk on Monday morning. - Fooliverse Sweetheart faces off with that first shade. They already know Milo, but things are a lot more complicated than they might have been, not least because of their own stubbornness and pride. Hopefully that pride won't get them killed. Hopefully.

TW: violence, mentions of sex, the Department

You’d never even heard of shades when the file slid across your desk on Monday morning. The Quinn Fox case had left you with a week’s worth of paperwork despite the nice little bow that Milo’s help had tied on it for you. The Department didn’t like the Vampire Council, and the concept of Sanguine Primero was contentious at best with Department officials. The stamped and sealed paperwork you’d been provided with was only good for telling you who was involved. You’d been forced to interview nearly every person involved, including the intimidating Talbot Pack Alpha.  

In the end, Asher, which he insisted you call him, was actually quite nice. Once you’d gotten past his intense demeanor, he had a quiet sense of humor that you appreciated. He’d given you the details, answered every question, and promised you statements from every pack member involved. He did sternly refuse to allow you access to them, especially the wayward wolf that had been the catalyst for all of this, Quinn’s true victim. He wouldn’t even give you their name, just an acknowledgement of how difficult he knew that would make your report. That famous wolf possessiveness on display.  

Just as Talbot- as Asher- promised, the statements were delivered to your work email by end of business that day, including an anonymous one from Fox’s victim. You’d filed them dutifully, along with Milo’s and a heavily edited one from his clan-mate Porter.  

All of that had taken the wind out of you surrounding the case. You’d almost been naive enough to believe that you’d get to take in a wanted criminal on your first case, adding a bit of clout behind your title.  

You were the least impressive member of your class, at least by your instructor’s standards. Being a stealth was useful as an investigator, but not when apprehending suspects, not in a physical test, not when trying to show off to your new captain just how useful you could be. The Department was a good old-fashioned boys’ club. Sons of enforcers and investigators crowded your academy class, and their attitudes surrounding your size and power and physical ability clouded their judgment about you. It didn’t matter that you were the strongest stealth in your family in generations, that you could phase cloak for nearly an hour, that you could run mental circles around most of those assholes in a second. Your power wasn’t one they could see or be intimidated by, so it simply didn’t exist.  

So they gave you shit like Quinn Fox, shit that would either get you killed or leave you with nothing impressive to show for your work. All while your peers hauled in suspects and bagged cases left and right.  

If you weren’t so stubborn, you’d have left this stupid fucking job the night Milo talked you down from a goddam panic attack in the middle of an investigation. If you weren’t so determined to prove everyone around you wrong, you’d have taken him up on his sugar-baby adjacent offer and live off of vampire money while receiving the best fucks of your life. 

When you told your father that you were going to be an investigator, his face had twisted into something like pity. You couldn’t stop until you replaced that with sheepish guilt and impress.  

Of course, you weren’t going to do it with this case. Shades, as far as you could tell, were a fairy tale. The Department resources on them were nearly nonexistent. You’d found a few reported sightings of the ghost-like things, but the only real answers you’d gotten were from Cam.  

Camelopardalis was your favorite coworker. You rarely crossed paths in actual work, but your break rooms were adjacent to each other, and he was the only person who smiled at you unprompted on your first day. You drank coffee together in the morning, you complained quietly about the assholes in each of your departments, and you shared lunch on a bench in the large, green courtyard outside of your building every day.  

Cam didn’t strictly need to eat, but he liked what you cooked. You went from cooking for one to two, making sure there were enough leftovers to feed you both the next day. Over re-warmed shredded beef tacos, Cam recalled everything he knew about Shades.  

“They come from Death,” he had explained, the word taking on the sort of capitalization that important places got, “and they’re very dangerous to humans. We don’t know much about them, just what they do. There’s only been a few confirmed cases of them in human history.”  

“What do they do?”  

“They’re not living things.” He said. His star-dotted eyes looked up, considering the clouds like they had answers for him. “They’re incorporeal when they first slip into Elegy- Terra-” he corrected. Some humans didn’t like it when demons used their names for things. He must have learned to edit what he was saying as he spoke. “-and they need the life force of humans to gain a physical form. Usually that means draining it from unknowing victims. Most of them are drawn to heavily populated areas, feeding a bit from a lot of people. Once they’ve gotten enough life force, they gain physical form, they often become violent. They have claws that are particularly deadly.”  

��Are they... ghosts?”  

“We don’t know.” Cam shrugged, tucking a corkscrew curl behind his tall horns.  

“How do they get here?”  

“We think they slip through the cracks of demon’s rifts.” He sighed. “Of course, it’s impossible for us to rift directly to Death. It’s a sort of... cosmic glitch. Sometimes the rifts get crossed over the wrong dimension, and that’s how we assume they find their way here.”  

“It must be confusing for them.” You said. Cam cocked his head. “I just mean... if they are ghosts, and they’ve spent forever in Death, and then suddenly find their way here... I don’t know, it’s like when you back an animal into a corner. They must be pretty freaked out.”  

Cam smiled at you before waving a hand. With a flourish of his pretty, turquoise magic, the Tupperware you’d brought from home was gone. When you got home, it would all be washed and put away in your cabinet.  

“You have such an interesting perspective.” He grinned, standing and offering you a hand. “You always see the best in everything.”  

You certainly didn’t think so charitably about the shade when you faced it for the first time. It was a ghastly thing. Barely visible, it looked like a skeleton wrapped in thin, black smoke. It’s mouth opened into a horrible, gaping maw. You could smell the decay on it, even from your distance.  

You had backed it into an alley, a secluded corner just off Dahlia’s nightclub district. It had been feeding on college students, drunk kids who couldn’t see straight enough to know to run. You knew to run, but instead of away from it, you’d chased it. God, you were an idiot. When most people ran away, you ran to.  

Your magic was useless against it. It hadn’t taken physical form. Your fists passed right through it when you tried to fight it off. It framed your throat with two boney hands, drew your face towards its own, like it was going to kiss you. Instead, it sucked the life out of you.  

You came to cold, shivering on the damp ground of that alley. Nobody had seen you, or at least, nobody had stopped to help. The shade was gone.  

Making your way home was more difficult than you had thought it would be. Your phone was dead, so no Uber, no call to the Department, no call to Cam since you were truly desperate. The nausea was overwhelming, and your knees were weak. You remembered, giddily, Milo’s comment about not locking them in stressful situations. It only did you so much good, and you had to stop at every bench and a few curbs to not keel over.  

Somehow, you managed the three mile walk and the two flights of stairs up to your apartment. You barely made it to your bathroom before you emptied your stomach of the day’s contents, your vision swimming and body finally giving out on you. By the time you’d dry heaved your throat to shreds and your stomach finally settled, you were shaking all over, broken out into a cold sweat. This felt like a particularly brutal flu, the memory of stomach bugs lingering in the back of your head.  

“I want my mom,” you whispered to no one, your head pressed into the cool white tile floor. That childish instinct reared its head like it did every time you were ill. You wanted someone to brush their fingers through your hair, press a cold cloth to the back of your neck, make you soup and nag you about getting plenty of fluids.  

Eventually, you dragged yourself off of the bathroom floor. You stripped out of your sweat-soaked clothes and crawled under the covers of your bed. You fumbled with your phone charger, your hands shaking, and waited with drooping eyelids as it came back to life.  

You didn’t know why you called him of all people. You had plenty of others who you should have called first. Your supervisor, for one, who would need a report of your injury. Your father was twenty minutes away and would have been there in a heartbeat, with his sorry glances and muttered admonishments about this job being a bad fit. Your older brother and younger sister both lived a handful of blocks away, but there wasn’t a caring bone shared between them.  

“Is this the kind of three A.M. call I’ve been waiting for, Sweets, or-”  

He must have heard your ragged breathing, because he stopped mid-flirt, his tone faltering. Milo’s flirty facade was always sort of amusing to you. It was so clearly an act, a cover for the insecurity or angst or whatever he was trying to keep down. Sometimes, especially when you required some sort of care, it fell away without him even noticing, and you were left to stare at the naked truth of him.  

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, his voice jumping a few pitches in concern. You smiled absently at that.  

“I-” your voice was wrecked, ruined by strain. You cleared it a few times, trying to sound a bit more presentable. “Nothing.” You lied. Milo would know, but you didn’t have the energy to explain. “The flu.”  

“Uh-huh.” Milo replied. He went silent.  

He wasn’t your fucking boyfriend. You weren’t in a relationship. He was a fuck buddy at best. You wouldn’t even go so far as to call him a friend with benefits. He wasn’t your friend.  

“I just-“ you repressed the urge to cough. “I won’t be there. Tomorrow night. Because of the flu.”  

“Are you-“ Milo seemed on the verge of asking you something dangerous like ‘are you okay,’ which would take this fun, casual thing you had going on and add feelings to it, something neither of you wanted. “Right.” He finally settled; his voice still suspicious. “I guess um… just let me know. When you’re better. Or if you need… soup. Or anything.”  

“Soup.” You repeated.  

“Fuck off.” Milo growled. “I haven’t been human in years, remember? I don’t know what sick people need.”  

“I don’t need anything.” You said quickly, defensively. “I’ll… text you next time. I don’t know why I called.”  

“It’s okay,” Milo said, “I don’t mind a call.”  

“Right.” You said. “I‘ll call you in a few days. When I’m better.”  

“Okay.” You could hear him deflate, his tone settling back in that façade. “I’ll see you soon, Sweetness.”  

“Yeah.” You replied. You didn’t know if you managed to hang up before you passed out. 

[pyrondeeznutz]

Clockwork Headcanons

PT.01

Natalie Ouellettes past, upbringing, pre-murder headcanons.

CW: mentions of sexual abuse (I go into light detail about the abuse and the abusers mindset), domestic violence, gore, trauma, human experimentation

<NOTE> Same thing as the Ticci Toby headcanons, its a bit of a rewrite and I tried to keep the story realistic. Its not proofread so ignore typos and grammatical errors. Also again as a major warning, I went into some detail about Clockworks sexual trauma with her brother as I feel it does play a major part to her character and the reason why she developed the way she did. I have trigger warnings on the parts so you can skip it. Its very long because I have a lot of thoughts about her character. Enjoy 🔥

BIOGRAPHY .

PATIENT NAME: Natalie Ouellette

BIRTHDATE: November 6th, 1996

AGE: Currently 18 years old

HC/EC: Brown hair, green eyes

ETHNICITY: White Canadian

BIRTHPLACE: Windsor, Ontario

FAMILY: Mary-Beth Ouellette (mother), David Ouellette (father), Lucas Ouellette (brother)

DIAGNOSIS: Major Depressive Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, suspected/untreated Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD)

PIGTAILS .

Natalie grew up in a small trailer park. Her family was dirt broke, her father would blow all their money on booze and gambling

The financial situation in her household contributed significantly to her parents stress and fighting. Rarely was there ever a moment of peace

She would often make careless mistakes as any young child would like wetting the bed, drawing on walls, accidentally breaking things

And every time she made a mistake, she wasn’t simply taught how to do better, she was berated and ruthlessly beat by her father

Her childhood was unstable, to say the least. Natalies parents were more like enemies than they were caregivers.

She spent her peak developmental years being severely neglected and made to feel small and powerless.

At home she would spend her time alone in her room to hide away from the fighting between her parents or the random rants her drunken father would go on

She would get into the habit of running away just to spend some quiet time at the park by her house, anything to escape the chaos of her everyday life

At such a young age she didn’t know why she was so angry at the world. And at such a young age she would act out for attention and struggle with morals, empathy and societal norms as a result of never being taught any better

Her and her brother were severely emotionally neglected and grew up very poor, barely having food to eat or clean clothes to wear. This resulted to her being ostracized from her peers early on

DADDYS GIRL .

David Ouellette was a lazy, drunk, mean old man. He spent his life as a bully and would pick on anyone who challenged his authority, even his own children

He wasn’t afraid to use fear and violence to make his family obey. The man didn’t care who he hurt as long as he got his way

And this man regretted having children every single day of his life. He viewed them as burdens, a curse, and something he wasted his life on.

This included Natalie, who developed oppositional behavioural issues early on in defiance to her fathers abuse

Natalie had a mouth on her. She would talk back, make sarcastic or snarky remarks, boss other kids around. She would fight tooth and nail against her father for a sliver of power in her otherwise powerless life

And David hated being talked down to by a cocky brat like her. So over the years David would repeatedly beat his daughter into shape by grabbing her, hitting her with objects, slapping her, pushing and any other means to his ends of regaining control

Despite this strained relationship where the two would constantly fight for power, Natalie was a daddys girl. They developed a strange, twisted understanding in each other

David worked as a local trucker, but he ran a side hustle of repairing clocks. The man was a piece of shit and honestly a bit dumb when it came to booksmarts but he was good with his hands and a tinkerer

Her father was a classic trailer trash hick. He loved and owned guns, and would sometimes take his children out hunting. The only praise and a semblance of affection Natalie would receive from her father was when she was taking the life of another living being

MOMMY ISSUES .

Natalies mother was an unstable woman. She was very passive-aggressive and unpredictable in her parenting going from caring to cold in an instant

She was very controlling over her children, often resorting to berating and insulting Natalie to get her to act how she wanted

Mary-Beth spent her life chasing the teenage dream she never got when she was younger, and tried to project through her daughter

When she was a young child, Natalie learned quickly that her mother didn’t care about anybody but herself. Mary-Beth was a bitter woman, always playing the victim, and would die before ever admitting she was wrong

Even though her relationship with her father was bad, the girls relationship with her mother was worse. Davids abuse was in response to his children acting out of line, meanwhile her mother was unnecessarily critical, argumentative, and emotional

On multiple occasions her mother would leave the house in a dramatic fit as if she desired to be chased after. The woman would act out like a child and expect everyone to cater to her

And Natalie was never good enough for Mary-Beth. She wasn’t polite enough, smart enough, skinny enough. There was absolutely no pleasing her mother.

BLOOD BROTHER . (TW SEXUAL ABUSE MENTS)

The only person Natalie relied on in her life was her brother, Lucas. He was 4 and a half years older than her but it was that sort of quiet understanding between two children in such a hostile household

Despite their arguments and lack of true bond, the young girl felt safe with her older brother and always tried to impress him. All she wanted was the approval of some dominant figure in her life, and she certainly wasn’t getting it from her parents

Lucas was a strange boy. He was the anxious type who harboured a lot of internalized anger, especially towards his mother.

He was an outcast at school and similarly to his sister, he felt powerless in his life. The boy picked up on his mothers passive-aggressive traits and his fathers entitlement

As he grew and developed, so did his hunger for control and power. He wanted to degrade, assault, and dominate something in his life to make up for the lack of confidence

When Natalie was 9 years old, Lucas would begin to sexually abuse her.

The one person in her life that understood and felt the same pain she did turned on her. She was scared, ashamed, confused.

Repeatedly Lucas would approach his sister and assault her in various ways with little to no regard of the consequences or moral implications. He was desperate and even though it hurt her, it felt good to him.

BETRAYAL . (TW SEXUAL ABUSE MENTS)

Natalie was too young to even know what was happening to her, all she knew was that it felt bad and she felt violated. She knew something was wrong.

Soon enough, the girl felt she had no choice but to confide in her peers. One day at recess she approached a girl named Mia and her friends, a group of girls Natalie wasn’t really friends with but was acquainted enough to talk to

And from there she told them everything as best as she could, even if she got choked up and didn’t make much sense. The girl barely even made sense of it herself.

It felt lighter to get it off her chest, maybe if she could gain the courage to tell her parents the abuse would stop. Maybe everything was going to work out.

But the next day Natalie woke up to messages on sites like Facebook and MySpace. Degrading comments about her being an incest freak, a whore, gross, disgusting, weird, used. Who does that with their brother?

The bullying and degradation from her peers who now saw her as a disgusting weirdo would follow her up until high school

And for four years she would come home from school and be abused in the worst, most violating way by her own kin. And for four years she kept everything inside of her. She just kept quiet and didn’t dare to tell a soul ever again.

Eventually, she gained the courage to tell Lucas no, and firmly reject his advances. After that she was finally free, as much as a girl drowning in her own household could be.

DEAD GIRL .

In high school, Natalie did well for herself. Her grades were good, she calmed down a ton, and she didn’t bother making close friends but she got herself a boyfriend named Chris

Chris was a nice boy, but he came from a good, well-off family. He wasn’t the type to even begin to understand the things Natalie thought or had been through.

Throughout the years, Natalie had grown fond of things of the morbid nature. She would find herself drawing gorey images depicting murder, weapons, decomposing corpses, and other unsettling themes

This wouldn’t have been as bad if it wasn’t tied to the girl who was drawing it. Most people saw Natalie as a weird, disturbed girl and it was rather uncomfortable to watch a girl like her draw all these macabre things

On the outside she was quiet and asocial with a bit of an attitude. She was snarky and rough around the edges, but all she wanted for herself was to get a proper education and have a good life for herself. All she wanted was the kind of family Chris had

Deeper inside of her, Natalie was a very angry girl who hated the world. She hated her family, her life, she resented people who had it better than her.

There was so much bubbling inside that she just pushed down. She was never going to let herself crumble. She was never going to be weak.

This reflected negatively on her life which led to the girl growing into her behavioural issues. Natalie would talk back to authority figures in her life and god forbid anyone try to tell her what to do. She was rebellious to a fault

Her sleep schedule was barely existent as she would find herself staying up until the sunrise to finish assignments, scroll through the internet, or binge watch horror movies regularly

And this lack of sleep only contributed to her horrible attitude. The girl would get into fights at home, storm out, get into fights with her peers or her boyfriend, and go back home to start all over again

TIME .

Natalie had a strange relationship with the concept of time. It always seemed to be against her.

A part of her feared how little time she felt she had. It was like a race against the inevitable, it was going to catch up to her eventually. She couldn’t outrun time itself

It wasn’t long until there was something of obsession with the topic in Natalies life. Even clocks on the wall drove her insane

She felt as though she was stuck in a time loop of living the same day over and over. Different day on the calendar, but same life

Even her fathers clocks that littered her dirty, small, mobile home mocked her. Laughing at how powerless she was

The one thing in her life she truly could never control was the vicious cycle of living through her miserable days again and again

Wake up at 6am, school at 8am, go back home to the abuse at 4pm, fall asleep at 3am

Every. Single. Day.

Natalie hated her life more than anything. She wanted out more than anything. But she wasn’t going to be so weak as to self-harm or commit suicide. She was strong enough to take control

She just kept trying to be in control of something that couldn’t be controlled

STITCHES .

One day after school, Natalies boyfriend broke up with her.

She should’ve expected it, but she didn’t.

Chris was always nice to her, he really did try his best. But he just couldn’t even begin to understand her, and she couldn’t even begin to explain.

He told her that her outbursts were too much for him. She would snap at him and cause fights for such small reasons, everything set her off. And when he tried to talk it through with her, she’d shut down on him

Natalie never told him about the abuse, the trauma, or any of her struggles. She was drowning and never trusted a single hand reaching out to help

Chris made comments towards her art and mindset, saying it creeped him out and that she needed to seek professional help

Of course he didn’t understand. Nobody understood Natalie. The whole wide world was against her

And now the one person she actually liked and could see herself caring for turned on her and left her just like everyone else in her life

And another good thing in her life was lost to the hands of time

BORDERLINE .

For such a strong girl like Natalie, a stupid high school breakup shouldn’t have meant as much as it did

It shouldn’t have ruined her

But it did, and she was a mess

All she could think about was how much she lost. She was so desperate for control she completely lost it

And now her moods were at an all time low, her impulsivity skyrocketed and so did her anger

How fucking dare he do that to her

Natalie would start acting out, getting into fights with her parents, and her grades began to drop. Her entire life was slipping away through the cracks in between her fingers and there was nothing she could do but watch it crumble underneath her feet

It was like watching a car accident. You could see the girl spiral, you could see her crash and burn, but there was nothing you could do but sit back and watch

She didn’t care one bit. After so long of trying so hard to run from it all, she finally had nothing left to lose

So she picked up a few bad habits here and there. She would fight girls behind the school and buy cigarettes off of sketchy junkies with her parents money

Natalie started to speak up more and everything that came out of that girls mouth was trashy. She would make offensive comments and pick on people for being “so damn sensitive”

In reality, she just wanted to be seen. She wanted someone to catch her from falling so far deep into destruction and give her the attention and support she never had

But everyone found her annoying or just something to laugh at. Natalie wasn’t enjoyable to be around in the slightest

She started stealing booze from her parents and going off and getting drunk at the park near her house. The girl quickly developed a drinking problem that worsened her attitude even more

Natalie started crossing lines that shouldn’t have been crossed, and started to gain the dangerous knowledge that she could do all these awful things and the world wouldn’t come to an end

She was on top. She was powerful. And nobody was going to fuck with her again

INFIRMARY .

One night she got into a physical fight with her brother, things were broken, fists were thrown, insults were tossed back and forth

The fight had gone too far and she ended up injuring her left eye so badly she had to be taken to the emergency room

Nobody stayed by Natalies side in that hospital. She had to undergo surgery in order to remove the eye due to the damage. And neither her parents nor her brother cared enough to stay

Now around this time, the government was developed a chemical weapon known as “Liquid Hate” or “methcyclopyroxene oxydenate” if we’re going to get scientific

And if you know anything about the government, they just love to run illegal human experimentation programs on unassuming people who really wouldn’t be looked for if they went missing or worse

Natalie fell victim to a testing of an early prototype of liquid hate. During her surgery she was tied down and injected a small dosage of this chemical

Soon, she woke up and felt a jolt of adrenaline stronger than anything she’d ever felt before. It felt like her body was so hot she was going to explode, she felt jittery and like a surge of overwhelming energy soared through every cell that made up her being

And she felt so consumed by rage

Her anger was righteous and she was wielding it like an archangels sword. It was something so biblically primal when she escaped her restraints and ripped the nearest doctor apart with her own two hands

This quick blinding rush subdued slightly and she came to her senses as she caught her breath and bolted right out of the hospital in fear and out into the rainy night

The effects weren’t exactly as blinding as before but god knows they were still overtaking her senses. And when she walked down the street in that gentle, cold, rain only one thought was on her mind

Where the fuck was her family when she needed them the most?

TICK TOCK .

Now here was this angry, drugged up girl standing outside the dark house where she spent years of abuse and torment

And the blood on her hands was dripping like sin

When her mother answered the front door and saw the monster her own daughter had become, there was a part in the woman that felt as though she was looking at what she could’ve become

And like smashing a mirror, Natalie took the life of her own mother. She strangled her, brutally stabbed her with a kitchen knife and ripped open her ribcage with feral strength

As Natalie taunted the one who carried her for 9 months and brought her into the sick and cruel world she inhabited, she felt the rabid words fall off her mouth as if they had been begging to escape for years

Next was her father, who had slept through the death of his wife in a drunken slumber. The house stunk of alcohol - such a familiar smell. It made her sick to her stomach.

She snuck into her parents bedroom and took a handgun out of the bedstand drawer, shoving the barrel of the gun in her fathers booze-coated mouth and watched the fear filled his eyes as he woke up. Her finger teased the trigger as she whispered a quiet “your time is up, daddy” and blew his brains out onto the wall

This was another line Natalie crossed, another realization of her own capabilities only enhanced by the chemically induced beast-like rage. Nothing was stopping her. This was her divine right, she was in control now

And finally, she moved onto her brother who was alerted by the sound of a gunshot and walked in on his sister standing over their fathers dead corpse, blood staining her hands and soaking her white hospital gown

Lucas, like his sister, was a quiet boy who kept to himself for the most part. But like his sister, he had so much anger boiling inside of him and he was a fighter

And so the two fought once more, Lucas physically overpowered his sister for just a moment before something inside of her broke like a dam and the flood came crashing through

Natalie gained the upper hand as the fight was brought into Lucas’s bedroom, the place where her brother would abuse her for years

The overwhelming pain of the memories flooding in threw Natalie into a panicked fit as she threw her brother to the ground, ignoring his screams and berating

She climbed on top of him and incapacitated him by stabbing him several times in the abdomen, throat, and face. The girl finished her brother off by gutting him and spent her time mutilating his body like an animalistic rampage

Everything she had been bottling up finally exploded out of her and the girl showed no mercy that night

EMBERS .

Natalie stood in the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror

She looked at the gaping hole where her left eye once was for what felt like eternity

Time came to a complete stop in that moment, it was all in the bloody palm of her hands

The only sound that filled the room was the viscous sound of her fathers pocket watch ticking softly as it rested on the messy bathroom counter

For nearly an hour she stood there heavily dissociated, zoning out of reality as she did nothing but stare at the hands of the clock moving rhythmically

Natalie soon snapped out of her dazed trance and slowly moved her dark crimson stained hand over to the pocket watch

And slowly she look a deep breath in as she brutally shoved the small clock into her empty eye socket, zoning out from the sharp pain of her body reacting to the foreign object

Now time was apart of her, and she was time itself. The girl became what she feared the most and broke the cycle she lives through over and over with her own two hands. She was no longer going to be a victim to the hands of time, she was now going to be the destroyer of it

As she exited the cold bathroom, she walked down the hallway of her small home she spent so much time in. There was no more yelling from her father, comments from her mother, fear from her brother

Natalie was all that was left

The girl entered her bedroom for the last time, changed into regular clothes and grabbed her stuffed giraffe shes had since she was a young child, named Jaffy

Jaffy had been with her through it all. She found comfort in the little giraffe, and it was the last piece of herself she had left

She walked into the kitchen with the stuffed animal and turned her gas-stove on max before laying a gentle kiss on Jaffys head and placing it onto the stovetop

Not once did she look back to the fire overtaking the giraffe as she walked out of that house, letting it become victim to the flames that would soon engulf the home

Natalie Ouellette died in that house, burning to death alongside her family in the fire

And only Clockwork walked out

[albentelisa]

Hi there! Any headcannon about Jim and Nomura?

Hi!

I consider Nomura one of the characters Jim 'liberated' in some manner (much like Draal). When they bonded in the Darklands, Nomura was obviously at that low point in her life when she just had given up on any chance to escape from the confines of the Janus Order and simply decided to go with the flow.

I can imagine that her life before that hadn't been that favorable. I have a headcanon that Nomura's familiar family wasn't that kind and loving to her (most likely, at least one of them suspected something was off). I also believe that Nomura isn't very good when it comes to acting skills or something like charming people (she's too straight-forward for that), and that didn't give her many favor points within the Janus Order (she had only gotten that high because Stricklander cherished her battle prowess).

Nomura calls Jim Little Gynt, but to my mind, she is Gynt in her own story too, endlessly searching for her own place in the world. 'Peer Gynt' had resonated with her for a reason. Not to mention, that the ending of that one is somehow hopeful, meaning that young Nomura felt there could be a salvation for her too. Another headcanon I have is that Nomura believed that her place could be by Draal's side at some point, but when he discovered her true nature and never listened to her explanation, everything just went to hell, probably nearly obliterating any resolve she had.

And then Nomura got trapped in the Darklands and used as a scapegoat by Gunmar, even though nothing was her fault. I feel that was the lowest.

It's where Jim came into the picture, refusing to give up despite being just a human child and defying all the odds. Somehow, I keep imagining him talking a lot to Nomura while they stayed in cells next to each other, keeping the mood hopeful. Most likely, he told her about his trollhunting adventures (and I hope that Draal also came up a lot).

Nomura didn't expect to be saved from the Darklands. She was a villain, she had no one to care about her and most importantly, she had her hopes crushed too many times before. So Jim insisting on saving her despite everything meant a lot to her afterward. I feel that when she was out she decided to live her life anew, this time true to herself.

When Nomura returned in season three, I feel she did it for Jim's sake. I think that Nomura is highly devoted to those she cherishes and after getting away from the Janus Order she's free to demonstrate it. And obviously, Jim is dear to her heart. One of my friends believes that Strickler talked Nomura into returning, but personally I love the idea of them both coming to the same decision separately and meeting while heading back to Arcadia.

I know that it's quite a common idea that Nomura is Jim's adoptive aunt, but I feel that she is both aunt and an older sister figure. Though, again, do we need any labels when it comes to found family?

Another of my headcanons is that Jim and Nomura bonded even more during their journey to New Jersey. She most likely was his sparring partner and the one who helped him with finding some balance between human and troll instincts (Strickler too - but he could only call occasionally). I can imagine that it was when Nomura finally got opened more to talk about her past. And both she and jim mourned Draal's death together.

[corchyn]

Part 1/? .•°*★

Friday night, the police department worked without rest.

In the stuffy office of (as it seemed to y/n) the chief, there was a police officer y/n. — Children continue to disappear in this damned pizzeria, and the way our department is constantly inundated with demanding calls from concerned parents doesn’t give me any free air. The higher ups are strangling me for crime statistics, sort it out. — Y/n's boss spoke, the black haired man clearly didn't care if it was Y/n's job... This could be seen in his bright, tired eyes, it read like this: “I don’t give a damn, just get this problem out of my eyes.” Y/n took a deep breath and nodded to her boss.

— By the way, a young guy has arrived in our department, you will be his mentor. — The girl’s usually calm eyes widened in surprise and shock at how much her boss felt absolutely omnipotent and just like that he simply gave her ballast in the form of a newcomer! — Wait a second... I'm working alone! — Y/n objected, it’s fine if they entrust her with dirty work, but she certainly wasn’t hired as a mentor.

— Yeah, Darlin’, I know that, okay? You're just the only one who can take it, and besides, it's your job. Let's go, go to work. — The man shifted several folders of papers, pretending that he was also busy with work, and after a few seconds he looked at her and raised his eyebrows as if to say: “why are you still here?”, y/n caught the signal and rolled her eyes and left the office, this disgusting guy... It seemed his main goal in life was to give her a heart attack from all this work overload, while he sat on his ass, in his soft boss chair, and did nothing.

****

The police car stopped near a huge shopping center, y/n got out of the car slamming the door, she carefully peered at the neon that was hung all over the entertainment center. Behind her, another slam of a closing door was heard, but more cautious and clumsy — Wow! Hah... Where do they get so much money to rebuild SUCH buildings! Looks beautiful... And very expensive... — The red-haired guy spoke, looking at the same neon signs as his mentor. — It's tasteless... And expensive, yes, I agree with you.

The guy turned his gaze to y/n, and after she moved towards the entrance, he ran after her.

Right now Pizza Plex was open and there were a lot of kids and parents around, which was surprising since this place clearly had a bad reputation. Two police officers moved around the pizzeria, looking around, suspicious persons, random things that looked traumatic, while officer y/n was doing her job, trainee Mikey was smiling from ear to ear and with stars in his eyes, enjoying the bright colors here and there.

Slowly they walked from one attraction to another, she met her eyes with the animatronics every time and every time they seemed to be hypnotized and scared looking at them, Apparently the animatronics had something in their codes like “if you see a person in uniform, you must behave well” or something like that. That's what y/n thought about every time, even ordinary bots, like the cleaners and those who distribute tickets and maps, began to behave more quietly in their presence.

Mikey at that time squealed with joy and even bought several keychains with Chika, being a devoted fan of Chika since childhood, he did not even suspect that the first days of his internship would go so well! — Officer, you look very sullen. Why don't you relax a little? Look how cute these little things are here! — The newbie showed his mentor the Chika keychain, smiling happily and looking at y/n — We're at work. — Y/n answered monosyllabically, not used to talking a lot and especially being distracted by something due to the fault of her colleague.

The green-eyed guy fell silent when his mentor put him in his place — Did you notice this? — The police officer started, but then she looked at her trainee and realized that it was pointless to ask him anything, because he was busy with all this glowing crap, as if he were 10. She rolled her eyes, sighed — All the animatronics and bots seem to just stop when they see someone in uniform. They looked at us, following us, even if they were busy with children, they still stopped. Don't you think this is strange? I noted that we need to talk to security and mechanics, let's see what they say... — Y/n said this as she took out her notepad and checked her notes. — Wasn't our goal to find out why the children disappeared, and not why the animatronics were behaving strangely? — Mikey asked, fiddling with Chica's keychains in his hands. — This is such an idiotic question that I want to laugh. Seeing animatronics this way may be the root of the problem. I suspect that someone rewrote the animatronics code and there is a wolf in uniform in the building. — Y/n answered

— Creepy... — It seemed Mikey's fun hours were over, one of the guards was the culprit and they should have dug deeper...

****

[waitimcomingtoo]

Innocent Until Proven Guilty

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: when the Avengers notice signs of Peter having a girlfriend, they suspect he’s not as innocent as he seems

Masterlist

“Hey Pete the treat.” Tony greeted Peter as he passed him in the hallway. “Have you seen my screwdriver with the orange handle?”

“Oh, yeah.” Peter remembered. “I used it to fix my web shooters. It’s on my desk in my room.”

“Mind if I grab it?”

“Would you listen if I said no?” Peter asked, assuming he knew the answer?

“Nope.” Tony smiled at how well Peter knew him. “I’ll go get it.”

Tony waltzed into Peters room and went straight to his desk, rummaging through the papers and sketches he had strewn about.

“Now where are you hiding?” Tony drummed his fingers on his chin as he looked around Peters desk. He opened the top drawer and found nothing, so he opened the next drawer and began to rummage around. After moving a notebook to the side, Tony found an unopened box of condoms among Peters things.

“Hm.” Tony furrowed his eyebrows at the surprising find. “Well it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

He put it down and continued searching through the draw before the box caught his eye again.

“Value pack?” Tony read off the box. “Jesus.”

He shut the drawer and found the screwdriver in the next drawer, mindlessly tucking it into his pocket. As he left Peters room, the box stayed in his mind. He walked into the living room and found the rest of the Avengers chatting.

“What do you guys think about Peter?” Tony wondered as he toyed with the screwdriver.

“I don’t think about Peter.” Sam deadpanned.

“He seems lonely, no?” Tony shrugged. “He could use a companion of the female variety.”

“We should set him up.” Steve suggested. “He could use someone.”

“I don’t know.” Nat scrunched her nose. “He seems too young to be dating.”

“He’s in college now. It’s about time he gets a girlfriend.” Tony decided. “I had dozens by the time I was his age.”

“Are we even sure he likes girls?” Rhodey asked.

“He complimented my hair color once.” Nat shrugged.

“There we go.” Tony nodded, getting excited now.

“What are you guys talking about?” Bucky asked quietly as he entered the room.

“We want to set Peter up on a date.” Steve told him.

“Parker? I’m pretty sure he has a girlfriend.” Bucky said, making everyone look at him.

“What?” Tony asked. “No way.”

“Yeah. My room is next to his.” He shrugged. “He’s on the phone all night almost every night.”

“What?” Nat laughed in surprise. “With who?”

“Someone named Y/n I’m pretty sure.” Bucky went on. “I hear her name a lot.”

“Y/n.” Tony rolled it around his mind. “Interesting. I have to know more.”

“I think if Peter wanted us to know more, he’d tell us.” Nat clicked her tongue.

“And I think I don’t care.” Tony retorted. “I’m gonna find out more.”

That night, Tony sat in the dark as he waited for Peter to come home. He heard the elevator coming up and shivered with excitement at the incoming confrontation.

“Hey, Parker.” Tony dramatically turned on the light once Peter walked in the room, making Peter jump.

“Hi Mr. Stark.” Peter stammered as he took off his coat.

“Are you just getting back?” Tony asked coyly.

“Yeah, I was out with my…friend.” Peter shifted his eyes at the mention of you.

“Oh really?” Tony feigned a gasp. “What’s his name?”

“Her name is Y/n.” Peter said casually. “I was with her.”

“So I see.” Tony nodded. “Is she from school?”

“Yeah. She’s in my organic chemistry class.”

“So one might say you two have…chemistry?” Tony shrugged as he walked closer to Peter.

“Anyone with our schedules would say that.” Peter laughed nervously.

“Whats she like?” Tony persisted. “Is she pretty?”

“She’s great.” Peter smiled. “She can talk circles around me about just about anything. I don’t even know why we’re in the same class. She’s so much smarter than everyone in the room, even the professor. She’s just...she’s great.”

“So I hear.” Tony smirked. Peter completely avoided the “pretty” question, and that told Tony everything he needed to know.

“Hear?” Peter asked curiously. “What did you hear?”

“Thin walls, buddy.” Tony knocked on the wall. “Bucky told us all about your late night phone calls with your lady friend.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Peters face heated up. “I’ll be quieter.”

“You don’t have to be quieter.” Tony told him. “Bucky doesn’t deserve a peaceful nights sleep.”

“Why do you say that?” Peter asked.

“Because he murdered my parents. Night!” Tony threw up a peace sign before leaving the room. Peters jaw dropped a little before shutting. He quickly pulled out his phone and clicked on your contact.

“I think Mr. Stark is onto us” He texted you.

“Good. He can pay for our wedding 👀” You wrote, making him smile. He put his phone away and went to bed himself.

~

A few weeks later, Tony needed the screwdriver again and had an idea of where he could find it.

“Hey Pete. Did you use the screwdriver again?” Tony asked when he found Peter in the hallway.

“Yeah. It should be in the same place.” Peter informed him.

“Thanks.” Tony nodded and went into Peters room. He went to the desk, expecting to find the screwdriver in the same drawer it was in last time. When he didn’t find it there, he opened the drawer above it. Right on top of a pile of notebooks was the box from last time.

“I shouldn’t.” Tony sighed and chewed his lip. “But I’m feeling snoopy.”

Tony picked up the box and to his surprise, it was significantly lighter. Tony opened it up and peered inside, only to see it was nearly empty.

“Who did this to you?” Tony gasped. “Who took your goodies?”

Elsewhere in the tower, Peter was heading back to his room when he crashed into Natasha.

“Oh, sorry.” Peter apologized as he caught her before he could knock her over.

“It’s fine.” Natasha assured him, sniffing the air a little. “Why do you smell so good?”

“Hygiene is very important to me.” Peter straightened his shoulders to solidify his lie.

“Yeah, but,” she sniffed him again, “you smell fruity.”

“I’m a fruity boy.” Peter stated, regretting it immediately.

“Oh.” Natasha backed away a little, giving him a strange look.

“Not that kind of fruity.” Peter stammered. “I have to go.”

Just as Peter scurried away, Sam walked into the hallway.

“Am I crazy or did Peter smell like perfume?” Natasha pointed behind him.

“I don’t care.” Sam mumbled as he walked by.

“Romanoff.” Tony rounded the corner after leaving Peters room. “I think the Manchurian Candidiate was right. I think Peter has a girlfriend.”

“I think so too.” Natasha nodded. “He smelled like perfume just now.”

As Tony and Natasha exchanged evidence, Sam passed by Peters room just as he was going inside.

“Hey Sam.” Peter greeted before he shut his door.

“Don’t talk to me, Parker.” Sam mumbled without looking up.

“Sorry.” Peter chuckled and rolled his eyes, making Sam briefly look up.

“What’s that?” Sam narrowed his eyes when he spotted something peeking out over Peters collar.

“Whats what?” Peter asked as he pulled away.

“On your neck.” Sam caught his collar and pulled it down. “Is that a hickey?”

“No.” Peter said quickly as he covered his neck with his hand. “I burnt my neck with my curling iron.”

“Oh, okay.” Sam was satisfied with the answer. “Wait, what?”

“Bye Sam!” Peter stammered as he quickly shut the door.

~

Tony’s plans to interrogate Peter about his love life the following day were halted when he found Peters room empty. A quick check in with Friday showed Peter leaving earlier that morning with a few presents in hand. Tony sighed and went on with day, anxiously waiting for Peter to come home to get more information.

“Another late night.” Tony announced his presence as he flicked on the light. It wasn’t until after midnight that Peter had come back, so Tony waited him out in the living room.

“Oh, hi Mr. Stark.” Peter waved awkwardly, not having expected anyone to be there.

“Were you with Y/n again?” Tony asked casually.

“Yeah.” Peter smiled shyly as he shed his jacket. “It’s her birthday so I spent the day with her.”

“How come I never see her here?” Tony proceeded with caution, not wanting to overstep.

“She lives kinda far.” Peter shrugged. “That’s why we talk on the phone so much. I don’t want her driving all the way out here and she doesn’t want me swinging at night.”

“She knows?” Tony raised an eyebrow, not realizing they were at that level yet.

“Yes. But I only told her because I trust her.” Peter quickly assured him. “She won’t tell anyone. She promised me.”

“Oh, I’m not mad.” Tony smirked. “Trust is good. Especially in relationships, so I hear.”

“Yeah.” Peter smiled at the thought of you. “It’s good. We’re really good.”

“Have you told her you loved her yet?” Tony jumped to the point, taking Peter by surprise. “Because that smile on your face says you do.”

“I have.” Peter admitted as his face flushed. “And she told me she loves me too.”

“Aw.” Tony couldn’t help but smile at his protégé being in love. He was so moved that he took out one of his business cards and scribbled something on the back of it.

“Here.” He handed it to Peter. “Don’t abuse it.”

“Whats this?” Peter curiously looked at the number Tony had written in the card.

“It’s the number for my personal driver. One of them.” He corrected himself. “I always forget who I employ so I have about 18. This one makes unforgettable coffee cake, though.”

“Thanks Mr. Stark.” Peter smiled in appreciation. “But why are you giving this to me?”

“So you and Y/n can see each other.” Tony said simply. “And so more people can experience this coffee cake.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate this.” Peter said softly, knowing Tony wasn’t much for displays of affection.

“Don’t mention it.” Tony brushed it off. “Really, don’t. I don’t have enough personal drivers for everyone. I mean, I probably do, but I’m not known to share.”

“I won’t tell.” Peter nodded. “Goodnight, Mr. Stark.”

Tony have Peter a fond smile before nodding as well.

“Night kid.”

~

“Mails here.” Tony announced the following morning as the team sat around the kitchen table.

“Thanks for bringing it in.” Steve reached for an envelope addressed to him. “Who delivered it today? Was it Michelle or Rodney?”

“Michelle.” Tony concurred.

“Oh, nice.” Steve smiled. “I like her. She’s always friendly to me.”

“Yeah. Nice girl. Nice name too.” Tony put the plan into action. “That was the name of the first girl I ever kissed.”

“I remember my first kiss.” Steve recalled. “It was at a school dance when I was in high school. I bought her a milkshake after and she never spoke to me again.”

“What about you, Peter?” Natasha asked causally. “Have you had your first kiss?”

“Um, yeah.” Peter chuckled like it was obvious.

“With who?” Steve asked curiously, and the rest of the team leaned in to hear the answer.

“Um, my girlfriend.” Peter flushed a deep red as he avoided eye contact with the group. Everyone collectively let out a gasp at the news, making Peter flush even deeper. He looked up to a table full of dropped jaws and wide eyes and felt his ears turn red.

“Isn’t it neat?” Tony tried to take the attention off Peter. “The innocence of young love.”

“Yeah. Innocence.” Sam narrowed his eyes at Peter as the hickey on his neck suddenly made sense.

“When can we meet her?” Nat asked, and everyone nodded softly. Peter looked around in surprise, not having expected everyone to care as much as they did.

“You want to meet her?” He asked with a small smile.

“Of course.” Tony shrugged. “You’re on our team and if she’s your girlfriend-“

“She’s on our team too.” Sam concluded with a gentle nod. Everyone nodded in agreement, making Peters heart swell in appreciation.

“She was gonna come over so I could swing her around the city.” Peter told them. “I could ask her to come up and say hello.”

“I think you should.” Natasha encouraged. Peters lips twitched into a smile as he pulled out his phone to tell you to come up. Within a few minutes, you were coming up the elevator and Peters heart was pounding in his chest. He met you at the elevator and escorted you to the rest of the Avengers, his hand holding yours.

“Hi.” You smiled shyly as you met the team. “It’s nice to meet all of you. I’m Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you too.” Steve said politely. “I’m-“

“Steve, right?” You smiled a little. “Um, Peter talks about you guys all the time. You’re also a little famous.” You chuckled, and everyone laughed as well, breaking the ice.

“Yeah, I guess we are.” Steve smiled back at you. “So you’re the girlfriend? I can’t say Peter has told us that much about you.”

Peter looked at you anxiously, hoping you wouldn’t take that the wrong way.

“It’s okay.” You laughed and rubbed his shoulder. “We agreed to keep it on the down low. Plus, I doubt there’s anything about me that could impress the Avengers.”

“That’s not true.” Peter cut in as he twirled your hair around his finger. “You’re very impressive.”

“Tell us more.” Nat smiled as she leaned on her hand. Everyone watched you and Peters display of affection with childlike wonder, a collective peace settling in the room as they watched the baby of the team experience happiness.

“Y/n volunteers as a candy striper at the children’s hospital a few blocks from here. When she’s not with me, she’s there.” Peter bragged about you. “And she’s a lifeguard in the summers, CPR certified, valedictorian of her class, organ donor-“

“These are not impressive things.” You laughed as you cut him off.

“Yes they are.” Peter insisted. “She can make the worlds best brownies, her ponytails are always perfect on the first try, she can parallel park, she-“

“She sounds amazing.” Tony cut him off as he smiled at you. “And we’re very happy to finally meet her.”

“I just can’t believe the guy who watches Dance Moms in the living room with no shame actually has a girlfriend.” Sam snorted. “And a normal one too.”

“Why is it so surprising?” You wondered as you leaned on Peter arm.

“Because he’s so innocent.” Sam shrugged. “I doubted he ever even held a girls hand.”

“Wait, you thought Peter was innocent?” You laughed abruptly. “He literally webbed me to the headboard last night and-“

“Ah ah ah.” Peter quickly cut you off. “Some things are better left unsaid.”

“I think she should say them.” Bucky chuckled as he sipped his coffee.

“One time, he used his-“

“Well, Y/n and I really need to get going.” Peter cut you off and quickly ushered you to the door. “We won’t be out late.”

“It was nice meeting you all.” You called as Peter pulled you out the door.

“Nice meeting you too.” Tony yelled back. He and the team exchanged knowing looks, a collective happiness for Peter settling among them.

Tag List 🏷

@awesomebooklover17​ @thebookwormlife2​ @imanativeofswlondondahling​ @weirdr-artiest​ @serendipitous-amor​ @dummiesshort​

@foreverxholland​ @lavender-writer​ @captainmandeestudent17​ @whatareyouhidingpeter​ @takenbyheartstrings​ @ultrunning​ @imyourliquor-youremypoison​  @andreasworlsboring101​ @waiting-to-be-myself​ @letsloveimagines​ @peterparkoure​ @a-villain-vying-for-attention​ @justcallmehitgirl​ @averyfosterthoughts​ @jackiehollanderr​ @tiny-friggin-human @mara-twins​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @maryjanee23​ @geeksareunique​ @emmamarshmellow​ @unbelievableholland​ @rebekkah4766​ @flixndchill​ @sovereignparker​ @thisisthebiplace​ @spideydobrik​ @every-marveler-ever​ @undiadeestos​ @caelestii-e​ @eridanuswave​​ @itscaminow​​ @fiantomartell​ @solarxmoonchild​ @where-art-thau-romeo​ @canyouevencauseicant​ @illwritetomorrow​ @thehappygrungelife​ @saysomethingspiderman​ @parkerboop​ @smilexcaptainx​ @quaksonhehe​ @kelieah​ @kickingn-ames​ @babeyspidey​ @seasidecrowbar​ @lovelessdagger​ @love-sick-blues​ @electraheart-3174​ @unbelievableholland​ @yourtypicalhotmess​ @spideyanakin​ @horanxholland​ @thesuitelifeofafangirl​ @anapocalypseinmymind​ @marshxx​ @heyheycharlatte​ @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie​ @tomshufflepuff​ @cookiemonstermusic258​

@maybemona​ @young-romanoff​ @alexxcorona113​ @spideyspeaches​ @lethal-wisdom​ @xo-spidey​ @im-still-tryin-to-find-it​ @big-galaxy-chaos​ @pandaxnienke​ @theincredibledeadlyviper​  @thestylestour​  @officialsimppage​ @mrvelscaptains​ @peterbenjiparker​  @itsemohours​ @satanswitchings​ @okkulta​ @parkerlovebot​ @sarcasticallywitty15​ @mati4188​ @geminiparkers​ @jungkxxkk​ @friendlyneighborhood-mendes​ @whatthefuckimbisexual​ @olixerwxxd​ @starkbrain​ @creatorofthegalaxy​ @far-from-holland​ @f-hollands​ @ilovefrogs1000​ @itstaskeen​ @dreamedforu​ @itmatteredatthetime​ @rockyrogers​ @monimillion​ @amazinggracy​ @slutforsebstan​ @iprobablyshipit91​ @dpaccione @blackwidowisthebest @jazz11865 @alwayssandy

[sneezemonster15]

i can totally understand why young girls would ship SS in the early-mid 2000’s. it was so easy to self-insert. take me for example, i was a young child with an unrequited crush on a popular boy and a total loser. i projected hard. she started getting on my nerves really quick tho. by the time i figured out how to watch shippuden (it was only available online in my country) i could no longer stand her. i know many people grew out of that ship as they matured themselves and realized just how bad it was, but i seriously don’t understand how so many of the og fans are still around, reveling in scraps given to them only in the form of non-canon material. it’s so embarrassing. and knowing that so many grown ass women cling to that nasty ship as if their lives depend on it makes me squirm in discomfort.

Wait I am confused. This person was a boy or a girl?

I think I understand. I know for a fact that there are many SNS fans who once were SS shippers. But they grew up and took responsibility for how they consumed media, which happens when a certain amount of self awareness sinks in..with time and experience..internally processing data received from the external world, which as a result, sharpens your intuition. Which then directly affects how you view and then process further external data. Data gathered from real life and media.

I suspect that many SS/NH shippers who are insanely delusional about their ship are simply operating on emotions. Think about the kind of arguments they give others. They know what constitutes canon, what doesn't. They know SNS is legit, it's all fucking there. They know SS is bullshit, they know Kishi mocks Sakura and SS like no one's business (like honestly, who's asking him to do it? Really what obligation is he under? This otherwise humble, quietly intelligent, kinda goofy, a bit childlike and deeply introspective at the same time, and frankly kinda mousy man, says such blatantly snarky and downright insulting shit about his own characters as if he ain't the author who is freaking writing them that way in the first place. Lol, no really, Kishi is a bundle of contradictions himself.) Lol.

But coming back, I really do struggle sometimes to find the right tone to talk about SS stans or address them. I suspect internet and anonymity gives them a free rein to exercise fulfilment of desires indiscriminately. They can behave however they want, believe whatever makes them happy and no one gets to destroy that as long as they are fulfilled. Numbers help. Stans give and receive validation from their peers. Whatever external validation they need to keep believing in SS ship, despite everything that negates it in canon, they get from others in their ship and they give validation to them in return. A sense of community builds. There's strength in numbers. And so dogmas and headcanons acquire a semblance of truth for them, through this very effective echo chamber, it fortifies their wacky theories and headcanons and they sheath themselves deliberately from reason, or anything that threatens to question their beliefs/belief systems that serve the object of their self comfort, desire, fulfilment. Their beliefs are really emotional in nature, you can't fight emotions, and internet gives them a platform to experience those emotions. Age doesn't matter if one isn't self aware. Lots of old people are shitty. Of course, I don't support enabling it but I guess I understand it a bit. Because I also get emotional here. I feel much more free to experience my raw emotions without trying to camouflage it too much. I reasoned with myself soon after joining this fandom, my first fandom, that here, I was a fan first, so I shouldn't judge myself too harshly for my opinions and understanding. A lot of which is way more emphatic compared to how much I would let it show it IRL. Media, stories and art have that effect on people.

And I feel conflicted sometimes. But well, the same reason exculpates me as well. I can be emotional and talk about them freely because this is a fandom and we are all here because of the same story that affected all of us. The only difference is we are insecure about different things. Lol.

Which is why I make it a point to not interact with them, because I know I would lose my patience with them much sooner than I with other people I don't generally agree with.

I understand why women do it. Even if I cannot relate with Sakura. So I vent on this platform while not actively engaging them.

But at the end of day, I feel everyone should expect so much more from themselves because more than anything else, Sakura's and Hinata's characters by design are so limited. Like I know it's all tied up with their self esteem, or its lack thereof, but at least don't glorify something that makes you this limited and miserable. Don't tell me it's better than everything else and is the best thing in the world because it is not. It is so small, So cheap. Such a piddling thing, so reductive and limiting and humiliating. Why project on those two? You should expect so much better from yourself. Like why can't you dream bigger at least in your imagination? Where you can have everything or anything you want, and nothing gives you a better opportunity to do that than media, but you choose the most limiting of all things and characters? Isn't it suffocating and painful? Well, in any case, just don't glorify it, turning a blind eye to facts and then gaslight me for my stuff. That's not acceptable. Even if I know where you are coming from, don't justify it. It gives the wrong impression to others, especially other women, who have enough odds stacked against them already for you to jump in on the bandwagon too, and being women yourselves no less, it's humiliating for both of us.

They use their emotions as a free ticket to say and do things indiscriminately, without thought and honesty. Cultivating emotions (and sharing them) should enrich you and help you grow, not make you regress even more.

[imthepunchlord]

How do you think ML would've played if Marinette ACTUALLY behaved based on her introduction ep where she clearly wanted nothing to do with the situation? She literally only did anything because Tikki peer pressured her. I mean, we know that Tikki would've simply deemed her a failure and gone someone else. But it would be interesting if Marinette actively acted in the shadows whenever an akuma directly bothered her.

Cue Hawky thinking his worst enemy are the "heroes" when in reality is an annoyed kid who has more than a brain cell and only didn't defeat him yet because she pities Adrien (or rather because she doesn't know what annoys her more, Hawky or the heroes)

For the question, there's a couple of things I can think of.

Marinette is adamant in saying no when Tikki first came out of the earrings.

She makes it clear that she's a terrible pick. She would recommend Alya to Tikki who is pressed for time and relents, deciding better a ready to go hero than someone who's unwilling to go out. Marinette will suspect Alya is the LB hero but won't be a 100%. She may or may not reveal to Alya that she's Tikki's first pick, as canon reason for her not revealing this is shame for her failure, but she has yet to fail with the earrings. If she reveals this, she gets to act as the source of normalcy for Alya, ground her, and help cover for her, and can allow her confidence to grow more naturally as Alya and Tikki both get to help her without Tikki's criticism on her, as Alya will demand her attention far more. Also Adrien has never known Maribug so he could fall for Alyabug and have no prior comparison to exist.

2. Origins largely plays the same with Marinette stepping up as she has to when Alya was in danger, but follows on her warning to Tikki that she's not certain to stick with it.

This time, she's better at getting the earrings to Alya as the initial chaos of Origins is resolved. She either can give the earrings direct to Alya to secure she'll find them later, recommend Alya to Tikki, or let's Tikki go to decide for herself, and Tikki may just go to Fu and report back and he gets to decide and pick the next LB, whether that be Alya, Nino, or Luka. He'll probably keep an eye on Marinette but largely respect her wishes to be uninvolved.

3. After her failure with getting the earrings to Alya, instead of following Alya, she hurriedly gives the earrings to someone else. Like... Nino. He could really use something outside Adrien and Alya.

4. After her failure, Marinette actually goes and confesses Alya. This could be her directly passing the earrings onto Alya who readily accepts them, OR Alya is determined to help Marinette become the hero she was chosen to be. Which could go either Marinette does grow better as a hero and largely goes the same as canon with Alya in the know at the start; or it could go like Alya's wingmaning and it's just chaos, wich forces Tikki to step up and call Marinette out and realize that she really needs to adjust how she's handling things.

5. Tikki is able to intercept Marinette taking off the earrings and realizes the gravity of the situation, and she opts to take Marinette to Fu. You got Marinette knowing about Fu and they talk.

This could open up to Marinette knowing about Fu from the start, and it could go in 2 ways. 1. She could continue as Ladybug, working with the Guardian from the Guardian from the start and has Fu far more involved and helpful. 2. Fu decides to seek someone else as Ladybug, hearing all who Marinette can think of to recommend and he will decide but she won't know for sure. In return, Marinette takes a more background assistance and loosely starts with Guardian training in Origins.

And that's all I can think of off the top of my head for how things can go if Marinette followed along with her anxiety and lack of confidence. And this may not even cover everything, but there's a lot of possibilities in what could've happened.

[remedialpotions]

Happily Impervious

It’s still May 10 in my part of the world, so here’s my humble offering to @clarensjoy ‘s Hinny Ficfest! Many thanks to Clare for arranging all of this and encouraging me to write. This fic is for prompt #52 - “People are talking about us.”

***

Ginny has just closed herself inside the stall when the door to the bathroom creaks open again, then slams shut with a thud.

“I just can’t understand what he even sees in her,” comes a loud, haughty voice that echoes off the stone walls. “She’s not even that pretty, really.”

“A lot of boys think she’s fit,” comes a second, more timid voice - one that sounds a bit nervous to disagree with the first. “I heard Jimmy Peakes and Jack Sloper saying how-“

“They’re just third years,” interrupts the first voice with irritation, “they don’t know what they’re talking about.”

Ginny’s stomach flips, because she knows this voice. She’s heard it carrying easily over the din of the Great Hall and disrupting the peaceful calm of the Gryffindor dormitories at night. It’s Romilda Vane - attempted poisoner of Ginny’s brand-new boyfriend and actual poisoner of Ginny’s brother - and just the thought of being near her makes her blood boil.

So she’s not sure why she does it. She should just wee and get the hell out of there. But instead, she climbs silently up on the closed toilet seat so that her feet won’t be seen through the gap between the stall door and the floor. Crouching low, barely breathing lest she give herself away, she listens.

“And anyway,” Romilda goes on as a knob turns and water gushes into the sink, “I’d rather die than have all that red hair.”

Oh. It doesn’t exactly come as a surprise, being the subject of Romilda’s vitriol, but Ginny expected something a bit more original than insults about her hair.

“Your hair is way prettier,” the second girl hurries to add, desperation from approval dripping from her words. “I’m sure he’ll come to his senses soon.”

“I hope so,” says Romilda. There is a pause as the water shuts off, and Ginny’s sure they can hear her heart pounding in her chest. “That, or she’ll end up chucking him. She goes through boys pretty quickly, doesn’t she?”

Ginny knows she should probably want to leap out of the stall and tackle Romilda to the ground, but instead she just rolls her eyes. If finally being with Harry means she’s had too many boyfriends - whatever that means - then so be it.

“Maybe when she chucks him for someone else, you can make your move,” adds the second girl, who Ginny now suspects is Romilda’s eternal shadow, Vicky Frobisher. “You could try the love potion again-“

“So I can spend my Saturdays cleaning the owlery with a toothbrush again?” interjects Romilda with such disdain that Ginny can clearly picture the sneer on her face. “It’s not worth it. But you know...” Her voice has dropped low, conspiratorial. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Ginny’s slipped him a love potion of her own.”

Vicky gasps, far too dramatically than the situation warrants, and Ginny’s body shakes with silent laughter. “You really think so?”

“It would explain everything,” says Romilda. “Why else do you think they’re suddenly snogging all over the place?”

At this, Ginny bristles. Sure, there was that first kiss in the common room, and there have been a few corridor greetings that perhaps got out of hand, but for Merlin’s sake, it’s not like they’re Ron and Lavender.

“Plus, she’s got easy access,” adds Romilda. “Her brothers are the ones sending out the love potions, aren’t they? I bet she’s got an unlimited supply.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” replies Vicky, sounding awestruck. “If only you could prove it, then she’d get detention too-“

Romilda laughs - a harsh, mean cackle. “I’d pay good money to see her sweeping up owl droppings.”

It’s not exactly comfortable, perching atop a closed toilet seat, and this foray into espionage is eating into Ginny’s lunch hour. As she peers through the narrow gap between the stall door and the wall, she sees that Romilda and Vicky are quite caught up in applying shiny pink gloss to their lips.

She simply doesn’t have time for this. It’s taking too much time away from Harry, and they’ve got so little time together anyway. And so - even though she still has to wee - she climbs down off the seat, flushes the toilet, and unlocks the door.

The girls are frozen with shock as Ginny strides over to the sink right next to Romilda and turns the tap on full blast.

“Oh, hi there,” Ginny chirps, beaming at Romilda’s stunned reflection in the mirror. “Love that lip gloss on you. It’s very - erm-“ Clearing her throat, she runs a bar of soap over her palms. “Sparkly. Boys like that, do they?”

As she lathers her hands with soap - and she really scrubs, too, just to drag out the moment - a deliciously heavy silence descends upon them. Ginny goes about her business as though nothing’s out of the ordinary, rinsing the suds from her hands and drying them off, but inwardly she delights at the panicked glances between Romilda and Vicky.

“Well, I’d better be off,” says Ginny brightly, tossing her hair over one shoulder and making for the door. “Those love potions aren’t going to brew themselves, are they?”

When she gets to the Great Hall, she finds Harry seated alone at the Gryffindor table. It’s still surreal that she can do the things she does - place a hand on his shoulder as she approaches, lean in for a kiss that he eagerly reciprocates, seat herself right next to him on the bench - and yet somehow it’s natural too, easy, like they should have been doing this for months now already.

“Sorry I took so long,” says Ginny as she pours herself a glass of pumpkin juice. “I got held up a bit. Where’re these two?” She gestures across the table to the empty seats usually occupied by Ron and Hermione.

“The library, apparently,” replies Harry.

“Ron’s spending his lunch break in the library?”

“More like spending it wherever Hermione wants him to.”

“Right,” Ginny chuckles.

Harry’s hand finds her thigh under the table, the warmth of his fingertips burning through the fabric of her robes. “Did something happen?”

“Hmm?”

“You said you got held up, is everything all right?”

“Oh, that.” Ginny takes a sip of pumpkin juice to stall for time. “It’s nothing really, just - people are talking about us. And I happened to... overhear.”

She quickly summarizes the highlights of Romilda and Vicky’s conversation, and by the end, Harry’s shaking his head in disbelief... but he’s also on the verge of laughter.

And it is so good to see him laugh. It’s so good to see this lightness come over him, to see him relieved of the life he has to live. In the face of a truly happy Harry Potter, what’s a bit of gossip, really?

“I’m so sorry,” he says, shifting in his seat to face her as her hand covers his. “I’m sorry people talk about us, that they say those things about you-“

“I’m not bothered,” she tells him plainly, and she’s really not. It’s annoying, but it’s so trivial that it’s not worth the space in her brain. “Not if you’re not.”

His face draws closer to hers, so close that their foreheads nearly touch. “I’m not either.”

Their lips meet - and maybe, Ginny thinks, maybe she will go snogging him all over the place, because if that’s the reputation she’s got then she may as well embrace it - until her recollection of how all this came about triggers something in her brain.

“I’ll be right back,” she says as she clambers off the bench.

Harry puzzles up at her. “You just got here.”

“Weren’t you listening? I never actually got to wee, and now I really have to-“

And she hurries toward the door with the sound of Harry’s laughter flooding her ears.

[ragingbookdragon]

The Secrets Best Left In The Dark

Batsis x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 4K Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death

Author's Note: I thrive on angst, so I have no apologies for y'all. Enjoy! -Thorne

They’d never claim their eldest sibling was cowardly. Far from it, she put her life on the line every day, in and out of the suit, defending those she cared for with a strength that they’d never seen in anyone. But while everyone in their family was typically hot-tempered and ready for a beatdown, she was calm and quiet. Always kind, and never letting anger, or any type of other emotion show besides pleasantness. For a while, they merely assumed she was the doormat type, simply on the basis that she never argued with their dad over anything—the whole “It’s my way or the highway” and his way was what she always went with—and that made her seem like an alien surrounded by humans because everyone argued with Bruce. That, and the fact that whenever she got into the rare fight during patrol, she’d never hit anybody. She was trained to take down multiple combatants and not once did she ever punch, hit, or kick a single person.

It was practically abnormal to be in the Batfamily and never lay a hand on a criminal, and yet that was what their sister did. Hardly ever did she use force to get what she wanted, always relying on stealth. Even on the minute cases when she got caught in an infiltration and had to fight her way out, she used electrified gauntlets to subdue them, rarely coming to blows. So, in a sense while everyone in her family was an aggressive fighter, she was a defensive—or perhaps a passive one—and that’s how she acted in life too. Always passive by nature, but always playing the peacekeeper between brothers and between fathers and sons.

They never knew why she was such a way, from the stories that Diana and Clark used to tell, back when it was just their sister and Bruce, she was a whirlwind that got into fights with anything that dared breathe in her direction—apparently, she made her angriest siblings look like mice. But no matter how many times they pried or even asked Bruce (apparently, he didn’t know what changed either—and this was coming from the World’s Greatest Detective), she never talked about it, simply saying that she grew out of always being angry and wanted to be calmer.

They suspected she held a dark secret—but no one could’ve prepared for just how dark and damaging it had been to her all these years.

***

In hindsight, taking a trip into Scarecrow’s lab was a bad idea, but when the offer had come up in the cave from her father, (Y/N) was happy to lend a hand, knowing that with his recent injury, he wouldn’t’ve been able to get out there during the night. It was also amazing, in the twenty-seven years she’d been alive, and in the past nineteen years that she’d been a vigilante, she’d never seen her father take a break—she could count on one hand how many times he had, and even then, he was still working in the cave, so technically it wasn’t a break.

But after tangling with Bane and Croc, he’d broken a few ribs and after repeated complaints and worries from her, his sons, and Alfred, Bruce finally agreed to let his children handle patrol. Which is why when the quadrants of the city were split up between Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian, it left (Y/N) to pick up specific places that Bruce wanted checked out—she warmly agreed to do so. And while she was confident in her abilities to do everything, he asked of her, she should’ve called for backup when it came to infiltrating Scarecrow’s hideout.

***

Another vent went off above her and she ducked, eyes narrowing as she watched the orange fog, appearing blue through her detective mode, drift out. She would’ve sprayed it, but she’d used up all of her explosive gel covering the others. Now she simply had to avoid them and hope that her gas mask filtered properly—so far, it was. A shrill laugh echoed through the speakers above her, and shivers went down her spine.

Anytime now, Batgirl. You will fall too.

She frowned. “I’m not afraid of you, Doctor Crane.” Ducking under another pipe, she added, “I can help you if you’ll let me.”

Help me? Help…ME? You can’t even help YOURSELF!

Scarecrow had always been a talker, much like the majority of the villains they faced, and he was looking for a rise. She came to the end of the corridor where the pipes met a brick wall and she sighed, searching for a way through. A vent covered the top right corner and she pulled out the grapple gun, pointing it at the grate. She pressed the trigger and it latched onto the metal bars; grasping the cord, she yanked as hard as she could, stepping backwards when it fell, hitting the ground with a clang.

(Y/N) heaved herself up into the vent and crawled on her hands and knees, as quietly as she could, twisting and turning through the maze of confined metal. When she came to the end, another grate covered the exit and she pressed her foot against it, pushing until the bolts popped loose and she could slip out.

From the looks of it, if the advanced chemistry equipment were any help, she’d ended up in Scarecrow’s lab. He wasn’t in sight, but that gave her time to look around and see if he’d changed any formulas recently. She raised her wrist and tapped at the blue screen, taking a moment to run a program. When it beeped, (Y/N) sighed in relief and reached up, pulling the gas mask off—the air was clean.

She set the mask down on the counter and put a finger to her ear. “Batman, do you read me?” His voice came through a moment later.

“I read you Batgirl. Loud and clear.”

“I’m in Doctor Crane’s lab,” she said, poking around at the notes he’d scrawled out. “I don’t see anything new. The formulas all look the same.”

“Compounds?”

She frowned and read. “Honestly, it’s a bit hard to decipher. His handwriting is a lot like Red’s when he’s had one too many energy drinks.” A quiet huff came from over the line, telling her that he was amused. “I’ll send you pictures of it and see if you can.” (Y/N) snapped a few photos. “Get ‘em?”

“Just now,” he replied, and she walked over to one of the lit Bunsen burners.

“Looks like he’s got something brewing right now though,” (Y/N) leaned over and peered into it, careful to avoid any steam that was rising.

“Recognize it?”

She paused. “It’s not the usual stuff he’s got. It looks almost golden and—”

All at once the dish exploded and she had just enough time to cover her face from the shattering glass, letting out a gasp as she recoiled.

“Batgirl, what happened?”

(Y/N) coughed and waved a hand, and when her hand appeared double, she breathed out in shock. “Oh no,” she whispered.

“Batgirl, report.” She hurried to the exit of the lab as Scarecrow’s cackle sounded overhead.

“I’ve been hit with a blast of toxin.” Pulling open the door, she fumbled with her utility belt then let out a sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

(Y/N) shook her head and weaved down the corridors, the faster she got to her bike, the faster she could get back to the cave.

“I don’t have any anti-toxin on me.” She pushed against the doors and stumbled out into the cold and rainy night. Her mind was already beginning to fog over as she climbed onto her bike, and she barely had enough focus to keep it steady while she programmed it to auto-drive.

“I’m sending one of the boys to you.”

She grunted and lifted her foot as the bike revved and shot forward. “Don’t. I’ve already programmed the bike to the cave’s coordinates. I’ll be back in less than fifteen minutes.”

“You won’t make it that long.”

(Y/N) groaned as the lights began to flash around her and she saw faces and images passing her. “I just have to…focus.”

Horns blared around her as the bike weaved in and out of cars and she held onto the frame with all the strength she had. His voice started echoing in her ears and she shut her eyes, trying to block it out.

You could’ve saved me.

Another groan escaped her, and she heard, “(Y/N), talk to me.”

She shook her head. “I can’t—I have to—focus now.” But with every passing second, his voice got louder and more insistent.

You let me die. You watched me die.

(Y/N)’s eyes filled with tears and they dripped down her cheeks. I tried to save you. she thought, hoping it would suffice, but she knew it wouldn’t. I tried so hard to. The last thing she remembered was turning onto the street that led to the cave.

***

Bruce was already pushing away from the Batcomputer when the boys arrived back at the cave, Dick and Damian from the Batmobile, and Tim and Jason from their own rides. Knowing that their father wasn’t one to sit around, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to be moving, but with how quick and worried his movements seemed, they knew something was wrong.

Dick pulled the cowl away from his face and asked, “B? What’s wrong?”

Bruce didn’t respond at first, hurrying towards the medical station they had. “Your sister was dosed with fear toxin and she doesn’t have anti-toxin to counteract it.”

Jason, who’d already taken his hood off, was already in the process of putting it back on. “Let one of us take it to her.”

Their father shook his head, rummaging for an antidote. “She’s coming back here.”

“Here?” Tim repeated, striding over. “Fear toxin works within seconds on normal people, minutes for us.” He looked at his brothers. “She won’t have enough time to get back here and not be under the effects.”

Bruce nodded, focusing as he poured a vial of glowing green liquid into the needle gun. “I know.” He looked at Tim. “That’s why I’m getting it ready for her.”

“Father, can we do anything?” Damian questioned, pulling away the domino mask from his eyes.

“Get ready to be on the defensive if she’s offensive,” he replied. “I don’t think she’ll hit anybody, but you never know.”

“She can’t hit that hard. (Y/N) only weighs—” Jason cut off as the rev of an engine cut though the air and they turned to see their eldest sister coming in on a sleek black motorcycle, that was shaking badly.

“(Y/N)!” Dick yelled and the bike suddenly shifted and toppled sideways, throwing her from it. It slid across the cave floor in a hail of sparks, metal, and plastic flying in every direction as (Y/N) rolled too.

They started running towards her, hoping to stop her when her back collided with one of the glass cases that held their suits, and she went limp.

Bruce reached her first, and knelt down, setting the antidote aside to check her first. The way she hit the case and with how hard, it was possible that she could be seriously injured—or worse.

“(Y/N)!” he called, hands coming to pull her away from the case. She whimpered and he let out a sigh—she was still alive. “(Y/N), can you hear me?” he inquired, reaching up to pull the cowl from her face.

Her brothers crowded behind him and they all stared in horror as tears streamed down her cheeks, and blood out of her nose.

“I’m sorry,” she bawled. “I tried to save you.” Bruce looked at her then grabbed the needle gun, bringing it up to her neck.

“Hang on, (Y/N). You’re gonna be okay.”

She grabbed his hand and cried, “I held on as long as I could, but my grip was slipping. I’m sorry I couldn’t hold onto you. I’m sorry I let you go. I let you die. I’m sor—” her sobs cut her off as she curled in on herself, and as if finally snapping out of a trance, Bruce pulled his hand from her grip and pulled the trigger of the gun.

(Y/N) jerked as the needle entered her skin and they watched the neon green liquid in the vial emptied. She fell into whimpers and mumbles of “I’m sorry” before her eyes rolled back and she collapsed in Bruce’s arms.

He stared at her for a second, feeling numb at his daughter’s admissions. Whatever her fear had been, it’d been there a long time, and he had no idea what it was about. Sighing heavily, he drew his eyes to his sons, to Jason.

“Will you take (Y/N) to her bedroom while I get an IV ready?”

Jason nodded and bent down, picking up his unconscious sister. He tucked her head in the crook of his neck and looked at Dick. “Get the doors, yeah?” Dick nodded and hurried ahead of him, while Tim and Damian followed in suit.

Bruce was left alone in a matter of moments, and all he could do was rise to his feet and ready the medical supplies, all the while, thinking back on every night that (Y/N) had gone on patrol in the last nineteen years—and the last time someone died in front of her.

***

Her head felt like an overripe melon ready to burst, and that first moment of cracking her eyes open was the biggest mistake since she told her dad what ‘Thot’ meant. The second she opened them, she shut them once more, inhaling deeply through her nose as the fog started to clear from her mind.

“Queenie, hey, you’re awake,” Jason murmured, and she nodded, blinking a few times before his face came into focus, Dick appearing Tim appearing behind him.

“Go get dad,” Dick said to someone, and she figured it was Damian since neither Jason nor Tim moved.

(Y/N) started shifting, trying to sit up when Dick put his hand on her shoulder, gentle, but firm as he said, “Don’t try to move, Barbie.”

“Where’s dad?” she asked, craning her neck to see.

“Damian’s going to get him sis,” Tim answered, smoothing out the blanket covering her. “Just relax. You took a beating when you came into the cave.”

“I did?” she questioned, eyes widening in shock when they nodded, faces pinched with worry.

The ceiling light turned on just bright enough to give sight and they looked at Bruce who was coming in, Damian following.

“(Y/N),” Dick moved, letting Bruce take his spot, and he took her hand in his, running his thumb over the back of her hand. “You had us all worried.”

She frowned and exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” She gazed between them, and something in their eyes made an emotion she couldn’t describe rise in her chest.

“Why are you all looking at me like that?” (Y/N) met Bruce’s eyes. “What happened?” Before he could answer, she gasped and looked at her brothers. “I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?”

A chorus of hurried, “No’s!” rang out and she sighed in relief, reclining back on the pillows.

“Oh, thank goodness.” She went silent, then started, “But…something did happen, didn’t it?”

Her brothers glanced between themselves then they looked at Bruce who sighed and squeezed her hand, drawing her attention to him.

“What?” she asked and when he said nothing, she repeated, “Dad, what?”

His steel blue eyes met hers and he murmured, “You were apologizing for…letting someone die.”

Whatever had flashed in her eyes that told them she knew exactly what they were talking about was shocking enough because Jason said, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wanna, Queenie.”

(Y/N) fell silent for a full minute and when she spoke again, her voice was quiet and the look in her eyes was far away. “Before Dick came to the manor it was just you and I patrolling Gotham. At eight, I wasn’t really let out of your sight, but one night I had wandered off while you were dealing with Two-Face.” She looked at Bruce. “I found an injured GCPD officer on a bridge. He had been tailing Killer Croc.”

She glanced at Tim. “His name was Grady Richards.”

Tim’s eyes fell to the tablet in his hands, and he tapped at the screen for a few moments, then read, “Hero cop Grady Richards honored after dying in line of duty. He fell off a broken bridge on Miagani Island.”

Bruce’s eyes found hers again. “He didn’t fall, did he?”

(Y/N) felt tears grow in her vision and she shook her head. “No…no he didn’t.” Inhaling deeply, she recounted, “Croc came back and there was no way either of us could’ve taken him, so we ran. And Croc chased us.” She shut her eyes, remembering the night.

***

Fear pulsed through her veins as she sprinted as far away from the overgrown crocodile as she could. The GCPD officer was ahead of her, but he stopped and spun around to see her.

“Hurry!” he yelled, pointing back to the car. “Get to the cruiser!”

She spared a glance over her shoulder, eyes going wide when she saw Killer Croc picking up one of the concrete guards.

“Duck!” was all she heard, and she hit the ground, watching as if in slow motion as it flew overhead, then smashed into the top of the cop’s car, glass and metal shattering under the pressure.

Someone grabbed her by the back of her suit and hauled her up, slinging her behind them, and the back of the GCPD officer’s uniform came into view.

“Start running, Batgirl! And don’t stop!” he yelled, and when he has his sidearm drawn, he looked down at her. “You’ve got as much time as I have bullets.” He turned, opening fire, and she took a moment to stare before scrambling to her feet to start running.

A cry of pain sounded behind her, and against her better judgement, she turned and looked, gaping as Croc’s arm sent the officer flying. He hit the guardrail and collapsed against it and her feet were moving before she could stop them.

The first punch went to the back of Croc’s knee and she knew it had to have hurt her more than it did him because he didn’t even flinch. But when those glowing yellow eyes peered down at her, she knew she was in trouble.

“Looks like I’ve got an appetizer for the night!” he laughed and reached for her, but she ducked and rolled out of his way, standing in front of the wounded GCPD officer, who weakly looked up at her.

“What are you—doing? I told you…to run.”

She couldn’t beat Killer Croc, and she knew it, but she shook her head and stared down the villain before her.

Croc’s attacks were wide and though she was small, she was pushed to her limit rolling and dodging every one. After a few moments, she was practically dead on her feet, huffing as her lungs begged for air. She kept wiping away the rain that splattered against her mask and on a particularly unlucky step, she found herself slipping.

And it was all the opening that Croc needed because he swiped at her and she flew backwards into the officer who’d managed to stand, just barely. Colliding with him tipped his balance and they went over the guardrail, barreling towards the ground.

She reached out as fast as she could and grabbed hold of the metal beam that ran the length of the under bridge, crying out in pain as it pulled the joints and bones. Her other hand gripped the officer’s and she held on tight. Croc leaned over the bridge, apparently not seeing them because his footsteps went off in the opposite direction, leaving them in silence.

Time passed and she wasn’t sure how long, but both her arms were getting tired, and she looked down at the officer.

“Sir?” she called, and he looked up at her. “You have to climb. I’m starting to lose grip.”

He tried to reach up but let out a cry and grabbed his side with his free hand. Pulling his hand away, she saw the crimson dilute with rainwater.

The hand that held the ledge began to cramp and she started hyperventilating. “Please, you need to hurry! I can’t hold on much longer!” Again, he tried, and she looked down at him as her fingers began to shake.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered and let go of his hand, and the last thing she saw until he hit the ground was the sight of his eyes, wide with fear and pleading.

***

“I watched his head explode when he hit the ground,” she said, tears pouring down her cheeks as she stared out the window, watching the rain hit against the glass. “I had to make a choice. Either both of us died or one of us lived.” (Y/N) looked at Bruce. “And I chose my life over his.”

No one could believe their ears at the story she’d told, but suddenly, the self-sacrificing attitude their sister had, the way she’d bend over backwards for anyone, made perfect sense—she did it out of atonement, for a wrong she carried since she was eight years old.

“I pulled myself back up onto the bridge and I ran as far as I could and didn’t look back,” she said. “I kept my mouth shut when the paper ran his story and never told anyone about it.”

(Y/N)’s breath shuddered. “I just pushed it down as far inside me as I could and tried to forget about it.” Her eyes met Bruce and she tearfully stated, “But every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face.”

He leaned forward and took her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked softly, dark brows furrowed in hurt.

She swallowed thickly and shook her head as she replied, “I killed someone that night. I was terrified about what you would’ve said. About what you would’ve done.” He gazed at her and (Y/N) whispered, “I’m sorry, dad.”

Bruce dropped her gaze and took a deep breath before murmuring, “It was just an accident, (Y/N).”

“I let go of—”

“I would’ve been more upset having to bury my daughter,” he interrupted, and she fell silent, gaping at him. He searched her face and reached up, placing a hand on her cheek. “I understand why you kept this secret, but you should’ve come to me, (Y/N).” Shaking his head, he added, “You didn’t deserve to be buried under this for nineteen years.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her head and Bruce shook his head in response.

“No, I’m sorry.” When she met his eye, he continued, “I’m sorry I didn’t know you were carrying this. Then and now.”

(Y/N) swallowed and rested back against the bed. “I send his widow money on the anniversary of his death. I slip it into the pension she’s given.” She let out a sigh. “It’s the only way I’ve found that I could sleep at night.”

Her eyes drifted to the window and Bruce placed a kiss to her forehead. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.” She nodded and before he left, he said, “And when you feel up for it, we’ll see about setting up a fund in his name.”

She wished it didn’t make her as emotional as it did, but silent tears dripped down her cheeks as the door closed, leaving her and her brothers alone. They gathered on her bed, leaning close to offer their support, and she was thankful for them doing so. And for the first time in nineteen years, when (Y/N) closed her eyes, she didn’t see Grady Richards’ face.

[donutloverxo]

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.”

[froggysoup]

wowee

Alrighty I’m just gonna ramble on about my thoughts on the new quest (and things in general because I talk too much) and pray that at least some of it ends up coherent. Spoilers, by the way.

I’ve had this first theory since the last archon quest but got nervous and didn’t share, so here it is now. Maybe it’s an obvious thing that I’m just in the dark about, but I’m fairly sure that Dainsleif’s “Boughkeeper” title has a large part in explaining why he knows so much about things he really shouldn’t. From the newest quest, we learn that he is actually cursed with immortality, which could explain some it, but the guy still knows too much for it to simply be chalked up to his age. He’s literally the designated narrator for half of the official videos and knows a lot about what and who he talks about.

I suspect that the ley lines serve as an information network of some sort, and that Dainsleif’s position as Boughkeeper allows him access to it in one way or another. The only other places we really see the whole tree/branch thing is with the ley line branches, Irminsul trees, the Frostbearing Tree, and the tree who once had roots that spanned the whole continent (which we know the ley line branches were once directly a part of), all of which are connected in a way that I haven’t quite figured out yet. 

Now, from those screens that come up while the game is loading, we know that supposedly, the intertwined roots of the Irminsul trees far beneath the earth determine the pattern of the ley lines above, and we also know that ley lines are a “mysterious network that links the whole world together” and that they are said to remember everything that happens in the world. From this, I don’t think it’d be that much of a reach to say that Dainsleif can access that somehow.

Next. I do think there’s a pretty good chance that the Archons were involved in the destruction of Khaenri’ah. The Viridescent Venerer set actually tells us how the former Dendro Archon died during the cataclysm while in Khaenri’ah, which. Uh. That’s kind of really incriminating. 

However! Obviously, we’ve only heard this from Dainsleif’s point of view and he’s pretty biased considering his whole thing. We don’t know how much control Celestia has over the Archons’ actions, either, and I’m about 98% sure that some of them weren’t into it, and likely didn't even have a choice. Like, look at the Tsaritsa. Her whole thing is that sometime during the cataclysm, she witnessed something so view-shattering and unjust that her whole thing now is to “burn away the old world” and overthrow Celestia. 

I also can’t see Venti and Zhongli going along with the destruction of an entire nation with no hesitation. Like, obviously, again, Dainsleif is going to be biased, but from what we’ve been told Khaenri’ah didn’t even do anything divine-retribution-worthy. Celestia just seems be into dropping skyscraper-sized pillars and other things onto nations who get too good at being independent, for whatever reason. The new quest is definitely supposed to make us question the current systems of this world but I don’t think we’re meant to hate Venti or Zhongli, at least yet. I think they’re even kind of meant to be seen as the “best” out of the Archons, so to speak. (Not that I think they’re perfect, by any means.)

Like, just look at the way they’ve been presented to us, versus how some of the other Archons have been introduced (Storyline Trailer, my beloved). 

Raiden Shogun is made out to be some self-absorbed divine ass-kisser who doesn’t have humanity’s best interests at heart (which we know is supposed to be a thing you do as an Archon). She’s doing her whole confiscating visions and oppressive rule thing in an effort to be seen as more divine, but, as Dainsleif puts it, “what do mortals see of the eternity chased after by their god?”

The Dendro Archon/God of Wisdom is implied to not actually be as smart as somebody with that title is supposed to be, one way or another, and either has turned a blind eye to or blatantly encourages the “push for folly” in Sumeru. Can’t tell exactly what that would mean or entail (thanks, Dainsleif), but obviously. Doesn’t sound good.

Dainsleif says of the Hydro Archon that she “lives for the spectacle of the courtroom, seeking to judge all other gods. But even she knows not to make an enemy of the divine.” While the not making an enemy of the divine thing I get (I guess, coward), the whole “seeking to judge all other gods” bit seems very “remove the log from your own eye”-y. Like, you’re an Archon, too, what are you trying to prove here?

The Tsaritsa is- well, the Tsaritsa, as we know. While I do think we are meant to sympathize and agree with at least part of her core ideals and motives, she still is the one behind the Fatui and is, by extension, a war criminal. She also apparently has “no love left for her people”. It’s a bit of a complicated relationship that we have with her.

The only ones who Dainsleif does not directly slander in the trailer are Venti, Zhongli, and Murata. While I don’t think we have enough on her to come to any conclusions about her character yet, Venti does say of her that she is a “wayward, war-mongering wretch”. Now, he does also jab at Rex Lapis during this voiceline, but unlike with Murata we know that those two are buddy-buddy and it was very likely that it was “buffoon (affectionate)”.

Venti and Zhongli are also the first two Archons we encounter, which is important for multiple reasons.

Gonna derail for a bit because I don’t know where to start. But. The game very likely will (or at least should) end with no Archons.

Obviously, especially in light of the new quest (although this stuff has been floating around since the Dragonspine update and even before that), Celestia Bad. Like, cataclysmically bad (lmao). In fact, I’m highly certain that you could trace basically every problem in this game back to them, some way or another.

Even our main “villain” groups all seem to be gunning for Celestia. The Fatui obviously work for the Tsaritsa, who’s made it very clear that she plans to rebel against the divine. The Abyss Order, too, has their Deeply Upsetting plan of creating a mechanized god with the power to “topple the divine thrones of Celestia”.

Evidence points to an overthrow of Celestia at some point in the game, and considering how being an Archon or even a god is directly tied to Celestia, yeah. No more Celestia means no more Archons.

But even besides that, there’s a lot there to suggest that that’s where things are going.

I find it interesting how Mondstadt’s our prologue chapter, or that there’s even a prologue chapter of the game at all. Prologues are meant to set up ideas that will be present throughout the rest of the story, and Mondstadt does exactly that. Venti’s let the people of Mondstadt govern themselves and has almost completely been out of the equation for millennia, even if that means he is significantly weaker than his godly peers. When asked why he chose to do that instead of remain in charge and just give them freedom, Venti responds that “freedom, if demanded of you by an archon, is really no freedom at all.” This sentiment is also brought up in the Mondstadt portion of the storyline trailer, and the traveler even has a whole voiceline debating what Venti really meant when he said that.

This idea of freedom and that humanity is capable on its own is further reinforced in Chapter 1, in which Liyue learns to move on from the death of its Archon. Zhongli set up his plan with the intention of testing if his people could stand on their own legs without him there to guide them, and they do. He even expresses how pleasantly surprised he is that the Qixing were able to take advantage of the situation and seize control like they did. Keqing gives us this whole speech when we first meet her about how the adepti and gods underestimate humanity’s capability and how Liyue’s future is meant to be a godless one. This, in a way, extends to the rest of the continent as well.

In the storyline trailer (which I quote too often, I’m sorry. My favorite and only party trick is that I got bored one day and memorized the whole thing), Dainsleif spends the entire Khaenri’ah section musing about something similar. 

“In the perpetual meantime of a sheltered eternity, most are content to live and not to dream. But in the hidden corner where the gods’ gaze does not fall, there are those who dream of dreaming,” is obviously about the people of Teyvat vs. those in Khaenri’ah. While a future under the care of the Archons is a safe and reliable one, is it one that allows humanity to chase its potential to the fullest? Khaenri’ah was destroyed for flourishing like it did without gods, both as a punishment and a warning to everybody else.

“Some say a few are chosen and the rest are dregs, but I say we humans have our humanity.” This is in reference to visions. Throughout the game, this idea that, at least in the eyes of the gods, vision holders are more important than those without them, is constantly brought up.

In the commission “Leaves on the Wind”, Dr. Edith expresses how it often seems as if vision holders are the main characters of this world. From the notebooks we receive during the “Time and Wind” world quest, we learn that the Sumeru Academia actually discourages non-vision holders from conducting outdoor surveys, and how “these days... trying to be an academic when you don't have a Vision, it's really restricting...” Dainsleif even just straight up asks us what we think the gods think of vision holders and people in general during question time in that one quest.

In Lisa’s stories, we learn that the reason for her laziness is that a part of her is afraid of learning or doing too much, after witnessing what “uninhibited erudition” can do to people during her time in Sumeru. She also senses that something beneath the surface is happening regarding the distribution of visions. “For whatever reasons, the gods gave humans the key to changing everything, but they did not explain the cost involved. Lisa grew fearful of the truth.”

I forgot exactly where I was going with that last paragraph, but yeah. There’s definitely sketchy shit going on behind the scenes in regards to visions, possibly to keep people either quiet or complacent. I suspect it may even be to restrict access to certain knowledges or even the elements themselves. Anyways.

I lose track of my thoughts too often. Fuck. Right. Mondstadt and Liyue served as good examples of society under the rule of the Archons, and in Chapter 2 we will encounter our first bad example, showing us the pros and cons of the current situation. However, despite Zhongli and Venti seeming to genuinely care for their people, humanity’s wellbeing shouldn’t be reliant on how their god is feeling that day, and they shouldn’t have to look to the gods for a chance to become something greater than themselves, either.

Um. All that’s to say I’m just very excited to see where the story will go, and if Zhongli’s contract with the Tsaritsa is any indication then it’s gonna go somewhere good. Celestia bad, Archons bad but also not bad but also bad, I don’t know if what I just wrote actually even counts as understandable, thank you and good night.

[kikyan]

Secrets

Yandere Light Yagami x Reader 

TW: Yandere, Mentions, and depictions of Sexual Assault towards the Reader, 

I do not condone these actions in real life and this is purely fictional and should be taken as fiction. 

Check at the end for the yandere discord link if you’re interested in joining! 

A loud gasp left [Reader], eyes wide and sweat covering their body in fright. Same shit, different day. Another nightmare and one that no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t run away. Sitting up in their bed, they held their head with their hands. Rubbing their eyes slightly to get accustomed to their surroundings. Turning their head slightly, they were met with their alarm clock that read ‘4:39’. 

‘Shit…’ 

It was too early to wake up but they couldn’t go back to sleep no matter how hard they tried. They looked over to their desk to see their homework from last night. It was an essay about the justice system and morals/ethics that was based on a book they were reading in class. It wasn’t completed just yet because [Reader] lost the motivation to write it, but since they were awake they might put their extra time to some use. Walking over to their desk, they reached for the chair before stopping. 

‘ I should get a drink of water…’ 

[Reader] quietly left their room, making sure not to disturb their mother who was surely sleeping in. As they went to the kitchen, they reached for a cup of water and gulped it down in one go. Rubbing their throat to soothe an ache, they went for another cup but took it upstairs. Sitting at their desk and looking over to obtain a pencil, scanning the contents of the assignment, requirements, and what was already written. It wasn’t a lot, just their name and date. Starting with a small thesis that highlighted their main points, they scoffed before looking out their window. It was pitch dark but what they were trying to see wasn’t anything in particular, except for the home that was next to them. It was abandoned and no one was inhabiting it at the moment, but there were so many memories that rest in the very pavement that makes up the home. 

Glaring at the house and with a scoff, determination raged inside them as they looked over to their paper. They knew what to write, they knew the feelings they wanted to convey, they knew what justice they wanted at that moment, ethical or not. By the time they finished, it was almost time to get ready so [Reader] ensured that their paper was safely stored away before going about their morning routine to prepare for school. As they finished and were about to head off, they stopped right in front of the house next to them. It was pretty, but beauty isn’t judged from the outside but the inside, the only sad thing is that inside it was like the core of a rotten apple. Inside was horrid and distasteful, but that was downplaying what really transpired in that house. Whereas the outside of the apple was certainly more appealing and so was the house as if it weren’t untouched by time itself. [Reader] bit their lip before turning away from the house, it was best forgotten right now. Making their way to class, they sat down in their assigned seat waiting for the teacher. Looking to the side staring into space, they didn’t notice that someone took his seat next to them, none other than Light Yagami. It wasn’t until they turned to look at their peers did they notice him next to them reading a book. Light looked up and turned to face them, a small smile before saying ‘Good morning’. [Reader] nodded and returned the greeting, before facing the other way, until his voice woke them from his trance. 

“ Are you alright [Reader]? You seem awfully quiet.” 

“ Just tired, what about you?” 

“ Same old. Did you have any trouble with the assignment?” 

[Reader] was quiet for a second, Light reading into it but [Reader] noticed and quickly replied with a ‘No, not really.’ 

“ I see, did you write about anything particular?” 

“ W-!” 

“ Good morning class, I’ll be taking attendance now so please settle down in your assigned seat.” 

[Reader] mentally thanked the teacher for making it in the nick of time. Light Yagami, was an exceptional student no doubt, taking both regular and additional classes yet still managing to get his assignments all turned in on time. He was often paired with [Reader] for group or partnered assignments so they developed a bit of an acquaintance. Friends maybe but anything else would be over-stretching it. They were left pondering his question, yeah they were a bit close but not that much, was there a specific reason for him asking them questions? 

‘ No I’m just reading into it too much, it must be with the cases that are arising with these so-called criminals dropping dead. Maybe he wanted to know if what I was writing was directed towards that? Even then, what interest does he have with that-?’ 

A soft nudge on their arm woke them up, turning to look at Light in confusion. 

“[Reader’s Full Name]”. 

“ Here.” 

The teacher went off to call more names, [Reader] turned to look at Light who just smiled in return. 

“ Sorry, the teacher was nearing your name and you seemed out of it, thought I would get you back.” 

“ O-oh, thank you I guess…” 

That was the end of the conversation, Light facing the class and paying attention with [Reader] trying to do the same but their mind was clouded with both this morning and Light. 

‘ What was that about….?’ 

It wasn’t until the end of class where the teacher offered to collect the papers but was called to attend an emergency. 

“ Class representative, do me a favor and collect the papers and drop them off at my office. Excuse me.” 

With that, the teacher was gone and the representative gathered the class’s attention. They began to pass up their paper and the bell for dismissal rang. Everyone proceeded to head out, groups forming and discussing after-school activities such as the arcade or a sweets shop. [Reader] packed their bags and proceeded to walk towards the entrance until Light stopped them. 

“ [Reader]! Would you like to walk home together, I don’t have cram school to-!?” 

“ Yagami! I was wondering if you wanted to help me deliver these papers to the teacher’s office?” 

[Reader] saw this as a chance to deny his offer, “ Sorry Light, but maybe some other time?” 

“ Sure.” 

Light walked with the class representative and headed to the teacher’s office. The representative attempted to make an idle chat with Light, but he wasn’t interested. He replied softly and short, the walk there was awkward but it was even more when the teacher wasn’t present in their office. 

“ I-ll goes and try to find them, are you okay with staying here until then?” 

“ Of course.” 

When the representative left, Light averted his gaze to the papers and lightly skimmed the names until he got to the one he wanted to read upon. 

‘ [Reader’s Full Name]’ 

He grabbed their paper and skimmed the content of the assignment, intrigued with their interpretation of the justice system. While his ideas clashed a bit with theirs, he was understanding of their origin. No matter, he would just have to fix that, change it, he just had to show them how the world truly is and how better it would be without those fears. Upon further reading, he began to see how they agreed with Kira in terms of punishment for the criminals. There was more but this was certainly interesting to find more of their thinking pattern, was it possible that Light had found someone worthy of sharing his ideals? 

He contemplated keeping their paper but he realized that if he took it [Reader] would probably get missing in their assignment. The teacher came into the room and thanked the representative and Light for helping them. They both excused themselves and Light proceeded to walk away, his thoughts on [Reader]. 

‘ You seem awfully interested in that other human. By any chance could it be that you’re willing to let them know about the death note?’ 

Light closed his eyes and avoided speaking, he still was in the city and not closer to the streets by the houses that were a bit more secluded. 

‘ Hey, Light!’ 

“ How many times have I told you Ryuk, talking to me when we are in public is risky and as a matter of fact I may.” 

‘ You think us talking is risky, isn’t letting that other human know riskier?’

“ Yes, sharing information about the Death Note is more than risky, but it may be better to have more than two people knowing about it. If our views match up they can be both a great partner and a good alibi when people start suspecting me. If our views don’t match up, then I’ll simply have their memories erased.” 

‘You’re going to let them touch the Death Note too?’

“ In life, you have several people, those who have to see to believe or those who will place their faith blindly in some people. [Reader] doesn’t strike me as the latter so I’ll go with the first one. Besides, if I told them and they did turn, erasing their memories would be a bit more work and risky.” 

‘Okay but why them?’

“ Because…[Reader] is someone who you can either bring up or break down. [Reader] is someone who won’t throw a hysteria when faced with the unknown and based on this essay I suspect that there is more to them than what they lead on. That is an advantage over them, but if they step wrong it could also be their downfall. Besides, I’ve always enjoyed my conversations with [Reader], they say so little but so loudly at the same time. Quite interesting.” 

‘Light has a crush on someone!’

“ I won’t waste my time on such things, right now I can’t afford to fall for that. My priority is reshaping and rebuilding this world as their new God.” 

The conversation was cut short as Light went inside his home and up to his room. He examined the essay through many viewpoints and established that there must have been someone that they hated or wanted to receive punishment, but who? 

~~ 

[Reader] walked to their room and with a heavy sigh collapsed on their bed. Their mother was nowhere to be seen but they were probably out shopping as groceries were lying about in their kitchen. They rested for a while before heading downstairs to put the groceries away, the T.V playing in the background. It wasn’t anything serious until the news segment was announced. 

‘ Breaking news! It is rumored to believe that [Inmate Name] may be released this upcoming week for good behavior. It seems that there have been sever-’ 

Silence. The T.V was turned off as [Reader] began panicking and hyperventilating. Memories of that morning began rushing to their head and their body began to enter into an automatic response, their knees weak but adrenaline was pumping. There was no one around them to assist them so they began to assess the situation themselves. Their heart was racing but it wasn’t anything too serious, just a panic attack and not a heart attack. They tried to steady their breathing by counting and focusing their attention on an object of some sort. They turned to a small painting of a floral garden that their mother had on the wall, they began to engrave all their focus on it trying to steady their breathing. Slowly but surely they began to calm down, but the uneasiness was still there. After a while, they grabbed a glass of water and calmly began to drink the water. The groceries were almost all put away but [Reader] left the non-perishables out as they went up to their room and began to lie on the bed. Sleep slowly overcame them, their dreams turned into nightmares. 

~ 

It was a hot summer, but the kids were out and still playing out by the park. [Reader] and some neighboring kids were out and about playing tag. 

“ I want to be it!” 

“ No! You were it last time!” 

“ How about we play rock-paper-scissors to determine who is it?” 

“ Fine!” 

“ ROCK! PAPER! SCISSORS!” 

“ Aw darn it I lost!”

“ And I didn’t win this time either!” 

“ Well, the rest of you hide and I’ll go count.” 

“Okay!” 

The kids scattered and began hiding in some spots, [Reader] struggled to find a spot that wasn’t already claimed by the other kids. Those were all her spots that guaranteed her success, but the other kids took them. [Reader] asked if they could hide with the other kids but they all shushed them away. 

[Reader] was running out of time until they heard a voice. 

“ Hey [Reader] are you playing hide-n-go-seek?” 

“ Y-yeah. . .” 

“ Here, why don’t you hide behind me?” 

A man with a warm smile offered, the man wasn’t a stranger at all to [Reader] or their family since he was their father’s co-worker and best friend. 

“ Okay!” 

They were hiding and they were doing a pretty good job, they weren’t at all found until they all decided to call off the game. 

“ We can’t find [Reader]! Where are they?” 

“ [Reader]! You win so just come out!” 

“[Reader]!!” 

[Reader] popped out from where the stranger was and laughed, “ So I win again!” 

“ Where were you? We were so worried!” 

“ I was hiding behind him!” 

[Reader] pointed at the man on the bench, he waved softly. The kids felt a bit uneasy but their mothers came to collect the kids. [Reader]’s mom showed up to collect her but stopped when she saw the man. She smiled and waved at him. 

“ What are you doing out here?”

“ Oh, miss [Last Name]. I was going grocery shopping when I spotted [Reader] playing. Hope I didn’t interrupt or do something wrong.” 

“ No that’s quite alright, I was just surprised. Though it’s a bit late for groceries.” 

“ Yes work caught up with me but I’d figured I go get something to make my dinner tonight-!?” 

“ Why don’t you come to eat with us? My husband isn’t staying overnight at work so he should be home soon. In the meantime, you can help me with dinner or hang around the house? It should be fine.” 

“ I don’t mean to impose on you-” 

“ Please I insist, it must be so hard for a single man to balance everything. You have friends so I suggest that you start learning how to say yes and let yourself be taken care of one in a while!” 

“ T-thank you [Mom’s first name].” 

With that, small chatter filled their home as they prepared dinner. [Reader] was playing with their toys and even invited their family friend to join them. When their father arrived home, they sat around and ate dinner. They all had a pleasant time, laughing and smiling. Telling jokes and even discussing life and the future. It wasn’t until it was a bit too late and past [Reader’s] bedtime did he leave and give his thanks for having him over. [Reader] lay in their bed, their mother tucking them in and bidding them a good night’s rest. 

“ Mom, does [Family Friend] have kids or a wife?” 

“ Why the sudden question?” 

“ He looks lonely and I don’t see him with kids.” 

“ [Reader], he had a wife and two kids. It’s just, they are no longer here. They left.” 

“ Where did they go?” 

“ They went somewhere better. Now sleep [Reader].” 

“Okay mommy.” 

The days continued like nothing else, there would be times where the [Reader] would be taken care of by [Family Friend] because their mother had a doctor’s appointment and their father was at work. [Reader] stayed at his house, eating small snacks that he prepared for her as he sat on the couch just staring at her. 

“ Hey [Family Friend], do you have a wife or kids?” 

Silence loomed the room before he turned to face her and shook his head. 

“ Not anymore [Reader], they all left me.” 

“ Why? You’re not a bad person.” 

“ Thank you, but they didn’t leave like that. Something happened to them and they are no longer here with us, but enough of that, what do you want to do?” 

“ Hm, let’s play a game.” 

“ Okay, a game it is!” 

It was days like these that the faith one had in another human was shown. Back then people slept with their windows open and some even with the doors unlocked, but that faith was stolen from [Reader]. It was a day where both her parents were busy so their neighbor was in charge of taking care of her for a couple of hours. Nobody knows how or why it happened, but nightmares plague that home as a grim reminder that the ones we trust are just another wolf in sheep's clothing. 

“ Hey, [Reader]?” 

“ Yes?” 

“ I want to play a game. . . but it has to be a secret.” 

“ A secret?” 

“ Mhm, not many people know about this game so this can be our little secret, like a secret code.” 

“ Okay, but what’s the game?” 

“Well. . .” 

His hand lay on her shoulder, rubbing it softly before his other hand rested on his thigh, he rubbed it lightly causing her to flinch before he let go. 

“ [Reader], you know I would never hurt you. . .right?” 

“ Yeah. . .” 

“ This isn’t hurting you, I only want to play a game. It’ll be fun for the both of us I promise, I don’t want to hurt you. . . I love you. . .” 

His hand placement resumed as he went higher and lower. That was when the nightmare began, and it didn’t end for seven years. 

~~ 

[Reader] awoke with a loud gasp, their hands instantly reaching to their body. No one was here in their room, they had to reassure themselves over and over again before reaching over to where their clock lay. It was almost 8 pm but they decided upon bathing before doing anything else. They went to the bathroom and proceeded to bathe, using the products they deemed necessary. Once they were done, they wore comforting clothes and went to bed. Though it was hard to fall asleep in fear of that dream. 

The next day they awoke earlier than usual, going on about their day and proceeding to do their morning routine. They began walking to school promptly and proceeded to go to their seat. Light walked in moments later and took his seat next to them, smiling and greeting them. The teacher soon walked in and class started all over again, nothing new was changing so why should they worry-

“ [Reader’s Last Name], see me after class.” 

[Reader] looked up and panicked slightly, was it about what they wrote? 

‘ It can’t be, I mean this class is crawling with Kira supporters and those who don’t, mine must have been the least controversial-’ 

“ [Reader], is everything okay?” 

“ Y-yeah. . .” 

At the end of class, [Reader] walked to their teacher’s office and waited patiently for them. Thoughts running through their head, am I going to get called out? What’s going to happen, will everyone know wh-!

“  [Reader’s Last Name], I want to discuss with you something regarding your essay submission.” 

‘Shit so it was about that! Fuck what do I say-’ 

“ You didn’t turn it in.” 

‘Huh?’ 

“ W-what do you mean?” 

“ It was not in the pile with the others, since this isn’t a rare occasion but I remember slightly. You pulled it from your bag so I’m assuming that either the class representative lost it or it was misplaced. Would you mind rewriting it? I’ll give you an extension on it of course, but I would like it submitted by the end of next week.” 

“ S-sure.” 

“ That is all, have a great rest of your day [Reader’s Last Name].” 

They nodded and proceeded to walk away, but anger laced their face the moment they were out of view. 

‘ You’ve got to be kidding me, lost? That’s not my fault, if anything I shouldn’t have to rewrite. If they saw me, they should give me full credit!’ 

“ [Reader], would you like to walk home?” 

They looked up to see that it was Light Yagami. They were a bit hesitant and were about to say no until they realized that it might be nice to distract their mind. 

“ Sure.” 

They began to walk home, but awkward silence loomed over them. 

“ If you don’t mind me asking, what did the teacher want to talk to you about?” 

“ Just that. . . my assignment was missing and I have to redo it.  I turned it in but it’s lost apparently, did you notice the paper was missing or if the rep lost it?” 

“ No sorry, but I can help you work on it if you’d like.” 

“ Thank you, I might take you up on that.” 

“ Well we’ve arrived at my home, why don’t you come in?” 

“ I shouldn’t impose-” 

“ Nonsense, any friend of Light is welcomed here!” 

They both turned around to face an older woman, one that held some resemblance to Light and was assumed as his mother. 

“ O-oh I should-” 

“ Please I insist!” 

With that, it was decided that [Reader] would stay over and have dinner with them. In the meantime, they were up in Light’s room preparing to do the assignment. Once they got settled down and his mother brought up snacks, did the real purpose of his invite begin. Halfway through discussing the thesis and beginning, did Light begin to ask strange questions? 

“ [Reader], how do you feel about Kira?”

“ Why?” 

“ No reason, I guess it’s all the publicity Kira has been getting that I assume you may have your own opinion.” 

“ Well. . .Kira punishes criminals so without a doubt yes, I guess you can say that I'm somewhat thankful that Kira is there. However, there are some flaws with that, let’s say petty crime and theft aren’t punishable by death, Kira would only be acting like an executioner, not a judge. Yet, I think that Kira is going about it the right way. The difference is that some people attempt to stop crime, you can’t stop what is happening because someone will always stand up or do something, but you can control crime.” 

Light remained quiet before speaking silently, “ What would you do if Kira were sitting in front of you?” 

“ What?” 

“ What would you do if Kira were sitting in front of you? What would you do if Kira was me, [Reader].” 

Silence overcame [Reader], thinking about their answer they spoke.

“ If you were Kira, I would question your methods and motives.” 

“ Hm, interesting. Would you really like to see how Kira kills?” 

“ What?” 

“ Normally talking about this out in the open to a stranger would be a bit risky, I wouldn’t by any means do this, that is if I were Kira. Yet, it seems that if I were Kira I could trust you based on what you wrote in your essay.” 

Light unfolded the essay that was in his pocket, showing it to [Reader]. They were a bit confused and in shock, why did Light have their essay, and what was he going on about? 

“ Why do you have my essay? I didn’t think that this would be interesting for someone like you Light.” 

“ Well, let’s say I’ve had an interest in you for a long time, ever since we met you could say. Unlike most of our peers not only were you more open-minded but you thought for yourself, not letting others blindly tell you what to think. Based on this essay, I can trust you. . .[Reader], I’m Kira.” 

Confusion stuck them, did they really want to humor him, but even then Light might have been Kira. He not only had the brains to be in hiding for so long, but his ideas were lined up a bit with most people. 

“ I’ll bite, are you really Kira?” 

“ I am, now would you like to know who I do it?” 

“ . .  .Sure.” 

[Reader] walked closer, watching as Light revealed a black notebook with the words ‘Death Note’ written on it. They were confused, to say the least, but they also knew better than to laugh it off and to let him explain. 

“ This is a death note, a notebook that allows me to write the name of an individual and they die. I can choose the method of death and time, the only other requirement aside from their full name is an image of their face.” 

Light stood there, with both a serious face yet a smirk lightly playing at his lips. Was this true? They were about to ask more questions until Light interrupted them, “ Upon reading your essay, I think that there is someone who you want gone. Here try it for yourself, touch the notebook.” 

[Reader] stiffened a bit before nodding, they hesitantly went to touch the notebook. If Light was Kira and was telling the truth, [Reader] instantly became an accessory to the crime, to make matters worse now that Light told them, based on their reaction they could either die or live. Upon touching the notebook, they were met with a horrid creature looking at them with bloodshot red eyes and a smirk on their lips. They looked anything but human and as [Reader] was about to react, they stopped. Light smiled at the sight, they were smart no doubt about it. 

‘ Screaming would alert the mom and who knows what that would cause. On one hand, I could tell his mom that I want to leave but I'll surely die by knowing his identity. If I tell his mom about her son being Kira I would be mocked at and made fun of, all I can do is play along for right now.’ 

“ Open the notebook, look at all the names. With this, we can rid the world of criminals and clean up the streets, isn’t it great?” 

“ Isn’t your father a policeman? Why would you-“ 

“ Because what they are doing isn’t enough, crimes inspire other crimes and it will never stop. By controlling crime with fear we can make the world a better place for kindhearted people like us. You can’t stop crime because it will always happen, but you can control it, that's what my father and the others do. They try to control it through the system, but the system is flawed. With this, we can control it better than they can. Here [Reader], write someone’s name, I know you want to.” 

[Reader] was given a name and the notebook was flipped to a blank piece of paper. Light was awaiting their actions as [Reader] looked uncomfortable at the concept. Who was to say that they could play judge and executioner? They were contemplating until the T.V was playing the news channel about [Inmate Name]. Their heart stopped and Light made note of that, he walked over to the T.V and turned up the volume. The sickening sound of his name being played over and over again was like knives or nails on the chalkboard. A horrid sound, the sound of the end, it was a grim reminder that their life was in someone’s hand. 

‘ [Inmate Name] will be released today at 4 PM, here we have the news studio wanting to interview him. This was the man that escaped the death penalty due to lack of evidence-‘ 

‘ lack of evidence?’ 

The room went cold, their heart sank. He was leaving jail, because of the lack of evidence? Their breath started to increase as tears ran down their cheeks, they rapidly shook their head in attempts to calm themselves and began counting. 

‘ aren’t I evidence enough? He abused me. . . I am the evidence. I am the walking and living proof of his crimes. .  ‘ 

‘ I love you [Reader]. .  .’ 

[Reader’s] heart stopped, his voice echoing in their head as the memories were replaying again tormenting them. 

‘ You know I’ll never hurt you right?’ 

‘ I love you [Reader]. . . ‘ 

‘ Let’s play a game. . .’ 

‘ This can be our secret, like a secret code only we know!’ 

‘This can be our secret. .  ‘ 

‘ This can be our secret’ 

‘ Our secret’ 

‘ I love you. .  .[Reader]’ 

With a heavy sob that slightly confused and alerted Light, [Reader] wrote his name with such haste, with handwriting that was barely legible handwriting and his face clouded their mind like a rainy day. Tears slipped from them as they wrote his method of death, one that they deemed he needed. His execution was set and upon million watching the T.V, [Inmates Name] died a horrible and gruesome death on national T.V. [Reader] stayed crying as they watched the T.V through teary eyes, Light holding them close rubbing their back. He smiled, this wasn’t such a bad plan after all. Through the sobs, he was surprised his mother didn’t come up, but unknown to him she was outside talking to some neighbors and his sister wasn’t home just yet. As they started to calm down slightly, Light provided soothing words of comfort before whispering, 

“ We can clean up these streets [Reader], don’t worry. .  .this can be our little secret.”

~~ 

I apologize to the anon that requested this because as you can see there is no NSFW and very little of what they wanted. I am prepared to write more to the story if needed just let me know as I would like to rewatch the series before continuing. I have also opened up a yandere discord server to interact and will be running it with other close friends and @seiyasabi. Please check their content because they are really good! 

DISCORD LINK: https://discord.gg/ZMCfGCeN 

[guardianofrivendell]

The Odd Ones Out

Kíli x OC (platonic)

Summary: Tullaina and Kíli were best friends from day one. Getting into a fight to the death together tends to do that to you. Of course, it wasn’t actually to the death, but Kíli kept insisting it had been a close call. This is the story of how their friendship started.

Warnings: bullying, young Kíli (Tullaina and Kíli are 34 and 33 in this one, which is the dwarven equivalent of a young teenager)

OC: Tullaina, you can read her character sheet here

A/N: My first oneshot with Tullaina! A big, massive thank you to @lathalea who helped me find the motivation to finish this and gave me the nudges and the kick to my butt that I needed to keep going! I love you!  Also a thank you (and maybe an apology too) to @anjhope1 and @laurfilijames because they had to hear me nag and complain about this story over and over again :)

Kidizbuhâ. Friendship.

What exactly is friendship? What defines it? It’s something Tullaina always wondered about.

According to one of master Balin’s many books, it can be described as a state between two or more individuals, a mutual affection that is strictly platonic. 

Your best friend is even more than that. They are that one special person who sticks with you no matter what. You talk about anything and everything, have fun together, comfort each other, and you accept one another with all their flaws. It’s almost like finding your One, but without the romantic love. 

Tullaina had often dreamed of finding that one true friend...

Born and raised in the mountains of Ered Luin, she had a pretty normal childhood as a pebble.  With only a few friends and a loving family, she was as happy as a young girl could be. 

When she grew older, her friends’ appearance started to change. 

They grew wider, more muscular and their facial hair started to grow out. Each of them turned into perfect examples of how a sturdy dwarf or dwarrowdam should look like. 

Tullaina however stayed exactly the same. She grew in height, but kept her lanky figure. She filled out the appropriate places, but not as much as her friends or peers. Her freckles became more pronounced and the increase of birthmarks started to raise questions among those so-called ‘friends’. And on top of that, as if she couldn’t be ridiculed enough already, she lacked the pride of every Dwarf… facial hair. A fine layer of down hairs where her sideburns should be was all she could grow, and it was barely even visible.  

There was no denying that she looked different than your average Dwarrowdam at that age. 

And that’s when the teasing and bullying began. 

One by one, she lost her friends, none of them wanted to be associated with the ‘elf child’ or khathzith, as they started calling her. 

Everywhere she went, she could hear the dreaded word, whispered among the people of the Blue Mountains. And after a while, Tullaina started to believe them. Maybe she wasn’t a Dwarf after all?

No matter how many times her parents had tried to convince her she was of full Dwarven descent, a proud Longbeard, she never stopped asking whether what they said about her was true. 

Maybe she was a late bloomer, like her mother sometimes said in an attempt to comfort her. When Tullaina’s tears had dried up, she usually told her daughter the story about her late auntie Marthosia whose beard only started to grow after she turned 30, and it turned out to be the most glorious beard of them all. The Dwarrows stood in line to ask for her courtship.  And every time Tullaina would simply roll her eyes and thank her mother. 

By the time she turned 30, there was still no trace of a beard or proper sideburns. Not that Tullaina had expected anything, but she couldn’t deny that there was a tiny sliver of hope left that maybe, maybe she was like auntie Marthosia after all. 

Her mother eventually stopped telling the story and Tullaina had given up all hope. She started to isolate herself more, hardly leaving the safety of her home, losing herself in books and her own imagination.  

The only time she would leave the house by herself was to visit the mines and bring her father his lunch when he forgot to bring it with him. Which happened a lot more than you would think.  Tullaina suspected her father did this on purpose to get her out of the house more often, but she never said anything about it. 

It was on one of those trips that she ran into Kíli for the first time...

*

Tullaina hurried through the small, slippery streets of the mountain city, her shawl wrapped securely around her head and neck, head down and eyes fixed on the ground. 

She was on her way back from the mines having delivered her father’s lunch, but she’d dawdled when the baker’s cat had crossed her path. It wasn’t her fault she absolutely had to pet it, right? 

So now she was in a hurry to get home. And she would have been there in a matter of minutes, if her ears hadn’t picked up the teasing laughter coming out of one of the dead-end side alleys.

On any other day she would have tucked her scarf a little tighter around her, bowed her head a little deeper to avoid any unwanted attention, and definitely walk a little faster. 

But it turned out today wasn’t like any other day…

There could be many reasons as to why she felt the need to investigate further. Some would call it being adventurous, fate, maybe even Mahal’s will if you want. But for Tullaina it was her sense of injustice that drove her to the alley. 

There was something familiar about the laughter that made her suspect this wasn’t just some friends having fun. She tiptoed towards the corner of the building and peeked around the corner.

Her curiosity often got the better of her and her mother used to warn (okay fine, she guaranteed it) that it would get her into serious trouble one day. Who knows, maybe her mother was right after all...

At the end of the dead-end alley she could see three dwarves, at first sight probably not much older than she was. It was almost comical how they were all so different but clearly looking like they were up to no good: you had the short one with flaming red hair, the muscles and then one who was fairly normal at first until he grinned and Tullaina could see he was missing a front tooth. These three dwarves practically screamed trouble. 

They were all looking at a boy who was standing in the middle of the trio. 

The boy had shoulder length brown hair with no braids. He was taller than the others and had a slender build. He was wearing a simple dark blue tunic and black trousers, and his unruly hair framed a kind face with large brown eyes. No beard.  

And that’s precisely what they were bullying him about...

Tullaina could hear the insults they were throwing at him, she flinched because she knew them all too well - having heard them many times before - and something in her snapped. Before she realised what she was doing, she called out to them.

“Oi!” 

All four heads turned towards her. 

Well, that’s what you get for calling out to them, she thought. Now what? Quick, say something so they’ll know you mean business! 

“Leave him alone!”

Oh wow, she thought, almost rolling her eyes at herself. Great choice, that’ll make them tremble with fear! 

The boys started snickering, excited about the prospect of another victim. One of them grabbed the beardless one by the shoulder and pushed him forward. 

The Muscles came up towards Tullaina and it took all her restraint not to take a step back. 

“Aww Kíli, look at that, your girl is here to save you!”

“I said, leave him alone,” she repeated, trying to look confident by straightening her back and balling her fists at her side, but her voice gave her away. It earned her a chuckle from the dwarf in front of her.

“No, this can’t be his girl,” he sneered, removing her scarf, “Look at her face, not a hair in sight! It’s the same babyface as our dear Kíli. Who would’ve thought there were more of you khathzith?” (young Elves)

Oh, he should not have said that! 

The familiar insult triggered something in her and her hands moved on instinct. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed with all the strength she had.

It took him by surprise, he didn’t have the time to brace himself and he fell on his back in the dirt with a grunt. Mistake number one.

One of his companions, the one with the flaming red hair lunged forward and pushed her in turn. Tullaina didn’t stand a chance with the force he was using against her lanky figure and immediately fell to the ground. She cried out when her arm scraped against a small rock. Mistake number two. 

They started laughing at her, until the one who was holding Kíli cried out in pain.

When Tullaina looked up she saw him clutching his nose with both of his hands, tears springing in his eyes. 

Before she could figure out what had happened, Kíli threw himself on the redhead with a loud cry of “Du Bekâr!” and something about not laying your hands on a lady. Or... that he shouldn’t have handed him a baby? 

It wasn’t her fault that it was difficult to understand him with all the shouting and the curses being thrown around. If her mother was near she would’ve covered her ears. Luckily for Tullaina she wasn’t, at least now she could learn a thing or two for future use!

But this actually was the moment she should have decided it was time to go. Mistake number three.

They were all distracted and not paying attention to her whatsoever, the short one was still busy crying over his nose, the redhead was wrestling with Kíli and Muscles just stood by and watched it all happen for some reason. Really, what was stopping her from running? Her more reasonable side was yelling at her to go home. Let the boys fight it out themselves! 

But she couldn’t leave this Kíli to himself now, could she? After he so valiantly defended her? No one ever stood up for her before, and here he was literally fighting for her honor. 

No, she couldn’t leave him…

When Muscles finally noticed Tullaina was still there, he came towards her with a loud roar - or what should’ve been a roar, it was more a gargle really - and the decision was made for her. She was going to fight. 

Well… It seemed her mother was right after all. Her curiosity got her into trouble. 

*

One of the last things Dís had expected to see when she opened her door was a pair of young Dwarves, battered and bruised. Well… half of the duo was her youngest son, so their disheveled state shouldn’t come as a big surprise.  

“Amad, this is Tullaina,” Kíli introduced his new friend with a wide smile, wiping a drop of blood off his chin with the back of his hand like it was the most natural thing to do. His left eye was a little swollen and starting to bruise. And still he was as chipper as ever.

Tullaina waved timidly, getting a bit uncomfortable. She had recognized the dwarrowdam as soon as she opened the door and suddenly it had clicked in her head who Kíli was. She knew how this might look and the last thing she wanted was to get in more trouble. Typical of her to befriend a prince of all people…  

“Nice to meet you, Tullaina.” Dís smiled kindly to let her know she wasn’t angry. It seemed to relax Tullaina a little, her shoulders slacked and she returned her smile.  

After the introduction Dís switched into full mother hen mode and ushered the two inside, so she could take care of their injuries and hopefully get some answers to the many questions that flooded her mind. For one, who Tullaina was. As far as she knew, she hadn’t seen the girl before. And Dis took pride in knowing everyone in Ered Luin. 

But getting the information out of these two turned out to be a lot harder than Dís had initially thought. 

She told them to sit down at the dinner table while she got everything she needed to clean their wounds. 

At first sight it was only Kíli’s busted lip that needed attention, their bruises would heal on their own. 

When the only daughter of Thraín asked her youngest how he and his new friend got their bruises and Kíli his busted lip, he only shrugged his shoulders. 

Kíli clearly didn’t want to talk about it. 

And that worried her, because if there was one thing Kíli liked to do, it was talking her ears off about what he had done or discovered while out with Fíli or by himself.

She guessed he probably stood up for Tullaina and had valiantly defended or even rescued her, in which case Dís wouldn’t hear the end of it. So the silence of her youngest was rather alarming, to say the least. 

In the end, it was Tullaina who reluctantly explained to her that she stumbled upon Kíli and a couple of other young Dwarves, who felt the need to mock the young prince. 

Dís’ eyes widened and her hand that was cleaning the dried blood around his mouth, froze midair. The cut on his lip had finally stopped bleeding, and it looked a lot worse than it actually was. 

“Kíli, that is still no reason to start a fight! And certainly not in the presence of a lady.”

Kíli straightened his back at the scolding of his mother, but didn’t contradict her. 

“He didn’t start the fight, Lady Dís, I did,” Tullaina answered before Kíli could stop her.

The large Dwarrowdam frowned, and she absentmindedly started stroking her beard. She was happy Kíli seemed to have made a friend who was not Fíli, but if she turned out to be a troublemaker…

Her sons definitely didn’t need help in that department.

“Now why did you do that, nadanê?” she asked her. (my child) “Amad, please just let it go,” Kíli said before Tullaina had the chance to explain.  “I wasn’t asking you, Kíli.”

Tullaina hesitated. What if lady Dís blamed her for his injuries, or getting him into the fight in the first place?

Her new friend obviously didn’t want his mother to know about the bullying and she understood that better than anyone. Tullaina herself had kept a lot from her mother, the things she had to go through, all the insults, the name calling, the laughter… 

But she also knew her new friend needed someone he could talk to. When it gets too bad, you need to vent, let everything out. And since she wasn’t sure she’d be welcome again in Lady Dís’ house after today, it might be better to tell his mother what had happened. 

“They were teasing and bullying him about stuff they used to bully me for as well,” she finally caved. 

“And what might that be?”

“Our lack of dwarven features,” Tullaina answered, as she lowered her eyes. “I’ve been bullied and made fun of for years because I don’t have a proper beard, and don’t look like most other dwarrowdams… So you see, my Lady, I couldn’t just stand there and watch. But they would not listen! So I pushed one of them and started the fight.”

“I see,” Dis hummed, before she placed her hands on Kili’s and Tullaina’s knees. “You did what you felt was right, and that is very admirable. Nadanê, never let anyone make you feel inferior. No matter what you look like, what you have or do not have. It’s what’s inside that matters. You’re both courageous, headstrong and maybe a little reckless too, but that’s alright. That sounds like a true dwarf to me.”

Tullaina smiled in return.  It wasn’t a lot different from what her own mother would say when she tried to comfort her, but somehow when Lady Dis said it, it added more weight to it. 

“Now tell me about the fight?” Dis smiled, trying to lighten the mood. 

Kíli’s head shot up and his eyes sparkled, and Dis knew that look all too well. Now she was going to hear every single detail about their little adventure. 

“So I found myself surrounded by, I don’t know, ten, maybe twelve other dwarves-”

“Three. There were three Dwarves, Kíli,” Tullaina interrupted with a straight face.

“It’s not like I was counting them!” he said to Tullaina, before he turned to his mother again. “I was too busy fighting for my life!”

“I bet you were,” Dís chuckled. 

Kíli explained how he was trying to find a way out so he could run home, but they wouldn’t let him. 

“And then Tullaina showed up and she came to help me, Amad. She gave the biggest one a shove, can you believe?! But then one of the other dwarves pushed her to the ground! You and uncle always told me I should treat all dwarrowdams with respect, right? But I don’t think his parents told him, because why would he do that? Anyway, then Tullaina hurt her arm,” Kíli paused his rambling and grabbed Tullaina’s arm to show the scratch she got when she fell, but she immediately pulled her arm free and muttered something like ‘i’m fine, it’s nothing’. Dís made a mental note to clean it later. 

“So I had to defend her honor! Fíli will be so proud of me when he hears about it, I punched that atnuzab right on the nose!” (prick)

“Then how did you get your lip cut and your eye so bruised?” his mother asked him, already knowing the answer, but playing along. It was better to let him continue his story, but it was Tullaina who cut in. 

“It turned out the atnuzab knew how to hit back,” she grinned.   

“And that’s when the fight really took off,” Kíli continued enthusiastically, a wide smile on his face. 

While Dís took care of Tullaina’s arm, he explained everything in detail, waving his arms in excitement, while the girl filled in the blanks or corrected him, which happened surprisingly often. 

Dís chuckled every time it happened. It was refreshing to see Kíli being reprimanded for not telling the truth or exaggerating by someone his own age. Who knows, maybe Tullaina will turn out to be a positive influence on her son and his vivid imagination?

“And then he ran off, crying about his bloody nose,” Kíli cackled, holding on to Tullaina’s shoulder to keep himself up since he was laughing so hard. 

“Which I believe you gave him?” Dís commented. 

“I did,” he said proudly, wiping a tear away. “A true warrior I was!”

“Or tried to at least, did you forget you tripped over your own feet? Twice?” Tullaina laughed, recalling both times she had to help him up before the bullies could get to him.  

“I was creating a diversion!”

Tullaina raised an eyebrow at that in disbelief, but decided to let it slide. 

Dís shook her head at their friendly banter and left for the kitchen, taking the bowl and the dirty rags with her.

Tullaina watched her leave and smiled to herself. Isn’t it strange how one hastily made decision had changed her entire day? It had been ages since she laughed this much, it was amazing how quickly she felt comfortable in Kíli’s company. Was this what true friendship felt like?

When she looked back at Kíli, she caught him already staring at her.

“What?” she asked with a frown. 

“Thank you,” he said. “You came to help me and I’ll never forget that.”

Tullaina felt her face flush at how sincere he was, his big brown eyes looking at her intently.  

“Don’t mention it,” she grinned, playing with her fingers in her lap.

They sat side by side in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, their hands tucked away under their thighs before Tullaina spoke up again.

“You know, I need to thank you too,” she said, bumping her shoulder against Kíli’s.

“Me? What for?”

“Defending my honor.”

Kíli gave her a broad smile and puffed out his chest. “It was the right thing to do. And I would do it again in a heartbeat.” He placed his hand on his heart to emphasize his words. 

Tullaina believed him. Kíli seemed that kind of person who would rather follow his heart than his head, someone who would act on impulse before thinking about the possible consequences.   

“Besides, friends take care of each other right?” he continued, pushing himself off the table. 

Dís returned from the kitchen with two slices of cake in her hand. 

“I believe you’ve more than deserved this,” she smiled. “A good fight works up quite an appetite.”

The two new friends eagerly accepted the treat, and while they were eating Dís watched them carefully. She had noticed how these two interacted with each other; as if they had been lifelong friends, even though they met mere moments ago. Yes, this wouldn’t be the last time she saw Tullaina. Dís was sure of it. 

That reminded her of something…

“How come I haven’t seen you around, Tullaina?”

“I like to stay home, inside, where it’s safe,” the girl looked down in embarrassment and whispered. “There... there are no bullies there.”

“Then why were you even out there in the first place?” Kíli wondered.

“Kíli!” Dís chided him. She gave him a stern look but he didn’t even falter and looked at her expectantly. 

Tullaina chuckled. She kind of liked Kíli’s cheekiness and lack of filter when he spoke. It was a nice change from the usual harsh words and sneers she had to hear from others. 

“It’s fine. My adad works in the mines and I sometimes bring him his lunch,” she explained to Kíli. 

“He does? I know where that is!” he said enthusiastically. “You know what? Next time you have to go there, I’ll go with you!”

“That’s a great idea, Kíli,” Dís agreed, she couldn’t be happier that her youngest had found a new friend. He was starting to get lonely now Fíli spent more time with Thorin. Tullaina might be exactly what he needed to stay out of trouble. 

But Tullaina shook her head. “No, I can’t ask that of you! I’m-I’m sure you have much more important things to do.”

“Nonsense,” Dís waved her concern away. “You’re always welcome here, Tullaina.”

When Tullaina said her goodbyes - her mother will be worried sick by now - she had to promise Dís to come back the next day.

Kíli caught her off guard a bit when he hugged her, squeezing a lot harder than she expected him to.  

“See you tomorrow,” he said, and then his eyes lit up and a face-splitting grin appeared. 

“What?”

“I can’t wait for you to meet my brother!”

.

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[scones-and-texting-and-murder]

Bookends

(This story was originally written for and published in the DeanCas Anthology back in 2018. )

Word Count: 2223 Rating: General ao3 link

Cas pulls as close to the door as he can, checking the rearview mirror to make sure he isn’t blocking traffic as he waits for Dean to get out of the car. Before heading inside, Dean ducks his head back in to smile at him. “I’ll get us some coffee.”

Instead of driving away, Cas stays there, watching until Dean pulls open the diner door. Leaning heavily on his cane, he shuffles more than walks, his bow-legged gait made stiff by the arthritis that wracks his joints. Cas waits until he’s safely inside, then pulls past the open handicapped space Dean stubbornly refuses to use, and finds an empty parking spot.

Cas’s car is boxy and utilitarian, and Dean often proclaims that he wouldn’t be caught dead behind the wheel of something so ugly. Cas plays along because giving up driving had been Dean’s toughest concession to age, but as his vision deteriorated and his reflexes slowed, it had become an unavoidable sacrifice. With replacement parts for the Impala harder and harder to come by, Dean had finally agreed to keep her stored safely away in their garage. Cas knew it pained him to see her shrouded under a tarp, her motor idle and useless, but Dean would rather enshrine her in pristine condition than risk one more run-in with a light pole or curb.

With his ugly car parked, Cas crosses the lot to join Dean inside. While he’s aged as well, aged to the point that nobody questions the two of them together, he’s been spared many of the maladies that Dean’s combat-wrecked body has endured, and he moves with relative ease. The best they can figure is that the grace he’d had on and off over the years left his body with a certain resilience to the passage of time. Cas can’t cure Dean as he once could, can’t ease the aches or slow the aging process, but he can use his own comparatively good health and mobility to take care of him.

Inside, Cas navigates past the hostess stand to find Dean at their usual booth, chatting with their usual waitress. The two of them go to this diner religiously each Sunday morning, where the pews are scuffed burgundy vinyl booths and the altar is the breakfast buffet with the generous senior discount. As always, Dean has maneuvered himself across the bench seat to make room for Cas to sit beside him. His cane rests against the wall in easy reach, the simple carved wooden handle belying the fact that the base unscrews to reveal a bayonet-like tip. It’s never been wielded as a weapon (although Dean uses it, still sheathed, to poke at aggressive pigeons who muscle in around their favorite park bench), but that potential made it “badass” enough to overcome Dean’s resistance to using it.

To Sam’s everlasting chagrin, Dean has kept all of his hair, and it’s turned a stunning silver. The crinkles around his eyes have deepened, meeting the roadmap of lines that cross his face. His shoulders are stooped, his joints are stiff, and Cas thinks he’s never been more beautiful. After so many seemingly certain ends, so many years assuming Dean would die young and bloodied, the fact that he’s living out a full, lengthy life is an unparallelled blessing. Cas marvels at the gift of days that have unfolded into decades, granting them time he never dreamed they’d have together here on earth.

As Cas settles into the booth, he smiles and greets their waitress.

“Two for the buffet?” she confirms as she pours their coffee. Cas doesn’t even have to check to know that she’ll leave Dean’s at a little more than half-full so he can lift it without the tremor in his hands sloshing it over the brim.

They drink their coffee quietly, simply enjoying the ritual of being here. Dean peers at the laminated card that lists the specials, even though he never orders off the menu.

“Shall I?” When Dean nods, Cas gets to his feet. “Any requests?”

“You know what I like,” Dean says, leaning over to swat at Cas’s butt.

Picking up two plates from the warmer, Cas slides them along the metal counter, filling them in tandem as he traverses the buffet. Pancakes are too difficult for Dean to get on a fork, but the crisp waffles are good. Bacon he can pick up and eat, and Cas uses the tongs to place precisely two strips on his plate. If Dean wants more, he can get up and get it himself.

Dean can argue with Cas’s choices, but they’d had a hell of a scare a few years back. Cas will never forget the look on Dean’s face when their phone rang in the middle of the night, alerting them that Sam had been taken to the hospital in an ambulance. They’d rushed there themselves, Cas driving in silence, knowing that nothing short of seeing Sam with his own two eyes could reassure Dean. Thankfully, it had been a mild heart attack and, after spending a few days in the hospital, the discharge plan called for cardiac rehab and an appointment with a nutritionist. With Sam’s release imminent, Dean had relaxed enough to crow at the irony. “Don’t either of you try to tell me what to eat ever again. Mr. Organic Produce is the one lying in the hospital bed while my pork-rind-fueled ticker is going strong.”

Still pale, Sam’s brow furrowed with resignation. “I’m beginning to think you can’t die.”

Dean jabbed a finger in his direction. “You don’t get to go first. We have a deal.”

“Yes, sir.” Sam lifted the hand without the IV in a mock salute.

“That’s more like it,” Dean said. “Speaking of which, I need a snack.”

Cas helped him up and they walked to the elevator that would take them to the cafeteria. As they waited for it to arrive, Dean pulled Cas into a hug. Cas left a hand on his shoulder when they stepped apart again. “All right?”

Dean nodded, his green eyes shining with tears. “I’m glad you’re here.” Cas started to respond, to remind him that there was nowhere else he would be, but Dean cut him off. “I know you know. But I wanted to say it anyhow.”

Cas noticed a change after that. Dean was still the same stubborn mule Cas had fallen in love with, but he gradually became more willing to let Cas help. And somehow, Cas loved him even more for it. He loved seeing the slow-blossoming acceptance that came when Dean stopped seeing Cas’s help as a sign of weakness.

Now, standing in front of the steaming trays of food, Cas considers what else to add to their plates. He bypasses the cauldron of oatmeal (they eat that at home most mornings) and continues along the buffet. There’s a tremendous satisfaction in being allowed to care for this man who has done so much for so many and asked for so little in return. In fact, Dean has now embraced this new role so fully—no longer questioning what he deserves, or grudgingly accepting help, but full-on enjoyment of being doted on—that Cas has to be careful he doesn’t get lazy. There’s nothing Cas would rather do than settle Dean in front of a sunny window, snug in the recliner for Cas to wait on like a pampered cat, but he knows that sort of inactivity would do Dean’s joints and his heart no favors. So he watches Dean’s diet and insists on them taking slow walks after breakfast when his energy is highest.

Their neighborhood is a mix of young and old and everyone knows the two Mr. Winchesters who circle the block on days when the weather permits. The kids on bikes and scooters know to give them a wide berth, their parents warning them that the old men need the entire sidewalk, but they call out their hellos as they go by. They’re friendly with everyone except the woman who lives on the corner. Dean is convinced she’s a demon, but Cas suspects his distrust of her stems more from the fact that she seems immune to his charm. (Whatever the reason, he’s had to talk Dean out of chalking a devil’s trap inside her mailbox more than once.) They chat with their neighbors about the weather and the score of last night’s ballgame, and it’s so painfully normal that Cas sometimes feels his throat tighten up at the wonder of it all.

When Cas returns to their booth, Dean examines his plate. “They outta bacon?”

Cas cuts the waffle into manageable pieces and peels the wrapper from the muffin before sliding Dean’s plate over. “You know the deal.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says. “You just like to look at my ass when I get up.”

They eat in congenial silence with Dean methodically working his way around his plate, eating everything heartily, even the fruit. Sitting next to him, Cas can easily scoop up any bites that miss his mouth, plucking them from Dean’s lap or his shirt.

“You two good?” The waitress asks when she comes to refill their coffees. “Need anything?”

Dean swallows the bite of muffin he’s working on, and rests his hand on top of Cas’s. “I’ve got everything I need right here. An actual angel, this one.”

She nods agreeably. “I can almost see his halo.”

Cas has learned that an old man can say just about anything and receive an indulgent smile in return. When Dean references angels or demons or the apocalypse, people assume he’s speaking in metaphor and they’ll nod pleasantly. Sometimes he’ll do it purely for effect, telling rambling tales from their past for the sheer enjoyment of being able to speak openly. He can’t always keep the details straight, but Cas is there to remind him. Some days, though, he seems to lose where he is in time, and there’s nothing Cas can do for that. Cas has taken to keeping a watchful eye on him in the late afternoons when he likes to doze on the couch with their one-eyed black cat curled up on his chest. Cas stays close in case he wakes from his nap agitated, calling for Cas, wanting to know where Sam is. Cas helps him to sit up as the cat springs down and scurries away.

“Don’t go,” he says again and again, and Cas takes him in his arms, assuring Dean that he’s here and reminding him that Sam is safe at his own home. He holds him until Dean shakily dismisses it all as just a bad dream.

The unfairness of it overwhelms Cas, and each time he’s left filled with wrath. These final years should be spent in well-earned peace, but instead Dean seems cursed with reliving his most frightening memories, traumatized anew by old, familiar fears. If Dean’s mind is destined to slip, why can’t it be toward blissful forgetting? What Dean has endured goes beyond what any human should; to ask him to bear it again is nothing short of cruel. But it’s a torture chamber created in his own mind, and all Cas can do is sit helplessly by, doing his best to ground Dean and bring him back to the present.

Cas looks at Dean’s empty plate. “Did you want to get some more?”

“Nah.” He’s full and happy and it’s time for their walk.

The waitress arrives to clear their plates. As he does every week, Dean asks if she needs to see his ID for the senior discount. As she does every week, she pretends to consider it before leaving the check. “You boys take your time.”

“Tip her well,” Dean says, leaning in to supervise Cas as he signs the bill.

“I always do,” Cas assures him.

When they’re ready to leave, Cas stands next to the banquette, waiting for Dean to retrieve his cane and slide himself to the edge. Using a combination of the cane and Cas’s extended arm, Dean hoists himself upright, groaning a little. Cas keeps a firm hold on him until he’s steady on his feet. Dean still dresses in layers, but these days it’s because he gets chilled easily. He favors heavy knit cardigans and as long as Cas gets the zipper started for him he can tug it up or down as needed. Cas checks him for crumbs then together they walk through the other tables crowded with families. They continue by the hostess station where a woman is wiping down menus. “See you next week,” she calls as they pass.

Cas steps forward to push open the door, and stands holding it. “Watch your step,” he says as he always does, pointing toward the raised metal threshold of the doorway.

Using his cane to steady himself, Dean shuffles his way over it, then stops to lay his hand on Cas’s cheek. His knuckles are gnarled, the skin of his palm is dry and warm, and Cas feels the same flare of awe go through him as he has since the moment he first found this glorious soul in the depths of hell.

“I am the luckiest man who has ever lived,” Dean says.

Cas kisses his palm, then takes his arm to help him on his way.