#the ban actively made it harder for small business

[fanaroff]

If we can no longer afford cost of living while having a full time job, then we will have nothing to loose. In any case, we are going to end up in the streets: homeless or protesting.

[jesterjazz]

Title: Another Day in the Future Pairing: Jimmy Neutron/Timmy Turner Rating: Gen Word Count: ~6K Ao3 link

--- It was one of those rare days where there was nothing major going on. The stars only align like this every few months. Jimmy was in his lab as usual. Libby and Sheen were on a date. Carl was at the zoo. Cindy? Who knows, who cares? Certainly not him. All was right with the world. The multiverse was quiet. Well... Aside from one glaring issue.

"Jimmy. Jimmy Jam. James. James Isaac Neutron. Uh... What is that Cindy calls you? Nerdtom? Nerdtron! Nerd the candy. Candyman." 

Timmy Turner wouldn't shut up. 

Jimmy refused to respond to any of those nicknames. He was far too busy working on his blueprints. Turner was in his lab being a nuisance, touching everything. Despite the number of times Jimmy had told him not to touch anything. Even going as far as to actively shake the chair that the boy genius was sitting on. It was taking everything in Jimmy’s power to not lose it. 

"Jonathan." Turner shook the chair harder. How Goddard was able to sleep through all this ruckus was beyond him.

"That’s not even close to my name.” Not-Jonathan whipped his head towards the most annoying person in his lab. Probably the entire multiverse. “What in the name of science do you want, Turner?"  

Turner shrugged, unaffected. "I'm bored.” He let go of the chair. His eyes went wide with an idea. “Ooh, can we create a bad guy to defeat again? That was fun."

Jimmy rolled his eyes, "You never learn."

"Nope!" Timmy smiled wide. As if his buck teeth needed more exposure.

“Why don't you play poker with your holograms?” 

“He’s banned.” Cosmo said from a distance. Jimmy didn’t bother turning around. The holograms liked to play random board games off to the side. They were unintrusive, unlike their creator. They liked to play chess, monopoly, and apparently some fairy related board games? 

Jimmy didn’t ask questions anymore. The one time he did, he got sucked in for about three days straight. It was brutal. Friendships and marriages were tested.

“Timmy is scary good at poker.” Wanda said.

“What? No way, you guys are just bad at lying.” Timmy protested. A valiant effort to defend his non-existent honor, but ultimately a useless one.

“It’s not fair!” Cosmo threw down his cards. The cards flew over Jimmy’s workstation and landed helter-skelter all over his blueprints. 

"Why don't you just go home?" Jimmy brushed aside the loose cards. The mess would be future Jimmy’s problem. 

"Vicky is babysitting again," The three of them intoned. It was eerie how in sync they could be at times.

Ah yes, the babysitter: Vicky. One of the cruelest people Jimmy had ever had the misfortune of interacting with. They only met once, but the memory of clinging onto the seat for dear life and then being thrown out of a car kept him up on random nights. The world Timmy lived in was absolutely terrifying. No wonder he didn’t want to return. Especially with a babysitter like that.

His friend would often complain about his babysitter. It was odd to know he had one, especially since they were only one year apart in age. Jimmy’s own parents were always around or made his grandma come over. He shuddered at the thought of the last time his grandma was supposed to take care of him. Still, he’s been able to stay home alone more often than not. Not like Turner ever had that opportunity.

"Well, that is her job,” Jimmy continued sketching out a small device. “My job is to work on an upgrade to make travel between dimensions more convenient for the team." 

It’s been something he’s been meaning to do for a while. Traveling between different worlds had become a bit of an inconvenience. First he would need to track down Danny, Spongebob, Timmy, bring them back to the lab or whatever meeting place they were at, and fill them in on the details. Then they’d split up. If they got lost then that took up extra time to track the lost member down. 

It was a whole tedious process. 

Designing something handheld that each member of the team could carry with them would be useful. It would help with communication and knowing everyone’s location, especially in a time of a crisis. It could also make transportation between universes a lot smoother.

"Oh!” Timmy shook the chair again. Jimmy was going to defenestrate Turner one of these days. “I know what you should do instead. You should build a meeting area. It can be in space." 

“You know you could just wish that up, Sport.” In the corner of Jimmy’s eye, he could see Wanda flying right next to her creator. 

“Oh yeah.” Timmy blinked. “Nah, later. I want to annoy Jimmy right now.” 

Jimmy sighed as he put his pencil down. “Having you here irritating me this only seems to be a disservice to my future self." 

"Hey…” His friend smirked, never a good sign. “Future self, huh? You ever wonder what you're going to be like in the future?" 

"Nope." Jimmy shut that down.

"Why not?"

"I already know.” He held up his blueprints, tilting his head. Did they look right? No. Something was missing. He put them down. “I'm going to get multiple Nobel Peace Prizes, be rewarded for helping make advances in science, and not be married to Cindy."

"And how do you know that?" Timmy crossed his arms. 

"Because I built a portal to the future." Jimmy said, erasing a detail he didn’t like. He was going to redraw that one bit again.

"What?” Timmy pushed Jimmy’s chair. “When was this?" The table shook with the force of Timmy’s push, sending his pencil flying across the room. 

Jimmy heaved a long-suffering sigh.

His attempts to get anything done would always be foiled as long as Turner was here. At least one of the holograms teleported his pencil back. While they were bound to Timmy’s chaotic whims, they still did things of their own volition.

He remembered his friend’s question, "Oh. A few months before we made Shirley." 

“Huh… Do you still have it?”

“It should be somewhere in the back of the lab,” he said absentmindedly, vaguely gesturing to the back. Mm, erasing pencil lines was annoying. Maybe he should just start over.

“Cool!” Timmy ran off.

Finally, peace and quiet. 

Jimmy enjoyed it for about five seconds before the implications nearly knocked him onto the floor. He jumped out of his seat and went after Turner. He was not going to let Turner mess with time. Let alone unsupervised.

“Is this it?” Timmy stood right in front of the Chrono Arch. 

“How many times in the past have we messed with time?” Wanda crossed her arms.

“This is different. Now we're messing with the future.” Timmy smiled.

“He’s got a point there.” Cosmo mused.

“No, you will not.” Jimmy approached them and the arch. “That’s odd. There should be a sheet covering it.” 

“Well, there isn’t.” 

Said sheet was sitting in a puddle on the floor to the side, discarded. He could've sworn he covered it. Last time, he swore to himself that he’d never  mess with his future ever again. 

Dictator Libby was enough for one afternoon adventure.

Timmy cracked his knuckles, wiggling his fingers as he reached out to push some buttons.

“Turner!” Jimmy pulled him away by the collar before he could do so. He was getting way too good at stopping Timmy moments before disaster. “Let me handle this. How far into the future do you want to see?” 

He looked over to see if everything was still stable. The machine was still plugged in. Odd. 

“Mm.” Timmy tapped his shoes. “I don’t know. Ten years?” He glanced at Cosmo and Wanda. Cosmo only shrugged.

Ten years? They would only be in their early twenties. Well, there was no doubt Jimmy would find some success. He’d probably be in college, finishing up a master’s… Or maybe even a doctorate.  

While his parents wanted him to stay in elementary school to be around other kids his age, they didn't have those same restrictions when it came to his later teen years. If he played his cards right he could probably finish up high school early. A vague plan, but a plan nonetheless.

The next ten years didn't seem that interesting. Just boring high school stuff he had seen in movies. Music, dancing, and unrealistic romantic woes.

The last time Jimmy ran the machine he did at least fifteen years to see what he was like in his mid twenties. He was thriving, along with his other friends. 

“Ten years feels a bit too soon.” Jimmy summarized his thoughts. 

“Uh… Twenty years!” Timmy said. Twenty years into the future. It seemed so far away. He’d be in his thirties, basically an old man. 

“I hope there’s flying cars!” Cosmo said.

“Cosmo sweetie, we can already fly.” Wanda reminded him.

“Oh yeah…”

“Alright,” Jimmy punched in the exact date twenty years into the future. “Let’s have a look at Retroville twenty years from now.” He turned the machine on.

The boys peered through the archway to see future Retroville. It seemed altogether more stylish, with better paved roads, floating billboards, and robots patrolling the sidewalks. 

People were wearing sleek futuristic outfits. 

Jimmy searched for his future self. He landed on a house with a rainbow flag. Calling it a house was an understatement, it was almost a mansion. There his future self was, sitting in a living room surrounded by prizes. He looked unbothered by life, and more importantly, there was no Cindy in sight to bother him. Hopefully he was far away from Timmy Turner as well.

“Seems like everything is as it should be.” Jimmy stepped back from the Chrono Arch, arms akimbo as he admired a future where things were calm and he was successful.

“What about me?” Timmy crossed his arms.

Jimmy rolled his eyes, “I don't know if we’d even be friends that far in the future.” Of course everything had to be about or related to Turner. “Who’s to say you would even be in Retroville?”

Timmy grinned with mischief in his eyes, “Let’s find out.” Then he ran right into the portal. 

“Timmy!” The holograms yelled and flew right after their creator. 

“How did I end up with Vicky’s job?” Jimmy wondered aloud to his empty lab. There was only one thing he could do. He ran through the Chrono Arch.

The lights were blinding. Traveling through time or between different dimensions did not get any easier. 

“This place looks cool!” Timmy yelled, which made Jimmy flinch. His ears were still ringing a bit. 

Turner never seemed to be affected by these sorts of things. Were those the consequences of having holograms teleporting him anywhere? Did that make things easier? He would do more research, but Timmy was very protective of Cosmo and Wanda. 

After Jimmy’s eyes adjusted, he looked around. It was still very much Retroville. They landed in a more suburban area. Not a place Jimmy frequented. This was more where the upper middle class were located. His parents were regular middle class.

He only knew where they were because this street went all out during Halloween. There would be fake skeletons, grand decorations,  and oh, the candy would be marvelous.

This was probably the street where his future self lived. Nice.

The holograms were no longer in their fairy forms. Instead they had morphed into oddly colored squirrels, sitting right next to Timmy.

“Turner!” Jimmy yelled, Timmy’s wonder crashed into annoyance at Jimmy’s voice. “You weren't supposed to go into the future.” Jimmy’s eyes widened in panic. He patted himself down. “Darn it, and we have no means of getting back.”

Jimmy didn’t even have Goddard with him. At least last time he was in the future with Carl and Sheen, the robo- dog was there to help make travel easier.

“Speak for yourself, I have Cosmo and Wanda to poof me back. You however, seem very unprepared.” Timmy said.

“We are not going to leave Jimmy stranded in the past.” Wanda scolded.

“Thank you Wanda. I came unprepared because you ran here with no warning.” Jimmy said.

“You saw my scheming face.” Timmy shrugged. “You were warned.” 

“Not the point.” Jimmy groaned. “Let’s go find James.” He started walking.

“Who’s James?” Timmy jogged up to him. That jog became a walk, matching Jimmy’s pace.

“Future me, I don't want to say future Jimmy a hundred times.”

“Oh. That makes sense. Do we call my future self something else too?”

“Thomas does sound like a more grown up name.”

“Thomas?!” Timmy stopped. “You think my name is Thomas? Ew.”

Jimmy smiled at his friend’s distress in the slowly growing distance between them.

Timmy caught up to him, “Why are we even friends? I thought you knew me.” 

“If your full name isn't Thomas then what is it?”

“Timothy.”

Jimmy snorted, “Timothy? Timothy Turner.”

“Timothy Tiberius Turner.”

“Your dimension is obsessed with alliteration.”

“Nope, just my parents.”

Jimmy opened his mouth, ready to insult them. He closed it. Timmy didn't mention his parents often. Though from the little bits of information that Jimmy has been able to gather from context clues and through interacting with them, they didn't seem like the best. 

Yet Timmy was still fond of them. He got defensive if anyone implied otherwise. It wasn't worth the petty squabble. 

They kept walking.

“So what are we looking for?” Timmy broke the silence.

“James’ house. I saw it briefly before we went.” 

“You remember it?”

“Barely.” Jimmy sighed. “I know it had a flag outside.”

“Like that?” Timmy pointed to a rainbow flag.“What country is that?” 

“No country has that flag.” Jimmy said. 

It’s odd. He didn’t understand why he would have a rainbow flag outside his residence at all.

“I’m pretty sure there’s a country with that flag.” Cosmo said. 

The two boys and the two squirrels went up the porch. Timmy knocked on the door.

"Honey, I told you to remember your keys-" James opened the door and took a double take. Wheels seemed to turn in his head before he looked down to stare at the boys. "Not you two again."

"Again?" Jimmy asked. This was the first time he had gone to this version of the future. 

Timmy went inside. "Sweet place you got."

"He says that every time." James rolled his eyes, turning on his heel to follow Timmy in.

"Every time?” Jimmy asked.  Alarm bells were starting to go off in his head. “Have we been here before?"

James stepped to the side, “Just come on in." He gestured into the house, a tired yet soft smile appeared. Jimmy doesn't think he’s ever worn that expression before.

Before the future was alluring and full of promise. It was supposed to be exciting. Now that he was there faced with an older version of himself made things feel different. 

It made it real. 

One day he was going to have all of this. Success wasn't a question, it was a guarantee. 

Something would happen that would make him wear this emotion so easily on his face. That was scary, because he had no idea what would cause it.

He stepped inside, regardless of his misgivings. It was his portal that brought Timmy here and he was going to bring him back to the past. Possibly kicking and screaming. 

The inside was bigger than he expected it to be. There was a living room to the left. Timmy was already taking everything all in. The walls were a rich rusty color, and a light green rug contrasted the rich black couch and loveseat. They had soft pink pillows on top with cute little hearts. One pillow was full of rainbow hearts, which seemed like an odd design choice. 

Little trinkets lined the fireplace. Jimmy… Begrudgingly admitted to himself that he was too short to see the top but he could see the edge of a snowglobe  that said Dimmsdale. Something else seemed to have Phantom’s logo on a plush of some kind? Merch perhaps? Following that line of logic, there must also be something from Bikini Bottom, but there were more than three items on the mantel. A hint of new members in the future? Fascinating.

His Nobel Peace Prizes were on full display on a different shelf, the same ones he saw when Sheen and Carl were first looking at their futures months ago.

It was sleek yet cozy. Lived in, but there were no pictures hung up. Which seemed like an odd detail, or lack of one. 

Timmy stood on the other side of the room closer to the television. At least that’s what Jimmy assumed it was. It looked a lot flatter than any television he had ever seen.  It sat on a television stand, books lining the shelves below. Classic literature mixed with... What the hell was a Crimson Chin? Why did his future self have volumes of it?

“What’s this?” Timmy picked up a controller.

“It’s the newest gaming system, I got it as a favor in advance.” James said.

“Really? Cool!” 

Jimmy turned to his future self with suspicion. “Since when did we get into video games and comic books?” He asked. Sure, Jimmy liked video games, but not to this extent.

“My spouse’s hobbies.” James said.

Jimmy eyebrows raised in surprise at that. He got married? But- His true love was science!

As if his future self knew exactly what he was thinking, he raised his hand up from his pocket, showing off a wedding ring with a comforting smile. 

Timmy shook the controller, still in his own little world, “How do I start playing?”

“Nope.” James snatched the controller out of Timmy’s hand. “It’s supposed to be a surprise gift for my partner.”

Jimmy liked using his big vocabulary but this seemed excessive. Why wasn’t his future self just saying wife? He hadn’t even dropped one pronoun, almost carefully sticking to gender-neutral words. 

"Are Cindy and I still married in this version of the future?" Jimmy asked.

"No." James replied, almost annoyed. “You really think Cindy is into video games and comics? She’s too busy being a senator.”

“Cindy and I aren’t married. This is truly the best future!” Jimmy started doing a little dance. “Wait, she’s a senator?”

"Enough about Nerd Brain over there, I wanna know about my future!" Timmy whined. 

"For the last time Turner, we are in future Retroville. Not future Dimmsdale." Jimmy turned to James. "Tell me we aren't still friends in the future."

"That's one way of putting it." James stifled a laugh.

Jimmy raised an eyebrow, "I highly doubt I've always been this vague."

“I’m being vague for a reason. We need to get you two back, the past is already changing with every second you stay here, and I’d like the present to stay exactly how it is." James said.

"Even in the future you're still so pushy and demanding." Timmy pulled a face. “Can I play at least one game?”

“No.”

The door opened with a squeal of hinges, and a stranger walked in. 

"Hey Handsome," he said, his face obscured by armfuls of  grocery bags.

"T- Babe! Hi. I think you should stay outside." James said.

"You seem tense." The stranger put the groceries down on the counter. 

Jimmy noticed the buck teeth first, then the wedding ring. The same one his future self wore. 

His heart stopped. 

No. 

His worst fears were realized when Future Timmy pulled Future Jimmy closer, the same way his dad would his mom. Then Future Jimmy and Future Timmy started kissing. The world slowed down. Dramatic classical music blasted in Jimmy's mind. 

His future lips… Were on future Turner's.

"I think I'm going to faint. Or vomit. Or both." Timmy fell backwards.

Jimmy couldn't stop staring. How did this happen? What? When? Why? How? What?!

The future was still messed up. That was the only logical reason.

Future Timmy pulled away from his future self. Good. He needs to stay away. Very far away. A separate dimension far away. Several dimensions.

“Woops. Didn't see those two.” Timothy rubbed the back of his neck.

“I always tell you, you need to be more aware of your surroundings. How many times have I had to save your sorry butt?” James raised an eyebrow.

“I lost count.” Timothy shrugged. “Besides you love my butt, Sweetbuns.”

James laughed. 

Jimmy and Timmy cried.

“Make it stop.” Jimmy groaned.

“This is a fate worse than an afternoon with Vicky.” Timmy sat up.

“How did this even happen?” Jimmy asked.

"I was around eighteen? There was a party in Retroville. Do you remember who was throwing it?" Timothy turned to James.

"Libby, I think. Her parties were the only ones worth going to."

"Oh right. So Jimmy and I get there together, and there's booze. I want to try some but Jimmy starts being a buzzkill so I trick him into drinking."

"Cool!" Timmy said.

"Wait, how?" Jimmy asked.

"Reverse psychology with a pinch of peer pressure." James sighed. "Timmy isn’t as dumb as he seems. He can actually be quite clever, when he wants to be."

Timothy smiled, "Aw-"

"I'm still mad at you for that." James threw a soft elbow into Timothy’s ribs.

Timothy let out a soft oof before wrapping an arm around James’ waist. "It's been like ten years! Plus we're married." 

Jimmy covered his eyes. This was not happening.

"I don't see how that is relevant." James said.

"Anyway, drunk Jimmy is an absolute riot.” An evil little smile grew on Timothy’s face. “He was starting to strip, getting really cuddly, he tried to get in some fights, he started crying over a penny." 

Timothy started to laugh, and James, mock offended, shoved hands at his shoulders to push him away, which only made Timothy laugh harder, though his arm stayed firmly around James’ waist.

Timmy made a disgusted face and Jimmy nodded in agreement. How could they have fallen so far? How could they have fallen for each other? One night drinking caused this??? Yeah, no. He was swearing off alcohol. Forever. The loss of brain cells from drinking clearly affected him.

James playfully rolled his eyes, "I was being set up. Everyone was trying to get me drunk!"

"Because you never got drunk before. It was... Incredible.” Timothy’s eyes brimmed with emotion as he stared ats James. “But then he started vomiting, and that was not so great. I barely drank so it was up to me to take care of him. Then Jimmy starts going on and on about how great I am and then drops the bomb that he loves me, then passes out." 

Jimmy clenched his fists, cheeks burning. "Why would I even be so foolish as to drink alcohol?" 

“I got curious and Timmy really knows how to push my buttons.” James said.

“That’s not the only thing I can do.” Timothy smirked.

“Babe.” James, honest to Einstein, giggled. 

“Ahhh!” Jimmy covered his eyes. He did not want to think about the idea that one day in the future he was going to have intercourse with Timmy ‘two plus five equals six, right?’ Turner. “I need to bleach my eyes and sand down my ears.”

“Same.” Timmy gagged.

Jimmy sat down on the couch. This was too much information, and he really loved information. Not this kind. Never this kind again.

It was utterly mind boggling. How could he- When? 

"Wait, what about us? When did we- You fall for Timmy?" Jimmy asked.

James sighed. "Thirteen."

"What?" Both Timmys said.

"Thirteen? That’s two years from now." Jimmy started panicking. 

There could be no way in hell that he falls in love with Timmy Turner in about two years' time. Yet the proof was in front of him. A life, domestic and cozy with that insane buck-toothed boy. 

"Wait, you never told me you liked me for that long." Timothy said.

"It's cheesy." James said. "It was on a recon mission. So we were gathering information on some mountains. There was a rock slide and Timmy pulled me out of the way."

"That's it?" Timmy tilted his head. "That's kind of boring, if that's all it takes then I guess I won't save you from any falling rocks."

"I don't need saving from falling rocks." Jimmy said.

"Clearly you do." Timmy poked him in the arm.

"Do not! Are there any rocks here?" 

"I wish-"

Jimmy covered Timmy's mouth.

"I fall in love with him? Him? That can't be right... So he saved my life. We save each other all the time. Why was that any different?" Jimmy pleaded to know.

"It just was." A soft smile appeared on James’ face. "I was so grateful when Timmy pulled me out of the way. So many times I had to be the one to think of a way out of the situation, it felt so rare whenever someone else had to do that for me. Yet here Timmy was, constantly doing that. It felt inevitable…"

Jimmy's chest started to feel weird. His hand got wet- Damnit, did Timmy just lick his hand?!

"Ew!" Jimmy ripped his hand away.

“You didn’t let me talk!” Timmy glared.

“You deserve a muzzle.” Jimmy wiped his hand on Timmy’s shirt.

Timmy screamed. 

“Aw, we are so cute.” Timothy cooed. “Wait- Do you have Cosmo, Wanda, and Poof on you?”

“What’s a poof?” Timmy turned to his future self.

Cosmo and Wanda winked into existence over Timmy’s head. 

“You remember us?” Wanda’s eyes widened. 

“Neat!” Cosmo smiled.

Timothy gasped, almost tearing up. “Yeah, Jorgen didn’t take my memories. Saving the multiverse and Fairy World a few times gives you that sort of privilege.”

“We save Fairy World? Multiple times? Us?” Timmy asked. It didn't seem like that far of a stretch. After all, he was on a team dedicated to keeping the multiverse safe.

“Yup. My Cosmo and Wanda retired but they still visit me every so often. I guess Poof hasn’t- I should keep that one a surprise.” Timothy zipped his lips.

“Cool! I get to keep my memories of Cosmo and Wanda.” 

“You were going to forget about them?” Jimmy asked.

“It’s…” Timmy rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. “It’s a story for another time.”

Jimmy eyed his friend, “What do you mean-” 

“Who wants cookies?” Timothy clasped his hands, breaking the tension.

“Me!” Timmy got up and ran to the grocery bags, ravaging through them.

Timothy whistled with fake innocence. Jimmy turned to his future self but James only put his hands up.

Whatever. He’ll confront Turner about it later.

“What on Earth possessed you to fall in love with him?” Jimmy gestured to the two Timmys. The fear ran through this heart. There were two of them. Over there, bonding over cookies. The holograms were buzzing with energy.

How the world hadn’t exploded yet was beyond him.

“I’ve spent the last twenty years asking myself that every same question. Why him?” James grabbed a cookie and passed it over to Jimmy. “Long story short; he makes me happy.” He shrugged.

“He’s nothing but a nuisance that causes problems for everyone else to deal with.” Jimmy grabbed the cookie and bit into it angrily.

“We did that a lot as a kid too.”

“Wha- Did not!” Jimmy covered his mouth trying not to let the crumbs fall onto the floor.

James pulled up his hand and started counting off different incidents they were responsible for, “Pants, aliens, nanobots, the N-men, evil clone-”

“Okay.” 

“Addictive candy, permanent sickness, rapid aging, I can keep going.” James gave a mischievous smile. 

“We fixed all of those issues.”

“We also caused them.”

A rebuttal was on the tip of Jimmy’s tongue.

“Oh my God-” Timothy pushed his younger self out of the way to get over to the gaming system. “Is this?”

“Hey!” Timmy pouted, on the floor. 

“It’s exactly what you think it is.” James said.

“It’s not even out yet.” Timothy was completely mesmerized.

“I know. I’m the best.” James put his arms around Timothy’s waist. “I was going to set it up before you got back but I was interrupted.” James glared at the kids. 

“If you’d opened that up without me getting to hear you go on and on about the latest advancements in gaming I would've divorced you.” Timothy kissed James on the cheek.

“You should divorce anyway.” Timmy said in between bites. The crumbs fell onto the wooden floor. 

“Overruled.” Timothy smiled. They began kissing again. 

Jimmy ripped his gaze away from them. Maybe Dictator Libby wasn’t the bad future. Maybe this was the bad future. “Alright. That’s enough.” Timmy stood up. “Cosmo and Wanda, I wish we were back in Jimmy’s lab in our own time!”

---

When they got back to the lab they stood in silence. There was a lot to unpack.

"So, we get married in the future." Timmy started off, breaking the awkward silence.  

"Don't remind me.” Jimmy held his head in his hands. “This is somehow worse than that future where I was married to Cindy."

"Hey! I don't exactly want to get married to you either, calling you Handsome and Sweetbuns." Timmy shivered.

Jimmy covered his ears. "Please stop talking!"

"I can't stop thinking about it!"

"Neither can I!"

"Agh."

"Aghggh!"

They glared at each other. 

Jimmy could never and would never fall in love with Timmy Turner. He simply refused it. 

It was still impossible to wrap his head around it. This was coming from a boy genius who could understand anything.

How could their lives ever lead to marriage? They could barely agree in the present. It made no logical sense. It made less than no sense. It made negative sense.

Wanda and Cosmo transformed back into their default fairy forms. 

“Oh come on, marriage isn't the worst thing in the world. Right sweetie?” She smiled at her husband.

“Marrying Wanda was one of the best decisions I ever made,” Cosmo simpered. 

“Aww,” Wanda cooed.

"It might work out for you two, but for Timmy and I marriage is completely illogical. I cannot believe my future self not only entertained the idea but went forward with it. At least in a heterosexual-"

"Pfft.” Timmy interrupted. “You said sex." 

Cosmo giggled along with Timmy.

“Oh stop it you two,” Wanda said and they stopped.

Jimmy rolled his eyes, "In a male-female relationship there is at least the possibility of bearing offspring."

"Offspring?" Timmy titled his head.

"A baby." Jimmy explained.

"Oh. Yeah no, I can't have a baby.” 

"I can!" Cosmo chimed in. 

Jimmy and Timmy stared at him. Apparently this was also new news to Timmy. It only adds to the theory that perhaps Turner got the holograms from somewhere else. 

Wanda only nodded in confirmation. 

"I'm not addressing that. In a homo-" Jimmy groaned. "A male-male relationship, I could see the potential benefits-"

"See, that's why you're gay in the future." Timmy said. 

"WE ARE BOTH GAY IN THE FUTURE!" Jimmy, honest to God, wanted to lunge at Turner.  

"Lalalalala!" Timmy covered his ears. "Cosmo, Wanda, I wish I couldn't hear Jimmy."

The two holograms did as they were told. They raised their wands, and beams of light with a shower of little sparkles fell from them.

One day Jimmy was going to pop Turner like a balloon. Preferably before their wedding. Scratch that, their wedding day would never happen because Turner would be dead. 

"Real mature, Turner." Jimmy shook his head and crossed his arms. “Can you tell him that I said we need to talk about this?”

“Jimmy says he thinks you should still talk to him.” Cosmo said.

“Nope.” Timmy turned away from Jimmy.  “I’m going to ignore him for the rest of my life.” 

“Timmy says-”

 “I can still hear him Cosmo.” Jimmy cut him off. Cosmo frowned. The hologram was only trying to help. “Thank you though.”

“Timmy, you can't ignore Jimmy forever.” Wanda said.

“Yes, I can.” Timmy crossed his arms. “Watch me.” 

Jimmy walked in front of him, “You’re still in my lab!”

Timmy closed his eyes and turned in another direction.

Jimmy groaned, “I can’t believe my future self would ever agree to marrying you!”

“Jokes on you, Fudgehead. I can't even hear you.” Timmy stuck his tongue out at Jimmy.

Jimmy started violently shaking Turner.

Wanda pointed her wand at Jimmy and dragged him to the other side of the lab.

“Aw, I hate seeing couples fight.” Cosmo said.

“We’re not a couple!” The two kids shouted. 

“Oh no, they’re divorcing.” Cosmo grabbed his wife in fear. “Wanda, we have to fix this.” He shook her.

“They aren't even married yet!” Wanda pushed Cosmo off of her. She looked back at the two boys in front of her. “Err- Will be? Time travel is tricky.”

“I do not want to get married. No way, especially not to peanut skull over there.” Timmy said.

There had to be a way to get out of this situation. He just needed to think, think, t h i n k.

Brain blast. 

“What if we just forget?” Jimmy thought aloud to himself. He started grabbing materials to make a device to forget.

“Forget? Uh, are you sure that’s a good idea kiddo?” Wanda asked.

“I’m very forgetful. I forgot where I put my lawn gnome the other day.” Cosmo said. 

Jimmy spread out the materials and started working on the device, “If we forget then we can live without the burden of knowing our future selves fates.” 

“Wait, what is Jimmy doing?” Timmy looked back and forth between the three of them. “I wish I could hear Jimmy again.” 

Cosmo and Wanda raised their wands. The “wish” came true.

“You’ve finally come to your senses.” Jimmy said flatly.

“What were you saying before?” Timmy asked.

“We clearly don't like knowing we’re married, so let’s change that.” Jimmy started putting the pieces together. “I can build an amnesia ray-” “I saw one back over there.” Timmy pointed in a random direction with a strange amount of conviction. 

“I don’t remember building such a thing.” Jimmy scratched his head, putting down the pieces. “Of course you wouldn’t remember. It’s an amnesia ray. Duh.” Cosmo said.

He almost hated how much that made sense.

“Well, let’s grab it and forget this awful day.” Jimmy saud.

“Wait!” Timmy tackled him. 

“What in the name of Einstein are you doing?” Jimmy tried to glare at Turner but that proved futile. All he could do was kick and punch the air and floor. 

Timmy sat on the genius’ back, “You’re trying to entrap me in a marriage.”

“Excuse me?” Jimmy stopped.

“I know a loophole when I see one. If we forget, then we get married. If we remember, then we won't get married. You want us to get married.”

Jimmy’s jaw dropped. “What?” Darn it, he did not think of it that way. “I don’t want us to get married at all!” 

Timmy narrowed his eyes. “I’m onto your games, Neutron.” 

“That’s enough.” Wanda pointed her wand at the boys and pushed them to opposite sides of the lab. “You two are acting ridiculous. One, marriage isn’t something that just happens. It’s a commitment. One you make every single day. That type of love comes once in a lifetime for humans. Your future selves were deeply in love. They experienced things you’ve yet to, their decision may not make sense now but who’s to say it won’t later down the line?”

“Yuck.” Timmy made a face.

“Absolutely not.” Jimmy folded his arms defiantly.

“Which brings me to point number two, you two are children.” Wanda reminded them.

“So don’t worry so much about marriage.” Cosmo chirped.

“It’s been a long day.” Jimmy yawned. “Maybe we shouldn’t act with such haste.”

“I guess you guys are right. It’s been a crazy day. I wish we could just forget this ever happened.” Timmy sighed.

Jimmy’s eyes widened. “Turner-”

“Wait!” Timmy yelled.

Cosmo’s wand flashed.

---

It was one of those rare days where it was quiet in the lab. Jimmy worked on some projects that he had been avoiding. Carl and Sheen were both independently busy. The multiverse was quiet, well... Aside from one boy with gigantic teeth.

"Jimmy, I'm bored." Timmy Turner said.

"And that is my problem because...?" Jimmy asked as he screwed in a piece for his working prototype for a new communication device.

"Because- Woah!"

Jimmy turned around. It was him but taller? Him as an adult.

Future Jimmy shot a laser at Chrono Arch. It exploded into nothingness.

"What are you doing?" Jimmy ran over to the newly destroyed portal.

"You two keep going into the future, get freaked out, decide to forget, go back into the future, get freaked out- It's annoying. Cute the first few times, but I'm at my limit." Future Jimmy threw a small box towards Timmy. "Have fun."

Timmy caught the box, "Decimator 2: Destiny's Revenge. Cool! This isn't even out yet." 

"He's so easily entertained." Future Jimmy said, with a slight fondness.

"Do you remember the last time he had a copy of Decimator?" Jimmy glared at his future self, trying to get a hold of Timmy but he already ran away to cause chaos.

"Of course I do, you can handle it. You always do." Future Jimmy ruffled his hair. 

"Hey!" Jimmy tried to fix his hair.

"Take care. Don't try to kill each other." Future him punched something onto his wrist device. They made eye contact. “I shouldn't say anything but, good luck. I promise it will be worth the wait.”

“What’s worth the wait?” Jimmy asked.

Future Jimmy only glanced at Timmy. 

Before Jimmy could ask what he meant but his future self already left. 

“Uh… Jimmy. I think I broke something.” Timmy held up the broken prototype Jimmy was working on not even three minutes ago.

Oh. 

Oh, a thousand deaths for Timmy Turner. His future self was definitely talking about planning the perfect method to get rid of one of the most idiotic children he ever had to meet. That had to be it. There was no other logical explanation. Turner’s death would be wonderful and it would be worth the wait.

[superstardestroyer]

I know every time we start talking about how fandom is now/used to be it's quickly pointed out that this group has always existed but "It is, by nature of fandom, impossible to "manage" because no one owns fan spaces." This is what's changed.

When moderators existed, there was an expectation that once someone had proven themselves to be this type, they would be removed. It didn't always work great - this type seeks out becoming mods more than most! I recall a hilarious event with a Gundam LJ community in particular. But because they are such a small percent of the whole, they can be bullied back (which was what made the event such an impeccable and memorable time).

The algorithm has changed things though. Fanart and fic don't drive comments and retweets and discourse vids as much as contentious senseless beefing does. Discord communities are naturally hidden away so instead of being open and allowing the larger groups to come in and air things out politely they fall prey to the one or two who come in.

Fandoms end up virtually controlled by this demographic now in public perception as a result. That article about how studios are going to run things past gam*rgate types to avoid their ire speaks to a phenomenal shift in the perception of the power of the 1% of horrific fans.

I think it's also exacerbated because of the prevalence of phones and the power of social media. Doing numbers can make you real world money and get you real world attention, and back pre-2010 you had to log off to go to work and school. You didn't really impress anybody by being on fandomwank for being a fandoms nightmare.

Growth and normalization of fandom are huge factors, but the design and influence of social media are a kerosene on the fire of the 1%.

Dismantling their power and preventing their behavior relies on the rest of us realizing the role we play in it: QRTing them shouldn't happen. Linking to their content is the last thing we should do. Certain things that used to work for naming and shaming are now exploitable hacks for them.

Sharing bad call-out posts that are clearly just personal beef needs to stop: the 1% can and does use our communities and senses of justice against us. We need to stop trying to prove constantly to each other that we're good and pure because let's be real: 99% of us aren't hurting anyone no matter what we do in our corner of fandom.

Weird kinks and problematic fic content do much less damage than a person who constantly sets fires in our spaces. Moderating - as a former moderator of multiple fandom and art spaces, some very large - has never been about policing ourselves for little, weird, gross behaviors. It's about spotting behavior that either is these guys or feeds into the shenanigans of the small number of real troublemakers online and cutting them off from attention and audience and mobs to lead.

And to deny them means I think that all of us need to care a lot less about clout and audience online too, which is what's so hard about it. QRTing or otherwise linking the menace and their content makes them come beef with you. It drives views. Not doing it stops YOU from getting followers as surely as it does the problem-maker. Wanting the approval and notice of popular fans makes you end up part of their hurtful mob.

Politely minding our own business is harder. But in the end it's what we need to start doing more of to starve out this shit. The Tumblr porn ban and folks coming back really did improve this site tremendously: by cutting the chain of communication between them and everybody else. With fewer followers here, many of them focused their attention elsewhere. It may involve posting to smaller communities and tending to your mutuals more and bothering with everyone else less, but I think it is worth doing.

Doing your part to not be part of their behavior is not just passively ignoring them. It is an incredible difficult and active task where you have to dismiss the hold they want to have on your attention all the time and instead focus all your energy on accepting the harmless and annoying parts you don't like about everybody else in your fandom to build a community that isn't going to evaporate in 6 months when it is no longer the cool new show or whatever. Now more than ever, we have to be resilient and care about each other as people and fandom spaces rather than an audience to validate us and confirm that we are important and pure so that we can starve out those of us who will burn our community to the ground so that they can get what they want from the ashes.

I feel like with the new ~fandom drama~ or whatever going around, I should re-introduce my favorite theory of fandom, which I call the 1% Theory.

Basically, the 1% Theory dictates that in every fandom, on average, 1% of the fans will be a pure, unsalvageable tire fire. We’re talking the people who do physical harm over their fandom, who start riots, cannot be talked down. The sort of things public news stories are made of. We’re not talking necessarily bad fans here- we’re talking people who take this thing so seriously they are willing to start a goddamn fist fight over nothing. The worst of the worst.

The reason I bring this up is because the 1% Theory ties into an important visual of fandom knowledge- that bigger fandoms are always perceived as “worse”, and at a certain point, a fandom always gets big enough to “go bad”. Let me explain.

Say you have a small fandom, like 500 people- the 1% Theory says that out of those 500, only 5 of them will be absolute nutjobs. This is incredibly manageable- it’s five people. The fandom and world at large can easily shut them out, block them, ignore their ramblings. The fandom is a “nice place”.

Now say you have a medium sized fandom- say 100,000 people. Suddenly, the 1% Theory ups your level of calamity to a whopping 1000 people. That’s a lot. That’s a lot for anyone to manage. It is, by nature of fandom, impossible to “manage” because no one owns fan spaces. People start to get nervous. There’s still so much good, but oof, 1000 people.

Now say you have a truly massive fandom- I use Homestuck here because I know the figures. At it’s peak, Homestuck had approximately FIVE MILLION active fans around the globe.

By the 1% Theory, that’s 50,000 people. Fifty THOUSAND starting riots, blackmailing creators, contributing to the worst of the worst of things.

There’s a couple of important points to take away here, in my opinion.

1) The 1% will always be the loudest, because people are always looking for new drama to follow.

2) Ultimately, it is 1%. It is only 1%. I can’t promise the other 99% are perfect, loving angels, but the “terrible fandom” is still only 1% complete utter garbage.

3) No fandom should ever be judged by their 1%. Big fandoms always look worse, small fandoms always look better. It’s not a good metric.

So remember, if you’re ever feeling disheartened by your fandom’s activity- it’s just 1%, people. Do your part not to be a part of it.

[smoulderingocean]

Osblaine Week Day 2: Headcanons

My list is long (though far from exhaustive haha- I could really go on forever), so it's under the cut. May we be blessed with more details in the future so we don't have to keep headcanoning them.

Holly is left-handed, just like her Uncle Josh. Nick is deeply moved by this small connection they share, feeling as if Josh lives on in her.

Nick and Holly's birthdays are both in February and are just a few days apart, with Nick's birthday coming just three days after hers. To him she is the greatest possible gift that he could ever receive. And the closeness of their birthdays has a deeper meaning too- his Mum and Josh had August birthdays that were just a few days apart.

Nick's family couldn't always afford it because money was tight and it was hard to get time off of work, but every couple of years they tried to visit Mackinac Island for a week in August to celebrate those August birthdays. Those handful of summer visits are among Nick's most cherished memories because it was the only time that his family was truly happy.

Growing up Nick was really close to his Mum. She was a very gentle, kind, and sweet person, and raised Nick to be the same. She was the head and heart of their household. When she died the Blaine family fell apart. Nick's father and Josh both struggled to function, falling deep into a pit of depression and spiralling further after they were laid off. Seeing no other alternative, Nick, himself deeply depressed, stepped up and tried to fill her place. He never felt like he was enough, because no one could ever replace his Mum.

Because he took on the head of the household role at a very young age, Nick's natural caretaking personality grew stronger, something that follows him for the rest of his life and is part of why he is such a good partner and father.

June sleeps cold while Nick sleeps hot. One night, very early on into their relationship, Nick wakes and looks over at June. He can tell from her face that she is cold and not entirely able to relax enough to sleep more deeply and get enough rest. So Nick gets out of bed and gathers his spare blanket from his trunk, tucking it carefully around her. After a few minutes, he sees June relax and fall more deeply asleep. When she awakens a couple hours later, very well-rested, she is deeply moved by the simple gesture. A gesture that hadn't been given to her in years. From then on Nick has the extra blanket out for her wrap up in. It's unspoken, but to both of them that blanket belongs to her.

Nick is a night owl while June is a morning person. This dichotomy works really well within their relationship as it allows for balance. In the mornings June wakes up early and goes for her run, then gets the kids up and going while Nick makes breakfast. Then at night Nick puts the kids to bed and stays up later than June to read, listen to music, watch tv, or just sit on the balcony and relax.

June enjoys the mornings because they're a new start, while Nick has a harder time with them because getting everyone up and going and out to where they need to be means they'll be apart for most of the day. Meanwhile Nick enjoys nights more because it's a winding down- the family is together and able to spend some quality moments with each other. At night Nick is most able to take care of everyone; there are no burdens or expectations, just love. The nights are peaceful and calming for him. For June, the nights are challenging because she finds it difficult to wind down- she enjoys being busy and being on the go, and the nighttime family rituals are the opposite. Together, Nick and June manage to balance each other out- June's drive and energy get Nick going in the mornings while Nick's tenderness and unwavering support help June wind down and relax at night.

Together, they sleep really well because they feel safe and so their subconsciouses are able to let go and relax. Without the other they struggle to get enough rest.

Nick is the cuddler of the two and really craves those moments in their relationship. The quiet warmth and comfort means so much to him and it's what he really looks forward to each night because he feels safe and loved.

One of June's favourite things to do is to watch Nick read. She finds it -the glasses and the lips pursed in concentration and the emotions on his face- incredibly sexy and she often finds herself unable to resist temptation and ends up distracting him, which Nick enjoys immensely. Nick also knows that she finds the whole thing erotic and so he puts himself into situations where he knows June will notice just what he's doing.

When they were living at the Waterford house, Nick never had to say that June was welcome to read his books, the acknowledgement that she was free to choose went unspoken between them because Nick knew that she didn't need his permission and June knew that she didn't have to ask; it was a natural thing because his apartment is was close to a home that she had in Gilead (he's her home) and so those books were as much hers as they were his.

In the Boston Globe they finally got to spend a lot of real downtime together. There they found many books, dvds, and cds that had been long-banned, left forgotten in the hastily abandoned office tower. In their free hours together they got to be a normal couple. In those hours they found that they both had an unapologetic love for Harry Potter and they enjoyed getting into enthusiastic debates about the subject. (Also, they both agreed that Nick is a Hufflepuff and June is a Gryffindor.) June loves Friends, while Nick teases her that it was before his time and that he preferred Glee, which June hated because she thought the singing was terrible. Both share a love for boy bands, with Nick's music tastes being more varied than June's and he introduces her to many good songs. Both are avid readers, but June is especially and Nick reads each and every book she hands to him.

Together they learn all sorts of things that accompany a normal, happy relationship; June can't cook worth a damn while Nick is skilled at batch meals like soups, stews, and chili. Nick loves coffee and tea equally (he's especially fond of a good Hong Kong-style milk tea, the kind his mother use to make) while June is exclusively a coffee person. Nick's favourite chore to do is laundry and June is amazed to find out that he'd often take the laundry off of Rita's hands whenever he could as she despised it. Meanwhile June's preferred chore is doing the dishes, because she doesn't contribute by and so she likes to do her bit by washing up.

In the Boston Globe, Nick finds a copy of "What to Expect When You're Expecting" and reads it in its entirety, an action that makes June cry from emotion.

While in the Boston Globe, Nick does everything he can to fulfil June's pregnancy cravings, including trading his valuable illicit liquor for her beloved Twinkies. He loved being able to do that for her because it made her smile and Nick lived for those smiles.

Both Nick and June share a commonality of being bookworms as children, a trait that they pass down onto Holly. Their favourite weekend family activity is a trip to the library.

June was in the 'in' crowd in school while Nick was more of a loner and was very quiet. June ran track and was on the swim team, and was good enough to get a partial scholarship to a good school where she majored in English. Nick never played any sports (though like all good Detroit boys, was a big hockey fan and knows how to skate, and Nick's parents, especially his father, were such big fans that they gave their sons hockey-related middle names- Joshua Gordon [after Gordie Howe] and Nicholas Stanley [after the Stanley Cup]) but he excelled at English and social studies. He couldn't afford to go to university, something that broke his father's heart as he wanted to give Nick the chance to go that he never got. (Josh meanwhile, was very artistic and was particularly good at photography- one of Nick's prized possessions is a print of one of Josh's photos. Like Nick, he couldn't afford to go to school.)

After getting into Canada together after getting Hannah out of Gilead, June and Nick and their family move from Toronto to Kelowna, finding great comfort in the mountains and also appreciating that it helps Hannah recover from what she's lived through as the mountains are comforting and familiar to her.

My biggest crack headcanon is that Nick and June have the same blood type (O+) and it was Nick's blood that was donated to help June after her haemorrhage. Nick volunteered and this action was seen as so good and so 'godly' that it was a small element in pushing Nick further up the ladder. He knew this, but selflessly gave her his blood anyway, because it was the only way he could help.

[dented-nado]

Sweet B

Short drabble of Bruce trying to be, what he thinks would be a “better” boyfriend for Clark!

---------------------

It was still baffling to Bruce, even after 2 years of living with Clark, sleeping in the same bed as him, that this sunshine man adored by so many, had somehow ended up being with him of all people.

Bruce didn’t do relationships. It wasn’t that… on a deeper level he craved that kind of closeness with another person, it was that it was just hard. Probably harder for him than most. He had been going to therapy to quite a while now, but he still just struggled with being honest and vulnerable and communicating with his partner.

Clark was always so patient. So, kind. He seemed to understand it took Bruce some time to come around… so he’d wait for him.

But Bruce… Bruce felt like Clark shouldn’t wait for him. Shouldn’t be so patient.

Because he deserved better.

He deserved a partner that knew how to do “the little things” that would make him happy.

A partner that would leap into his arms and kiss him to welcome him home every day.

In short…

Bruce was half terrified of Clark becoming bored or frustrated and leaving him… and hoping on some level that he’d “wake up” realize he could do better and find someone that could be all of that and more.

Bruce loved Clark so much it hurt.

It hurt because he wanted to be so much more than he was. Even if Clark would never ask him to be anything else.

Just because Bruce had stopped actively pushing people away… didn’t mean he wasn’t struggling not to think those things. Think about how those around him would be better off without him in their lives. Would be better off if he hadn’t somehow tricked them into wanting to be around him.

He thought through all these things, as he did often, as he found himself gazing at Clark fast asleep next to him. Bruce felt slightly, quietly soothed at the large arm that was draped across his waist as the larger than life man’s chest rose and fell peacefully.

“I want to give him everything.”

It had been so long where he felt this strongly about someone, to the point where his chest ached and his breathe stuck in his throat. When the occasional thought of Clark not being in his life one way or another crossed his mind, it was enough to make him begin to tear up.

It was bad. He lectured himself for it, but he couldn’t help it.

He adored this man.

He just wished he could show it better.

What did most couples even do? What would Clark like? Could he… pull it off?

 In true Batman fashion, the next day Bruce was quietly forming a plan…. Researching… strategizing…

While Clark was gone and when he wasn’t focused on his typical CEO or Batman business, he was reading article after article, research papers, opinion pieces… he felt a little silly reading extensively about “love languages” and “Cute cuddling and positions to try in bed”… actually he felt ridiculous and wound up deleting his search history every 10 minutes after he fully read through something.

“But this is for Clark.”

He knew Clark had a hopeless romantic in him. The one-time Bruce brought him flowers because that’s what he usually did for second dates, Clark had gone pink in the cheeks and admired them gleefully for a solid 15 minutes gushing about how “I’ve never gotten flowers from somebody before! Now I get it! This is so sweet!”

But knowing that made Bruce even more confused as to why the hell Clark had decided he liked him that way in the first place. He had to be the opposite of romantic.

That was going to change. Starting now. He’d throw down every possible romantic gesture he could.

Then maybe… maybe he’d feel like he was giving Clark back enough for everything that he gave him.

He was about to head down to the Batcave, Clark was about to head off to his monitor duty shift.

Bruce felt a knot in his stomach, but he had made his choice… he was committing to this.

“Clark…” He called out before the man could take off.

“Hmm?”

Bruce approached him, tugged him down slightly by tugging on the part where his cape attached to his suit.

“I’ll… I’ll miss you.” He followed this statement up with a friendly peck on the lips. He really wished he hadn’t stammered, but practice made perfect he supposed.

Clark blinked at him a few times and looked at him quizzically before leaning in and returning the kiss.

“I’ll miss you too B, I’ll see you in the watchtower in a bit.”

“I… look forward to it.” Bruce responded, trying to make a move of straightening Clark’s cape despite it being perfect already.

He read about couples making moves to straighten the others clothing in order to encourage closeness. It was a little awkward however when your partner was in a skintight suit.

Clark gave him a funny look before affectionately moving some of Bruce’s hair out of his face just before disappearing in a blur.

Bruce took stock of how the plan had gone so far on his way down to the cave.

He had been more awkward than he intended, however, Clark seemed to return the gestures, so perhaps this would just take more acclimating to and wasn’t a total flop.

It was joining Clark up in the watchtower before a league meeting, he was dreading the most.

Clark had lamented in past when Bruce had banned any shows of intimacy while they were around other league members, and both were in costume. He had never pushed it though… yet Bruce’s rules were strict to the point of many of the core league members not even knowing they were together as a couple.

Clark had respected those rules, and Bruce had appreciated it… and yet…

He was going to break his own rules. He was going to break his own rules for Clark’s sake.

Still… it was terrifying to him about showing something like that in front of his work colleagues. He envied all the couples that had no problem showing the world how they felt about each other. Even if it looked incredibly sappy and sometimes, he wondered if they were showing off…

Clark would like that, wouldn’t he? To be openly loving and affectionate?

Clark already hid so much of himself… and he was making him hide more…

Bruce shook his head as he made his way into the meeting room. He couldn’t go into beating himself up if he wanted even a chance at pulling this off.

“Spooky has arrived!” Hal announced as usual.

Bruce grunted.

Clark turned to him to make his usual distant acknowledgement of Batman’s presence, only to pause and look incredibly confused as he realized Bruce was making a beeline for him.

“You’ve got this Bruce, just like you practiced.”

He wrapped his arms around Clark’s left arm and stood on his tip toes so he could reach Clark’s cheek and leave a small kiss on it.

“Hi~” He greeted in a very un-Batman way.

He was worried for a second as Clark looked at him in pure shock with slightly pink cheeks.

“Br… Bat… wha…” Clark stammered.

Bruce faltered for a second, heartbeat picking up nervously before he made an attempt to smooth it over.

“I told you I’d miss you.” He slowly unwrapped himself from Clark’s arm, running his right hand along it affectionately before briefly gripping his hand as he pulled away. “Can’t a guy say “hi” to his partner?”

He let go and sat down… slightly proud that he had Clark stammering so much.

“I… uh... but you… um …  h…hi…”

Batman smiled at him, ignoring the rest of the core team looking a mix of bewildered, amused, and slightly terrified.

“Well what do you know… spooky’s heart isn’t made of ice after-all!” Hal said with a big grin because of course he had to comment on it.

“Or maybe it was made of ice, but leave it to Superman to thaw it! That’s so… cute.” Barry added.

Bruce nearly grimaced at the cute comment.

“This is for Clark this is for Clark, do it for Clark.” He told himself, forcing himself to try and smile ‘adoringly’ at his partner, but he was slightly concerned due to the way Clark’s eyes were darting all over his face, it might just look… scary.

A long silence blossomed in the meeting room.

“Uh… not to interrupt the love birds, but you know your leading the meeting today, right big blue?” Hal commented cockily breaking the awkwardness.

“OH, yes of course. I was … just thinking.” Clark cleared his throat, clearly trying to move to act full Superman and not think about what just happened.

Bruce relaxed and followed suit, able to slide easily back into the comfort of the distant cool and logic of Batman and make comments and critiques where appropriate.

When the meeting ended, and everyone began filtering out. He noticed Clark waiting around… probably there were some questions coming.

So, Bruce waited too, and stood to meet Clark as soon as the room fully emptied.

“Soo… what was that about?”

He had freaked him out, the mission might be a failure.

Bruce thought about it and chose his words carefully.

“I decided…that my previous rules about not being “out” in costume in front of the league were no longer necessary.” He paused. “I… perhaps shouldn’t have sprung it on you, I apologize.”

Clark scratched the back of his head. “Well I mean… okay yes, I’m surprised, I’m… happy that you want to be out about it, excited even but” He furrowed his brows in concern. “B… is something else going on?”

Bruce tried to will his heart beating in his chest to calm down because he knew Clark could hear it.

“I… just want to be around you more.” He said vaguely.

This didn’t seem to completely get rid of Clark’s worries, but he sighed and let it go.

“Okay. We can be around each other more.” He said with a soft smile.

“Good.” Bruce said, feeling more awkward than ever.

He reached out and grabbed Clark’s hand, trying to be “romantic” but he realized, it once again just looked awkward as they stood there with stiff arms and locked hands.

“Uh…” Clark looked down at their locked hands. “You want to get lunch?”

Bruce took a deep breath and pulled himself in, so he was once again clinging to Clark’s arm.

“Sure.”

“Hmm…” Clark replied as they began walking to the watchtower cafeteria.

Bruce couldn’t help but notice glances their way as they walked. It had to look weird… Batman clinging to Superman. He tightened his grip in nervousness without meaning to.

“Hey… B, you don’t have to hold on to me if you don’t want to.” Clark said in a calming, hushed voice.

He had noticed he was uncomfortable; he was trying to give Bruce a way out.

But no… he couldn’t stop now; he had already committed to this.

“…I want to.”

Clark didn’t seem convinced at all. “...Okay.”

Bruce was quickly losing confidence. What if he couldn’t pull this off at all, what if, if anything he was just turning Clark off him because he was just so hopelessly bad at being a good partner?

He bit his lip, trying desperately to think of a way to salvage the situation. He spotted a nearby utility closet. That was a trope in romance movies, isn’t it?

Quickly scanning to ensure no one was currently looking he pulled Clark’s arm, opening the utility closet and pulling it open and yanking them both inside, ignoring Clark’s confused stammering.

“Bruce! What...??”

He pulled his cowl off immediately pressed his lips to Clark, practically climbing on him, at this point hoping to force his way out of the horrific awkward feelings he was having.

He stopped when he felt Clark’s hands on his waist gently pushing him away. He parted, face now fully betraying him in showing his nervousness and uncertainty.

“Bruce, what is going on with you?” Clark said, now looking fully worried.

Bruce’s heart sank. Of course, him, trying to act affectionate… it was so unnatural, so transparently bad, he’d already screwed it up.

“Are… are you dying??”

“What?? No!”

Clark looked wide eyed.

“Am I dying?”

“No!” Bruce bit back. “Why would you even think that?”

“You’re just… acting so weird, it makes me think like… you’re worried you’re not going to see me again?? Why else would you be forcing yourself like this??”

Bruce went still and slowly hung his head. He was really this bad, that Clark would think that something bad was happening before thinking Bruce just wanted to show Clark how much he appreciated him?

He wanted to be mad, but he was just sad.

“…I know I’m not a good partner…” Bruce began, trying to will the knot out of his stomach.

“Bruce… what are you…?”

“I have trouble expressing myself, every time I try to feel affectionate, I feel like I’m doing it wrong, so I don’t attempt it half the time. I never let myself get close to someone, so I don’t know how to act. You… you deserve so much more than that.” He rambled, looking down at his feet.

“oh B…” Clark uttered bringing a hand up to Bruce’s cheek.

“I…I want to give you so much, be so much more for you. Other couples make it look so easy, but it’s so stupidly hard for me.” He admitted almost in a whisper. “I thought… maybe if I threw myself in the deep end, out of my comfort zone… maybe I could be the kind of partner that you should have.”

“Bruce, I love you all of you, you don’t need to force yourself to be uncomfortable for my sake.”

Bruce sighed. “I knew you would say that you damn boy scout.”

“Because it’s true. Bruce, I don’t mind that you don’t want to always be open about us being in a relationship, I understand. And I know all of this is harder for you, and that’s okay.”

Bruce went stiff under Clark’s hands that now rested on his shoulders.

“‘Okay’ isn’t enough. Clark… I know you love romance; I know that just because you respect and understand my rules around not being out, doesn’t mean I don’t know that you would still want those things.” Bruce half-snapped. “You… you can’t keep just putting up with things when I’m being selfish!”

“You’re not being selfish Bruce, its not selfish to have boundaries!” Clark said gripping his shoulders tighter and bending down so Bruce was forced to look at him. “Sometimes, yes, I wish I could say how much I love you every of every day. Sometimes, I wish I could say ‘leave my bat alone because he’s actually the sweetest, kindest man I know’ and sometimes I get pissed off when people treat you like you don’t have feelings or aren’t human, yeah, sure. But there’s no point in going around with you on my arm or announcing those things if it makes you uncomfortable. I’m not forcing myself or making myself miserable by not doing that because I’d feel absolutely horrendous if I forced you out in front of everyone when you’re not ready or don’t want it.”

It was now Bruce’s turn to stare at Clark in shock. “But…”

“Besides, your already do a lot to show your affection in your own way. Like… when we’re sleeping how you’ll curl up against me, or how sometimes when we’re both working in the bat-cave you’ll quietly put your hand on my back or hold my hand… or when you’ll give me the sweetest smiles in moments when you think I won’t notice, or how you’ll laugh openly around me…”

Was Clark… swooning? Thinking about him??

“The point is Bruce… you already do all that effortlessly, I think it’s sweet that you’re willing to go to such lengths for me, but you really don’t have to, okay? Especially when its uncomfortable for you.”

Bruce looked over Clark’s face for a second before sighing and leaning forward so his forehead was on his boyfriend’s chest.

“You have a way with words that I envy sometimes.”

Clark chuckled and ran his hand through Bruce’s hair. “Thank you.”

“It wasn’t all bad though…” Bruce said with a quiet smile.

“Oh?”

“It was fun being able to make you all flustered in front of the league… and kind of funny seeing some of the reactions.”

Clark’s chest rumbled as he chuckled. “Well I guess those situations give you the upper hand, so of course you’d enjoy it.”

Bruce joined in on Clark’s chuckle. “It’s true. Maybe that’s the secret formula. There was that one time you were being flirted with by someone you saved that you were being polite as always in turning down and I barely held myself back from kissing you right there as a big “fuck you” to them.”

“You know what, that’s happened to me more than once when you’ve been flirted with or are putting on your “Brucie” show.” Clark admitted.

“We’re hopeless.” Bruce admitted.

“We are. But that’s okay.”

Bruce looked back up at Clark. “But really… Clark… it’s not all forcing myself for your sake, I really… I really do want to get better, learn to be more open again. It’s just… hard.”

Clark kissed the tip of Bruce’s nose, causing it to wrinkle slightly out of Bruce’s control.

“Rome wasn’t built in a day Boo. You don’t have to figure it all out right this second or change on a dime. I know how you are, and how you get frustrated when you can’t get a handle on something right away. But if you really want to be more open, we can slowly try things, but you have to promise to tell me when your uncomfortable.”

Bruce grumbled. “Fine. But you can push me a little more you know… I don’t need to be treated like I’ll fall apart if you hug me in front of green lantern or something…” Bruce gruffed stubbornly.

Clark laughed and pulled Bruce into a hug right there. “Okay okay. It’s a deal.”

Bruce paused. “I did already sort of blow a massive hole in the “slow” thing now that the whole league knows…”

“Well… everyone knows Dinah and Oliver are together and they aren’t clinging onto each other all the time.” Clark pointed out.

Bruce knew it wasn’t Clark’s intention, but now he felt like more of a doofus. He groaned.

“I don’t know how to relationship.” He admitted.

“Well… to be honest, neither do I. Sometimes I wonder how me, an alien, managed to deserve someone like you.” Clark said with a slightly sad smile.

How he deserved him?? Bruce almost felt relieved that Clark had some of the same thoughts, but at the same time he didn’t want Clark to ever think he was unworthy.

“…We need to work on you referring to yourself like “alien” as if it’s a bad thing.”

Clark scratched his neck. “Ingrained habit I guess.”

“You work on stopping doing that and we’ll… both work on reminding each other we’re not unworthy or not good enough to be in each other’s lives.”

Clark’s gaze softened. “Okay... I can do that.”

Bruce moved to re-open the closet door before pausing. “Clark…”

“Yeah?”

Bruce took a deep breath. “I love you”

Despite the closet being dark Bruce knew Clark was beaming at him. “I love you too sweet B!”

[frunbuns]

You’ve Been Hurting For a Long Time

Some days, when he sees someone on the street that looks just a little too like Graves, that makes his blood run cold. He’s quick to apparate home then, trembling hands trying desperately to open the front door until he remembers that the door is locked, and he’ll pull out his wand and wordlessly unlock it, slamming the door shut behind him. He stumbles into the flat, breathing so fast he feels light-headed. That he might pass out right then and there.

And the panicked feeling of; “This is it. He’s going to die. He’s going to die. He’s going to—”

Newt rides it out on the floor of his empty London flat, with only Pickett as company who chirps at him with concern, unable to do much to help him.

Read on Ao3

It’s a testament to how lonely he really is that he doesn’t even notice it until he’s alone again. New York had been an adventure he’d not forget any time soon. He’d spent a little under two weeks in the city, and yet it had made a larger impact on him than any place he’d ever been. And he had been all over the world.

As the boat had made its way to London Newt spent his time taking care of the creatures in his case. He’d kept himself busy as the journey had dragged on.

Theseus greets him at the docks. He welcomes him home with a tight hug and a pat on the back. He takes him home and they eat dinner together. He wants Newt to be his best man at his and Leta’s wedding. He tells him he’s proud of him and wishes him good luck on the book. Then he leaves for the night.

And suddenly Newt is alone again.

He gets to work on his book, looking through his countless notebooks full of scribbles and messily written notes. Months and months worth of research. He spends hours upon hours every day. 

When he’s not writing he takes care of his creatures. Feeding them, treating their injuries, and studying them.

At night, when every time he closes his eyes all he sees are the malicious eyes of Percival Graves as Newt writhes pathetically down on the train tracks - every part of his body screaming in pain - he stares up at the white ceiling of his bedroom. Heart pounding in his chest.

It’s when it’s pitch black outside and the silence in his flat is so quiet his ears almost start ringing that he feels it the most. The pressure pushing down at his chest, making it hard to breathe. The ache in his heart. The one that doesn’t ever quite go away, but had lessened in New York - and then gets even worse at nights like these.

The crippling loneliness.

Suddenly his creatures aren’t quite enough. It’s not quite the same, and now that he’s had it, losing it had been so hard.

He falls asleep after what feels like an eternity, and wakes up the next morning with the sun shining in through his curtains, and dry tear-tracks on his face. He doesn’t dwell on it for long. He has a basement full of magical creatures that needs taking care of.

He puts it in a small box and stores it away for later. (But later doesn’t come. It never does.)

Theseus talks to him at the Ministry. Asks him how the book is coming along and makes all kinds of small talk that Newt hates. He invites him to have dinner with him and Leta, but Newt declines. 

Every time.

(When he gets home again, to his quiet, empty flat, he wonders why he did it. He never has a good answer. He can’t even remember why he started saying no in the first place.)

Sometimes, when Theseus is talking to him - about the most casual of things - he’ll zone out. The world around him disappears entirely as he stares blankly forward, a faraway look. Theseus will stop talking, and when he comes to again he hears the snapping of fingers, and he sees Theseus’ concerned face in front of him. 

They never talk about it, but the older Scamander brother gives him worried glances at him from time to time. Like he wants to say something, but isn’t sure how - or even if he should.

Part of him wishes he would. (Just push a little harder. Prod a little more. And maybe then Newt would finally break apart and tell him everything.)

(“Newt,” her voice rings out from the other side of the door.  “Why don’t you come out? You’ve been holed up in your room for days.”

Newt stares at the floor, lips pressed into a thin line. He’s sat against the wall next to the door, knees drawn up to his chest. Around him, his bedroom is an untidy mess, more so than usually. The curtains are drawn, blocking most of the sunlight out.

Leta sighs. “We’re worried about you.”

Newt looks up then, eyeing the door. “We?” he asks, voice hoarse and quiet after so long of not using it.

“Yes, we,” she says. “Theseus is your brother, and I’m your friend. Of course we worry about you.”

Newt lets out a shuddering breath, blinking away the stinging sensation in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but he’s sure if he did his voice would crack.

He hears Leta sigh. “Just… We care about you, Newt. I don't know what happened in New York, but it must have been bad. We just want to be there for you.”)

Some days, when he sees someone on the street that looks just a little too like Graves, that makes his blood run cold. He’s quick to apparate home then, trembling hands trying desperately to open the front door until he remembers that the door is locked, and he’ll pull out his wand and wordlessly unlock it, slamming the door shut behind him. He stumbles into the flat, breathing so fast he feels light-headed. That he might pass out right then and there.

And the panicked feeling of; “This is it. He’s going to die. He’s going to die. He’s going to—”

Newt rides it out on the floor of his empty London flat, with only Pickett as company who chirps at him with concern, unable to do much to help him.

(Logically, he knows that Grindelwald is locked away at MACUSA. That there’s no way he could be in London of all places. Especially not disguised as Graves again. That would be foolish of him.)

Newt can only describe it as if he's swimming in deep, freezing water, barely able to keep his head above the surface. He gasps for air that never quite reaches his lungs, unable to call for help. And just when he thinks he might have found his footing, a new wave rolls over him, pulling him back under. 

At times he's worried his body might give out to the exhaustion, and he'll succumb to the dark depths of the sea where no one can help him. (Or maybe he’s already there and he just can’t tell.)

—

It gets better after he receives the first letter from Tina. It says so little, but so much at the same time. He’s quick to write her back. It makes the feeling of loneliness - the loneliness that’s taken such hold of him that it never quite leaves - lessen slightly. 

It’s like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. He smiles for what feels like the first time in forever. It feels good. He’s not quite so alone anymore. Tina is his friend. (The water doesn’t feel quite so bottomless now.)

He wants to go back to New York, but it's rather difficult when he's got an International Travel Ban hanging over his head. He tries to appeal it multiple times, but he's never successful, even with Theseus' help and influence.

— 

He sees Tina’s picture in the paper. Pride swells in his chest, warming his entire being. His heart flutters in his chest when he looks at it. MACUSA is lucky to have her with them.

He’s disappointed to see that the picture doesn’t give the full effect as seeing her in person does. He cuts it out anyway, and keeps it in his case where he can see it. (He’ll see her again in person, he tells himself.)

Theseus does his best to talk to him. (He’s insistent on dinner, even though he knows Newt won’t accept. It’s almost as if he’s on autopilot.) It almost feels like he’s walking on glass around Newt at times, but it still doesn’t mean they get along all the time. They argue. Usually about Aurors. It never gets too heated - Theseus always seems to know when to stop - but it can sour his mood for the rest of the day. (Newt actively avoids him the next day.)

He finishes the book, and he sends it to his publisher. It’s not too long until it’s out. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Theseus and Leta come with him to the book signing at Flourish and Blotts. Leta doesn't seem to be angry with him for not coming to dinner, but Newt has never been good at reading people. Still, it’s a bit of a relief that they’re there. (Theseus has always been a people pleaser, and he basks in the attention as Newt practically cowers behind the desk.)

He meets Bunty, an enthusiastic woman who shares a love for beasts only rivaled with his own. He decides he quite likes her, and she’s more than willing to become his assistant and help him take care of the creatures he has. With the book money Newt finds he can afford it, and decides to hire her.

The rest of the day goes by in a jiffy, and before he knows it he’s back in his quiet, empty flat. But it’s not as bad as before. (It’s as if the water is getting shallower.)

He waits for Tina’s next letter. He’s ecstatic to hear from her again. Even if he can’t keep his promise and deliver the book to her in person. Still, he keeps a copy for her hidden away for when he eventually can.

Tina’s letter never comes.

The weeks drag on, but not as much as an owl pecks at his window.

(She must have finally had enough of him, he thinks. He must have annoyed her too much. Written something he shouldn’t have. Said something wrong, like he always seem to do.)

(Maybe Newt Scamander just wasn’t meant to have friends after all…)

Still, he holds out hope for her. That it isn’t like that. That it’s not his fault. Something else just got in the way. But the emptiness in his heart, that had ever so slowly started to heal again, grows. (The water around him rises.)

Life goes on. He still can’t get his travel ban appealed. Bunty is nice company when she comes, but it’s just as lonely in his flat when she leaves again. It’s better than it was though, and it eventually fades a little into the background. Never quite forgotten, but never fully present either. 

It gets easier to breathe, he finds. The rainy days of England don't seem as bleak and dreary anymore. It gets better. (It’s not quite as empty anymore.)

Paris happens. Leta dies, and Queenie joins Grindelwald. And all the things he thought he had left behind in New York comes rushing back. Just when he thought he might be healing.

It feels like he’s drowning all over again. The waves crash into him with more force than ever and Newt can’t breathe. It feels like there are ankors tied to him, or that he’s suddenly forgotten how to swim.

It’s easy to shit himself in. Isolate from the rest of the world. From everything and everyone. He doesn’t leave his flat. He skips meals. Some days he sleeps the day away and others he doesn’t sleep at all. He stays away when Bunty comes. He never quite knows when the next time he’s going to burst into tears or have a panic attack might be - and he doesn’t want Bunty’s concern - so he doesn’t take any chances.

(It should have been him.)

Newt is not used to being angry so when he first notices it, he’s scared. He finds that he’s angry at Grindelwald. At the Ministry. At Queenie. At everyone, even himself. 

He’s not himself anymore, and he’s not sure if he ever will be again. (He will, but it will take time.)

At night he dreams of Grindelwald and Graves. He tosses and turns until he wakes with a yell on his lips. The nightmares are bad. Sometimes it’s just Grindelwald, other times they involve his Tina, and Jacob, and Queenie, and Theseus. Other nights the nightmares don’t even have anything to do with Paris or New York.

But some nights the dreams are pleasant. About him and Leta. Sometimes at Hogwarts. Sometimes not. He misses her.

(“You should come out,” she says, then after a pause, “I know you’re listening, Newt. You should talk to him.”

Newt closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall.

“I know you’re hurting… but so is he. He needs you just as much as you need him right now. You don’t have to go through this alone, Newt.”

He looks at the door separating them. 

“You’re the most important people in my life, and I hate to see you suffering like this. Just—” She pauses for a second. “Just let us in, Newt. Please.”

A beat. 

“I love you, you know.”

Newt stands up. He takes a shaky breath and goes to the door. He swallows thickly, hand hovering over the door handle. Leta remains silent, as if she’s expectantly waiting for him.

He opens the door.

And then he wakes up.)

Time goes on.

—

The cold winter air dances around him. Newt buries himself further into the coat. His shoulders are stiff as he walks the streets. Pickett chirps softly from his breast pocket.

He stops in front of Theseus’ door. He finds himself hesitating. This is the first time he’s been outside - properly outside - in weeks. It had all been on a whim. He hadn’t planned on going out today, and now he finds that he regrets it. 

He had gotten a quick look in the mirror as he threw on his coat and scarf. He’s a mess. Messy hair, dark circles under his eyes, ghostly pale skin, and sunken cheeks. He had barely recognised himself where he stood. Surely Theseus can wait another day. He can come back sometime else, when he’s not so disheveled.

Pickett chirps at him and Newt shakes his head.

‘Worrying means you suffer twice,’ he tells himself. A motto he hasn’t lived by in a while now. Something he hasn’t thought about in ages.

With a shaking hand he moves to ring the buzzer.

The door opens.

Newt gasps, breath hitching in the back of his throat as he jumps back in surprise.

“Newt—?” Theseus looks equally surprised to see him there, looking him down with wide eyes.

The older Scamander doesn’t look much better than Newt. He’s pale too, his normally pale freckles a stark contrast to his light skin. His hair is disheveled, like his, and he’s not wearing a suit like he usually does. It takes Newt by surprise.

They stare at each other in silence.

Then theseus clears his throat, looking him directly in the eyes. Newt wants to look away, but finds himself unable to. “Newt, what are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in weeks—”

Newt opens his mouth to answer, but he chokes over the sound, a wet sob passes through his lips. He blinks away tears. “I— I’m—”

Theseus sighs sadly. “Oh Newt,” he says softly before he pulls Newt into his arms. He rubs his back soothingly as the younger Scamander sobs into his shoulder, gasping for breath between each one as his body shakes as they rack his body. “I know, I know.”

“I’m— I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I—”

“It’s alright, Newt,” Theseus murmurs to him. “You’ve been hurting for a long time.”

They stand there for a while, taking comfort in each other’s presence, until Newt’s sobs subside to shuddering breaths and sniffles.

“I miss her.”

Theseus swallows thickly. “Me too,” he replies, voice thick with emotion and eyes filled with unshed tears. “Me too.”

The ocean splashes at his feat, but it’s alright. Newt knows how to swim now.

[peachyteabuck]

trouble looks for me [thorkyrie x reader]

summary: valkyrie has no choice but to break a promise, so you have no choice but to misbehave. thor, well, he’s just along for the ride.

pairing: thor odinson x valkyrie x reader

words: 6,666

trigger warnings: sub!thor, brat taming, spanking, degradation, orgasm denial, creampies, strap ons

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

It starts at the restaurant. Valkyrie had been working non-stop to fit in everything she had needed before the end of the fiscal year, leaving you and Thor with her for weeks on end.

In combination with Valkyrie’s strict rules, this also meant you and Thor had touched each other, let alone made each other cum since…Oh god, you can’t even remember…

You’d both gotten a text from her that day, telling you to get ready for a fancy dinner and that she would pick you up at precisely seven.

That left you with five hours to get ready which, to some may have been a lot, but for you…

As with most men, Thor doesn’t take long to get ready – even if it took him a solid forty-five minutes to choose the correct pair of panties (he settles on a baby pink pair with a small, white bow. By the time he was tucking his pristine white shirt into them, you were just finishing up your eyebrows and foundation – let alone had you picked your outfit.

You had narrowed it down to three dresses – a deep blue, thigh-length long-sleeved one with a deep V-neck and makes your legs look superb, a little black dress with tiny straps that leave nothing to the imagination, or a baby pink, floor-length gown with a fitted top that shows off your shoulders and tits and whose skirt flows behind you just as waves recede from a beach at dusk.

(It doesn’t take you long to choose that last one, to say the least. Plus, it matches Thor’s panties. How couldn’t you choose that dress! How!?)

You gingerly place it on the bed as you go back to your bright vanity, placing your numerous eyeshadow pallets and lipstick choices in front of you so you have an accurate view of your make up-related choices for the night. You’ve done looks like this before, played the cute, coy girl many times. Still, you like to make sure everything is perfect – the eyeliner and the eye shadow and your brows and your lips and your highlighter. It all has to be perfectly placed on your face to ensure maximum balance between “totally gorgeous” and “totally fuckable.”

It was ten minutes to the approximate time Val had said she’d pick you up when you’re notified of what could possibly be the worst news ever.

Hey loves, so sorry but a colleague needs some more convincing on a budget proposal. He’ll be joining us tonight for dinner.

You groan loudly, but immediately cease when you receive another text.

That means you both need to be on your best behavior.

You smirk as you go back to adjusting the bracelet Val had gotten you during your vacation to Boca last year. No matter what, no matter who joined you and your lovers, tonight was going to be fun, and whether or not this a blew back in your face was not a problem.

Well, at least not your problem, and at least not now.

You finish getting ready with the fire of vengeance deep in your stomach, jaw set and eyes narrowed as you get the text from Valkyrie saying she was outside waiting with your dishonorable guest (your words, not hers).

You greeted the older man with a curt nod bordering on polite. Luckily, he pays more attention to Thor, moving to shake his hand despite the award angle.

If it were any other context you’d spit in his face, make a passive aggressive comment, something more than all but ignore him as you cross your arms and slump against the fancy leather seating with a small huff. Either Valkyrie pretends not to notice, or she’s too busy allowing Thor to work his patented charms to watch your every move.

Either way, it makes your sour mood that much worse.

The car ride is long, meant originally so that Val could tease you and Thor while she drove (and because all of the closer restaurants may or may not have you banned for life, but that feels like an unimportant detail as you huff and pout in the back of the car). The ride, one you fully expected to be electrifying and fun and full of very unsubtle teasing, is mind-numbingly boring. Valkyrie and the Mystery Man are talking about numbers and other things you don’t care about, the former obviously trying to keep her cool as a man who thinks he knows more than her attempts to explain something she has a master’s degree in. You’re sure that if she could channel you during a particularly bad day to scream and claw at him she would, but no. She’s a professional woman at the top of her field attempting to expertly yield power. For Valkyrie, there is no lashing out; there is no way to regain control once she loses it.

Part of you respects her immensely for this: you acutely know what it’s like to be belittled and demeaned by people who should know better. She’s a bisexual woman of color in a predominately white, male field. Her job is hard, dealing with the men she works with harder. You and Thor listen diligently to her post-work day rants and desire for revenge, help her destress in any number of ways. This part of you wants to snap his neck so he never bothers her again, taking your rightful place as the devil forever keeping watch over her shoulder.

The other part of you wants to snap his neck so that he would leave you and your lovers the fuck alone. Is it too much to ask that you have a nice dinner with Valkyrie and Thor – a dinner where the only thing that could mess with the night’s activities is you!?

As you listen to the man explain what a “tight job market” is again, you wish you could bang your head against the tinted, bulletproof glass so hard you would pass out.

Yes. You think. Yes, it is much too much to ask.

It’s not even thirty seconds later when you get the most magnificent idea. Thor’s not paying attention to you, either, watching the world pass by outside as he thinks about…whatever it is runs through his mind when he’s trying to block out people’s voices.

You wait for the conversation to become loud and thick with tension to strike – knowing neither of the people in the front seat will be paying much attention to whatever it is will happen between you and him. When the time is right, you run your hand over his clothed cock, skin alive with electricity as you feel it twitch.

“You shouldn’t tease me like that,” he hisses low in your ear. “It’ll get you in trouble.”

You just smiled, painted lips twisting into a faux pout and big eyes widening purposefully. “You promise?”

You continue to tease him, sneaking your hand into his pants just to hear his breath hitch. You lean once more, just as your fingers brush over his lace-covered cock.

“I’m getting wet just thinking about you,” you whisper. “Thinking about you coming in your pants before this fancy dinner.”

“If you do that, I’ll cum,” Thor growls lowly, desperate to keep it from Val’s ears.

You smile just as before, leaning close so your perfectly painted lips touch the shell of his ear. “Is that a dare?”

He narrows his eyes at you, trying to remain subtle as Val and the unexpected guest talk about break evens, or something equally boring.

“Seriously, you could get in trouble if you keep doing that!” he whispers, voice pointed.

You just look at him, eyes ablaze with mischief. “Oh, so it’s a challenge.”

Thor just glares at you before turning to look back outside, biting his lip and trying to find a distraction as your hands go down his pants. “Does it make you hard,” you whisper back. “knowing I could do anything I want to you right now? Does is make you hard knowing there’s nothing you can do to stop me?”

Thor’s jaw tenses, but he says nothing back.

“C’mon,” you tease. “Don’t you want to have a little fun with me?”

He shakes his head but says nothing. You huff, baring your teeth a little while you stare daggers into him.

Thor only speaks when Valkyrie’s tone becomes pointed once more, easily covering his own voice. “S-she’ll catch us!” he hisses.

You roll your eyes, fully aware there’s no way either of the people he’s talking about how any interest in either of you. They’re both stubborn, bullheaded, determined to win whatever standoff is happening between the two of them. To consider that they would just turn around to check on you or Thor is ridiculous, to say the least.

There’s no reason they’d look back and see you with one hand down Thor’s pants, the other spread across his thigh; there’s no chance they’d see his eyes screwed shut and his lips barely parted or your wicked grin.

Still, you fun is cut short when the restaurant pulls into view, making you wretch yourself away from Thor while he tucked himself back into his pants and tried to calm the deep blush that had spread across his face. It’s useless, though, because as Valkyrie hands the keys to the valet neither she nor the unwanted guest take a single look at you.  

You roll your eyes as you’re seated at a rounded table in a far corner of the restaurant, you and Thor on one side with Valkyrie and her colleague on the other.

It’s annoying, so annoying. Watching her pay attention to that man, that fucking colleague instead of you. She promised – she promised! – that all of it would be over, that her deadline and goals were going to be met and done and finished and she’d put away her work life for one night to pay attention to you!

(And Thor. But whatever.)

She and the…male…are talking in that tone you recognize from those mind-numbing political dramas Val loves so much. It’s nice, courteous, but fake enough to be sold on Canal Street and threatening enough that it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up straight.

Needless to say, you don’t like it very much, don’t like it very much at all. You have this indescribable urge to use your perfectly done, almond shaped matte nails to claw into his face – marking him for all to see how easily he was taken down by little ole you.

A similar itty bitty voice wants to fake a medical emergency and order an UberX and to get as far away from him as possible and then fake a slightly more extreme medical emergency every other time you are forced to be around him. There’s just something…slimey about him that you can’t place, like cooked chicken that’s gone bad. It makes you wrinkle your nose each time you have the misfortune of catching him in your eyeline. Thor notices, his face softening as he takes a drink from his glass of ice water.

“You see it, too?” he asks, ducking his head low so to remain unheard by the slimeball in question.

You wrinkle your nose, angling your neck back to whisper in his ear. “I can feel it.”

Thor lets out a small snort before turning back to his first course. You don’t know what he ordered, and don’t care to pick at what Val ordered for you. It becomes obvious halfway through Val’s salad that neither of them – neither of the high powered people in front of you – are paying you any mind. The coworker asks Thor what he does for a living and he’s given the usual lie, that Thor’s a grad student. He doesn’t ask you anything, only giving you a once over before licking his lips and taking a long drink of his expensive red wine.

If you ever wanted to kill someone, right then was the peak of those urges.

It doesn’t take long for you to become a tad more comfortable, a tad of tenseness falling from your shoulders. Almost worse than being uncomfortable, you had become bored. And that, simply, will not do.

The easiest target, Thor, remains unphased by your change in demeanor – either not noticing or choosing not to react. It doesn’t matter his reasoning, you know he’s simple, uncomplicated prey. If the years you’ve known him hadn’t proved that, the incident in the car certainly did.

The next hour or so passes in a blur, the man leaving just before dessert; citing some work emergency or needing to get back to his wife and kids or something else you don’t care to pay attention to (though you do notice he doesn’t offer to pay his portion of the check. Even Valkyrie seems annoyed about that). He’s waved away with a curt goodbye, tense words of rehearsed professionalism exchanged as he waits for his UberX to arrive. It’s uncomfortable to say the least, and you silently rejoice when he finally exits the building.

The second he’s out of sight, though, you’re grabbed by the back of your neck and dragged so your nose touches Val’s.

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” she hisses, teeth bared and jaw tense.

You’re stunned by the action, but not enough to not give her a small, wicked smile along with a small, “no.”

Just as Valkyrie’s about to retaliate, the waiter comes around the corner to deliver the dessert menu. She lets go of you immediately, pretending (just as the scrawny waiter is) that no one witnessed the interaction as the waiter begins to rattle off the night’s specials. The three of you choose something different with the same fake smile plastered over your face, one that drops the second he returns to…wherever it is waiters and waitresses go once they’re done talking to customers.

Val turns to you once more, grabbing your knee through the fabric of your dress – a warning. “Just you fucking wait until we get home. If you keep being a brat, you’ll regret it.”

You don’t respond, instead taking a sip of your ice water in a cup that’s one step down from a wine glass. You’re exactly where you want to be, why would you apologize, try to walk back your actions or plead for forgiveness? Now that Valkyrie was giving you the attention you were playing for, there was nothing you felt the need to explain.

The rest of the meal is nice, easy – you all ordered different desserts and pass spoonfuls of each dish between the three of you. It’s nice and sweet, a direct contrast to the sharpness Val had demonstrated just minute before. All three of you continue in your happy little bubble all the way home, cute and smiling and confusing the old heterosexual couples in the restaurant as you sit and leave together.

It all melts away, though, when you get inside the house.

The second you cross the threshold; Val grabs you by the arm and pulls you close to her. You yelp, more in surprise than pain – either way, she ignores you.

“Get your ass in the bedroom and stand at your place, facing the corner, while I wait for you,” she hisses, teeth barred. You whimper when she pushes you away, stumbling up the steps as you scutter off. You fear if you stay or so much as mumble a dissent, she’ll issue a much harsher punishment than the one she’s already planning. Given the anger in her face, you shudder at the thought.

Thor remains just inside the door, hands at his side and awaiting instruction.

Val only turns to him when you were out of sight. He stands there, cock hardening once more in his dress pants while her eyes bear into his.

One of her hands goes to cup his cheek, thumbing over his light stubble. “How are you so well-behaved and she’s like that?”

Thor just gives a small shrug before following the woman he loves up the stairs, trailing behind her as she navigates the prime wood floors despite her high heels and sour mood.

When she arrives in the room she exhales slowly through her nose, not necessarily happy to find you in the place she specified – but at least she hasn’t been disappointed once more tonight.

“Turn around,” she instructs you. You huff and cross your arms over your chest but do as you’re told. “Now, watch what could happen to you if you chose to behave.”

Valkyrie goes to unlock the special drawer at the top of her custom dresser, the solid gold key held on an anklet she wears all day every day. From it she takes Thor’s special collar – the deep blue one with solid white trimmings and PROPERTY OF BRUNNHILDE engraved into a small placard that rests in the center.

Thor accepts the mark of ownership[ with ease and it makes you want to roll your eyes. He’s always one to give in easy, who lives to be dominated. At the first sign of Valkyrie’s dominance, he opens his mouth eagerly for a gag, wiggles his ass for spankings, tilts his neck back to be choked. It’s pathetic, and Val loves it.

“Aw, I’ve barely touched you,” she smiles. “Why are you already opening your mouth, you needy thing.”

Thor just whines high in his throat, pleading up at her as he keeps his position on the floor. He wasn’t asked a question so he can’t respond, can’t speak – all he can do is sit there and hope she takes pity on him and gives him whatever it is he wants, needs.

For now, though, she’s got something more pressing to deal with. She sighs before turning to you in the corner, your nose pressed where the two white walls meet with arms at your side. Below your feet is a light pink mat demarking where you are supposed to be, where Val makes sure you stay when you’re waiting to be punished. If you had done something less bad you might have been able to face outward, but no. Not only had you behaved incredibly poorly, you had dragged Thor into your pitiful little game.

Thor – Val’s golden boy. He’s the apple of her eye, the sun after a storm. Thor’s always good, always perfect; always follows rules and does the right thing and never, ever talks back. He’s always her first pick as a plus-one for parties because he’s so wonderful and charming and can make any man or woman or pet fall head over heels for him. He’s like a fucking golden retriever and you hate him for it.

The worst part about that special, untouched crystal tchotchke of a man is that you’re never allowed touch him, to smudge him with the oil that pools on the pads of your fingers. Each time you see him – all shiny and new like a Tiffany bracelet just out of the packaging – you feel like a child dragged to a fancy art museum, forced to keep her hands in her pockets as adults gaze at timeless works of art.

It infuriates you, and she knows that.

Valkyrie pushes you down to the ground, teeth barred. “Get on your knees and keep your hands behind you, you stupid slut.”

You do as you’re told, bratty façade breaking away.

“Aw, look,” Valkyrie coos to Thor, sarcasm dripping from each word. “Our dumb little whore can follow directions! Isn’t that surprising?”

Thor, always one to follow directions, says nothing in return.

Valkyrie hmms happily at his obedience before turning back to you.

“Are you nervous, baby girl?” she asks. You nod slightly. “You should be. You’ve been a very bad little slut.”

Silently, one hand moves to cradle one side of your jaw, while the other pulls back just to land on your cheek in a sharp SLAP!

You cry out at the sharp pain but still squeeze your thighs together to quell the deep heat in your center.

Valkyrie laughs, lips forming into a sneer. “Just a little pain is getting that little pussy wet, isn’t it?”

Your mouth goes off faster than your brain can process. “I’m still turned on from fucking with your baby boy in the restaurant bathroom.”

SMACK!

Valkyrie slaps the other cheek, speaking over your cries of pain. “If I hit harder, will you be a good girl?”

You cower, too terrified to respond.

“Hm…” Valkyrie hums, unimpressed. “Do you like being punished?” she asks, looking down at you with har arms crossed.

You shake your head.

Val just smirks. “So if I checked right now, you wouldn’t be wet?”

You gulp and cast your eyes downward. Still, she continues.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” she spits. “Do you even know why?”

She doesn’t wait for a nonresponse before continuing.

“It’s because deep down you’re just waiting for someone to put you in your fucking place.”

You gulp, but don’t deny it.

“Stand up,” Val hisses, watching as you struggle to get to your feet. As soon as you’re back on your feet she strips you, taking off your dress and then your shoes, leaving you in your lingerie.

Doesn’t even take the time to notice you matching Thor…she really is pissed.

“Spoiled little slut,” Valkyrie hisses. “You just need someone with a firm hand to teach you a fuckin’ lesson, don’t you?”

You swallow, petrified. “I’m sorry.”

Val raises a single eyebrow, but keeps her arms folded. A small victory. “You’re sorry?”

You nod. “Yes.”

She narrows her eyes. “Sorry what?”

“Sorry-“you hesitate, terrified of saying the wrong thing.

“Daddy,” Valkyrie instructs.

“Sorry, Daddy,” you mumble.

She narrows her eyes once more and you scramble to correct your mistake.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you say, straightening your back to enable you to look her dead in the eyes. “I’m sorry for being bad, Daddy.”

Valkyrie just hmms, tapping her foot against the hardwood  floor. “You know that alone isn’t going to convince me to forgive you, right?”

You cower away from her, shaking your head. “No, Daddy.”

“Well,” she sighs, looking to Thor – who just gives her a light shrug, just as before. Like most men, he never knows what to do with you. “I’ll just have to take you over my knee, won’t I?”

You gulp. Over the knee always lead to something more – something worse. You’re terrified to find out what that might be.

Val sits herself on the bed, gesturing for you to lay yourself across her thighs. You give her a sneer but do as you’re told, laying your naked body across her legs as you wait for your punishment to officially commence.

She runs her perfectly manicured nails over the supple skin of your ass and back, watching as goosebumps form and a shiver runs up your spine. One hand rests on the back of your neck, holding you in place, while the other ghosts over your center.

When you whine, harsh slaps are laid against your ass, at least ten in quick succession. She ignores your cries as she yanks your head back by your hair as she sneers.

“You brats just love trying to get under my skin, but the moment I tease you, suddenly I’m the bad guy?” Valkyrie laughs while staring down at you. “Don’t act like you’re not getting exactly what you wanted, baby.”

For the first time that night, you bite your tongue and stay quiet.

“So now she wants to listen,” Val smirks. “Now the little brat wants to shut her filthy whore mouth and open her little ears.”

You whimper, curling into her as she continues to spank you until your ass is burning. Tears are threatening to fall from the corners of your eyes when she stops, pushing you off of her and back onto the floor.

“Enough punishment for you,” Val says, turning back to Thor. “I’m gonna focus my attention on someone who actually deserves it.”

The man in question remains in position across the room – him leaning on his heels with hands palm-down on his deliciously thick, bare thighs.

Fuck, what you wouldn’t do to ride him.

Valkyrie cups his scruffy cheeks with one hand, the other moving to run through his perfectly tussled hair.

“You wanna be my good little whore?” she asks, gazing down at his wide eyes.

Thor licks his lips, nearly jumping out of his skin with his red cock bouncing against his stomach. “Yes, Daddy. I want to be your good little whore.”

“And you’re going to be a good boy and do as you’re told. Aren’t you?” she asks, smiling as she watches him fight back a moan.

“Yes, Daddy.”

Valkyrie smiles, cooing. “See? It’s not that hard to be good, is it?” She lets out a faux sigh, tutting. “I don’t understand why some sluts just can’t get it into their dumb little brains that it’s better to behave.”

Neither of you say anything, the silence heavy; you have nothing to say, no retort at the tip of your tongue. Your whole being is zero-d in on Val as she instructs Thor to shed her of her black, lace panties – but not before making him leave a kiss there.

“You’re going to eat me out,” she says, backing up against the wall. “But remember, you’re not allowed to touch me unless I tell you. And good little whores do as they’re told, isn’t that right?”

You can see Thor swallow around his heavy tongue, eyes blown with lust. “Yes, Daddy. Good little whores follow instructions.”

Valkyrie just smiles. “Good boy. You may begin.”

Thor dives between her thighs without hesitation, Valkyrie moaning unabashedly as he licks at her clit, drinking her juices like nectar from a forbidden fruit.

“Is it turning you on?” Valkyrie laughs as you whine from your place across the room. “Watching my boy eat me out against a wall?”

You gulp and nod best you can, desperate to please.

“Good girls don’t like this kind of stuff,” she says, lips curled into a fake smile. “But you’re not a good girl, are you?”

You’re nearly shaking as she moans, pressing her center further against his face.

As soon as he’s given permission Thor throws one of her legs over his shoulder as he spreads her folds with one hand and grips her hip with the other.

“Aren’t you a good little slut,” Val murmurs, pushing Thor’s hair from his face.

He moans, eyes screwed shut. His hand leaves her hip to push one, two fingers into her. “Yes, Daddy, I’m your slut.”

Val’s own screams are broken, loud – he’s excellent with his hands and finds that spot inside of her easily, coaxing her to her peak with ease. As she comes down from her high, panting, Thor looks up from her legs, silently begging for praise with glazed-over eyes.

She grants it to him when she catches her breath, rewarding him with sweet low words that melt like butter on Thor’s golden skin.

“Such a pretty boy for me, aren’t you?” she coos. “So well-behaved for your Daddy, so good at following instructions and making Daddy feel good.”

You growl silently from your place on the floor as praises fall easily from her lips, wishing you could get that same treatment. You know you don’t deserve it, especially after the stunt (or stunts) you pulled tonight. Still, you wish you were the one on your knees, being coddled by Valkyrie as you gave her as much pleasure as she could ever want.

Val clears her throat one last time before speaking again, legs still a little shaky. “Now, I’m going to tie you up so you can sit there, dripping, while I give my good boy whatever he wants,” she tells you, getting out the rope.

You whimper as Thor moans loudly, holding your wrists out obediently as she walks over to you.

There are times you want to push and push – but the threat of being tied up and discarded into a corner while Thor gets all the glory while you’re denied or punished (or both) further whips you right into shape. Somehow you had missed stopping at the edge, had jumped off the cliff with no parachute. So you accept your fate, wait as Val bends down to tie your wrists.

“It’s a little too tight,” you whine, flexing your hands.

“I know,” she tells you plainly. “I don’t want you running off like last time.”

By “last time” she meant one of the first times she had ever tried rope play (not only with you, but in her life). As many inexperienced riggers have undergone, she looked up mid-orgasm to find that you had wriggled your way out of your bounds and were able to get yourself off. She was mad at you, of course – wouldn’t let you live it down despite how long it had been since that night.

She was mad at herself, too, though. Valkyrie is not a woman who enjoys feeling as if she has failed, especially when it comes to you and Thor. The sight of you writhing freely on the plush carpet in pleasure instead of tightly wound while a vibrator was placed just out of reach was something Val had thought about for weeks before she had found a night with enough time for the precise execution she felt necessary.

All three of you were sitting on the floor of the bedroom. She had Thor hold you as she followed the instructions she had memorized, eyes trained on the rope as she weaved intricate, functional patterns over your skin while she tied a vibrator in place. You struggled the whole time, but Valkyrie didn’t mind. She liked it quite a lot, actually – always revels in how your will to fight never ceases but your ability slowly surrenders to whatever bonds or complex mental game she had set for you.

She was fucking Thor with the new dildo she’d bought for his birthday when she heard something she knew she shouldn’t: you, moaning. Not whimpering, not whining, but moaning. Without regard to how Thor felt about the matter she pulled out so she could see why you were making noises associated with unfettered pleasure instead of merciless teasing.

She found you, fucking yourself against the vibrator with eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Valkyrie shudders at the thought, at failing once more. For her, falling short has never been an option – in academics, in her professional life, and, now, with you.

So she checks the ropes, then rechecks them, before leaving you on the floor alone once more, allowing her to return to her other, more obedient lover with the security of knowing your arms and legs are bound.

Thor watches the woman’s every move, still on the floor but holding infinitely more freedom than you do. His eyes are glued to her form, watching her like trapped prey watches a predator as it awaits its impending death.

Then again, is Thor prey? Is he the one tied up, awaiting judgement day? Or is he the sweet little pet of some apex predator who sees the ocean floor she prowls as a playground.

“What do you want, baby boy?” Valkyie asks, trailing her perfectly painted almond-shaped nails against his chiseled chest.

Thor gulps before answering. “I, I want you to ride me, Daddy.”

Without further discussion, Val grabs him by the collar and pushes him onto the bed, practically devouring him as her lips meet his. When she pulls away Thor chases her – and is met with Valkyrie’s firm hand pressing him back onto the sheets he had changed that morning.

You can see his eyes – the helpless, dazed that washes over his face as he realizes his pinned to the sheets.

“You want me to ride you, baby boy?” she purrs, teasing him.

Thor nods and stutters out a small “please,” pulling his head back to expose his neck.

Valkyrie just chuckles, moving to bite bruises into the tender skin there, still avoiding the place he wants her the most.

The man under her moans lewdly, fingers digging into the sheets with knuckles going white.

Valkyrie lets out a small laugh when she moves away – finally able to take in the most beautiful sight she’s ever seen. This is that art piece in that museum you were bemoaning earlier, the thing she made sure you’d never damage.

When she aligns his aching cock with her center you nearly explode, desperately wishing you could be riding Thor’s face or groping Val’s tits or something that isn’t you being unable to touch either of them.

The ache between your legs only worsens as you watch Val grind her hips, as you watch Thor’s large hands grab everywhere he can.

“You want to come inside me?” she asks, breathless as she fucks herself onto your shared lover’s cock. “You want to eat your cum from inside my pretty pussy?”

Thor groans, eyes screwed shut. “P-please, please I want to-“

“Shh,” she coos, “It’s okay, baby boy. It’s okay, just do what you wish. This is your reward.”

Thor nods, whispering a slurred “thank you” before fucking into her harder, using everything he can find inside himself to chase the ultimate pleasure.

“C’mon baby,” Val coos. She’s close, you can tell by her strained voice and God all you want is to be up there, kissing her or rubbing her clit or doing anything to help her feel pleasure.

But no – you just have to watch as her stomach contracts and Thor whines at the feeling of her orgasming pussy on his close cock, babbling as he comes with a deep groan; his whole body tensing as his eyes screw shut and mouth hangs open. Even from your shitty angle on the floor you can tell how beautiful he looks, how beautiful they both look as they come together. You’re both jealous and remarkably happy – wishing you could be up there with them but thankful you’re so much as allowed to watch the other two people in your relationship.

It doesn’t take long for them both to dissolve into an overstimulated puddle, each of them trying to catch their breaths as you await the next stage of your seemingly-never ending punishment. It comes after what feels like forever, when Val nudges him to move over.

Thor lets out a frustrated groan but rolls over, leaving room for what the woman on top of him plans to do next.

Valkyrie moves to grab a toy and its matching harness from its special drawer in the walk-in closet, where each dildo is arranged in ascending order by size and girth with the harnesses. It was one of the chores Thor was made to do the morning after along with changing the sheets and restocking the water/snack minifridge that remained in arms reach of the bed. Valkyrie prefers a tidy home, one where she knows where everything is because everything is in its place.

Being the hurricane of a woman that you are, though, these moments of bliss are minuscule and fleeting – days full of shopping for clothes and trying dessert recipes you’d found online and annoying Thor by moving things just out of place.

It’s one of those little things you do that drives Val insane, one of the things that drives her to fuck you as hard as she currently wants to.

When she’s got the toy snug against her skin she stalks over to your place on the bed. You’re forced onto your back, knees forced to your chest to allow the woman on top of you easy access to your dripping center.

“Aw,” Val laughs. “You get so wet for me, don’t you?”

You nod, trying to give her your best innocent doe eyes. “Y-yes Daddy.”

Her smile reaches her temples as she enters you at an achingly slow pace, keeping you bent in half as she watches your face like an eagle watches a muskrat, as she watches your eyes roll to back of your head and you whine for more. “I know exactly what you want, princess. Know exactly what you need-“

She grunts as she begins to fuck into you harder, reveling in the sounds of your dripping pussy each time the toy bottoms out. It’s loud and pornographic, mirroring the depth of your moans.

“I-I-“ you stutter. “D-Daddy p-please!”

Val just smirks, reaching one hand out so she can snap to grab Thor’s attention. With no words exchanged between the two of them, he grabs the large cordless vibrator and switches it to the highest setting before handing it off.

Even if they were speaking, the screams that erupted from you as the toy was pressed to the most sensitive part of you would drown them out. Your loud babbling and the tears flowing from your face only push Val to fuck you harder, not letting up even as you squirt once, twice onto the covers – soaking the bed and your thighs and Val’s toy and her thighs and probably the mattress. She only pulls out when you beg in the broken voice she loves so much, when you finally give into her demands and apologize.

“I-I-“ you whimper, some last part of you holding out. Val knows this, knows she just as to wait one more moment before you’ll finally give in.

Still, she gives you a little nudge off the edge of the cliff. “C’mon love,” she murmurs into the sweaty skin between your shoulder blades. The contact makes you shudder, and she knows she’s got you right where she wants you. “It’s okay, just tell me what’s on your mind.”

You swallow what little spit is left in your dry mouth as you desperately attempt to speak clearly. “I, I’m sorry, Daddy.”

She smiles wide, kissing your temple. “I forgive you.”

You lay there, twitching, as Val pulls out the thick toy from your dripping center. Somehow you find it in you to choke at the empty feeling, to reach a hand out in a pathetic attempt to bring her body back to yours. It doesn’t work �� Valkyrie has to put the toy in the bathroom for Thor to clean later and needs to grab water and a snack for the both of you. Still, you make small, sad noises as she walks from your shaky line of sight.

Thor does his best to comfort you, draws a lazy hand across your sweaty stomach and draws random patterns on your bare thighs. “She’ll be back soon,” he tells you breathily. You know he’s right – Val always returns back to you whether she’s traveling to the kitchen or Dubai. That doesn’t make it any easier to hear the patter of her footsteps become quieter as she leaves, though.

It feels like an eternity when she returns, holding a tray with a pitcher of ice water, cups, forks, slices of strawberry-vanilla cake Thor had made after you requested it oh-so-sweetly a day prior, had given him puppy eyes and jutted your bottom lip out. Val places the tray on the floor in front of you and him, pulling you into her lap as you two eat in silence. Only occasionally does she steal a bite from either of you, leaving kisses on random bits of skin while telling you how good you two did, how proud she is of both of you.

When you’re both finished Val puts it all aside on her nightstand, allowing you and Thor to lay down with her.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me next time?” Val asks as you snuggle into her side. Thor wraps himself around you, large body warming yours. His arms, thick as your head, are long enough rest on Valkyrie’s hips.

You leave a kiss on her bare ribs, smiling. “Not a chance.”

[lovely-bangtan7]

JJK | Cold Heart (1)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fairy tale, Frozen!Au, IceQueen!Au, lumberjack!Jungkook; bestfriend!Jungkook, IceQueen!Reader,

Warnings: Mentions of blood & injuries, Mentions of anxiety

Words: 5,8k

A/N: Hello loves! I am starting a mini series with our beloved maknae! This was originally supposed to be posted on another account of mine and a friend, but this one is not active anymore, so I decided to post it on my personal account. If you question if this was stolen, it isn’t! I wrote it on my own back then, the account was only shared! I really hope you guys will like it! Happy reading <3

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | next chapter >>

You were never able to even dream such a situation like you were in now. You never wanted to hurt anyone, you always wanted your people, especially him to be safe from you. It was like your worst nightmare came true and unfortunately, it did. Your whole world was shattered into many pieces, seeing his cold eyes staring at you, wide open and in fear. He wanted to protect you from the man that tried to kill you and you wanted him to kill you so that this spell would finally leave your kingdom. But Jungkook couldn't let this man kill you, the queen of Arendelle, the girl that he knows since he was born. “Jungk-..kookie..” You whispered, your ice cold hands touching his figure completely covered in blood.

And the one who did this to him was you yourself. Again.

You were destined to be the Queen of Arendelle from the second you entered this world. Being the only child of the King and the Queen, a beautiful and charming princess with a power that no other human was gifted with. People would say that your power was a blessing from the god’s, but as the years went by and the older you got, these powers turned into a deadly and yet beautiful weapon.

It was a beautiful spring day, many years ago, the flowers were coming to life, the green leaves painting the world of Arendelle in a bright green and the sun warming the air up, the winter was coming to an end. But not for you and not for Jungkook. Winter was the season you loved the most not only because you were part of the ice cold weather, the snow and the ice, but it was the time where you could play with Jungkook without any worries. But the winter eventually came to an end and spring took over the country, this actually didn't stop you and Jungkook from having your adventures.

You both were running around the fields with no destination, laughing and playing around like children do. “Hey, y/n let’s build a snowman!” Said Jungkook randomly with a huge smile on his face. You came to a halt, catching your breath and thinking about his idea. You weren't completely sure if this was a good idea, but you saw his toothy smile. Jungkook was always amazed at your powers and loved it when you used them, it fascinated him and made him always happy.

Shaking your head you moved your hands and the blue colour appeared around them, the cold slowly embracing your small hands. Snow began to form in them and seconds later the ground was covered in shiny white and fluffy snow. Jungkook started to laugh and immediately formed a snowball in his hands, you joined him right after. It didn't take you long to build a snowman, but the warm sun made the snowman melt.

“We need more snow, y/n!” Without thinking you did as said and more Snow appeared on the ground, while Jungkook shouted ‘more’ in excitement. You went with the flow, letting snow and ice appear everywhere. Jungkook was now running around kicking the snow, forming snowballs and throwing them away as you tried to make more snow, but soon a weird feeling grew up in your stomach.

“More! Make more snow!” You slowly felt pressure coming from Jungkook. He couldn’t have enough of the snow and you felt unsure by that.

“No, that’s enough!” You told him but he didn't drop it so soon and grabbed your hands. “Jungkook! That’s enough, go away or I will-”, you couldn't finish your sentence due to the Ice, that formed in your hands and hit Jungkook. The boy flew back and didn't move a bit. You let out a shriek and cried for help, a few guards that were in the same area, watching you from afar came to help, but the ground was covered with ice. The guards slipped yet still tried to get to you and help you with whatever was wrong. You noticed a red liquid coming from Jungkook’s head, it wasn't a lot, just a few drops but enough to set you in complete panic.

The guards helped you and Jungkook up and brought him to the palace’s doctor, who confirmed that the ice didn't hit Jungkook’s body, only the hit on the ground and injured him. You felt endlessly guilty for what you did to Jungkook for not being able to control himself.

After he woke up, he told you that it wasn't your fault. He said that it was his own fault, that he shouldn't have pressured you to make more. He promised you that he won’t do it ever again. He told you that he will protect you now after he saw how dangerous your powers are, he wants to protect you from other people and from yourself. He promised you.

But days after the incident, after your parents heard about what happened in the field, they thought that it would be dangerous to let you play with other children. It could happen that more accidents like these could happen, after all, you could kill someone. Your parents forbid you from interacting with other children, especially Jungkook.

“You are not allowed to talk or play with him, he will never walk in this palace ever again!”

You felt like the deadliest monster. A monster that could destroy the whole world if it wanted to. You haven't seen Jungkook, your only friend, ever again. You didn't know if he was still in town or if his family was forced to leave.

Years of being isolated in the castle went by. You quickly learned to be alone for most of the time. Your days were either filled with studies or being in your room, staring out of the window and watching the world growing older and older.

A few years later your parents had to leave the country due to some business overseas. The only people who you could talk to without any borders had to leave you and you felt anxious at the thought of it. It meant that you would be completely alone from now on.

You hugged your parents tightly as a goodbye, wishing them a good journey. “Tell me everything when you come back in three weeks, okay?” But if only you would know that your parents would never come home.

It was said that pirates attacked, robbed and killed the royals ship, it took one survivor almost 2 months to come back and tell you and everyone who lived in the castle. By that time everyone, including you, were already grieving the loss of the king and the queen. After 5 weeks without any letter coming from your parents, everyone knew that they passed away. A big depression came over your country, the people living in the town were grieving for a long time.

You had the most difficult time. You felt empty without your parents, you were alone. Overwhelmed by the situation, the preparations for you becoming the queen started too quick for you. The fear inside you grew stronger and stronger each day and there were many moments where you couldn't control your powers. You were a complete mess in that time and no one knew how to help you, but they tried their best to help you in every possible way but without forgetting that you will be the queen soon.

Years later you were ready to become the queen, by the age of 21 years. Your coronation will be soon, in a few days to be exact. A lot of things have changed and you changed the most.

However Jungkook did change too. Meanwhile of your horrible experiences, he grew into a handsome and capable man, tall, strong with a kind heart. After being banned from the Castle, he suddenly had no work, no place that he could call home, neither did he have a family - they died years ago from the disease that spread around the kingdom - he was all alone. 

Luckily the lumberjack of the town had found him in an alley, freezing, hungry and abandoned. He immediately brought him to his home, gave him warm food and clothes. “Boy, what were you doing outside during this time? You could have freezed yourself to death!” He scolded him but still with a soft voice. The lumberjack had no family either - no wife and no children. He was already an elder, the wrinkles heavily evident around his eyes and forehead. “I never really had time for such things, I… I guess work was always much more important to me.” Soon Jungkook had learned how really important it was for him. He chopped wood for many hours of the day, from the morning until the sun would set down. It was a simple task that required much strong muscles. Muscles harder than timber, but with a soft heart. 

Jungkook was determined to help the lumberjack, he owed that to him for saving his life. He was a quick learner, a good student to his teacher. It took him just a few days to perfect the technique of chopping wood, the fastest way with lots of profit. The lumberjack was endlessly thankful to the young man. 

“Son, I don’t think you ever told me where you lived before I found you.” He suddenly asked during supper. Jungkook never wanted to talk about his past with you in the castle. His heart never broke this much, knowing he wasn’t allowed to be with you anymore. He didn’t blame you, he blamed himself though. He knew that he was at fault, he shouldn’t have pressured you and so, if he was a little more smarter back then he still would have been by your side. “I remember you were hungry, but you didn’t look starved.”

The old man looked at Jungkook, curiosity lingered on his face. He always respected Jungkook’s privacy but this was a mystery he could never solve on his own. The only way to know was to ask.

But Jungkook didn’t know how to answer, just the mere thought of you -his best friend- made his heart ache in agony. His face fell, he could only imagine how alone you must be right now, how hurt and how scared. It’s been years since the king and queen passed away and Jungkook remembers hearing about their death. He just wanted to storm inside the castle, run straight into your room and take you in his arms. He hated that he couldn’t be with you during the lowest point of your life. 

More thoughts of you flooded his mind, intoxicating his heart with hate for himself, cravings of you, tainting his heart black.

“I am sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It was impolite and indelicate.” Jungkook shook his head, signaling his teacher that he did nothing wrong.

“No, it’s okay. I just..” He had to swallow a huge knot in his throat. “I don’t know how to explain. Back then I made a mistake and lost my only friend and home. I mean, my previous home.” He quickly added, his home was here now. The small cottage outside the town in the wood land. The years he spent with the old lumberjack, made him grow incredibly close. He had taught him wisdom and made Jungkook learn more about himself. But also showed him how it felt to have a father, someone to look up to. Someone to seek comfort from, someone who gave him a home full of love. By now he could call him ‘Appa’.

The lumberjack had found himself a son. Something he could have never imagined. To have someone he could call his son, his family. He was incredibly happy and so proud of Jungkook. He grew up to be a mature man but also still held the heart of a little child. His heart always swelled when he could spend time with him, whether it would be work or just sitting with him and drinking a hot coffee or beer. Jungkook was someone who filled in the gap in the lumberjack's life.

The next morning as Jungkook still laid in bed, he could hear shuffling sounds coming from downstairs. Someone had visited him, the voices were loud and very.. formal? He couldn’t remember a customer talking this way to either him or his appa. However, minutes after the visitor had left, the lumberjack stormed into his room, a wide smile on his wrinkled face. He held a white letter with golden ornaments in his hand. “Son, wake up!” Jungkook groaned and turned around. Mumbling something about sleeping 5 minutes more. 

But the lumberjack couldn’t bear Jungkook sleeping longer with the news he had just received. He grabbed his thick blanket and yanked it away. “No time to sleep, son! Come down I’ve got something to tell you.” And he left. 

The young lumberjack needed a few more minutes to wake up properly. Slowly Jungkook dragged his still tired legs downstairs to where Appa sat. There was a letter laid out on the table. It must be some really big news that he had gotten, he had never seen him smile until the point his cheeks turned red. 

“Son, we’ve hit the jackpot. The royal adviser himself just paid us a visit.” Suddenly Jungkook was wide awake. Royal? Why would a royal adviser come to their house deep in the forest? Do you maybe know-?

“The princess heard of our hard work and wished to have us as the deliverer of wood for her castle.” He announced happily. Jungkook sat there frozen. “She also wants to pay tribute to us and more of her people that work hard. Like the baker, the butcher and a lot more. So she invited us to her coronation and the ceremony afterwards.” 

That was very, well how should Jungkook put it into words? Down-to-earth? You always valued the work of your people and respected them a lot. He remembers how often you sat in the castle's kitchen and watched the bakers and cooks do their work. For them it was their proudest moments to have their princess sit on a small stool and be excited over anything they did. Though it was only Jungkook and the workers of the castles who knew of this side of yours.

He couldn’t explain how and why but somehow rumors spread that you were a cold human. The irony. Jungkook hated the folk's talk about you. Many of them despise you She is inhuman; She treats everyone bad and shuts them out; No one inside the castle saw her ever smile in her life! Why should you smile? You lost your best friend and your parents, you were all alone and had the burden of ruling over a wide kingdom that had many huge conflicts in front of it’s gates. 

Jungkook was nervous, way too nervous. Unable to let his mouth form a word, he nervously read the letter. There it was written; The royal majesty, the Crown Princess of Arendelle invites the Lumberjack and the Lumberjack's family to the ceremony of the coronation held inside the chapel and later on, in the halls of the castle.

The big halls, the place where all ceremonies were held. Jungkook could still imagine all details of the colorful walls and pillars, the heavy red curtains with these huge windows that gave the perfect view of the town with the mountains right behind it. He also could remember how you two played there in both early years of childhood. The giggles and stories you two shared. The little games you thought of, plus the trouble you got in. Your teachers could only shake their heads and had to look out for you. The princess getting hurt was a risk no one was willing to take.

A small smile crept on Jungkook’s face as he was thinking about his childhood. Though his Appa misunderstood this smile. “Exciting, isn’t it?” He clapped into his hands and stood up. “We have to celebrate this with a big breakfast!” He announced and got to work. 

There were only 7 days left until your coronation. 7 days until he would meet or atleast see you again. 

At night he wondered if you’d recognize him. You would, wouldn't you? You had to. Both you and him grew up together, his features must be marked in your brain. But how would you react then? Would the two of you talk? Would you approach him or should he do that? Was he even allowed to talk to the queen then? Well he was invited and it was probably appreciated to speak out his thanks for the invitation. He found himself in a dilemma. Feelings and thoughts were racing inside his brain, he was engaged with his own issues that he couldn’t concentrate on his work. 

“Kookie, you seem off. What’s wrong?” Asked a female voice behind him. It was Yuna, the daughter of the town's baker. The baker and his appa were really good friends and so they had an arrangement. They would trade wood for bread. It was a very valued alliance. Yuna was 3 years younger than Jungkook, very delicate and really pretty. All the men and boys swooned over the girl, which flattered her a lot but she wished this behavior came from Jungkook. She had developed a small or a huge and heavy crush on the young man. Which girl didn’t? Soon after Jungkook worked alongside his appa he became the town's talm. Whenever Yuna brought bread to the lumberjack's cottage, she wouldn’t miss the chance to talk to Jungkook. She hoped for more between them. But everytime Yuna called him ‘Kookie’, inwardly he cringed. 

You gave him the name ‘Kookie’, it was you who called him that way and he would only accept this name coming from your lips. 

“Ah, Yuna. I-” “I know, I know.” She giggled innocently. “But I like calling you like this.”

Jungkook nodded defeated. He gestured for the girl inside the cottage and took the bread from her hands. Inside he placed it inside the bread basket and offered her a cold drink. It was a really hot day, the sun burned down from the sky making people sweat tremendously. Jungkook was glad that the trees offered him this much shade. It was much easier to work outside and not melt away in the sun. 

Yuna sat down and took in her surroundings. She liked coming here, everything was so small inside the cottage even though the old lumberjack was a very big and broad man. As her eyes scanned the room she noticed the letter. “Oh, you are invited too?” Her loud and cheerful voice startled Jungkook. Looking over his shoulder he saw her looking at the letter and gave her sounds of approval. “Papa was invited too and promised he would take me with him!” 

Yuna was as excited as a little girl. For a night, she could dine with nobles and the future queen herself. She imagined herself in a beautiful and long dress, dancing through the night with princes and other nobles. However, as she laid her eyes on Jungkook who had his back towards her, she imagined him in a suit that would make him look like an actual prince. She imagined how Jungkook would ask her for her hand and dance until their feet hurt. Thinking about this made her cheeks redden and Jungkook asked himself if she was out too long in the sun - so he gave her some cold water to drink and cool down before she went back to her own home. “I don’t think that I’ll go..?” His words made Yuna’s bubble burst in an instant. 

“Why?” She asked him sadly and sent him a frown. “You have to! The queen invited you, that would be very rude of you towards her.”

Jungkook had to chuckle softly. “Might be, but I am not sure if I am welcome there.” Yuna couldn’t understand. Why would she invite him then and why would he even think that way. He was a hard working, cute and hands- a hard working lumberjack! He had to get his well earned honor from the queen. “However, drink up before you go. It’s important to stay hydrated out there in the heat of this summer.” 

Jungkook hurried back outside where he left his work unattended for too long. He could have sworn that the minutes he spent inside, it got even hotter outside, so as soon as he threw his shirt on the ground, he started to chop the wood lined up before him. He had to calm his nerves down. It completely wrecked him that he would meet you again or at least see you again from afar. He was scared of your reaction, scared of what would happen after that night. He actually knew what would happen - the hole inside his chest would grow bigger. That, he was sure of.

The day finally came, it had to come after all. Jungkook and his appa wore the best suits that they could get. Everything felt like back then. The smell of the chapel, the well polished wood, the thick curtains and the smell of melted wax filled his nostrils.

Jungkook was seated alongside his appa in the back of the chapel. People of his status weren’t allowed to be in the front. Nobles, other kings and queens and important politicians sat there and watched you taking your vows. 

He couldn’t see you, just a few glimpses of your back. You wore a deep marine blue dress with a long trail. He could see a few golden ornaments stitched on it, similar to the kingdoms emblem. 

Closing his eyes he listened to the choir singing softly in the back of the chapel. It really did feel like his childhood, only that he was much taller now. The sudden movement around him made him snap his eyes open. Everyone stood up to pay their respects as you slowly made your way outside to greet the people waiting in the streets. It was then where he could finally see your face again. His heart skipped a beat or two. You grew up to be a very beautiful woman. Your facial structures got sharper but yet were very soft. Your big eyes sparkled in the light and your plump lips looked so.. Jungkook really couldn’t find words. He was truly enchanted by your beauty. The few seconds he could see you felt like long minutes for him and suddenly a roar of cheers, screams and applause was heard. You reached outside to the front and slipped away from Jungkook’s gaze. 

He wanted to see you again, see you much closer. 

The food, like always, was fantastic. Everyone was seated around many round tables. Jungkook never saw the main hall filled with so many people, he did wonder if everyone could fit in here. Looking around he saw the guests chatting and laughing, a few were eating while others were dancing to the music that was played by the castle's orchestra. At this point Jungkook couldn’t tell which status a person was, everyone looked so neat and expensive in their dresses and suits. He wondered if the person that was talking to appa was a noble, maybe even a king or just a simple man that worked somewhere in the town. Maybe another baker? Maybe someone who built houses or furniture, but his hands were way too clean for that. Those hands didn’t belong to a worker, it must be someone of a higher status than Jungkook was. 

During the entire day Jungkook caught himself thinking about his childhood among these walls and it made him feel nostalgic. A small smile crept on his face. He felt warm, he felt at home even after so many years, even after he got robbed of this place. 

As the music came to a halt, an announcer made its way to the front where the throne stood. There was little change over the past years. Jungkook remembered two large chairs, for the late queen and king but now there was only one, yours. An awful, displeasing feeling filled Jungkook’s chest. It reminded him of the death of your parents, it was a strange sight. 

“... Her Majesty, the Queen y/n of Arendelle!” Trumpets started to play and everyone in the room bowed down to greet the queen entering the hall. 

Jungkook tried to get a glimpse of you but as he straightened again his view was blocked with the backs of your guests. 

Though he was a little scared, because of his own feelings, he just had to see you again. It was like something pulled him towards you. Preferably he would have run to you and taken you in a big, tight hug and never let you go. He just missed you so much. He didn’t think that the agony inside his heart would be this strong but yet here he was, longing for you more and more each second he stood there knowing you were in the same room as him. 

But he had no chance to talk to you. How could he? He couldn't just walk up to you and greet you like nothing had happened. He wasn’t allowed to get near you, well he thought so. 

Jungkook’s appa appeared in front of Jungkook and grabbed him by the arm. “I’ve finally found you, son! Come, come I want to talk to the queen.”

“W-wait! A-appa no, we just can’t-” But that was no use. His appa had already dragged Jungkook to you and took a deep bow. Jungkook however stood there frozen. From up close, to his surprise, you were even more beautiful he couldn’t believe it. 

Seconds passed and he still couldn’t move a bit even the people around him noticed his strange behavior and a few of them started to whisper. 

“Son, what are you doing? Take a bow, goddamn.” gritted Appa through his teeth, hoping you wouldn’t hear him. 

Though something also shifted inside you. You didn’t, never in a million years would have expected him, out of all people, standing there. You tried to fight your tears, smile, excitement whatever you were feeling right now, but you had to act cool. You couldn’t let your guard down. 

“Your majesty, me and my son are highly thankful for your invitation. We are truly proud to call you our queen.” Appa told you, which you answered with a soft smile and a little bow of yourself to show your gratitude towards the men. “May I ask what kind of job you are practicing?” - “Oh, we are the town’s lumberjacks and make sure everyone is warm and cozied up during the cold winter, because who would want to be in the cold anyway?” His appa joked and you tried to give a smile. Sure, he’s right. People preferred to have it warm instead of a cold home. You didn’t quite know, but his words hurt you a little. If people knew about your secret, would they still accept you as a queen. You definitely heard what people said about you, that you turned into a cold person but they blamed it on the death of your parents. You didn’t want that. You wanted your folk to accept you and that’s why you invited the most important people from your kingdom, you wanted to show them that you aren’t a cold hearted girl that lived locked up in her castle - no, you wanted to show them that you are different and so you started with your gratitude towards them.

“I understand.” You said softly. “Thank you very much for your hard work.” First you looked to Appa’s direction but then shifted to Jungkook. You smiled and bowed towards him. 

Jungkook’s heart was beating in his throat, he felt it. The words he wanted, actually had to say were struck somewhere between his throat and stomach and the moment you smiled at him. Boy, he wished he could just disappear right there. 

Just how fast Jungkook and Appa approached you, they already had to leave again. Other guests wanted to speak to their majesty as well. 

He sighed deeply, “Son, are you okay?” Of course Appa would notice how strange his son acted. His wrinkled eyes gazed worriedly upon the younger male. “Are you sick? Unwell? Maybe you need some fresh air? ”

“No, no. I am okay, I was just nervous meeting the… queen.” Jungkook would perhaps never grow accustomed to calling you that. For him you were still his little princess, his best friend. Appa laughed, his deep raspy voice echoing through the hall. The grip of his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, a fathery gesture, made him calm his senses a bit. 

“Hello Jungkook!” It was a female’s voice. He immediately recognized this as Yuna’s voice, who came running over with a huge smile on her face. Jungkook sighed again, earning a nudge from his Appa. “You look really handsome. God, this place is so beautiful. I still can’t believe that I am in the same room as the queen!” She squealed, excitedly. 

However, whilst Yuna was talking about her admiration towards you, other voices were heard in the background. “You monster!” It was a males voice, much older than Jungkook he supposed. “I-I am sorry. Please.” 

This was your voice, sounding scared and trembling. You were definitely in distress and Jungkook knew what this meant. He made his way through the crowd and saw how a man, probably in his mid sixties, was almost throwing himself at you. Luckily the guards separated you from the man. “She is a monster, she needs to be locked up!” He screamed into the room, confusion started to grow and whispers were heard. They saw that the man’s hand was covered in ice, but how could that happen?

You could only shake your head. If the man won’t stop screaming at you, you won’t be able to control yourself anymore. Anxiety started to grow within you, it felt like it was choking you.  

“You shouldn’t trust the queen, one day she will snap and kill all of you!” That was enough for Jungkook. It was like his brain stopped working, but he had to protect you. He walked up at the man and practically towered over him, his eyes were piercing though his stupid looking face. “Stop talking to her like this, you don’t know her at all.” The old man, a noble that wore his emblems proudly on his chest, looked up at the younger man. How dare he talk to a noble in this tone? 

“You should be locked up with her, you discourteous brat.” Hissed the old noble and called his own guards, that travelled with him to protect himself. They grabbed Jungkook both his arms, they were ready to do god knows what with Jungkook. 

You just couldn’t stand there and watch him getting dragged away, you had to do something. Though you should think before you take action. You just wanted to raise your hand and shout for them to stop, when suddenly all three men slipped on the cold ice, you finally realised what you have done. The people around looked at you with fear, few taking steps back. “I-I didn’t want that! I am sorry, really.” You held your own arms, in fear of another accident only to be yanked around by the old men. You didn’t want to hurt him again and yet you accidentally attacked him, making him fall down with a screech. Your eyes widened at the sight.

Everything happened so fast, people were screaming and trying to get away from you. They were scared you would attack them too. Guards from other kingdoms ran up to you, ready to tackle you down if you’d try to perform your dangerous magic again. The only way to prevent these men from capturing you, was to run away.  

Every step you took, every frame, every door you touched was immediately covered with ice. You however didn't notice what you were doing, putting your kingdom into a cold winter - during summer. 

“Son. Son! Are you okay?” Appa made his way through the panicked crowd, searching for Jungkook and whilst he helped a few people that fell to the ground due to the crowd pushing others and running around. Soon he found Jungkook and pulled him up into a tight hug. “God, what were you thinking? You could have gotten hurt!”

“It’s okay, she would never hurt me.” His appa and Yuna, who shortly joined him, didn’t understand Jungkook. How would he know that? “I mean, I felt like it, you know?” He added quickly upon seeing their flustered faces. Appa studied Jungkook’s face. He never had seen Jungkook act like this for someone else. Maybe there was more behind it, something he would never understand as long as Jungkook wouldn't open up about his past.

Jungkook gazed longingly towards the doors where you had escaped through. “I need to find her.” He mumbled under his breath. Yes, it was his duty to go and find you. He had to. This time he should act like your best friend and finally help you. “Appa, I have to go and find y/n- the queen!” 

“No Jungkook that’s too dangerous!” Now it was Yuna talking to him, she didn’t understand why he would go out there and risk his life for someone he didn’t know personally. 

He shook his head at her remark. Of course it was dangerous, he knew that but he would willingly put himself in danger for you. A strong hand landing on his shoulder distracted his attention from Yuna to the owner of said hand. His appa looked at him with admiration in his eyes. They were soft and warm, like always. “Be careful, okay?” That was everything he had to tell his son, he knew nothing could stop him from going out there to find you. 

Jungkook didn’t have much time, he had to hurry to at least intercept you before you would disappear somewhere never to be found again. That’s something he feared a lot, not being able to find you anymore.

 Running outside, a sudden cold hit Jungkook. He didn’t notice the world being laid under deep snow and the air being ice cold, so cold that it hurt his skin. It must have been you who did that. While other people were scared of the sudden winter outbreak, Jungkook was fascinated about what your powers could do.That was something he could care about later, now he had a duty to face. He had to find you.

[troublesometrollhunters]

Dawna's Journey

A/N: Guys this took so long XD. Please give me feedback/comments/reblogs if not on the post than anon. Look I proof read it so much now I'm sick of it lmao. I know theres grammer mistakes but If I didn't post it tonight it was never getting posted. Anyways please enjoy this!!! :D

~~~

Dawn stood at the edge of the kingdom. The night was still as the guards had retired for the evening and she was left alone with her thoughts. Standing at the gate she stared beyond the iron bars into the foggy night where the woods were.

 She was steps away from what could be the biggest mistake of her life. By doing this, by going out into the woods to find the cure for one of the dying trolls in the dungeon, she was betraying her families name and their status along with the throne. Her uncle, her mother, her sister, Merlin, Lancelot. All of them would tell her this is wrong. That trolls were the enemy.

 Swallowing thickly, hands glowing to illuminate the night she touched the cold stone of the castle's defense wall before brushing her fingers against the iron bars that kept the trolls and fae at bay. Hissing she pulls her hand away, shaking it to make the sting disappear. Frowning as she stares out at the woods they seem to beckon her. Walking away from the gate and along the wall she goes towards a thick patch of ivy. There hidden behind the plants was a small crack. One she found as a child and still used for situations like this. 

  Slipping into the greenery rough material scrapes against her catching on her clothes but she stays determined scooting through the stone. As Ivy brushes past her face, her boots sink into the soft grass and she edges herself away from the protection of Camelot. Looking back at the castle her hands shook as she stared at her room that overlooked the very land she stood on. She'd wandered the woods many times and explored their wonders but this time was different. This time she wasn't visiting peaceful territory or exploring her magical studies in secret, this time she was going straight to the Gum Gums. She was risking everything and what made her the most nervous about it, was she didn't care. It was the right thing to do. No matter how many people said it was wrong she felt in her heart it wasn't.

 Backing away from the wall, away from her home, she realizes this could be the last time she sees Camelot if she fails. Taking it in, etching every small detail into her mind she sighs. Things used to be different. When Arthur had Gwenivere she breathed life into him and the castle. She made people hope and kept the kingdom together as the war against the Gum Gums raged on. But now the kind queen was gone and Dawn felt keeping the peace fell on her. However, as much influence as she had in the kingdom and over her uncle, Arthur never really listened after he lost his wife. He was too lost in his grief to hear reason. He banished most magic and as Dawn felt the cool air ruffle her hair she knew soon she'd be next. She couldn't fix Camelot. Not by herself but she could try and make her uncles wrongs right. Starting with the trolls he'd locked away.

 Taking one last look, the moon shines silver light over her kingdom protecting her people inside the wall. Clutching her cloak tightly Dawn closes her eyes and runs into the woods, leaving no trace that she'd ever left. She feels the grass squish beneath her feet and the whistling wind almost knocks off her hood as she runs. 

 Magically summoning her silver and gold armor the chainmail echoes in the quiet woods. Her uncle had banned magic but that never stopped Dawn. Her sister did parlor tricks for fun but Dawn craved more. It was in these woods she learned the meaning of magic and through Merlin's notes she taught herself the way of the fae world. The elements were her teachers and she hoped they'd give her mercy tonight. 

  Running faster each step she takes makes a resounding clank that bounces through the trees. Pushing past snagging branches, brambles, and thick underbrush she keeps going only one thing on her mind, getting that troll cure so her friend would survive. What an absurd notion, that she princess of Camelot was friends with a common troll. Smiling as she thought of him she kept pushing on, chest heaving as she thundered through the woods. Stepping over small streams and avoiding roots. 

  White puffs left her mouth as she pushed on. The cold kept her awake and alert even as her legs burned from running so long. Dawn stops, armor now silent as the night returns to its previous stillness.

 Killahead.

The girl swallows nervously and takes a cautious step forward. The bridge was old and full of divine energy, she could feel its power radiating from where she stood. It acted as a divide between the world of trolls and Gum Gums. Gunmar said he owned the whole woods but that was a lie. However, past the bridge there was no doubt that was his land. As she took in deep breaths chest burning she studied Killahead. Cracked stone, worn carvings from centuries ago, and overgrown moss greeted her. A bridge that once ran over a flowing river had been dry longer than Dawn had been alive. She knew this place had power. It held generations of knowledge and stories. It could be the rise or down fall of civilizations.

But unlike the trees and forest Killahead did not talk. It just listened. Cracked stone keeping the secrets of all those that walked past it. Closing her eyes she steps away from the safety of neutral territory and towards the tarnished stone. 

 Reaching out, her hand tightly clutches the side of the bridge. As she rubs her thumb over the side the stone feels smooth from years of being worn down. Stepping onto the Killahead bridge it's uneven with patches of grass slowly taking over the stone. Dawn feels the slickness of moss and dew under her boots and tightens her grip on the side she's holding as she trudges forward. 

 The moon shone above her through the leaves and pausing she tilts her head taking it in as darkness was soon to come. Listening closely, closing her eyes to hear the forest around her it was too silent. She realized someone was following her, that the GumGums knew she was here. Refusing to give up just because she felt fear she stood tall as she crossed the bridge. The branches overhead now choked out any light and it was a miracle she could still see as she made it to the end of the bridge. Standing there taking a deep breath her hand grazed the moss that had taken over Killahead. This was her last chance. To turn back and run. To go back to the castle and ignore her uncles troll business. To allow him to continue what he was doing. But... she could not.

 Filled with determination she takes her first step off Killehad. Heading away from the bridge and into the deep woods she was officially in Gum Gum territory. Her weapon wasn't drawn and it was clear she wasn't an active threat. Though Gum Gums never were ones to pick up on hints, if she had to fight she came prepared but she'd rather leave the woods unscathed.

  Venturing deeper into Gum Gum territory her chainmail echoes through the dense foliage. Low hissing and rustling could be heard from the bushes as scouts watched her. Golden and green glowing eyes all around her as she boldly kept walking. Her hand was now on her hip weapon ready to draw but she hadn't felt the need yet. She was hoping to speak to a general or a higher-up GumGum and somehow barter for the cure but as the growls got louder Dawn knew she'd have to fight. She was waiting for someone to come and address her and the soldiers watching her seemed to understand her silent demand as they kept their distance.

 Hearing something Dawn reacts quickly. Turning boots sinking into the mud as she grouds herself her blade made a distinctive swish before it clanked loudly striking against Gunmars sword. Sparks fly and the temporary bright light causes her green eyes to shine under her cloak. The brute growled in her face and she growled back surprising the GumGum King.

 "You wonder deep in our territory Knight." He hisses. Dawn responds by pressing her sword harder against his. Remembering what the knights had done, she leans back before she puts all her effort into her sword pushing the blade against his forcing him back. Stumbling Gunmar catches himself. His blue eye stares at her cloak as he pauses surprised by the human's strength. Tightening her grip on her sword showing no hesitation that she'd strike again he chuffs unamused. 

  His dark blue eye scans her form but all he sees is a long cloak and the shine of her sword in the dim light. Sniffing the air he chuffs surprised. It was a magical blade. A mage? Hadn't Arthur murdered them all?

 "I don't want to fight. I come seeking your aid." Dawn states tilting her head to look at the GumGum king. He couldn't see her face but he could feel her stare, those green eyes haunted him. This was no normal human. No normal mage. Chuffing he sneers tilting his head.

 "Oh? And why would I help a fleshbag morsel like you?" He snarls beginning to pace around her. Dawn followed his motions watching him closely. He admitted he was curious at what this knight could want at how someone could be so stupid and bold. They were foolish to come here but from the sword skills they showed he could see why they assumed they'd be safe. 

 "Because one of your own is dying and I'm trying-" Dawn starts but Gunmar growls bearing his fangs at her. 

 "SILENCE!" He roars. Dawn closes her mouth and waits. He comes close and sniffs her before huffing hot air in her face unimpressed. She reaches up to keep her hood on not wanting him to see who she really is. If he knew she was Dawna Noble of the PenDragon line it'd be over. He'd send her corpse to Arthur and her friend's life would be lost before she had a chance to win it.

 Rolling his eye, he turns annoyed by her insistent presence. "Go home whelp." He orders. "Humans speak only lies and when it isn't lies it's stupidity. Get out and don't return and you may tell your friends at the Round Table you survived. You are no meal and you're not worth the effort." He huffs waving her off. Dawn stands shocked as he begins walking away. She just ran from the safety of her home to try and save a troll's life and Gunmar doesn't even acknowledge her? He pushes her away like she's just a confused child. Grip tightening on her sword she grits her teeth shaking. She had come too far to turn back now.

 "I'm not going anywhere!" She snaps. Running to stand in front of the Gum Gum king she spreads her arms blocking his path. She's shaking making her chainmail rattle. She'd come so far he couldn't deny her now! "I came here to Gum Gum territory at night! It's important please at least listen to what I have to say." She begs. He looked annoyed and she frowned, lowering her arms. "I need something… and I know your people are the only ones who can give it to me." Stepping closer to Gunmar unafraid and praying for the life of her friend he growls at her. She's about to respond with a growl of her own when a sharp tug from her cloak made her stumble back from the King choking. She was so distracted talking to Gunmar she forgot to watch her back. 

 Tilting her head clawing at the clasp around her neck the Gum Gum prince was behind her and his claws had snagged her cape. He ripped at the fabric chuckling as she gasped for air. Unclasping the cloak knowing it was her life or her identity Dawn turned eyes blazing. The grip on her sword tightened making it glow as her green eyes glared into his red ones. She sneered at the Prince of Darkness teeth bared. He stumbled back in surprise eyes wide as he stared at her armor before staring at her face. Dropping her cloak he stepped closer curious as he sniffed her. Her amor bore Camelots symbol and stepping closer he clearly saw the Noble clans markings in the carvings of her amor. Dawn pushes Bular's face away when he gets to close and he chuckles. 

 "... Dawna? The King's niece? A child?" He laughs but Dawn stays undeterred. Her grip remains on her sword as she points the end at him. He chuckled amused. It seemed she was braver than the rest of her family or stupider. 

 "This child." Dawn says slowly eyes narrowed into slits as she feels anger course through her veins. Her hands burn coursing with energy and suddenly the trees begin to shake as the branches above them shift. Distracted she pushes Bular over with the butt of her sword forcing him against the wet grass. The Moonlight leaked through the trees as leaves swirled around her. Had it been the day she surely would've killed him. But that wasn't her intention.

  She wanted him to see her. To fear her and as her armor shone as bright as the moon GumGums hissed backing up at the glare. "Is not one to be triffled with. I seek something and I'm not leaving till I get it." She states glaring down at Bular. He growls at her, angry she'd knocked him down but she seems unaffected by his silent threat.

 "Like we'd ever help you." Bular huffs pushing her sword away from his face. Dawn puts it back in her sheath and sighs. As she took a deep breath she could see this wasn't working. She needed to switch tactics.

 Thinking back on everything she knew of Gum Gums she paused, she'd need to choose her next words wisely. "I'm not asking for help. That's weak." She hisses. "I'm asking for a fair trade." Dawn finally says. She holds out her hand for the Prince but he snarls, snapping his teeth at her fingers. She pulls her hand away to avoid the bite and rolls her eyes. Turning away from Bular she looks back to Gunmar.

 "You have nothing we want." The troll states uninterested. Dawn hums. No she didn't, did she? What was she expecting? The Gum Gums to reach into their darkened hearts and present her the cure like a gift? This was doomed to end in a fight. 

 Hand on her sword she hums as Bular shifts behind her. The brute huffs as he gets up, bumping her aside as he walks by to get to his father. Both the beasts now glared at her. Dawn wishes she could say she was without fear as they stared at her but she'd come so far she wouldn't turn back now.

   "Leave your wasting our time." Bular says uncaring of her achievements or her power. "Your so skinny we'd choke on your bones." He adds. His father laughs head bomping his son but Dawn shakes anger radiating through her. Eyes turning a dark green she feels the grip on her powers loosen. In a perfect circle around the three of them the grass dies. The two trolls watch as the plants around them begin to wither, roots twisting and cracking as wood split and leaves fluttered down. Then it all turned black rotting away. Facing them her eyes burn with a need to prove herself. The moon shines on her and Dawn's armor reflects it's light showing her power as she stood in the dead grass.

 "Then fight me. In a duel." She demands standing her tallest as she looks at them.

 She wasn't leaving without that cure. She may fall here but she falls with more grace than either of these so called warriors.

 Gunmar leans in close his horns jutting out like a crooked crown as he snarls at her. Dawn snarls back. She. Wasn't. Leaving. Without. That. Cure.

 "... Fine. You wish to die? I will not stop you." Turning Bular and him begin to stalk away. Soldiers surround her and as she draws her blade eyes wide she sees Gunmar pause. The soldiers don't advance or go for an attack. Dawn turns and Gunmar stares at her waiting. She realizes she is supposed to follow. Taking one last look back at Killahead and the safety of the forest beyond she picks her shredded cloak off the dead grass before reclasping it around her neck.

 It seems she got what she wanted.

~~~

  An hour or two must have passed making Dawn fear she wouldn't get back before Daylight. If her bed was empty when the castle awoke they'd send a search party and she'd never be aloud to leave again. Arthur would watch her every move and Merlin… she'd never be aloud to learn another spell. Trudging on through the darkness of the woods fearing that Daybreak was near she felt weak. Her legs were tired from the long trek but she knew it was worth it. She watched as they passed trees with scratch marks in them and trollish sayings and carvings she couldn't decipher. Dawn pauses touching one of the trees and tracing the carving it flashed green and the words changed allowing her to read it. Tilting her head she squints.

 "Home…?" She mumbled seeing the deep groves in the tree. Dawn felt she knew this language from a distant memory as if it had been murmered once before as if it'd been read to her. Trying to remember how she knew it, a jab to her back made her hiss.

 Poked with a guards spear she walks away and observes her surroundings closely. Seeing more trolls watching from the bushes, standing guard Dawn realized they had led her into the heart of their territory. Her eyes are wide in wonder as she looks around enamoured. She'd heard such dark stories about the GumGums home but standing here she could only feel the warmth of fellow warrior spirits.

   Tents were set up and huts made from the surrounding trees and rock. Everything was handcrafted in a way Dawn never knew trolls were capable of. Woven branches and carved rock shielded families from the cold as they laid together. Fires raged in pits and the flames made the GumGums eyes reflect as they watched her follow their king.

   Younglings ran around the camp jumping into bushes only to leap out at their friends causing squeals of joy to ring through the camp. Mothers and fathers sat and chatted as they groomed their newborn whelps, licking them clean as they made little squeaks of protest wiggling in their parents grip. Soldiers sparred and played chuffing at one other as they rolled around and smashed their helmets against each other, kits cheering them on. The more she saw the more she began to question her faith and allegiance to Arthur.

 Was this any different than home? They wove intricate baskets of grass that held food and supplies just like the weavers and potters of Camelot. There were some differences such as how and what they wove but the patterns told a story just like her people. Warriors brought back what they'd hunted putting them in piles for all to share similar to the town's trade center. Children played games with each other running around as adults took turns to watch. Was this not exactly like Camelot? Was the way the soldiers behaved any different than Camelots knight barracks or the teens copying the soldiers exactly like young squires? She could almost imagine the GumGums as humans in this light, as a thriving tribe deep in the woods who wanted nothing to do with Camelots culture.

  As she was pushed forward by GumGum spears to keep pace, she stumbled lost in her own thoughts. 

 Stumbling forward trying to wrap her head around the fact that the GumGums weren't all evil she stared up at Gunmar. From this angle walking with his son he almost seemed... human. He could've eaten her or mauled her when they first encountered each other but instead he listened to her pleas and now he was giving her a chance to fight. That was more than what Arthur ever did for her. More than Lancelot believed she could do. Who was the real monster in this war? Was there even a need for war?

 Turning Gunmar meets her gaze and she looks away. She decides to study his camp as this may be her only chance. Looking around taking in the dense foliage and how they'd made it a home she felt eyes on her. Turning whelps watched her curiously blinking owlishly at her. She wonders if they've ever seen a human. Well a live human. Bending down and pausing to wave they ran off squeaking to their mothers. Staring at the troll families who held their children close and their harsh gazes as they glared at the princess, Dawn realized she was the only monster here.

 Bular chuffed amused, making Dawn blush. Of course they'd be scared of her. After all she was the enemy. Getting up and pulling her cloak closer plants nervously bloomed around her and nearby crystals glowed reacting to her emotions. She flushed embarrassed at her lack of control and quickly followed the King of Darkness, curious eyes watching as they left. 

  ~~~

Lead to an arena Dawn pauses in awe. She was standing in the fabled GumGums battle room, she'd only ever heard stories. She never thought she'd see this place. Looking out at the various weapons placed around their training space. There were axes, swords, spears, javelins, maces, and other weapons she didn't recognize. Her green eyes widened in amazement studying the colosseum from the balcony they stood on. It overlooked everything and she was determined to write this down and document it later. The arena was large and wide carved out from the center of the mountain, hidden deep in the core. She could see statues of fallen warriors decorating the rims of the arena. Stone steps carved from years of work circled the colosseum allowing trolls to watch as others spared. She also noticed dents in the walls and wondered about the battles that caused such scars. 

 Running forward Glowing Green crystals jutted from the ground and tapping one, it glowed brightly reacting to her touch. Her heart swelled at the magic in this room, the history. She felt an ancient power in this place and could feel the souls of thousands of trolls who had fallen here. It was exhilarating unlike anything she'd ever experienced. Unlike anything in Camelot.

  "Our rules are simple fleshbag." Gunmar states demanding her attention. Turning away from the balconies edge and focusing on him he snarls from his place on his throne beginning. Skulls decorated his seat and Dawn swallows before meeting his gaze listening closely. "Rule One. Always finish the fight and never hesitate." He states slamming his hand onto an old skull crushing it. Dawn nods aware of this troll custom despite how much she despised it. "Rule Two it must be your blade that ends the fight it can not be your enemies." Holding her sword tightly Dawn understands this. If she lost her weapon she could not use her opponent's to end them.

   Gunmar smirked, leaning forward on his throne of bones as he chuffed in her face. Hot air sent her hood back and made her long hair shift as he leered down at her. "And Rule Three young mage. No magic." He instructs.

 Dawna chokes hearing the last demand. No magic? Since when was that a Gum Gum rule? She was never informed that would be part of the deal. Looking over at Gunmars son she brings her sword close. 

 Bular was at least twelve feet tall and Gunmar fifteen. She was a third their size, maybe half at best.

 Without her magic it would be impossible to defeat either of them. She could fight but she didn't have proper training in dueling only practice from when she copied Lancelot. Not to mention the split swords she'd brought were magic. She'd only have the weak weapon she swiped from the knight hall which to a troll was barely a dagger. She wasn't even sure it could go through a trolls skin. As they watched waiting for an answer, Dawn's hands clenched beginning to glow. She supposed magic would be an unfair advantage but wasn't it unfair to make her fight without it? Magic was apart of her, apart of this place. To deny her such a large part of herself… Trembling she felt sick. Perhaps Gunmar and Arthur shared more than she assumed.

 "Well princess?" Gunmar sneers the title like an insult before smirking, licking his fangs. "What is your decision? Do not waste our time." Dawn shakes. He thinks her a coward, a cheat but she would always keep true to her word. She came here. She had to finish this. Looking at her hands before closing her eyes she takes a deep breath. The glow dies and their left in the dull light of the green crystals. 

  Looking up and nodding Gunmar chuffed staring at her. Sighing, she looked down at herself allowing her armor to fade away. She felt naked without her protection but If they considered magic cheating then she would respect their rules as she was on their land.

  "I do not cheat. I do not need magic to win. And if I fall there's no one to go back to anyways..." Closing her eyes thinking of home she knows either way she wins. She either dies and meets Gwenivere in Avalon or she returns to the castle and saves her friend's life.

  Whispering a prayer to her family and hoping this was not her last night alive Dawn nods. She stands before the King and Prince unarmored and defenceless cept a small blade she held. Gunmar turns and not a moment later an attendant walks in carrying what Dawn feared most. Ravenstone.

 Rare and made from the dust of fallen magic users ravenstone blocked any magic from being used, containing the energy and even stealing it if a mage was around it too long. She holds the stone in her hands when the attendant passes it to her and pauses seeing they were cuffs.

  She swallows as they watch her and closing her eyes she slips them on wearing them as bracelets. Shivering Dawn could feel them working, they would not only block her magic but drain her energy as well. She'd have to be smart in this battle or she'd surely fall. 

  Rubbing the cuffs nervously she feels the intricate runes carved into the stone. They told the story of her kind, the origin of magic. A  zap of electricity goes up her arms making her feel more powerful despite the impediment. "I do not intend to lose." She states boldly. Bular chuffs sword dragging against the ground. Neither did he. Turning towards the arena she begins walking down the stairs, the brute following her.

  It seemed Bular had decided he would be her fighting partner and Gunmar their witness. 

 Waiting at the bottom she paused. Spinning the sword in her hand she stared into the steel looking at her reflection. If she died today she died a hero. If she won it wouldn't be long lived. Dictatuous was running out of time. He needed the cure. Now. 

  Attacking her while she's distracted, Dawn quickly focuses back on Bular, on the battle. Their swords clash against each other creating sparks as they glare at one other. She was tired, had less fighting experience, and was weaker. Smirking Dawn pushed Bular back, she guessed that made this a fair match. 

  Clawing at the ground gaining his footing he snarls and charges at her. Dawn thinking quickly jumps up and flips over him as he swings his sword where she had just stood. Landing she turns holding up her blade as his crashed against hers. He sneered pushing down and she cries out feeling the increasing pressure as he pushes down. Huffing she kicks him back making both of them skid.

 She breathes deeply grip tightening. The battle had just begun and she knew she was outmatched. Shifting her position she glances up at Gunmar. He sat on his throne overlooking their battle, watching amused. His eye met hers and she stares wondering what he must think of her, of his son before Bular crashes back into her, sending her backwards. Hitting the ground she rolls rocks digging into her skin. Her shirt catches and she hisses as the cloth rips open and slashes her flesh making blood spill. The first blood drawn from battle.

  Getting up she stares at Bular. She couldn't get distracted. This wasn't like home, if she lost here she wouldn't get back up again.

  Bular stalks towards her grinning as he dragged his two swords. Taunting her as they scratched deep groves into the floor. In the green light of the jagged crystals his eyes glowed and Dawn saw a blood lust she'd never seen before. Ducking behind a rock as he slashed his swords at her she inches around it before she rolls forward going under his legs aiming at his ankles. Making contact she quickly scrambles up also hitting him in the back right above his kilt. Holding her sword waiting for a counter attack the Prince roars. Snarling he turns, swords hitting her with so much force she's slammed into a wall. Making contact she drops her sword, gasping as she grabs her side. He'd gotten her. Twice now. But so had she. They were even. Grimacing in pain eyes wide in fear she stares up at the warlords son.

 "Look at you. Tiny and weak human. You thought you could best me? I am the son of Gunmar! I am a conquer! And now for your ignorance you shall fall." He states raising his swords above her head. Eyes darting around Dawn smirks. Kicking him in the grocknuts as hard as she can he roars, dropping his swords and whimpering. She grabs her own weapon before charging. Kicking him backwards again she slashes at his chest causing black blood to spill.

 "Miserable human your death will be painful for that!" He threatens as he smacks her away with his arm. Falling back sword clattering as it slips out of her hand once more Dawn groans.

Her breathing is rough as she shakes. Bular picks up his blades and as she kicks back trying to reach her sword his claws dig into her ankle pulling her towards him. He huffs hot air into her face keeping her pinned and she stares at him. He raises a sword but moving her head the blade simply sinks into the ground next to her. He snarls and she snarls back, body burning with pain but brimming with determination. She could not fall.

 Smashing her head against his he hisses in pain, stumbling back as she stands. Blood drips into her eye and her ankle burns from the deep cuts but she still stands tall. "I don't intend to lose." She sneers and he growls at her. Tackling her to the ground Dawn grunts but smirks. He'd pushed her closer to her blade.

 Smiling Bular stared down at her ready to smash her head in right as her sword pierced his side and went straight through his ribcage. She missed his heart intentionally though she wonders how his face would've looked if he had been beaten by such a "weakling" as herself. Smiling as warm blood dripped onto her hands from the wound she'd inflicted she forced him back before climbing on top of him straddling him. Grabbing his horns and pushing his head down she glares down at him huffing.

 "You you you!!!" He roars thrashing but Dawn keeps one hand on the sword threatening to push it all the way through if he didn't listen. The other rested on his horn keeping his head down.

 "Yield Bular. You've lost." Dawn snarls. Their battle was intense and she almost fell but Bulars cockiness had been his downfall. Her hair falls onto his face as she breathes deeply staring into his eyes. Bular chuffs growling at her but her hand remained on the hilt of the sword reminding him she could end him if she chose. She'd done it. Bloody but not broken she'd beaten Bular the Butcher.

 "MY SON!" Gunmar screeches from his throne ready to charge. Dawn turns holding out her hand that'd been on Bulars horn. The GumGum king paused snorting at her boldness. 

"I'll make a deal." Dawn states. "Declare I've won and I'll take off the raven cuffs, I'll heal him, and we never speak of this. And..." She takes a deep breath in blood still dripping from her wounds. "You give me what I desire." Dawn offers. Gunmar chuffs staring at her then Bular. Bular who was covered in blood and beaten by a mere mortal. His son. His legacy. Who was this girl? 

There's a long pause where the only sound is Bular and Dawns wheezing breaths. Dawn and Gunmar stare at each other and finally Gunmar chuffs looking away. 

"You have won." He growls lowly.

"Father!" Bular snaps before roaring at the movement. The pain from the inflicted wound was unlike anything he'd ever felt. Dawn turns eyes wide as she holds the sword still to keep it from hurting him further.

"Silence! You have lost Bular let the witch work!" Dawn nods and ripping off the cuffs she takes out the sword before placing her hands against the wound. His stone was warm despite being rock something she wasn't expecting. The texture was rough and marred threatening to slit her hands open if she didn't work carefully. Black and red stained her hands their blood mixing together and as her eyesight blurred she prayed that after the battle her magic was strong enough to heal him. 

Closing her eyes focusing Bulars breathing and chuffing gets louder as electricity courses through his veins. Dawn feels the wound close under her fingertips slowly and putting more energy into it, more thought the GumGum Prince stares amazed as the rock melts and melds before becoming a small scar against his chest. Almost as if she'd never struck him in the first place. 

Dawn pulls back still straddling him and he stares at her. This small human who just put him on the brink of death only to save him. Who was this human? This Dawna Nobel? 

"... Can I please get the troll cure and go home now?" She begs falling off the dark prince to lay on the ground besides him. They both lay still after their battle, taking deep breaths in.  

~~~

 Gunmar held the potion as Dawn smiled. She had a small cut above her eye from headbutting Bular and a gash on her arm and leg from rolling on the ground but she'd done it. She got the cure to save Dictatious. Taking the bottle into her hands Gunmar leaned close.

"Do not let me see you here again." He chuffs. "And do not take this potion lightly. It could destroy my people but I put my trust in you as you've been the only honorable human I have met in some time. You bested my son and for that you will not be underestimated again." Holding the bottle close, feeling the warmth of it's magic through the glass Dawn looks at Gunmar and nods. That was the closet to a compliment she'd ever get from the GumGum King. 

"You have my word Gunmar." Smiling she turns facing Killahead before she fades into the shadows disappearing. 

Sputtering as she falls into one of the many castle halls, Dawn can't breathe as she lays flat on the carpet. Breathing deeply her hands dig into the lush fabric as her eyes go blurry. Groaning light leaks from a nearby window onto her face and she sees it's sunup, sometime in the early morning. Grunting body burning in pain as she slowly gets up she begins to limp down the hall sweat and blood dripping down her face. But holding the potion close she can't bring herself to care about her pain. Heaving in air, she could feel the night and the toll of magic finally catch up to her. However she couldn't quit rest yet. Clawing at the wall as she continues walking she pulls herself forward cradling her prize close. 

~~~

Dawn paused looking around the corner. The guards that were usually stationed for prison duty were gone on shift leave, giving her a window of opportunity. Opening the door that led to the dungeons quietly she sneaks inside to the staircase before closing the door. Staying in the shadows and avoiding the torches she creeps down the stairs careful not to make a sound. Peaking, her head out she sees most of the trolls were resting or trying too. Hacking could be heard and she winces, listening to Dictatious as he continued to cough.

 Walking quietly across the stone floor, trolls don't pay her cloaked form any mind. Standing near his cell she holds the mug of tea and potion close. She'd changed her clothes to look more presentable. She'd also slipped into the kitchens when no one was looking to grab a few things. Holding the potion and tea in her hand she pauses outside his cell. She could study the potion Gunmar gifted her, reverse it. Make a weapon and wipe out the GumGums once and for all. Magic would finally be respected. Arthur would respect her. But...

 Hearing his loud pained coughs Dawn closes her eyes as she pours the potion into the tea. She sticks the cup through the cell bars allowing Dictatious to take it. The hacking stops and Dawn slowly opens her eyes. Dictatious looks at her untrusting and she frowns her hand with the tea shaking.

  "Please it'll help I promise..." She begs him. He blinks before looking at Dawn through the bars that seperated them, all six eyes peering into her soul through the darkness of the dungeon. 

 "... why?" He asks voice barely above a whisper as he forces it out of his raspy throat. He had gotten worse while she was gone but she believed Gunmar had fulfilled his deal as she had hers. That his sickness would be cured once he drank what she'd fought for and that he'd live just as she had.

 "Because this is wrong and I'm sorry. Please..." Dawn continues to offer the cure, cloak hiding her face but Dictatious knew her. She was the King's niece. She was Camelots jewel. She was that girl who would sneak into the woods to learn magic and come down into these dark dungeons to hear the stories he told other trolls to keep their hopes up.

  He sniffed the tea, it was a spicy moss blend that Dawn found many trolls enjoyed. The ingredients in the kitchen were slightly different from what trolls used but she hoped it'd appease him. Dictatious and her were by no means close but she wanted to amend that. They'd met in the woods when she was small, he'd helped her home. And once more he'd seen her practicing magic and had gifted her a troll book about ancient spells. She'd hated trolls for months after Gweniveres passing. She'd hated her magic but then she remembered. She remembered her aunts love and kindness. Her passion for the arts and her interest in magic. She would not let Arthur get away with this if she was still alive. But she was dead so it was Dawn's responsibility now. 

  It helped that Dictatious told stories whenever she came down to explore the dungeons. Although they never directly interacted he showed her not all trolls were evil. Before he got sick he spun tales of his world explaining magic in a way Dawn had never heard before. He was not a beast like Arthur described and she couldn't bear for him to die when he became sick and could no longer tell his stories. She couldn't stand that these trolls were trapped, that so many had died here. But for now all she had to beg for forgiveness was the potion. 

  "..." Dictatious studies Dawn humming as he looks her over. He takes the cup, his hands touching hers. She smiles and he looks grateful as he takes the warm mug. Looking at the princess with glazy eyes he snorts amused. "You are not like your family. You are different..." Dawn tilts her head but he doesn't add on as he chugs the drink. Once done he hands the cup back before curling into a ball on the dungeons cold floor. Dawn stares at him panicked. Had it been poison? Was he dying? Had she killed him? Had Gunmar lied to her?

 "Dic…?" Going to open the cell bars she paused watching his chest slowly rise and fall. Sleeping. The troll was just resting. Sighing and letting out a laugh Dawn falls against the bars exhausted. Chuckling she hugs her knees close. As she looked at Dic slumbering and listened to the rumbling trolls around her, her eyes fluttered. Yes she could use some of that too...

~~~

 Dawn feels a hand on her shoulder. She startles awake looking around confused before she remembers visiting Dic in the dungeons. Groaning she isn't sure when she dozed off but apparently she had.

 "You stayed?" Turning Dawn takes off her cloaks hood and pauses seeing Dictatious look at her. Smiling she stands, excited the potion worked as he looked much healthier. 

 "You're up." She states ignoring his previous remark. Studying him he seemed to be in good health despite the terrible circumstances. Dic hums in response reaching his hand through the bars to touch Dawns face. "Are you well?" She asks ignoring as he poked her.

 "I am but what of you? What happened to you?" Dawn blushes remembering the bruises and cuts all over her face from the duel. She didn't have the energy to deal with them last night. Letting out a chuckle she shrugs it off.

 "Don't worry about it." She responds, muttering a quick spell to heal her injuries. Dictatious watches with wide eyes as the cuts slowly close and the swelling goes down. She still had some light bruising but she looked much better. He had not seen her last night in the darkness of the dungeon but he'd recognized her scent and voice. Plus she was the only human who really came down here other than the Knights. 

 "You are a very strange human." He states crossing his arms. Chuckling Dawn nods. She was indeed different than her family. 

 "Can you walk? What about run?" She questions suddenly. Dictatiouses face scrunches as he tilts his head. What was she planning now?

 "Yes I feel fine now but why?" He asks. Dawn nods at him before she summons her armor. If she'd fallen asleep against the cells in the morning than it had to be dark now.

 "You've been here long enough. All of you. It's time you go home." She states. 

 "Dawna what are you doing?" Dictatious demands grabbing at her arm but she was already walking away from his cell to the center of the room. Making the torches burn bright, light fills the room showing Dawn.   "... You don't know me!" Dawn addresses them and the sound of grating stone can be heard as they turn and shift towards her. Eyes of all shapes and sizes watching the girl speak. "But I believe Trolls aren't evil. And I promise you, neither are humans. I do this because what my uncle Arthur did to all of you was wrong. I do this to show we're not all like him." Dawn fueled by saving Dic holds up her hand and all the cadges glow. Trolls gasp backing away before the locks suddenly click and the doors swing open. They… they were free? "Follow me and I'll lead you home!" Pulling her hood up Dawn runs out of the dungeon towards the castles entrance and the trolls, goblins, stalklings, and gnomes follow. Dictatious pushes past other trolls and rushing out of his now opened cell runs to be in the front right next to her.

 "Dawna this could be your title! This could be everything. Your very life! What are you doing?" He demands pulling on her arm but she just smiles, winking at him. 

 She leads a charge, directing the various creatures through the castle. Bigger creatures pick up smaller or sicker ones to help them keep up. The freed trolls follow behind her trusting the emboldened mage who had saved them. Their thundering footsteps echoing through the castle.

Making it to the front entrance she bursts the door open with her magic, leading everyone out of the castle and through the labyrinth of Camelot cobblestone streets before finally arriving at the gate. Focusing and saying a spell she hoists the iron bars open and they nod at her in thanks before they run. 

 It was early morning and the sun slowly begins to rise but for now there was enough shade for the night creatures to travel safely. Dawna can hear commotion coming from the castle as knights scurry around trying to find the escaped trolls and missing princess. Laughing as she watches the trolls flee, seeing them return home to the woods her chest flutters in happiness. She'd done it. She'd used magic and she'd freed them. 

  Feeling a pull Dawn stumbles almost dropping the gate and pausing she turns.

  "Lets go." Dictatious states yanking at her hand. She blinks surprised before staring at the troll.

  "What?" She asks softly. He pulls again wanting to drag her into the woods with him. With all of them. Some trolls pause on the bridge looking back and waiting for her decision.

 "Come with us. Please." Dawn blinks before she stares at Dictatious. Tilting her head she gazes outward, to the woods and their lush forest. With the freshest of fruits and gorgeous flowers. With friends. With Safety. With Magic. With sparring. And Freedom. She'd have freedom. She feels another pull and hesitantly she takes a step back so she doesn't go running away with them. 

 "My family is here..." She mumbles but she longs to leave with Dictatious. To go to their troll safe haven and explore the troll world. Too read endless books and immerse herself in their culture and magic. Too see what she'd only heard stories about. To become what she could only dream. 

 "You don't belong with them." Dictatious lightly bumps her head with his before squeezing her cheeks. Dawn is confused but laughing she smiles realising he had just given her the equivalent of a platonic troll kiss. He saw her as kin and he wanted her safe. She didn't belong in Camelot anymore did she? Her home was the wild surrounded by trees and magic not cobblestone and iron. But if she stayed she could help and maybe someday she would ascend to the throne and she could fix things. She could repair the damage done by Arthurs anger and she could rule with Gweniveres love. 

  The loud clanking of armor gets closer and Dawn hugs Dictatious feeling his rough stone against her before she pushes him to flee. He runs understanding her decision but at the end of the bridge he hesitates sending her a hopeful glance. He waits but Dawn simply bows a last goodbye and he nods taking off into the safety of the woods. Looking up again about to bring the gate back down Dawn pauses. 

  Gunmar stood at the edge of the woods watching. Tilting her head he nodded slowly at her. He did not trust humans and the Royal Family was at the top of that list but Dawn hoped she had earned his respect. If she ever fell by his hand she hoped it would be a quick merciful death. Something he granted few.

 The iron bars slam down as her magic burned out, separating her from the woods and all that lied beyond. Dawn signs looking away. Once again she was trapped.

~~~

 Gunmar stood at the woods edge peering into the Humans putrid village. He had come to scout and see if Dawna would keep her word. If the potion she won truly was for a troll or if she was lying and planned to use it against them and slaughter his troops. His single eye widened as the gates opened. He growled ready to tear open her throat but paused as a flood of magical creatures poured out rather than the army he was expecting. He could see trolls of all kinds, stalkings, gnomes, and goblins and amongst them stood an unafraid Dawna. They towered over her and had ten times her strength and yet she didn't fear them. They all left and Dawna was alone. Going to turn and leave he paused. Some trolls remained. A cloaked troll had stayed back and now they were clinging to her. Even from the distance he could see they were small and sickly, barley recovered despite the potion it seemed. The troll pulled at her as the others encouraged her to leave with them. Gunmar snorted enraged at the notion they'd invite her into the woods. 

  The girl simply nodded no, trying to urge them to leave. A wise decision on her part. The troll looks up and saw he was running out of time, the light was coming and with it his death if he didn't hurry. He leaves but Gunmar watches him hesitate. The trolls look back and Dawn smiles before bowing goodbye. The trolls run to the shelter of the trees and the princess watches them leave. The gate is about to drop before her green eyes lock onto him. Their gaze meets and she slowly nods to him. The gate slams down separating them before he can respond and he hums watching her run off as knights come. Perhaps if things were different. If she was born a troll or even a GumGum in another life they could've been allies. Maybe even friends. He turns feeling saddened that she chose to remain imprisoned when she clearly could be free. What an odd human.

[dxmedstudent]

Things I miss under lockdown:

Work just...not having this constant layer of 'could this be coronavirus'. Yes, it could be. But sonetimes non-coronavirus exists too.

Not having to worry about social distancing at work. It bothers me less in shops or restaurants, but NHS hospitals and the way we work were really not set up for it.

Having most 'bad news conversations' face to face. Somehow it feels better when you can hold someone's hand or offer them a tissue.

The geberal hubbub of the hospital. I used to love this peaceful night shift kind of feel. But it's so different to what a hospital is usually like.

I miss our regular services. I miss being able to tell patients how long til they can have an outpatient investigation or appointment. I miss the system working at its full capacity.

I miss the certainty of our posts. Now every job means you might get re-routed onto a covid ward or your leave might be cancelled, or your rota mainly be changed. I'm applying for jobs next year but I am really not sure what they will be like. As nobody knows what we will be facing after August.

I miss not worrying about who will catch coronavirus and if I'll lose friends or colleagues. Not worrying how it'll affect my parents if they get it. Not worrying about how my home country and relatives will fare. Trying not to think of which patients it might affect.

Outside of work, I miss...

That feeling when you get a day off and you can just go and do something. Anything. Explore your town. Grab a coffee. Sure, your loved ones are busy, but there's so much you can do. Just that feeling of promise and discovery... is gone when there's barely anything you can do apart from sit in the garden alone.

Feeling like you choose alone time. Don't get me wrong, I love some alone time. But it feels sweeter when you choose it, rather than when all your time becomes alone time because you're banned from human interaction.

The weather has been so good, but what you could do with it was so limited.

The cats. I worry sometimes that they'll forget who I am because they haven't seen me in months. They are happy and safe and have lots of love with my parents. But I feel sad that they can't understand why I just never came back.

Hugs. Just being able to be near people you care about. Just being able to make each other feel better.

Being able to see my friends. Sure, we mesaage but catchups are much more lively and intimate face to face. Even though restrictions are relaxed, we live a little too far apart for meeting up to be practical just yet, but maybe its something to look forward to.

The friends who are stranded abroad who were hoping to come visit. I don't know when I will see them again. I hope they stay safe.

All the fun events that were planned for this year. Weddings. Celebrations. Housewarming parties. Just casual meetups. We all had so many hopes for the year. So many things to celebrate. Now people aren't sure when they will be able to get everyone together.

Lots of my friends haven't even met my BF nor have I met some of my friends new partners. Doing that over zoom would feel awkward somehow. I miss all the little get togethers we would have had.

Living with someone I care about. I've lived with friends, but for the past few years my flatmates have not made that jump into friendship, and you really feel that under lockdown. They've been perfectly nice and great for chats, but it's not the same.

I spent most of lockdown with s barely functional kitchen and using soneone else's washing machine cos my kitchen was being redone. That was fun! Not.

I realised that being able to regularly visit family, see my BF and friends is a big part of what made living apart sustainable for me. It's not a huge distance - easy enough to visit every weekend or on days off, when you're not under lockdown. But it feels like a distance right now. It's made me evaluate how far apart I'm happy to live in the future. Which is funny cos half the time when I'm there I'm not even doing anything other than chilling watching TV or playing games.

A lot of my stuff is at my parents'. Now they are allowed to drop things off in a socially distanced manner that's less of a problem, but it still means that I won't have access to a lot of my stuff for a long time. I tend to live in small flats where I don't get a lot of space to put things, so realistically I can't keep much stuff with me. I'm used to being able to choose what to bring and leave whenever I visit, but this has made me even more desperately want my own place. Space is important; and those with space have a privilege they don't realise.

I miss my family. We talk regularly, but not being able to visit is weird. It's easier to bear because I know it's for their protection, but it's still so weird. My mum joked that the next time I'd be able to come home I'd be married with kids. That's depressingly not entirely implausible given the state of things. I don't know when it will be safe for me as a healthcare worker, to be with them.

I miss my Guy. Even though we talk every day and even though we often have fun virtual activities together alone or with his friends. I miss being able to cuddle up together, and feeling safe in someone's arms. I miss the parts of human intimacy that can't carry over an internet connection. I miss being able to see someone, and know they are OK and they are right there in front of you.

It makes it harder when you have no idea when the rules might be relaxed to allow partners to see each other. Right now it's being treated exactly the same as my right to stand less than 2m away from a stranger in a shop. I.e. completely unimportant and probably the last restriction that will be eased. Why should they care? It doesn't make them money.

I miss going out. Museums. Coffee shops. Game cafes. Cinemas. Restaurants. Pubs. Just so many fun things that used to be an option but now aren't.

The worst part of a pandemic apart from all the death and economic calamity is facing it all alone, without being able to have so much as a hug. We're not alone, but we're also banned from all the kinds of contact we've built our society and human behaviour around.

I miss not worrying if people will be ok. If they will get sick. If they will be ok financially. So many people are going to go through a really tough time even after infections ease off. And you can't even be there physically for people.

[twiceinadream]

“I’m being gay with you.”

Requested: Yup

Request: could you write a nachaeng's first kiss scenario please :>

a/u: Hey, guys! So I’ve been gone for a while, and I’m finally posting! Yay! This was honestly supposed to be a small one shot but I kinda blew it out of proportion, and it’s now my longest one. So please enjoy and thank you to everyone who has supported me both and old, and @princesskdh for helping me through some pretty rough writer’s block. Thank you all again! (P.S. Thank you all so much for 1.2K+ followers)

Category: Angst and Fluff

Word Count: 1.5K

Chaeyoung sighed as she stared down at her notes, formulas filled the lines of her notebook as her eyes began drifting to the girl beside her, her lab partner, Im Nayeon. The spoiled rich girl of JYP Academy was the lab partner of the renowned delinquent. The world really did work in mysterious ways. “Chaeyoung-ssi. Chaeyoung-ssi!” Chaeyoung shook her head as she tore her gaze from her lab partner and to the teacher in front of her.

The girl gave her a smile as she was met face to face with her teacher, “Yes, Miss Park.” Her smirk made the older woman’s blood boil as she gripped the paper in her hand harder.

“The principle would like to see you.” Chaeyoung just shrugged as she gathered her things and gave Nayeon a small smile.

“See you later beautiful.” As soon as the words left the younger girl’s mouth she was out of the room in a flash as she quietly celebrated in the hallway, ‘Ahh! I just did that! I hope she knows I’m being gay with her.’ Chae did a small dance of joy before she quickly straightened up and popped the collar of her leather jacket, clearing her throat as she made her way to the front office.

—

The silence was deafening as the man across the young girl sighed heavily, “Chaeyoung-ssi, I am well aware of your reputation around the academy and I’m not blind to your antics. But you need to start getting your act together.” Chaeyoung just rolled her eyes as she slouched into the chair.

“What for?” The man behind the desk gave a small smile, a smile that made Chaeyoung’s skin crawl.

“Oh you know, the usual. Being banned from all school activities and possible suspension.” Suddenly he had the young girl’s attention as she sat up in the chair.

“Banned from school activities!? Like the, Winter Ball!?” The principle gave her a confused look as she seemed to have complete disregard at the mention of suspension, but be concerned over the upcoming Ball.

“But also sus…” the man sighed, “Yes. If your continue on your ‘delinquent streak’ you will be ineligible for the Winter Ball.” Chaeyoung nodded as she rose from the chair.

“So be it.”

—

Chaeyoung crossed her arms as she leaned against the wall behind her. Today was the day, the day she would ask Im Nayeon to the Winter Ball. The shorter girl tracked her as she moved through the cafeteria to keep an eye on her for when she would finally sit. Bingo.

The shorter girl smiled to herself as she moved away from the wall and into the sea of people parting as she walked through, her sights set on one girl. A halo seemed to glow around Nayeon as Chaeyoung came closer, her prominent laugh filled the room as her heart began to pound in her ears, the light in Chaeyoung’s eyes growing brighter. When out of nowhere her vision went black as she ran into someone, “What the h…” Chae shook her head as she backed up, her eyes settling on the chest of the girl that had gotten in her way, her eyes trailing up to her face. Her beauty leaving Chaeyoung absolutely floored as her mouth fell agape, her mind reeling as she noticed the girl began speaking to her.

But Chae had been too focused on watching her lips that she was only able to catch the last few words, “...the Winter Ball with me.” Chaeyoung blinked as the cafeteria suddenly became silent, she could no longer hear Nayeon’s laugh as she stared up at the girl in front of her.

“Yes.” The answer left her mouth before she had to process what had been said to her, and as suddenly as the mystery girl had appeared she was gone, and a piece of paper was left in Chaeyoung’s hand as her eyes wandered to where Nayeon was. Her heart sinking as she was met with the sight of the all star jock, Yoo Jeongyeon smiling up at her as she made the older girl laugh, Chaeyoung felt her heart seize as she opened the folded paper in her hand. ‘Here’s my number, and by the way, my name is Chou Tzuyu.’

—

The night had finally arrived and dread seemed to fill Chaeyoung’s mind as she looked at herself in the mirror. Her suit looked great and her hair had been freshly cut, her makeup done simply. But as well as her night had been going something felt like something was missing, and to Chae’s shame she knew exactly why. It wasn’t Tzuyu’s fault, the girl was actually very sweet even with how painfully shy she was.

Chaeyoung smiled to her mother as she wished her goodnight and made her way to her car, sighing as she started the car and drove to Tzuyu’s house. She had only known her for a few weeks but Chaeng could feel that a friendship had begun to bloom between them and before she could get lost in her thoughts any further she pulled into the Chou resident’s driveway. She turned her car off as she got out and made her way to the door, knocking a few times as she waited on the porch. A few moments passed before the door opened to reveal what looked like a literal angel in Chae’s eyes.

Tzuyu smiled shyly as Chaeyoung complimented her, taking her hand as she led her to her car, opening the door for her as they began their drive to the academy.

—

When they had gotten into the gym it seemed so crowded with students that Chae had no idea how they were ever gonna get through, but they somehow managed and were now dancing the night away (I’m sorry) as the bass seemed to shake the building. She and Tzuyu smiled at each other as the people around them seemed to push them closer, and for a moment Chae had actually forgotten about Nayeon as she left to get herself and Tzuyu some punch.

As Chaeyoung muscled her way through the crowd and back to Tzuyu she nearly dropped the drinks in her hands as her eyes were met with the sight of Tzuyu locking lips with Jeongyeon. The scene made Chaeyoung’s heart break all over again, her eyes stung as she tore her gaze from the sight; pushing past the people around her as she threw the drinks in the trash and ran out the gym doors.

The cold night air filled her senses as she sat on the steps of the gymnasium, cold concrete below her as she looked up to the sky. The stars were brighter than usual tonight ad Chae smiled to herself, until the sound of soft sobs broke through the night’s silence. Chaeyoung was quick to turn around to make sure whoever was behind was okay, not expecting to be greeted with the sight of Nayeon.

She looked more beautiful than ever, even with her makeup running slightly and hiccuped sobs replacing her usual carefree laugh. Chaeyoung frowned as she stood taking off her jacket, silently placing it on Nayeon’s shoulders. The older girl didn’t even need to look to know who it was, she just wrapped her arms around Chaeyoung’s neck as she cried into the shorter girl’s shoulder.

The action taking Chae by surprise as she froze in Nayeon’s hold, quickly relaxing as she tentatively wrapped her arms around Nayeon’s waist; holding onto her tightly till her cries ceased and she pulled away from her. Nayeon sniffled as she gave Chaeyoung a weak smile, “Thanks.” The younger girl smiled back as she put her hands in her pockets unsure of what to do with them.

“No problem. You look beautiful.” Nayeon let out a small laugh as she looked down at herself.

“You’re just being nice. I look like a mess.”

Chaeyoung scoffed in offense, “Well excuse me, if I find this ‘mess’ beautiful.” The older girl just rolled her eyes as she pushed Chae’s shoulder.

“Then you must be copper and tellurium. Because you’re CuTe.” Chaeyoung shook her head as she and Nayeon shared a laugh.

“Wow, I’m impressed you actually listen to Miss Park. I always thought you were too busy staring at her chest.” Nayeon scoffed as Chaeyoung laughed.

“You really have a way with girls, Chaeyoung-ah.” Chae just smirked.

“Well, I am being gay with you.” Nayeon laughed, a real one. The sound making Chaeyoung’s heart beat faster.

“In that case. I am too.” Chaeyoung felt her eyes widen as she looked at Nayeon in disbelief. Her body barely registering Nayeon pulling her into her arms again.

“Unnie. What are you doing?” The older girl shrugged.

“Payback to our dates.”

Suddenly Nayeon’s lips were on Chaeyoung’s. The younger girl could feel her heart pound in her chest as she melted into the kiss, their lips moving in synch as Chaeyoung pulled Nayeon closer. Their bodies fit perfectly with each other, as Chaeyoung’s eyes slid closed as stars erupted in her vision.

Chae couldn’t help but smile against Nayeon’s lips, as she pulled the older girl closer again.

Finally. She had finally found what she had been missing.

[sassystephden]

Ransom - Full

My contribution to Whumptober 2019, Prompt 27 - Ransom

IronDad, IronStrange

Final Word Count: 7.7K

WARNING: Angst, Torture, Psychological Torture, Branding

Peter gets kidnapped, and Tony finds out too late.

///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\

When Tony’s phone rang in the middle of a debriefing meeting, he thought nothing of it. When it rang again in the middle of a gala, he thought a little bit more of it. Even so, it was only after 20 hours spent in the lab, when he collapsed on the couch that he finally checked his phone.

He warily eyed the blocked number who had taken up a large portion of his message bank. Scrolling to the top of the conversation, he noted with smooth satisfaction that whoever this blocked number was had been sending him exactly minute-long messages every two hours exactly.

His thumb was getting tired by the time he scrolled to the top of the…17 messages? No way he was in the lab that long. But whoever this was had definitely achieved getting his (tired) attention.

After groggily pressing the play button, Tony watched with as the video opened onto two large metal doors, covered in scratches. This in itself wasn’t weird, considering it wasn’t the first time someone had found his phone number on the dark web just to send him a home-made action movie – for whatever reason he didn’t know.

What caught his attention though, was the soft sobbing sound coming from the corner of the room. Because that voice sounded strangely familiar. He couldn’t place it but –

“Mr Stark!”

Tony almost fell off his seat as the camera panned to Peter, huddled in the corner of a room. He slowly clenched his fists and gave his attention back to the video. Because this was a joke. This had to be a joke. A really, really cruel –

“Mr-Mr Stark. P-please. I don’t. I don’t know where I am.”

A chill descended down Tony’s spine, as a soft laugh echoed from outside the camera shot.

“That’s it, little Spider. Beg just like that, you know he’s never coming. Don’t you?”

Peter gulped, and his Adam’s apple bobbed, eyes watering, and the man walked into the camera frame, face concealed by a white ceramic mask.

“The great Tony Stark, powerless, weak. We’ve taken you, Spiderling. And he still hasn’t noticed.”

Peter was meant to be in his room. He was meant to be in his room, at the tower, fixing the suit. He was –

“Mr Stark. If you’re watching this video, it means you’ve finally found time in your busy, busy life to sit on your phone.”

Busy, busy was an understatement.

“Normally, these jobs wouldn’t be too hard, but you and I both know the Spiderling has a lot of experience with these types of situations. He can ‘hold his own’ you might say, no thanks to you of course. So, for a little bit of incentive, let’s play a game.”

The man turned to face Peter, who was slowly standing up; unwinding little by little.

“Here are the rules; little Peter is going to be here for as long as it takes you to find him. There is no ransom, no clues, no secrets and no calling any of your special friends. You’re a busy man, we both know that, so for every few hours that your Spiderling is here, we’re going to make him a little bit more uncomfortable. Right now, we’re feeding him and giving him water. How long do you think it will take for that to run out? What do you think Spiderling?”

The man got closer to Peter and Tony watched with sick satisfaction as Peter jerked up and attempted to fight the man, only to be restrained by three of his men.

“As I said. Such a fighter.”

The video cut to black and saw red.

“FRIDAY, analytics. Now.’

“I already have Boss, they’ve encrypted all the videos, and the IP address is cut in a way I’ve never seen before. I can try to trace it, but it may take a while.” Her smooth voice ran over the speakers, and it made his head pound.

“Do it. Fast.”

“Yes, boss.”

Tony steadied himself and stared at the screen. 15 videos. Peter had been there for 30 hours. A day and a half. A day and a half with this psycho.

He took a deep breath, and with startingly steady hands pressed play on the next video.

Once again, the video opened to wide silver doors, and panned across to Peter, the mans’ voice ringing out from his phone speakers.

“Look at him, Stark. So nice in the chains don’t you think?”

Peter was curled in a small ball, his wrists and feet cuffed to the ground in heavy metal that looked either like Vibranium or Admantinium.

“Stand up, Spider.”

Peter looked up softly and started slowly uncurling himself. The chains clunked dully, and he stood to his tiny height. His shoulder looked like they were almost being pulled out of their sockets by the weight of the restraints, and Tony had never seen Peter look so pale.

“FRIDAY, scan the location.”

“Encrypted video Boss, I’m trying my best.”

“TRY HARDER!”

There was silence over the speakers, so Tony turned his attention back to the video.

“Mr Stark, it’s okay. I’m okay for now I promise. Just-just get me out of here soon? Please? I trust you Mr Stark.”

Tony swallowed thickly.

“Hmm. I wonder how long that trust will last. It seems like you want to find out as well. I hope you’re enjoying your evening, Mr Stark. I trust it will be a long one. Don’t you think little Spider?”

Peter looked at the man through the holes in his mask and stood resolutely still, and Tony watched with disgust as the man stepped forward to run a thumb along Peter’s jawline. Peter snarled.

“Such a fighter. We will break him though, Mr Stark. You can ‘quote me’ on that.”

The camera cut to black.

‘FRI.”

“Boss. No match on the facials or IP yet, but we’re still trying.”

Tony didn’t answer and stared into his hands. How could this have happened? Peter was meant to be in his room. He had turned Jarvis off for a minute, just one minute to check analytics and-

“Boss, this isn’t on you. You didn’t know he needed protection.”

Slamming a hand on the desk, Tony jumped to his feet and turned to where he knew the speakers were. “HE’S A BLOODY KID, FRI OF COURSE HE NEEDS PROTECTION. Just… what, what did I do?”

There was silence, and Tony collapsed back onto the couch.

“Let me know if anything changes.”

“Got it, boss.”

Tony looked over to the bar. A drink looked really good right about now, but he shook his head and scrolled down to the tenth video, once again pressing play.

 The camera opened on steel doors, but this time it stayed there.

“My, my, my Mr Stark. You really are making the little Spider wait. He’s angry with you. Or, rather he would be. We might have to up the stakes hmm? It’s awfully hot in here. It can get hotter. How long do you think Mr Parker will last before he goes delirious? Maybe heatstroke? It’s been… oh, exactly 12 hours since his last drop of water and food. Should we see how long he lasts?”

The camera banned to Peter, and Tony’s heart simultaneously shattered into a million pieces.

He was curled up on the floor, completely still, ridiculously pale and sweating.

“We’re filming again Spiderling. Anything you want to say to Mr Stark?”

“Mr-Mr Stark. I-I don’t know what’s happening Mr Stark. Just-please, please I-I don’t know where you are Mr Stark. Please help me.”

Peter was crying, and his voice was hoarse and cracking. He lapped greedily at the tears that ran down his cheeks, and was met with a resounding slap on the face by one of the men behind him.

“No.”

Peter shuddered and curled back down.

“Ten is a lovely number Mr Stark. Don’t you agree? I promised my boys no touching until ten and I must say, they are very excited. Sadly, Mr Parker doesn’t seem as enthusiastic as them, but I’m sure that is something we can change. Stockholm syndrome and all that.”

The man stepped into the camera frame and faced Peter.

“I must give you credit though, Mr Stark. Your Spider is holding up surprisingly well. You trained him well.”

Trained. Trained like he was a dog.

“This isn’t on Mr Stark.”

Tony almost collapsed with a violent mix of relief and worry when he heard Peter’s voice, scratchy from disuse but still as sure as ever.

No-one responded, so Peter tried again. “It’s not Mr Stark’s fault.”

“Perhaps.” The kidnapper responded. “But he hasn’t come to get you yet? Has he?”

The film stayed running long enough to see Peter’s face fall with disappointment, looking down with unshed tears. Before it cut to black Tony was up and pacing.

“FRIDAY. Voice analysis. Material analysis. Anything!”

“I’m trying boss, hard. JARVIS is too, but we haven’t found anything.”

The smooth voice of Tony’s first (and favorite) AI cut through the speakers. “I must agree Sir. Whoever these men are, they are awfully good.”

“I’m meant to be BETTER. I need to be BETTER!” Tony was half hysterical, and pacing around the penthouse. When after a few minutes he was met with silence from the speakers, he sat back down, looking with disgust at the various technology around him.

“FRIDAY.”

“Boss?”

The AI sounded decidedly cool.

“Lock up the house, and lock down the lab. Power off everything that isn’t necessary to you finding this. All protocols and all codes. I want every stem of manpower we have on this.”

“Confirmation for the de-activation of protocols, Sir?”

She was definitely mad.

“Jotunheim. Turn everything off.”

Once again, the speakers were silent, and after a few moments, all of the lights went out. The comforting hum of the arc reactor went out, and Tony was left alone with his thoughts. He side-eyed the bar, then turned back around to face his phone.

“See if you can find a way to contact Stephen. Be sly.”

The cold silence told him it was done, and he scrolled down to video 12.

The steel doors were a cold comfort that they hadn’t moved anywhere else, and Tony didn’t dare breathe until the cold voice of the kidnapper wafted from the camera.

“It’s been a very long time Mr Stark. I’m sure you want to see your Spider hmm? I’m afraid that’s not possible right now. He’s indisposed.”

The camera stayed still, but Tony could faintly hear some grunts of pain coming from the side of the room. He picked up the sounds of heavy breathing, and there was a heartbeat of ominous silence, before the camera finally, finally panned.

Peter was in the middle of the room this time, hung up by his restraints like a small, pale Jesus.

“Look at your boy, Mr Stark. He looks up to you. He kept calling out your name. Where are you now?”

The three men standing behind Peter stood stoically as their boss moved forward.

“Mr Parker.”

Peter resolutely stared down.

“Mr Parker, look at me.”

Still, Peter stared down, and the man took another step forward, and roughly grabbed his jaw, jerking his head up.

There were tears in Peter’s eyes, but he stared into the eyes of his captor in a way that made Tony’s heart throb.

The two men stood stoically for a moment, but ran forward when Peter slammed his head down on his captors fingers, and reached out to try and bite them.

The man withdrew his hand with an almost disdainful sniff, examining it and re-adjusting his mask.

“My, my little Spider. You certainly do pack a punch. You will pay for this, with your dear Mr Stark watching I may add.”

He nodded to one of the men circling Peter, and they stepped forward.

“I have to thank you, Mr Stark. Had you not taught your boy to be so tough, my men may not be getting as much pleasure out of doing this.”

The man stepped out of the camera frame, and Tony watched with horror as one of his henchmen stepped forward with a small switch knife. Smiling with sick satisfaction, the man takes his time, using the knife to cut away Peter’s torn shirt, and slowly runs the knife along his stomach, and up his neck. When the man cuts forward hard enough to draw blood, Tony is surprised to see blood on his own fists when he looks down, his hands clenching hard enough that he smashed the glass he was holding. He barely feels it, and when he looks back to the video Peter has 3 brand new cuts streaking crimson down his torso.

His guts twists when he sees Peter in full clarity again, holding back a scream with pleading, bloodshot caramel eyes. But what made Tony truly seethe was the pleasure and enjoyment on the goons face as he leisurely dragged the dagger through Peter’s skin, his face lighting up each time a scream escaped Peter’s clenched lips.

When the captor’s voice rings out again, the dread in Tony’s stomach deepened to a level he didn’t know existed.

“Well, Mr Stark, this has been truly entertaining, but it seems we have gone over time. It’s been one day already. If I were you, I wouldn’t be leaving your little Spider too much longer.”

The video cut to black and a message from Tony’s phone gave a dull chime. Video 18.

The mark that Peter had been in this place – wherever it was – for a day and a half. He felt like he was going to throw up, but instead pressed play on the video, dread settling deep into his gut.

This time, the video didn’t open on the steel doors that by this point had come to be a strange reassurance, but instead onto a landscape shot of a street-style boxing ring set up in the middle of a large warehouse. Tony almost jumped when the chilling sound of the captor rung into the room, almost like it was right behind him.

“What do you think, Mr Stark? A fitting place for your little Spider to face his first real opponent? We even have a crowd.”

The shot focused on the mans’ three goons, standing to the corner of the room in a tight formation with their arms crossed.

Tony waited a few moments in sickening silence, before there was a rustling from out of shot, and Peter was flung in by two more goons, who quickly retreated into the shadows.

The masked mans’ voice rang out through the empty warehouse. “Get up, Spider.”

Peter slowly stood up. He was paler than before, and glistening with a small sheen of sweat.

You are known for fighting villains yes? Why don’t you show us how you can fight.”

Tony could see Peter’s haunted eyes even with the camera positioned almost 20 feet away. Even so, he turned to look the masked man in the eye.

“Who first?”

The man had the audacity to laugh. “First? Oh little Spider, so brave. There is no-one first, I’m not cruel. You’ll be fighting me.”

Tony stilled along with Peter. Somehow even the goons seemed surprised. Still, Peter raised into a fighting stance.

When no-one moved, the goons advanced forward. Tony recognized the middle one as the one with a switch knife. His eyes shone with pleasure every time Peter moved in a way that made him wince.

“I’m not going to fight you.”

The man grinned. “So be it then.” He nodded to the goons. “Hold him.”

Tony watched as the men advanced, and efficiently wrestled Peter to the floor. It was a mark of exactly how tired and malnourished Peter was that he barely struggled, kicking a few times before allowing his body to go limp.

The goons positioned Peter to a spread-eagle position on the floor and watched with glee as the masked man took a few strides to stand over them. He bent down slowly, reaching forward a hand to run his knuckles over Peters jaw.

“Have we done it Mr Parker. Finally broken you, hm? With Mr Stark watching?”

Peter didn’t answer.

“Perhaps we finally got under your skin. Or.” The man paused and growled. “Is that what you want us to believe?”

The man’s palm connected to Peter’s collarbone, and he screamed, the interweaving crack echoing through the room. He let out another wail of anguish as the man delivered a harsh slap against the side of his head.

“I thought you weren’t going to fight. Be quiet, yes?”

Peter bit back another scream as the man rammed a finger into the rapidly growing bruise on his shoulder, tears fighting their way to the surface,

“There we go. Finally learning.”

The man smiled, resting for a few moments on Peter’s legs before lunging forward and grabbing his arm, pushing his wrist forward until he heard a crack. The sound mixed with Peter’s muffled scream. immediately joined by a clear pop as the man bent Peter’s thumb back to meet his wrist, a bruise blossoming seconds later.

The scream Peter let out was animalistic, and the slap he got in return was just as loud.

“What. Did. I. Say?”

Peter was sobbing now, tears flowing down his face and mingling with the dried blood left on his chest.

The man pressed Peter’s wrist down further and watched with satisfaction as Peter let out another muffled scream, biting down on his lips until there was blood.

“ANSWER ME!”

“You – you said I - that I should be qui-AAHHH” The end of Peter’s sentence was muffled as the man brought a hand down again on the large bump in his shoulder.

“I said that you promised you wouldn’t fight.”

The man grabbed Peter by his hair and threw him into the corner of the room, where he stayed, immobile and slowly sobbing.

He slowly stalked over, and watched as Peter tried and failed to get up. He kicked, and the sound of boots hitting flesh echoed off the wall with a sickening crunch.

Peter collapsed, and the man turned back around, walking to stare into the camera lens through the gaps in his mask.

“Look at your prized apprentice now Stark. So bruised. So deliciously broken.”

His voice was soft and sweet, and it made Tony sick. He watched as the man re-adjusted his masked, and spared a glance over his shoulder at Peter. “I’m beginning to think that perhaps, you really don’t care after all.”

For once, Tony hoped the video would last longer so that he could be sure they didn’t do anything else to Peter, but once again it cut to black, and he was left with the empty silence of the penthouse.

A knock from the side of the penthouse window drew Tony out of his thoughts, and walking over his shoulder, he saw the shadow of a deep red cloak.

“FRI, open the windows.”

She did so, and Stephen floated into the penthouse, landing softly on the floor, turning to Tony.

“Tony –”

“It’s Peter… He – he.” Tony let out a sob and collapsed into Stephen’s arms, heaving cries wracking through his entire body.

Stephen enveloped him, hands cradling through hair.

“Tones, it’s okay. It’s okay. This isn’t your fault.”

Tony stilled.

“This is on them, Tony. You’re not the one that took him.”

Stephen barely heard Tony’s response. “I was meant to be the one that protects him.”

Gently lifting Tony’s head, Stephen looked him in tear stained eyes.

“We all were. JARVIS as well. These people evidently know what they’re doing Tony. You’re one human man, you can’t put it on yourself to protect a family of superheroes.”

“He’s a kid.” The following sob Tony gave echoed around the room, and he collapsed into Stephen’s arms. He pulled Tony onto the couch.

“We’re all doing everything we can, Tones. You’re not any help to Peter dead though. Sleep. I’ll wake you in an hour.”

Expecting interruption, Stephen ignored Tony’s shuffling and continued.

“FRIDAY and JARVIS are on this Tony. This is quite literally what they were made for. Sleep.”

Stephen was met with silence, and he gave Tony a chaste kiss on the lips before sitting back, resting a hand on Tony’s head.

A few moments later, the phone rung with a new message, and Tony bolted upright.

The video opened on Peter, still bruised from the beating only 15 minutes ago.

“You called a friend, Mr Stark.” The masked man stepped into the camera shot. “Did you forget our rules?”

A violent wave of nausea rushed over Tony as he watched the Switch-Knife-Man approach Peter with a large bat, his eyes shining.

He brought the bat down on Peter with a flat crunch, and Tony watched as Peter jerked limply on the floor. Silent, but moving to cover his new wounds.

Stephen flinched when the bat came down again, hitting Peter right on the stomach and forcing Peter upright to throw up sickly green bile.

They watched as the goon brought the bat back on Peter again and again, getting increasingly excited every time Peter bit his lip with a desperately concealed moan. By hit five, Peter’s clothing was fully torn, and half his torso was black and blue. Tony was sure he had broken at least three ribs by this point, and the man kept hitting.

After ten hits, there was barely a part of Peter’s body that wasn’t black and blue.

The man’s voice rang out from the phone.

“A dozen more for every two hours your friend is by your side, Mr Stark. You have been warned.”

The video cut, and Tony turned to Stephen.

“Out.”

“Tony – ”

“OUT.”

Stephen slowly turned as the cloak wrapped around his torso, looking back when at Tony standing resolutely in the middle of the penthouse before stepping out into the air, the window closing behind him on the way out.

Tony didn’t realize exactly how long he had been in the lab until his phone chimed with another message. At this point, Peter had been with the kidnappers for 2 days. This was video 24, and he really didn’t want to open it.

For the last 6 hours, he had been going through every single possible tracing route he could think of for the IP address, and had (successfully) hacked into the FBI database to scan the masked man's eyes, ears, and tongue. After six hours of extensive work, he had found absolutely nothing. Nada. Nothing at all tracing the villain, and he hadn’t slept in about 45 hours.

With shaking hands and burning eyes, Tony opened the video.

Once again, he was met with a view of the cold, steel doors that he had become intimately familiar with while scanning almost all the infrastructure he could think of, and within a few moments the camera panned to the middle of an empty room.

“Mr Stark, I’m afraid once again Mr Parker is indisposed, but I thought this may be a good time for us to chat.”

The man’s voice made bile rise up in Tony’s throat.

“It has been two days. That’s 48 hours, and you still haven’t found your precious Spiderling. I think he’s beginning to lose faith in you.” He lowered his voice. “And I think I can prove that.”

The camera followed the man as he walked into an adjoining corridor, eventually turning the corner into a small side room.

Immediately, the camera focused on the roaring fire in the center of the room, burning red-blue, and Tony could almost feel the onslaught of heat. It took a few moments for the camera to adjust, and it gently settled on Peter, who was bending over a small stone desk in front of the fire.

Peter was pale, sweating profusely and his eyes were sunken and drowsy. Thankfully, his bruises had healed from the beating, but Tony could still see the faint bump from his broken collarbone.

“Little Spider, tell Mr Stark how you are feeling.”

Peter didn’t answer at first, and the man stalked forward.

“Now, now. You know what happens when you don’t speak. Answer me Mr Parker.”

Peter didn’t even move his head, and Tony could barely hear his reply over a dull chinking from the corner of the room.

“Please, Mr Stark.”

It was little more than a whisper, but Tony’s heart sunk into his stomach. Peter’s voice was hoarse and scratchy from disuse, and he looked seconds away from fainting from the heat of the fire.

The masked man gave a satisfied smirk, and Tony saw the outline of a shadow in the corner of the room.

“Your gift is finally ready Spiderling. Are you ready to accept it?”

“Please, no.” Peter whimpered, and looked up, drawing Tony’s eyes with his.

A red hot branding iron in the shape of a decorative ‘A’ entered the camera frame, hissing with heat and giving off steam.

“Please, please no.”

The man laughed softly. “Come Spiderling, you know we wouldn’t be unfair to you. I do not want to have to use this on you.” He gently picked up the iron. “You only have to do one, simple thing.”

Peter softly whimpered.

“What was that? I don’t think Mr Stark can hear you.”

“Anything. Please, please I’ll do anything.”

Upon closer inspection, Tony realized with a start that the band was made of Vibranium – Peter wouldn’t be able to heal from this. He watched with rapt attention as the man walked towards Peter with the brand, reaching down to card a hand through his hair. Tony winced as Peter was sharply tugged up, and the man leaned down to face him.

“All you have to do, little Spider, is admit Tony isn’t coming for you.”

Peter and Tony stilled.

“Think about it, Spiderling. It’s been two whole days, and he still hasn’t come to get you. You and I both know that if he wanted to find you he could have.”

Peter slowly shook his head.

“I urge you to consider your choice very carefully, Spiderling. If you believe Mr Stark is coming for you, do you really believe he would want you back with this hideous scar?”

The man twirled the iron in his hand, and Peter looked down, tears softly falling down his cheeks onto parched lips.

“He’s coming for me, I know he is.” Peter spoke so softly Tony could barely hear it, but the man’s responsive growl was more than loud enough to be heard over the roar of the fire.

“Come, little Spider. I only have to do this if you don’t do as I say. You could stop this.” The man raised the brand marginally closer to Peters skin and he frantically shook his head, pursing his lips.

The brand got so close that it was casting a red shadow on Peter’s skin and Tony could almost feel the heat on his own skin. He watched with bated breath as Peter got increasingly frantic, writhing under the hold of two of the men’s goons when the brand got close enough to start blistering his skin.

“You know what to do little Spider.” The man rested the brand above Peter’s skin, but Peter was still silent. “Very well.”

Tony watched as the man better positioned the brand atop of Peter’s torso, preparing himself to press it in before –

“Wait! Wait!”

The man cocked his head.

“He’s… He’s not coming… Mr Stark isn’t coming.” Tears were streaming down Peter’s swollen face onto his bruised torso, and the man gave a satisfied smile.

“Very good little Spider. But, you know what happens when you don’t obey fast enough.”

Tony and Peter screamed in unison as the man plunged the iron deep into Peter’s stomach, the hissing sound of flesh mingling with Peter’s wails.

He was hysterical, writhing on the floor and jerking in pain any time his torso moved, the blood on his stomach still cauterizing when the man stood and threw the iron to the side.

“I didn’t want to do this, Spiderling.” He reached down to run his knuckles along the brand, and Peter scrambled away from his touch, crying out in pain. “I did warn you.” He nodded to the goons. “Take him back.”

Two men stepped forward, and Tony watched as they hoisted a writhing, crying Peter over their shoulders and carried him out the door.

The man turned back to face the camera.

“I have to confess Mr Stark, I am disappointed. However, I’m not surprised. The press and the public have known for years that you don’t care about other’s lives. I just wanted to make sure.” He paused.  “I just hope you remember this video every time you try to go to sleep.”

The video cut to black on the masked man’s Cheshire grin, and Tony rose from his seat on steady feet, crossing the lab to the bar.

“Boss.”

“FRIDAY.”

“Boss.

“FRIDAY.”

“Boss, please think about this.”

“Excuse me, FRIDAY this doesn’t sound like information on the kidnapper. Or am I just getting hard of hearing.”

Tony was in the bar now, pouring himself a tumbler of golden scotch.

“Boss, please. Think of Stephen and Peter, they – ”

“THEY’RE ALL I THINK ABOUT!” Tony roared, panting and turned his attention back to his drink.

“Boss, please. You know I can’t let you do this. You put protocols in place for this.”

Tony looked up at the speakers. “FRIDAY I swear to whatever God is out there if you call Stephen, I will pour lemonade all over your circuit boards.”

“Sir, please consider, it’s been years now. This isn’t a –”

Tony downed his glass whole, looking up at the speakers over its rim.

“There. Protocol no longer needed. You only needed to call Stephen if I was considering drinking again. Well, I’m no longer considering it am I?”

Tony listened to silence as he poured and downed another drink.

“Both of you, sleep mode. Power off. Self-destruct or something. I don’t want to hear another word unless it’s about Peter.”

The silence continued as Tony downed one drink. Then two. Then three. Then four. By the fifth, his hands were shaking so bad he couldn’t pour out of the bottle anymore. He was considering either drinking out of the bottle or going down to the lab to get Dum-E to do it for him when a hand snatched the glass away from him.

“Tony.”

“Get out of my house, Stephen. NOW!”

“Tony I’m not leaving this time. You need help, Tones. We can –”

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! YOU KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN WHEN THEY SEE YOU HERE! THAT WILL BE ON YOU!”

Stephen stepped forward, and hand on Tony’s shoulder, and Tony slapped it away, retreating two steps for every one step forward.

“You need to leave. You need to leave right now, otherwise any minute now I’m going to get another video from them, and we both know what’s going to be in it.”

Tony’s voice was hoarse, and he looked towards the New York skyline, eyes and heart burning.

“Tony.” Stephen stepped forward. “If they already know I’m here then it’s too late, but we have two more hours before I have to leave.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t say that. It’s not going to happen again. It’s not – ”

Tony broke off, tears pooling in his eyes and he turned roughly away from Stephen, walking back towards the bar. He didn’t stop when a hand clasped around his wrist, only roughly shoved it off and took a swig from the nearest bottle.

“Tony this isn’t your fault. Please. Peter wouldn’t want this.”

Their eyes met, and each was shocked to see the other close to crying.

“You don’t know a damn thing about what Peter would want. FRIDAY,” he addressed the speakers. “Cue up the last video.”

Tony watched as Stephen turned his attention to the screen materializing in front of him, taking the opportunity to slip around the bar and grab a fresh bottle. He was a quarter of the way through it when Stephen stepped in front of him, fresh tears forming in his eyes.

“Darling, please. None of this is your fault. Please. You’re not failing. You’re trying to walk into the center of a hurricane, and getting angry when it doesn’t change its path. This isn’t something you can control. They would have done these things to him even if you had got there in time.”

Stephen heard the whir of the suit before he saw the red and gold, and only just stepped back in time when Tony swung a fist around to face him. He watched as the blue repulsors fired up, something he’d seen a million times, but never pointed at him.

“Tony.”

“Out.” Tony was shaking, and swaying slightly, but the repulsors stayed trained on his chest.

They stayed in the same spot until Stephen had closed his portal back to the Sanctum.

Tony waited, then stumbled over to the living room. Pausing a few moments to tear the ring from the chain around his neck, he eventually collapsed onto the couch, ignoring his phone and its insistent buzzing in his pocket.

When Tony woke, his phone had 7 new messages. Which meant it was day 2 and a half exactly. Video 30, of course not including the two additional beatings because of… Stephen.

Tony looked across the room, and he could vaguely see the glint of Vibranium from his wedding ring. He left it there.

He opened the video as soon as his phone unlocked, not bothering to pause for the many messages Stephen had sent him throughout the night.

He zoned out for however long it took the camera to pan to Peter, and was glad he did because the man just wouldn’t stop talking, and that was really bad for his hangover. He zoned back in when the man walked forward, his boots echoing around the small room.

“Little Spider, so mailable for us.” Tony watched as the man stalked forward and ran a hand along Peter’s neck, stopping to squeeze ever-so-slightly. When Peter started to shake from lack of oxygen after a few moments, the man smirked and stepped back, watching with Tony as Peter took a few moments to compose himself, before returning limply to the position he was in before.

The man turned to face the camera and began to address Tony again.

“Mr Stark, both you and I, as well as the little Spiderling here know that you are not coming to take him back. I think the previous few videos made that fairly obvious. But, I am going to keep sending these. Just in case I suppose. Right now, its been about 60 hours. From now, until hour 72, there will be no more videos. However, in case you particularly want to watch your little Spider, we will be giving you the option of a live video stream.”

The man walked to Peter’s side, and lifted his shirt up. Tony’s heart nearly stopped, arc reactor and all. The burn on Peter’s stomach was red and angry, and the Peter shuddered softly as the man ran a hand along it.

“Your Spider has been a lot more convenient to keep since this, I must admit.” The man was almost talking to himself, and his eyes shone ever so slightly each time Peter quietly hissed from lingering pain. “He shouldn’t be able to get this off. My team made sure of it.”

The man retreated from Peter, and began at a brisk pace to the other side of the room, where the camera followed him down a long corridor and into a separate room.

Once there, the man centered himself in the middle of the camera frame, and produced a long, thin syringe from the depths of his robe.

“This is a serum that my team and I have been developing for quite some time. We developed it specifically for your little Spider here. I think he’ll enjoy it. I know I certainly will.”

A goon stepped forward with a swab and antiseptic, and Tony flinched despite himself when the man stabbed it into his own neck.

He watched as the man shivered and coughed a few times before stilling. Slowly, the man’s morphed into a clean-cut, and his face shape morphed. After a few moments the man breathed out slowly and took of his mask, and Tony watched as the remainder of his face morphed cleanly into one with a sharp jawline, sleek cheekbones, smile lines, and a neatly trimmed goatee.

When the man next spoke, it was Tony’s baritone voice that rang out the speakers.

“I hope you stay to watch the show, Mr Stark.”

Tony clicked off the video, and collapsed into a chair, taking a few moments to breathe. Peter.

The camera followed Not-Tony as he strolled around the corner and to just outside the main room, waiting in the shadows while the camera found a good view of Peter, curled onto himself in the center of the room.

One of the goons stepped forward, and it was the first time Tony had heard them speak.

“Mr Parker, you have a guest.”

Peter barely looked up and repositioned himself on the floor, curling around himself in a tighter b.

Not Tony stepped out of the shadows. “Hey, kiddo.”

Peter glanced up, and Tony’s heart dropped when he saw desperate hope lighting up his eyes.

“Mr…Mr Stark?”

Not-Tony stepped forward.

“Peter.”

Peter had started crying now, sobbing in relief in between hoarse gaps for breath.

“Mr Stark. You came. You came!” Peter lurched forward and landed and the man’s feet, weeping and shaking on the ground. “Mr Stark, thank you.”

Peter weakly raised his hands to claw at the fabric of the man’s pants and Tony flinched as his doppelganger reached down to clasp a hand around Peter’s throat.

“Mr… Mr Stark? What are you-” Peter cut off with a choke.

The man grinned as he tightened his grip.

“Look at this.” Not-Tony released his grip and Peter collapsed to the floor, before being jerked up as the man dragged him upwards by his hair.

“You couldn’t get out of this Peter? Look at this. I taught you how to get out of these. Can’t you even remember a simple lesson?”

The man tightened his grip and the chains shattered, the shards digging into Peter’s wrist.

“Surely you could have left Peter. You fought for the Avengers. You should be better than this.”

Tony could see a bruise blossoming on Peter’s wrist, rivulets of blood running down his arm, pooling onto the floor.

“Mr Stark, please. I don’t understand. I couldn’t – ”

The man snarled and stepped forward, face contorting in disgust, and for once Tony understood exactly how terrifying he looked when he was angry.

“Mr… Mr Stark I… I don’t…”

Not-Tony stepped forward to kneel on the ground in front of Peter and grinned manically.

“Really, Pete? You think after all this I came to get you.” The man paused, and shoved up Peter’s shirt, pressing a palm against the red burn on his stomach. “You weren’t strong enough, Peter. You seriously think I would save you?”

Peter was crying now, curling into himself, and weakly trying to protect his burn.

“Sir, please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Mr Stark just please take me home.” The pain and yearning on his face shattered Tony’s heart, and he closed his eyes for a moment, regrouping before staring back up at the video.

“Home? Peter, you don’t have a home. Your parents are dead. Your uncle died because of you. All you are is a burden to your aunt and after this, you really think you are strong enough to be an Avenger? You’re a burden, Peter. A burden, and a failure.”

Tony watched his doppelganger jerk Peter’s head up, tears running down his face onto the burn on his torso.

“You’re a disgrace, Peter.” The man threw Peter onto the ground and Tony watched as he retreated in the corner, shivering and sobbing.

“Please Mr Stark, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Mr Stark! Please. Please Sir I tried.”

Not-Tony stepped forward, and Peter shuffled further backward in the corner.

“You’re a disgrace Peter. You’re one trial intern who just happened to have some good luck. Your powers? Your strength? They don’t come from you. You were just a temporary set-back. An inconvenience. You’re not special Peter.”

They both paused, and Not-Tony gripped Peter’s throat.

“ Say it.”

He grabbed Peter’s jaw, and Tony could see another bruise forming.

“Sir. I…”

Peter winced as Not-Tony gripped harder.

“Say. It.”

“I-I… I’m not worth anything Sir. I’m useless. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry Mr Stark.”

Peter started sobbing in earnest, and the man released his jaw with a grimace.

“I don’t believe you Peter. You’ve disappointed me. Horribly. You deserve this.”

Peter shook in the corner, shaking with silent sobs. He was sweating and shivering, and it broke Tony’s heart as he slowly hugged his knees and folded his arms over his head.

The man turned to face the camera with a satisfied smirk, and Tony jerked his head up from the screen staring wildly around the room.

“FRIDAY.”

“Boss.”

“Get rid of this caller. Block these messages. I don’t care. I don’t want to see these videos ever again.”

“Sir – ”

“Do it. Now.”

Tony could almost hear the AI sigh, but when he looked back down at his phone, the messages were gone. Finally, finally gone. Yet, every time Tony closed his eyes, the image of Peter’s broken spirit burned itself further into his brain.

Tony didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke it was to a glowing yellow portal in his living room, Stephen stepping through it soon after.

“Go away. I’m fine. Totally fine. And I totally don’t need you here.”

Stephen ignored that, and grabbed Tony by the collar, dragging him to the window.

“You need to see this.”

The cloak wrapped around Tony, squeezing just a little bit too tight, and they stepped out into the open air, Stephen muttering enchantments as the cloak took them to who-knew where.

After a few minutes, they stopped, and Tony reluctantly opened his eyes.

“I appreciate the fresh air Strange, but why the hell would you bring me to Times Square?”

“Just look.”

They landed above a building, and Tony unattached himself from the cloak, looking around.

With vague interest, he noted the various crowds of people, some of them filming him (because of course they would be filming him, he’s Iron Man).

After a few moments, one of the largest screens cut to static, and the crowds hushed and turned to face it.

There was a few seconds of silence, and then Tony’s stomach dropped down to his feet.

The masked man stepped onto the screen, malicious-looking and grinning.

“People of New York City,” he took a few moments to compose himself. “You have been lied to.”

This could not be good.

“You have been lied to and manipulated by the people that you look up to the most.”

The video screen cut to a photo of Tony, in his Iron Man suit fighting Ultron.

“This ‘hero’, Iron Man, Tony Stark, the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist has been lying to you, and taking advantage of you.”

A few people in the crowd turned to look at him on the roof while the man continued talking.

“Enter Peter Parker. Tony Stark’s intern, son-figure and prodigy.”

The video cut to Peter, and Tony’s stomach dropped through the floor. He looked worse than when Tony had last checked, shaking on the ground, thin, bruised and silent.

“Mr Parker, or Spider-man, as many of you might know him, has historically been very close to Tony Stark. They worked together every day. The media ate up stories about them, and it seemed like they were truly meant to be ‘father and son’.”

The camera refocussed on the masked man, glee shining in his eyes.

“Peter Parker. Spider-man. Tony Stark’s prodigy child, has been here with me for FIVE DAYS.”

More people in the crowd were turning to look at Tony.

“The powerful Tony Stark, who could blow up half of America without so much as getting out of bed hasn’t been bothered to get HIS SON for five entire days.”

Stephen glanced at Tony, then back at the screen.

“Now, of course you shouldn’t trust me. I’m a villain I captured Spiderman.”

The man grimaced.

“I gave Mr Stark a choice. I gave him every opportunity to find us, and he didn’t. He couldn’t be bothered. Have a look for yourself.”

The man stepped into the shadows, and the camera cut to footage of Tony. Tony-Tony. Tony in his penthouse, watching the videos. Tony at the bar, throwing down drink after drink. Tony on the couch, sleeping, while the lifestream played in the background and he didn’t even remember that.

The footage cut to the man in the mask again, and the square was silent.

“Now, obviously, I cannot tell you what to think. But I urge you to consider, that Tony Stark turned Peter Parker, the Amazing Spiderman, into this.”

The camera panned around the room, and the crowd roared. It was Peter. Peter hanging from those ridiculously heavy chains, no top on and bruised from head to toe, his burn featured on his stomach now with two new, red, inflamed ones on either side.

“He did this.”

The video cut to black, and the crowd surged. Racing towards the building, fighting over each other to reach the famed Iron Man who had let this be done to Peter Parker, the friendly Spiderman.

Tony turned to Stephen, tears and fear in his eyes.

“Ste, please. Help me, I didn’t mean to.”

There was true pain in Stephen’s eyes as he faced Tony, the cloak flexing behind him.

“You did this, Tony. You need to pay the price.”

The cloak and Stephen lifted off the ground, and they were gone in an instant, leaving Tony on the roof of the tower, heavy footsteps falling just a few floors below.

“I did this.”

[anubislover]

“A Heart to Be Used as Needed” Chapter 3

A month of torture. That was the only way Law could describe the wedding planning. His blood pressure was through the roof, sleep was harder to come by than usual, and he was beyond pent-up. After thirty-one days of reigning in Doflamingo’s extravagant suggestions, enduring his boss’ intense scrutiny, and ignoring the far-from-subtle mocking from his colleagues—all without his usual outlets for stress—it was a miracle he hadn’t just abandoned his ten-year plan and attempted to tear out Joker’s heart with his bare hands.

He could live without sex, but with the additional strain the wedding brought on, he barely had time for his experiments or even senseless violence to let off some steam. Joker might not have banned them, but it seemed he was determined to make sure he was too busy to get in any form of relaxation. People called Law sadistic, but clearly, he’d learned it all from the best.

Sanity close to snapping like a stale breadstick, he nearly called off the engagement by week two, but Baby 5 had inadvertently persuaded him otherwise.

Body parts spun in the air like windmills as Law sheathed Kikoku, a sadistic grin adorning his face when they fell to the ground, landing in a neat little stack on his laboratory floor. Baby 5’s head plopped on top of her arms, rocking unsteadily for a brief moment before rolling down the bloodless pile, across the floor, before finally being halted by his boot.

It might not have been as viscerally satisfying as tearing into a helpless victim with his scalpel and hearing them scream as the blood painted the walls, but it was far less messy and almost as effective at lightening his mood.

“Thank you, Baby-ya,” he cooed down at his decapitated bride-to-be. She’d been doing her best not to tempt him, believing his month of abstinence was his way of displaying his devotion to her, but still regularly visited his lab to drop off coffee and receive his approval on all the little wedding details she and Doflamingo had been obsessing over. She’d come down to ask him some inane question about the ceremony, but upon seeing how tired and stressed he was—not to mention how close he was to murdering someone—she’d immediately offered to let him cut her to pieces if he needed an outlet. The words had barely left her lips before she was engulfed in a blue aura, and the past ten minutes had seen her vivisected and put back together in nearly a dozen different ways.

Blinking away the dizziness, she weakly smiled up at him despite her obvious discomfort. Even if his Room made amputation painless, it was far from a pleasant experience. “I’m just glad I could be useful to you.”

“Of course you are. Now, you had a question for me?” he asked, gently picking up her head from the floor. She was such a considerate thing, sacrificing herself to suit his needs like that. It really did bode well for their marriage.

“I wanted to know if you think we should we use our real names in our vows,” she replied, eyes sparkling at the thought of their wedding day.

He stiffened. He’d nearly forgotten that she knew his true name. If she dared utter that fateful D. in front of Doflamingo, Law was a dead man. Forcing a smile and dropping a chaste kiss to her brow, he replied smoothly, “No. I trusted my name only to you and Buffalo, and that’s how it’ll stay. And I like the idea of being the only one who knows your real name; a romantic little secret between husband and wife.”

Somehow, her eyes sparkled even more at the prospect. “Whatever you want, darling!”

From then on, even though it drove him batty, Law’d made sure to be as involved with the wedding planning as possible. He didn’t fear Baby 5 accidentally revealing his name, but it was a strange and sudden understanding that she unknowingly had a small amount of power over him, and it was in his best interest to fully convert her to his side. Otherwise, she could be a dangerous liability.

So, the Surgeon of Death endured the hours of flower arrangements and napkin selections, all for the sake of keeping his bride happy and in check. In turn, she allowed him to cut her apart any time he needed, and as the wedding date grew closer, Law felt more secure in his decision to make her a part of his scheme. It turned out she had uses beyond her sexy body and Buki Buki no Mi. He’d taken to asking about her day and quickly discovered that she was far more observant than he’d given her credit for; she knew everyone in the Family’s likes, dislikes, schedules, quirks, and even a few of their secrets. To many, she was practically invisible, able to listen in on conversations, and her presence at any particular time was hardly questioned, as it was her job to clean the whole castle. She’d make a fantastic spy, and her happiness that Law was willing to listen made her eagerly spill some lovely tidbits about Sugar and Pica that he had every intention of exploiting.

At last the big day came and Law was able to breathe a sigh of relief. The ceremony had been opulent but thankfully not the multi-day festival and gladiator tournament that Joker had originally proposed. Sugar made an admittedly adorable flower girl, though Law wasn’t sure he wanted to know who the toy soldier acting as ring bearer had been. Doflamingo walked the bride down the aisle, and even the Surgeon of Death could admit Baby 5 looked so blissfully happy it was hard not to be a little pleased with himself that he’d made her dream come true.

Especially since it brought him one step closer to his own.

The reception had been a true test of his patience and resolve. Joker had thankfully come through on his promise that there would be no bread during dinner, but it was only a small comfort in the nearly five hours of off-color speeches, too-loud music, mocking calls for the new couple to kiss or dance, and just generally being trapped in a room full of the people he hated the most. It all served as a sour reminder that if the World Government hadn’t poisoned his city and murdered his family, he likely never would have become a pirate and his wedding day might have been worth celebrating.

Still, Law endured it all with a charming smirk, laughing off Buffalo’s embarrassing Best Man toast and playing his part as the contented groom. The woman pressed to his side made it all slightly more bearable, acting as a constant reminder of the delicious prize he’d finally claim at the end of the night. Though the poufy ballgown Baby 5 had chosen prevented him from teasing her under the table like he wished, making her shiver by lightly brushing her bare arms and the back of her slender neck had provided a suitable enough alternative.  

It was nearly midnight when, after the cake cutting and bouquet and garter toss, Doflamingo finally elbowed him in the ribs. “Go. You held up your end of the deal, and I can tell you’re ready to pop,” he sniggered. For the former World Noble, the whole affair couldn’t have gone better. His Corazon was even more firmly entangled in his twisted family web, his deadly maid wouldn’t stupidly run away with the next guy who proposed, and in a few years he’d have another genius child he could mold to take Law’s place after he got his eternal youth surgery. “Just don’t break the poor girl. She’s still got an important part to play, after all.”

The words were barely out of his boss’ mouth before Law activated his Room, teleporting himself and Baby 5 out of the ballroom and into his quarters. The hated feathered coat was spitefully tossed into a lonely corner of the room as he pounced on his long-awaited prize.

Amethyst eyes blinked in surprise; she’d been talking to Violet mere seconds ago, and now they were upstairs? Shouldn’t they have said goodbye to their guests? “Wha—”

Law cut her off with a fierce, aggressive kiss, pushing his tongue into her mouth and savagely claiming the spoils of victory. He knew it was nothing like the soft, chaste peck he’d given her at the altar, but he refused to hold back now that he finally had the chance to indulge.

It was time for Baby 5 to discover what she’d really signed up for when she’d agreed to be the Surgeon of Death’s wife.

Still, when her tongue tentatively attempted to dance with his, he forced himself to slow down. This was not some whore he could satiate himself with and discard, but a valuable asset. He had to break her in carefully if he wanted her blind loyalty, and it was better to take his time and teach her how to please him, since she’d be doing it the rest of her life.

Besides, Law’d waited years to get his hands on the tempting little maid. No matter how ravenous he was, this was a night meant to be savored.

So, he pulled away to allow them both air, giving a lopsided smile as he loosened his tie and shrugged off the tuxedo jacket. “Sorry. I just couldn’t help myself. I’ve been wanting to kiss you like that for too long.”

“I understand, darling,” she said, cheeks flushed scarlet and lips already deliciously swollen. “I…I want to make you happy, so kiss me however you need.”

“‘However I need’, huh?” he taunted, trapping her against the wall. “That’s a dangerous thing to say to a man, Baby-ya. I’m beginning to see why Joker was so protective of you.” Leaning in, he bypassed her mouth to kiss along her jaw, nipping and sucking a hot trail to her ear. “You’re aware that I’m a man who has a lot of ‘needs’, aren’t you?”

“Of…of course! That’s why we’re perfect for each other!” she gasped as he wrapped his lips around the sensitive lobe. “I’m happy to attend to each and every one!”

A low chuckle rumbled like distant thunder as his tongue played with a delicate pearl earring. Releasing her flesh with a wet pop, he purred, “Of course you are. A good girl like you would do anything to please her husband, wouldn’t you?”

The shudder that rocked through her body and the way her breath staggered were highly amusing. Law’d both tortured and entertained himself planning out exactly how he’d defile her on their wedding night; imagining what he’d say and do to grant or deny her pleasure. It had become increasingly clear to him that she had a praise kink—which he intended to exploit all night long—but he was eager to see what other urges and weaknesses he could play with.

“Get undressed, Baby-ya,” he ordered, voice barely more than a growl as he pushed away so he could observe her properly, unbuttoning his shirt as he did so. Bit by bit, his dark skin and black, heart-shaped tattoos were exposed, and he preened at how his bride’s violet eyes were locked onto his lean muscles.

“Do…do you want me to undress completely?” she asked shyly. Nervous, she fiddled with the full skirt of her dress, though she couldn’t pull her gaze away from her husband’s chest as Law carefully stripped off his tie and shirt. She’d seen the bold, swirling tattoos plenty of times, but watching him peel away the soft linen in the intimate setting of his bedroom—their bedroom, and just for her—sent a jarring surge of liquid fire between her legs. “Or just to my underwear?”

A dark blue eyebrow lifted curiously, and Baby 5 continued, “I was given some special wedding lingerie and I was told you…might want to see me in it.”

Intrigued, a wicked smirk stretched across Law’s narrow face. He’d caught a glimpse of white lace and thigh-high stockings during the garter toss but hadn’t allowed himself to linger lest his already-straining control snap. “In that case, take off your dress and give me a little show. Let me see what naughty secret you’ve been hiding under that innocent gown all day.” Licking his lips, he added, “Oh, but leave the veil on.”

Obediently she nodded, reaching behind her back to unzip the fluffy white dress, letting it fall to the floor like a pile of snow. Law had to take a moment to stare at the ensemble underneath; whoever had dressed her had gone all-out with the lingerie. From the sheer, white lace corset to the matching stockings, garters, and panties that barely covered more than the essentials, she looked like a pin-up. The contrast of the pure color with such slutty scraps of clothing more than did its job turning him on. On top of that, each piece was adorned with little white bows, making her look like a present all wrapped up for him. Leading her further into the room where he could get a better look at her, he twirled his finger in a silent demand to turn around so he could appreciate the back. Blood instantly shot down to his cock when he saw the back of her panties had a heart cut-out right across the cheeks, another sweet little bow sewn daintily above it.

His brain quickly pushed aside any inquiries regarding who gifted her such a naughty ensemble. None of the options were particularly palatable, and the most likely one threatened to turn his mood from lust to loathing.

Instead, he wrapped his tattooed hands around her pale waist, yanking her towards him and grinding his already half-hard length against her pert ass.

“You look so fucking gorgeous.”

Her reply was adorably bashful. “Thank you,” she mumbled, head ducking to hide the blush that spread across her cheeks.

Oh, she was just precious. Such a sweet, innocent lamb, despite her impressive kill count and allegiance to one of the most vicious pirates on the Grand Line. A better man might even hesitate to strip her of her remaining virtue, but not him.

Innocence never lasted long around Trafalgar Law.

Sweeping aside her hair, he leaned down to nibble the sensitive shell of her ear. “Don’t be shy; you’re my wife, now. If there’s anyone you shouldn’t feel ashamed to show off your sexy body to, it’s me.” Dropping a kiss to her bare shoulder, he rasped, “In fact, you should wear this for me all the time.”

“But it’s wedding lingerie…”

“Who cares?” he asked, left hand sliding down to pry her legs apart. The sweet heat between her thighs urged him to wiggle his fingers beneath the fabric of her panties and delve inside but he held off, settling for just cupping her gently, gratified when she instinctively bucked against his palm. Carefully, he shifted their bodies so they faced the full-length mirror. His cock felt wonderful cradled against the soft meat of her ass, but he wanted to see her face as he played with her for the first time. “You look sexy as hell, and it turns me on. If I want you to wear it, you’ll wear it.”

“Yes, darling.”

“That’s a good girl,” he replied, chuckling as he felt her clench around his hand at his words. In the reflection he could see her cheeks flush further, and he briefly wondered if she might pass out. As a precaution, he wrapped her arms up and around his neck, with the added bonus that he now had full access to her luscious curves. “From the moment you kissed me, you agreed to be mine,” he purred, eyes locking onto hers in the mirror. Both his hands roamed her body, grasping and massaging the tender flesh hidden by intricate lace as he rolled his erection against her firm rump. “I’m curious if you even know what that means.”

“Of course I do!” she squeaked as his blazing palms squeezed her full breasts. She noted in the mirror how nicely his tan skin contrasted with her ivory tone, like coffee and cream. Further proof in her mind that they were perfect for each other. “I’ve read Giolla’s romance novels, and the girls…clarified some things for me during the bachelorette party.”

“Did they? Well, wasn’t that nice of them?” he chuckled as he teasingly traced the tips of his fingers along the lacy edge of the bustier. He doubted any of them had truly prepared her for what she was in for—the debauchery that took place in Trafalgar Law’s bedroom wasn’t easily put into words, after all.

A curious, devious thought entered his mind, and he whispered, “Did you fantasize about me, Baby-ya? Imagine all the sexy, naughty things I’d do to you now that we’re married? How I’d touch you and fuck you?”

“I…maybe a little…”

“Did you touch yourself while you thought about me?”

“N-no…”

Gold eyes narrowed, mildly insulted. He’d filled the wet dreams of men and women for years, but his bride hadn’t even pleasured herself while she imagined him fucking her? He harshly pinched her nipples as a reprimand. “Why not?”

Whimpering, her hips bucked in response to his rough treatment. It hurt, yet sent delicious sparks crackling trough her. “Because my body belongs to you! It’d be selfish to touch myself, especially when you weren’t allowed to!” Embarrassed, white teeth worried her bottom lip before she confessed, “And…and it wasn’t enough. E-even when I touched my clit, nothing felt as good as what you would do…”

A hot swell of lust shot straight down to Law’s cock. He found he liked the idea that a small, teasing touch from him could get her wetter than masturbation, and he knew he needed to get started immediately. “Stay right there, Baby-ya,” he rasped with a final sharp nip to the top of her ear, smirking as he felt the full-bodied shiver that ran through her at the promise in his voice.

Reluctantly prying himself from her warm body, he headed over to his desk and fished a small vial from the top drawer. It was filled with a red, viscous fluid that he swiftly chugged down, scowling at the bitter aftertaste. It was a solution he’d developed years ago that acted as a male birth control, leaving his seed infertile, though it wouldn’t diminish his performance—in fact, it reduced his recovery time to nearly half. Satisfied that he wouldn’t have to worry about producing the heir Doflamingo wanted while still getting to fuck his woman as much as he desired, Law discarded his shoes, socks, and belt before turning back to his wife, who had obediently stayed put.

“Given how…inexperienced you are, we both agree that I should take the lead on this, yes?” he asked rhetorically. Law wasn’t the kind of man who relinquished control, especially in the bedroom.

Coyly looking at him over her shoulder, the maid nodded her head. “I’ll do whatever it takes to please you, darling.” Biting her lip, she added, “Use me however you need.”

He hadn’t been looking for permission, but he certainly wasn’t going to refuse it. Prowling towards her like a ravenous leopard, Law spun her around, grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. With a feral smile, he dragged his tongue up her throat to just below her ear where he purred, “I’m going to fuck you all night long, sweetheart. I’ve got exceptional stamina, and I haven’t been satisfied in over a month thanks to you. So, get ready to be used thoroughly.”

Without waiting for a reply, he once more claimed her lips, this time taking a moment to appreciate them despite his hunger. They were smooth as the skin of a plum, softer than down pillows, and so deliciously pliant beneath his own. Prying them apart, he delved past to coax her tongue to dance with his; teaching her how sensitive the inside of her mouth was with every stroke and twirl. She gave a muffled mewl when he lightly brushed the top of her mouth with the very tip of his tongue, tickling her palette before pulling back to give her bottom lip a harsh nip.

“Ready for me to show you the kind of ideas you put in my head?” he rasped, running the pad of his thumb across the bite.

In leu of an answer she eagerly took his hand, wrapping her mouth around his thumb and sucking eagerly, just like in the lab. Smirking, he let her lavish his thumb with attention, piercing eyes never leaving hers as she licked and suckled, excited to see that hot, hungry look he’d given her in the garden again. The past month had been filled with wet dreams about the heady promise in his honey eyes, and now that they were finally married, Baby 5 was desperate to discover what his veiled words had meant.

With a chuckle, Law reluctantly pulled his hand back. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’ but didn’t I say that was one of my tamer thoughts? There’s a better place I want you to put that mouth.”

“Just tell me where, darling.”

“Get on your knees.”

Instantly she obeyed, the hard sound of the boney joints smacking down on the marble floor echoing through the room. Baby 5 hardly seemed to notice, though, as she realized her current position brought her eye-level with his crotch, cheeks flaming at the bulge straining against his dress pants.

Carefully combing back her hair so he could fully see her pretty face, he said, “I’m sure someone explained to you what’s expected of a loving wife when she’s in this position?”

Swallowing, she nodded, blunt, white teeth worrying her lip. “I’ve read about it in books and…Monet told me what to do. She said she’s…sucked you off, before.”

“Yeah, she has. Several times, actually. She was so jealous when she found out you’d be taking that honor from her.” Tilting her chin up to meet his eyes, the Dark Doctor smirked. “She tried to talk me out of marrying you; said you’d never satisfy me like she could.”

Baby 5’s eyes widened, then narrowed in jealous rage, flames igniting within the violet orbs as she snarled, “I’ll kill her!”

“Mmmm, maybe later. Right now, I think you should focus on proving her wrong.” Threading his long fingers through her hair carefully so as to not dislodge the lacy veil, he tugged her face closer to his erection. “Show me you can do better than her. That you deserve to be my wife. Start by unzipping me.”

Determined to outdo the imagined rival for her husband’s affections, Baby 5 studied his pants like a general making a battle plan. The light caught his metal zipper, and she suddenly recalled something Violet had told her about during the bachelorette party. Something she often did to drive Doffy wild whenever she was called to his chambers.

As carefully as she might handle the palace’s best china, Baby 5 grasped the little metal tab between her teeth, tugging down slowly. Her amethyst eyes remained locked on his as each tooth of the zipper unlatched with a gentle click, until his trousers were gaping open and her nose brushed against the soft fabric of his boxer-briefs. She kissed up the covered bulge until she reached the waistband, trailing her fingers lightly along his abdominal muscles before hooking them inside the elastic, pulling the cotton down to at last release his straining erection.

Law’s breath came out a little harsher at the show she put on. “Very good; Monet never did it like that. Such a smart, sexy wife I have.”

Eyes lighting up at his praise, she gently wrapped her hand around his fully-erect length, though her heart sped up as she finally got a good look at it. The books she’d snuck from Giolla’s room had always described a man’s equipment as being absurdly long, but Law’s, though intimidating, seemed far more manageable in comparison. About seven inches long and over an inch and a half thick, it felt like a steel rod covered in silk. The Corazon was usually such a cold man, but his shaft radiated heat against her palm, and she swore she could feel the blood pulsing through the thick veins. Giving it an experimental stroke, she blushed at Law’s pleased grunt in response. Confidence rising, she leaned in to take him in her mouth, but just as she was about to wrap her ruby lips around the mushroomed tip, she paused.

“Why are you hesitating?” He barely managed to suppress a growl, hand tightening in her hair. Law was a patient man, but at this point, he was far too on edge to appreciate any teasing when he was so close to finally getting sweet relief. She’d better have a good explanation; otherwise he’d cut off her head and literally fuck her throat.

Baby 5’s shoulders tensed at his tone and she averted her eyes in submission. “It’s just…if she didn’t want you to marry me, I’m worried Monet might have taught me the wrong way to do this. You know, as sabotage so you’d go back to her.”

Law grinned, mood instantly lightening. Of course the harpy would be the first to inadvertently damage Baby 5’s unquestioning trust in the Family. Jealousy was so easy to manipulate in his favor. “Aren’t you just the cleverest little thing? She probably at least threw in a few nuggets of bad advice in hopes of making me regret choosing you.” Rocking his hips forward, he brushed the leaking tip against her bottom lip, smearing a dollop of precum across the seam of her mouth. “I guess it’s a good thing you practiced on my thumb. Start like that, and I’ll tell you what else to do.”

Relief that she hadn’t made him angry was painted across her lovely face. Curious, she licked the drop of white fluid from her lips, surprised at the salty tang. Law’s hips jerked slightly when she experimentally flicked tip of her tongue against the glistening head of his erection, and the smirk he threw down at her proved it had been a good thing. Eager to keep him happy, she finally wrapped her sweet mouth around the frenulum, strangely enjoying the musky taste of him.

“Fuck, yeah, like that. You’re doing great, sweetheart, but I know you can take more.”

Needing no more instruction than that, the dutiful woman opened her mouth wider, allowing him to gradually sink another three inches inside her wet cavern until he hit the back of her throat.

Carding his fingers through her thick black hair, his hips jerked as she gave his shaft a particularly delicious suck, tongue stroking the thick vein that pulsed along the underside of his length. Regardless of whether or not she’d be useful in his plans, Law was definitely patting himself on the back for securing such a delectable and eager concubine. “Just like that, Baby-ya,” he praised. “Take a deep breath through your nose and relax your jaw; let’s see how you handle deep-throating your husband’s cock.”

Obediently she did so, and Law could have cum just from the feeling of her hot, wet mouth slowly engulfing his straining length. It was far from a new sensation, but after over a month of celibacy, the delicious feeling of her tongue stroking him as he sank into her, combined with the light scrape of teeth and the sight of those luscious, cherry red lips wrapped around his girth, made it nearly as overwhelming as the first time.

For a moment, she choked, unable to breathe around the thickness of his meaty shaft, her gag reflex straining against him. Law took a few seconds to enjoy the sensation of her throat muscles constricting before pulling out, allowing her to take in a few desperate gulps of air.

It took an absurd amount of willpower to stop himself from shoving his cock back inside her, Baby 5’s discomfort be damned. Logically, he’d known it would be too much for her—she’d never even been kissed before today, much less given head—but he just had the most twisted desire to push her limits and see how far he could go before she broke.

He ran the back of his tattooed fingers across her cheek. “I’m sorry, sweetheart; I thought you’d be able to take it. After waiting all month for you, I needed a proper blowjob, but I guess I expected too much,” he said, disappointment bleeding into his voice.

“No!” she gasped, panicked. Law needed her, and here she was, letting him down! “I can take it! I just wasn’t doing it right!”

A devilish smirk curved his lips. Perhaps she’d be harder to break than he’d assumed, at least physically. After all, this was Baby 5—a woman willing to destroy herself to make someone happy. The prospect excited him. “Well, if you’re sure you can do it, I’m not going to stop you. In fact, let’s make it easier; why don’t you focus on relaxing your throat and leave the rest to me?”

Swallowing hard, she nodded, once more opening her jaws as wide as possible and letting him fill her until the corners of her mouth hurt, wincing as the bulbus head of his cock bumped against the back of her throat. The fist in her hair angled her head back to take him better, while Law’s other hand stroked along her bulging throat, coaxing the tense muscles to relax and swallow down the mix of saliva and precum that gathered in her slick mouth. Inch by inch he worked himself further down with slow, careful thrusts, murmuring encouragement as she took him, finally stopping with a pleased groan. Baby 5’s eyes widened upon realizing her nose was buried in his pubic hair, the lightheadedness from lack of air and pride that she’d swallowed down all seven inches of him making her nipples pebble and sending thrilling tingles straight down into her core.

Face flushed and eyes dark with desire, Law gave the top of her head a little pat, like a dog who’d managed to get a new trick right. “There you go. Monet could never take me like this, but I knew you’d get there. Now just sit still and let me fuck your face.”

Slow and steady, he rocked his hips back and forth, using her mouth and throat shamelessly. The hands fisted in her hair guided her up and down his cock with no resistance, the woman completely submitting herself to his needs. With enough training, he was sure she’d be able to take him like this whenever he desired—and if training failed, he was happy to surgically modify her.

Little whimpers and moans sent delicious vibrations up his shaft as her throat clenched, further increasing his pleasure. Looking down, Law couldn’t imagine the innocent assassin looking more beautifully ruined. Tears had formed in her glazed eyes while drool leaked out of the straining corners of her mouth. The pure white veil was slightly askew in her mussed black hair. Scarlet burned across her cheeks as his swollen length pushed past plush lips with every thrust, and he swore he could feel her tongue rise up to stroke him. He was certain if he looked at her delicate neck, he’d see her throat bulging.

And yet, through the pain and tears, she looked almost blissful in the knowledge that she was pleasing her husband.

Her expression mixed with the pleasure he was feeling was enough to send Law over the edge. “I’m gonna cum, Baby-ya! Swallow every damn drop, sweetheart.”

The Corazon didn’t wait for her to brace herself, large palms merely holding her head in place as he fucked her face hard, groaning as his thick seed shot down her throat like liquid missiles. He could feel her desperately trying to swallow it all, the rippling of her throat muscles lewdly milking him.

Panting and pleased, he extracted himself carefully, stroking her tear-stained cheeks and whispering little compliments to the coughing maid. “You did so well, sweetheart. Took me beautifully. And that face—you looked so good sucking me off, I just couldn’t help myself. I’m a lucky man to have you as my wife.”

As she caught her breath and fought to swallow down the taste of him, her cheeks flushed further at his words of praise. Noticing this, Law chuckled as he rubbed her damp panties with his toe. “Did you cum just from sucking me off, Baby-ya?”

Whimpering, she rubbed her thighs together. “No, but if you need me to—”

Yanking her to her feet, he indulged in a deep, filthy kiss, tongue delving past her lips to taste the lingering drops of his seed still clinging to her teeth. When he finally pulled away to let her breathe, he chuckled, “As hot as I find the thought of you creaming yourself just from having my cock down your throat, I’d much rather feel you cum around me.” He ducked his head to trail wet kisses along her jugular in a false apology. “Did I hurt you? The first time’s never easy, but you did a great job.”

“You mean that?” she rasped hoarsely. Law hoped he hadn’t strained her throat too badly—he was looking forward to hearing her scream his name with what he had planned next.

“I’d never lie to you,” he cooed, voice full of poisoned honey as he nipped at her neck. “And since you were such a good girl, I think you deserve a little reward. Would you like that, Baby-ya?”

“If…if you think I should be rewarded,” she answered demurely, through the way her hands clutched his biceps betrayed her eagerness, especially when he started sucking the delicate flesh directly above her fluttering pulse.

Really, her pleasure shouldn’t matter. She was just a weapon in his arsenal; a tool to be used and discarded as needed. Her purpose was to be his fuck toy, alibi, spy, and secret weapon. But there was a small part of him that wanted her to enjoy this. That soft spot he had for his childhood friend demanded that, as much as this was his victory, Baby 5’s wedding night should be good for her, too.

Besides, the practical part of him knew that it was easier to ensnare the undying loyalty of those you’ve shown consideration to. It was how Doflamingo had managed to brainwash his “Family.” If Law wanted to break Joker’s hold on the loving-yet-volatile assassin and replace it with his own, he had to treat her even better.

Luckily for him, he was going to give her things the Heavenly Demon never would.

With a final luscious lick up to her ear, Law whispered, “You’re so damn precious I just want to eat you up. Sit on the edge of the bed and spread your legs. I love rewarding good girls like this.”

Instantly she did so, and Law took a moment to appreciate the sensual picture she made. Her thighs were pale and muscular, the white stockings and garters covering much of the flesh but leaving a sliver of skin at the top tantalizingly exposed. Full breasts were barely contained by the corset as she took deep, steadying breaths. And at the apex of her legs he could see her slick arousal seeping into her white panties, coaxing him to bury his head between her thighs and have a taste.

Slowly, he sauntered towards her, leaning down to brush a teasing peck over her lips, smirking when she unconsciously tried to chase after him as he pulled away. “Hold still, sweetheart; a good girl accepts her reward graciously.”

Her cheeks flushed further, and Law couldn’t stop himself from letting out a soft laugh. God, she’s so easy. I wonder if I could make her cum just by talking? Hmmm, maybe that’ll be tomorrow night’s fun. Mentally putting that on his agenda for the honeymoon, he slowly kissed and licked his way down her body, trailing his lips over the tops of her breasts, down her trim waist, smirking as she desperately tried not to wiggle as he teased her through the lace. Finally, his mouth reached her core. Firm hands stroked the exposed skin of her thighs before he looked up at her, grin stretching wide at her aroused expression when he ran his tongue along her covered slit.

“Ah, Law!” Baby 5 cried, burying her fingers in his dark hair as she tossed her head back.

In retaliation he sank his nails into her plump ass as he tugged her forward, mouth teasing her mercilessly. Even through the lace he could taste her feminine musk, and he knew the heat of his tongue was like nothing she’d ever felt before. She was undeniably untouched, but so wet and eager—practically begging to be used like a cheap whore.

Her hips twitched in time to his strokes, biting back mewls and moans as he pleasured her. Law had every intention of getting a better taste of her sweet juices later, but for now he retreated, ignoring her protests to reach under the bed and fish out a large box. “Don’t worry; I’ll give you more of that soon,” he promised, grabbing her shoulder with his free hand and pushing her down onto the bed. “Lay back against the pillows, close your eyes, and put your hands over your head. Your reward is only just starting.”

Aroused and keen to get more of her “reward,” Baby 5 did so, though her brow did furrow in concern when she heard a soft metal clink. Her eyes snapped open as her strength was sapped from her the second the Seastone cuffs touched her skin. “Darling, why?” she cried, weakly jerking her arms, but the chain was securely connected to a secret hook at the bottom of the sturdy headboard. She was further pinned down by Law straddling her waist. As he removed the gloves that had protected his skin from the power-draining metal, he rolled his hips so she could feel how he was already once more half-hard in anticipation.

Flipping the key to her shackles into the air and catching it easily, Law gave her a devilish grin before slipping it into his pocket. “Because I like the idea of you being completely helpless while I ravish you. You’re lucky it’s just cuffs—I’ve gagged and blindfolded my past lovers when I’ve done this.”

“But Seastone—”

“It’s just a precaution; can’t have you turning into a rocket mid-orgasm, can I?” he mocked. Holding out his hand, he surrounded her with a blue light as he whispered, “Mes.”

“Law, what are you doing?!” she cried as her heart popped out of her heaving chest, floating delicately over to her sadistic husband.

The Corazon chuckled, his wicked gold eyes studying the rapidly beating organ in his hand. “We’re married, aren’t we? That makes this mine by rights. I just thought I’d give it a little attention.”

“Wha-what do you mean?” she asked, a tremor in her voice. She’d seen him remove hearts before, but they’d always belonged to his enemies or people who seriously annoyed him. What had she done wrong? He said he was going to reward her for being a good girl, but this didn’t seem like a reward to her!

In answer, Law brought the transparent cube to his lips, dusting a feather-light kiss to Baby 5’s pulsing heart. It stuttered in his hand at the contact, and he watched the face of the chained woman beneath him contort in confused pleasure.

Like this, he had the power to crush the delicate organ to a pulp or give his new plaything sensations she’d never even imagined were possible. It was a hell of a rush, and Law intended to make it last. Honey eyes locked on her face, his tongue stroked up from the bottom of the left ventricle up to the aorta, relishing the way her mouth gasped in silent pleasure even as her brow furrowed in discomfort. Her fruitless writhing provided delicious stimulus to his hardening shaft as it rubbed against her stomach.

Reaching behind him, he stroked two long fingers along the soaked lace of her white panties, teasing her slit as he gave the heart another sensuous lick. The hips beneath him jerked in response, slick thighs attempting to snap together to trap his calloused digits, but he pulled away too quickly.

Helpless against the sensations, Baby 5 stared at him desperately, panic and lust warring in her eyes.

It was a look Law found unspeakably arousing. His fingers returned to curl against her, teasing her entrance through the barrier of her panties as he asked, “What is it, Baby-ya? Am I making you feel good?”

“Law, please…”

“You didn’t answer my question; am I making you feel good? How can I trust you to be a good wife if you won’t communicate with me?” he jeered with a smirk, pressing another fleeting kiss to the surface of the heart.

With a whimper, she managed to shakily respond, “It feels…strange. It m-makes me hot, but…scared, seeing you with my h-heart.”

He knew she was being honest; he’d played with his own heart a few times, partially out of morbid curiosity, and the sensation was hard to put into words. Adrenaline was certainly a common reaction, but the human body—being confused due to the inherent wrongness of such sensations inflicted upon a vital internal organ—usually let off a wide and fascinating array of responses. “You precious thing. Don’t you trust me? I mean, sure, I’ve broken plenty of hearts,” he said, giving it a little squeeze for emphasis. Baby 5 cried out in alarm and pain, and Law quickly loosened his grip, peppering kisses across it in apology, “but I’d never do such a thing to you.”

“You…wouldn’t?” she gasped, tears beading like pearls in her thick lashes.

Another kiss, this time more amorous with plenty of tongue, was his initial response. When she cried out in shocked pleasure, he rewarded her by finally slipping his hand inside her panties, giving her clitoris a firm rub. The little bundle of nerves was already slick with her juices and swollen with lust, prompting him to pinch it between his thumb and forefinger, chuckling at the way her hips tried to jerk under him in response.

“Of course not. You’re special, Baby-ya. The one woman in the whole world I could imagine being my wife.” Slowly, his index finger trailed down further to work its way inside her tight sex, chuckling darkly as she moaned. Experimentally, he gave a shallow thrust, and when she clenched around the digit tightly, he knew he had her.

Timing the curl and thrust of his finger to the licks and kisses he lavished across Baby 5’s heart, he watched as her cheeks flushed, and her fearful whimpers gradually morphed into lustful pants and mewls. Pleased, Law decided to kick things up a notch, forcing another long finger inside while rubbing her pearl with his thumb.

His cock swelled as he felt her hips buck, even as she once again scrunched up her face in discomfort. “Mmmm, how does that feel, Baby-ya?”

“It…it hurts. Just a little…”

“Of course it does. A precious little virgin like you is going to be amazingly tight.”

“I’m not sure you’ll fit,” she whimpered, remembering just how much of a strain deep-throating him had been. She knew the female body was designed for this, but if two fingers were already stretching her, the idea of taking his cock seemed impossible.

“Oh, I’ll fit. You just need some extra preparation,” he purred, finally returning her heart to the perfectly cubic hole in her chest before crawling down her beautiful body. He reluctantly removed his fingers from her warm depths, but only so he could strip her panties from her toned legs and finally get a good look at his prize.

Fuck! Law thought lustfully, black pupils dilating as he stared down at her quim. Pink and glistening, her netherlips looked just as kissable as the ones on her face. Her clit was swollen and practically demanded he play with it, while the scent of her desire teased his nose. What surprised him, however, was that she was perfectly smooth and waxed, except for a small, neatly trimmed patch of dark hair in the shape of a swirling heart, much like his tattoos.

“Do…do you like it?” his bride asked, voice trembling in anticipation. “Since it’s your motif, I thought—”

“God, you are just begging me to fuck you, aren’t you?” he growled. Really, she couldn’t have declared herself his property any more clearly, and Law felt his shaft swell even more.

“So, you like it?”

Leaning in, he pressed a fleeting kiss to her sensitive pearl. Naturally, she bucked at the electric sensation, and he responded by blowing a stream of cool air over it before replying, “It’ll do for tonight, but tomorrow, you’re shaving it so I can replace it with something more…permanent.” Raking his eyes across her beautiful, untouched body, he flashed his teeth wickedly. He could already picture it—his hearts tattooed on the smooth, sweet flesh above her ripe quim, ass, and around both nipples.

“Of course, darling,” she mewled breathlessly.

“Good girl,” was all he bothered to say before he hooked her legs over his shoulders and dove in to properly feast on her juices. Finally, he didn’t have to hold himself back; the flat of his tongue lapped at her dripping slit with abandon while his sideburns rubbed roughly at the delicate skin of the maid’s inner thighs. Baby 5’s cries of pleasure grew louder as he moved his mouth up to wrap his lips around her throbbing pearl, sucking hard as he thrust two fingers back inside her aching canal.

His tongue delicately flicked the pulsing bundle of nerves as he curled the digits against her G-spot. Baby 5’s back arched off the bed in response. “You like that?”

“Y-yes,” she mewled, hands balling into tight fists, her nails digging into her palms as she helplessly writhed beneath him. God, he was incredible! She’d never felt anything like this! Every time he twisted his fingers and flicked his tongue across her clit, another surge of fire and lightning overwhelmed her, making her toes curl and heart pound. It was a like a spring was coiling tighter and tighter in her lower belly, and she instinctively knew it was only a matter of time before it snapped.

Law could tell she was close. Her quim began to spasm around his fingers while her high-pitched cries bordered on shrieks, and for a moment, he considered denying her the orgasm that had been building up. But as much as he wanted to see her twist and squirm in frustration, he wanted to hear her scream as he pushed her over the edge so much more. And with how tight she was, the orgasm would make penetration easier for both of them.

So instead he pressed on, even managing to work a third finger inside before his bride at last came apart. Her back arched completely off the bed as she screamed his name in extasy, her sweet cream gushing over his chin and hand as her thighs clenched tightly around his head out of pure reflex.

It took Baby 5 a while to calm down from such an overwhelming orgasm, Law’s tongue sadistically lapping at her musky essence through the aftershocks, prolonging her climax. Tremors wracked her body with every hot lick, and when her legs finally relaxed enough for him to extract himself, the Corazon smirked down at her with an almost feral smugness. The flushed look of rapture did his ego good; she was staring at him like he was a god.

“So,” he drawled as he crawled upwards, brushing his damp lips against her mouth to let her taste her own juices, “did my lovely wife enjoy her reward?”

Barely able to catch her breath, she still attempted to chase after his lips as he pulled away. “Ye-yeah,” she panted. Her first orgasm had been earth-shattering and like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She felt like a stripped wire—exposed and sparking at the slightest touch.

“Such a good, sweet girl,” he purred, running his tongue along his upper lip to clean away the glistening cum. “You taste so much better than the whores I used to play with. Sweeter than honey. I think I’ll eat you out for dessert every night.” Wordlessly, he activated his Room, and he chuckled as he watched her instinctively flinch at the blue light. “Now, now; I’m not going to play with your heart again.” At least, not literally, he thought. He pulled the key out of his pants pocket before Shambling them, along with her corset and his underwear, off to the other side of the room. Careful to avoid touching the metal with his bare skin, Law unlocked the Seastone cuffs, dropping a light kiss to the assassin’s abused wrists once they were finally free.

With nothing to act as a barrier between them, his cock ground hotly against Baby 5’s aching cunt. “Ready to truly consummate the marriage?” he murmured, draping one of her legs over his hip as he lined up with her entrance. It was a rhetorical question—he intended on fucking her regardless of her answer. The woman existed to serve his needs, and with the serum now in full effect, Law was primed and ready to fill her with as much of his cum as she could take.

But the illusion of choice was important if he wanted to completely turn her to his side.

Baby 5 swallowed hard, clearly still nervous, but even more afraid of disappointing her husband.

Sensing her hesitation, he crooned, “I’ll make you feel good, Baby-ya. I promise. That orgasm was just a taste of what I can give you. Don’t you trust me?” He gave a slight pout for extra measure, and when she reached up to grab his biceps, bracing herself, he knew he had her.

Inch by inch Law sank his hot, pulsing shaft into her tight, slick sex, taking his time partially for his virgin bride’s sake, but mainly so he could savor the moment. Part of him wondered why he was enjoying this so much—tight and sexy as she was, fucking Baby 5 wasn’t that different from anyone else.

Then again, she was living proof that he’d managed to play Doflamingo for a fool. That his patience and subtle machinations were finally beginning to pay off. That Joker might have been powerful and difficult to kill, but he wasn’t some omniscient, unbeatable god—he was a mortal man that could be manipulated and beaten.

Claiming Baby 5, one of his most loyal subordinates, meant Trafalgar D. Water Law was one step closer to avenging Cora-san, and that was something to savor.

“You’re…so big!” the woman beneath him whimpered, nails digging into his tattooed arms as the intrusion stretched her virgin cunt. Even during the rare moments she’d sought to pleasure herself, she’d never been so full. It bordered on painful, the way his girth worked the untrained muscles. “Law, it’s too much!”

He could have laughed. An assassin who could transform into weapons complaining about pain? How ridiculous. “Now now, Baby-ya—a good girl would take her husband’s cock without complaint. It might be overwhelming right now, but soon you’ll be begging me for more,” he rasped, leaning forward to wrap his lips around one of her neglected nipples. She would beg him. He didn’t care what tricks or techniques he had to use; he’d have her screaming his name and cumming around his cock like the desperate whore that she was. It wasn’t just for the sake of testing her limits and loyalty; his pride demanded that she ended the night a flushed, lustful mess.

He’d waited weeks—years—for this, and he deserved nothing less.

Sneaking a hand between them, he flicked his thumb over her swollen and sensitive clit, smirking around her nipple when he felt her walls ripple around him in response. Wet tongue curling around the peachy nipple, he carefully strummed her little bundle of nerves with surgical precision as he slowly sank deeper inside her cunt. He could hear her pained whimpers gradually morph into ones of pleasure, and his free hand stroked up her sweaty body to play with her neglected breast, pinching and squeezing the amazingly soft skin.

His mouth released her nipple with a lewd, wet pop as he finally bottomed out, and a low, satisfied groan escaped his throat. She may have complained about him being too big, but her cunt eagerly sucked him in, silken walls instinctively milking his cock.

“See?” he grunted, giving a shallow thrust as she moaned beneath him wantonly. “I knew you could take it.”

“Ye-yes, darling!” she gasped, hips bucking experimentally to meet his thrust. When the friction resulted in a hot pulse of pleasure rocking through her core, she wrapped her arms around Law’s neck and threw back her head, submitting herself to him fully.

Thrusting hard and pulling out slowly, Law relished the feel of Baby 5’s wet heat milking his thick, meaty shaft. His fingers clutched her hips with a white-knuckled grip, lifting her ass off the bed so he could get a better angle, snapping into her hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs. His thumb was long enough to continue stroking her pearl, and his grin turned utterly depraved when the curved tip of his hot length pressed against her G-spot, coaxing a shocked and shameless cry from her lips. He didn’t think he could get any harder, but good god, her sexy little mewls and moans right in his ear made his balls tighten and his cock throb.

Baby 5 was in heaven, overwhelmed by the heady fire Law’s thick cock stoked inside her. Her heaving chest was flushed to match her face, her jaw hung loose as she moaned helplessly, and her sensitive breasts brushed headily against his chest every time he rammed into her, taking care to hit that magic spot inside her every time. That knot of pressure was building up again, tightening with every thrust, but somehow, she knew their current pace wouldn’t be enough to send her over the edge.

Or at the very least, she was certain she wouldn’t cum until Law gave her permission, and that wouldn’t happen until he got exactly what he wanted from her.

“Are you ready to start begging?” he groaned as he forced himself to maintain a slow and steady pace. Oh, he’d fuck her senseless, but not until she did what he asked. “Even good girls like you have to earn the right to cum. Tell me how much you like getting fucked and beg me for more.”

It was positive reinforcement, in a way; so long as she did exactly as he commanded, she’d get the pleasure she craved. The pleasure only he could give her.

“Please, Law,” she mewled in his ear, nailed scraping enticingly down his tattooed back, “you feel so good. I love getting fucked by you! Please, use me like you promised!”

Oh, she couldn’t have phrased that better.

Hooking her legs over his shoulders, he groaned as the new angle allowed her to squeeze him even more tightly. He halted his thrusts to lean forward and kiss her languidly, practically folding Baby 5 in half as pressed her legs to her chest.

When he pulled away, Law smirked devilishly as he whispered, “You asked for it, sweetheart.”

Forsaking any restraint, he proceeded to fuck her brutally, hips rapidly pistoning in and out of her like a jackhammer. The bed creaked with the force of this thrusts, though the sound was nearly impossible to hear over Baby 5’s desperate cries.

After what felt like an eternity, her silken walls clutched his cock like a vise as she erupted with pleasure. The greedy way she milked him was enough to set Law off, his hot, sticky cum gushing into her womb. A calloused thumb ground against her clit to drag the feeling out as he let his softening shaft rest inside her, relishing her warmth and the way she tensed and rippled around him.  

Sweaty, panting, and pleased, the Surgeon of Death eventually pulled out to study his handiwork. Baby 5 looked utterly debauched and satisfied, just like he’d always dreamed. Sweat-slicked hair gleamed like obsidian. Creamy skin glistened under the dim lights. Rosy nipples were diamond hard and straining for more stimulation on her abused chest. Red welts from where his fingers had grabbed her ass would surely darken into purple bruises to match her eyes. Drops of white sperm and her own translucent juices leaked from her swollen quim.

The sight, combined with the stimulating effects of the serum in his bloodstream and the fact that he was still horny after a month of celibacy, made his cock ache for more.

Gently, he fisted her thick black locks and coaxed her onto her hands and knees, drawing her head towards his lap. He hadn’t fully softened, so his shaft, practically gleaming from their combined juices, stood at half-mast, eager for stimulation before the next round. “Clean me up, Baby-ya. With your mouth.”

Panting, the maid obeyed, wrapping her hot little mouth around his cock and swirling her tongue around the leaking tip. With the hand fisted in her hair guiding her, she licked up and down the length of him, lapping up the salty cocktail of their mixed cum. For a moment, she wondered if he planned on fucking her face again, but he seemed to like the teasing kisses and sucks she pressed to the sides of his erection, making no move to force himself back down her throat.

“Mmmm, where’d you learn to do this, sweetheart?” he purred as the flat of her tongue ran along the sensitive vein that protruded from the underside of his shaft.

She pulled away to answer, her hot breath inadvertently teasing him as she replied, “Nowhere, darling. I was just imagining it was a popsicle.”

“Do you always eat popsicles like that?”

“I will if you want me to.”

His only response was a low chuckle, his licked-clean rod once more hard and aching. He knew he could go at least another round before he needed a break—but oh, what position to choose? There were just so many ways he wanted to fuck her; he was simply spoiled for choice.

Pulling Baby 5 onto his lap, he held her right above his pulsing erection. He took a moment to grind the tip against her entrance, teasing her with the anticipation of penetration, but refusing to sink into her just yet.

“Eager for my cock now, eh?” he asked as she wiggled in his firm grip above him, anxiously trying to sink onto his turgid member.

As the mushroomed tip brushed her pulsing clit, Baby 5 whimpered and nodded. The two intense orgasms had been exhausting, yet she still craved more. She’d never felt pleasure like what Law had given her, and as sore as she was from his rough pounding, she ached even more for him to fill her up again and bring her over the edge once again.

Gold eyes glimmered in devilish glee. Perhaps it was because she’d stayed a virgin so long, but it appeared his innocent bride was well on her way to becoming a nymphomaniac. “Then ask me nicely.”

“Please, Law,” she squeaked as he caught one of her pebbled nipples in his mouth and gave a sharp little bite.

“Please what?” he muttered against her pale flesh, nuzzling the soft globe.

“Pl-please fuck me again.”

“Good girl,” he chuckled as he languidly lowered her back onto his cock. “What position should I fuck you in this time? Any suggestions?” His long fingers caressed down her spine to slip between her smooth ass cheeks, the tip of his middle finger teasingly brushing against her puckered hole. “I’ve filled your mouth and cunt—shall we go for the hat trick?”

“I-it doesn’t matter to me,” she gasped, though there was clear hesitation in her voice. Law didn’t miss the way the muscles in her pert rear tensed at the suggestion. “So long as you’re happy.”

Annoyed, he stopped, hand moving from her ass to harshly grab her chin he could glare down at her. “You’re evading the question. If you don’t want to get fucked in the ass tonight, say so. I won’t stand for a dishonest wife,” he snapped. Much as he wanted her as his pliant little fuck toy, it was more important that she never even dreamed of lying to him. She’d of course be required to lie to the rest of the Family, but to him, she needed to be an open book. There was only room for one manipulator in this marriage, after all.

Law suddenly had a wicked idea. Cock still buried inside her, he rolled onto his back, groaning as the new position made her sink down even further onto his aching length. Steadying his breathing, he let one hand rest behind his head while the other gripped the maid’s waist. “If can’t tell me how you want to be fucked, you’ll have to show me.”

“What?” she asked, eyes wide and slightly panicked.

His grin was sensual and cruel. “Ride me. Fuck yourself on my cock. Rub your clit. Do whatever it takes to make yourself cum.”

“I can’t!”

“Didn’t you promise to be a loyal, obedient wife, Baby-ya? And yet here you are, on our wedding night, already disobeying me.”

“I…but…”

“You’re to do as I say, when I say it. When I tell you to ride my cock while touching yourself, I don’t care if you think it’s selfish to take your own pleasure; just do it.”

The pathetic little whimpers she made might have swayed a lesser man, but Law simply lay there, watching her struggle internally. If she was going to be part of his plan, he needed her to obey any order he gave her. If she couldn’t give herself an orgasm because Law told her so, how was she ever to be trusted to follow him during his coup?

Finally, with no choice but to accept the Dark Doctor’s sadistic will was greater than hers, Baby 5’s pale, slender fingers slowly inched down to her swollen clitoris, experimentally giving it a light rub. The reaction was immediate; her hips bucked involuntarily as the over-sensitive bundle of nerves reacted to the sudden stimulation.

The man beneath her groaned as her walls clenched around his length, and he could see the wheels turning in her head. “Do that again, sweetheart,” he rasped, his grip on her hip tightening. Obediently, she did so, sending more shockwaves through her core, once more earning a pleased sound from her husband.

It finally clicked that her taking her own pleasure would bring Law pleasure, and she took to her task with gusto, flexing her hips and thighs so she bounced up and down on his thick shaft, her back arching as it hit that secret spot inside her. Masturbation had never felt right to her, but this was different; Violet and Monet had told her that men rarely cared about a woman’s pleasure, but clearly her darling Law was the exception!

“Much better,” the man in question growled, forcing his own hips to remain still, relegating himself to do nothing more than watch and guide her. At least physically. Throughout the night he’d been forcing himself to keep his words cloyingly sweet, but now that his snare was surely tightening around her, it was time to test the waters with some dirty talk. “You look fucking delicious like that. I think you were made for my cock.”

“W-we were—ah!—destined to be together!” was her strained reply as she rested her free hand on his hard chest to give herself better leverage.

“You think destiny had anything to do with how horny I get you?” he scoffed with a smug grin, flicking his thumb across her pearl for a brief moment before moving it out of her reach, smirk widening at her disappointed cry. “Don’t sell my skills short. I’ve made women cream themselves just by talking. And you…well, you’ve starred in my wet dreams for years. If it hadn’t been for Joker, I would have fucked you in every room of the palace a hundred times over.”

“I…I never thought you wanted me…” she admitted as she quickened her pace, chasing after that fire Law had ignited in her earlier. It was harder without his touch, but he needed her to fuck herself on him, and she wouldn’t dare disappoint her beloved.

The way she clenched his throbbing erection was sweet torture. “Well, I guess you were wrong,” he groaned, unable to stop himself from bucking slightly. When she moaned in response and rested both palms on his chest, he glared, grabbing a slender hand and forcing it back between her legs. “I never told you to stop touching yourself, Baby 5.”

Small white teeth sank into her abused bottom lip as she once more pinched and rubbed her pearl. It felt so good, especially when combined with the way Law’s hard cock stretched her so perfectly.

But…it still wasn’t what she needed. The coil of pleasure in her belly was tightening, but not nearly as much as when Law had touched her. It just wasn’t enough. Wasn’t right. Her body was supposed to be his to play with—like this, it felt like she was using him.

“Law,” she simpered, peering down at him through her thick lashes, pouting in what she hoped was a seductive manner, “don’t you want to touch me?”

It wasn’t hard to catch onto her game—she had never been good at subtlety—and Law smirked cruelly in response. “I’ll touch you when you tell me what I want to hear.”

“I…please, fuck me in the ass,” she whimpered, pinching her clit harder in hopes of pushing herself just a little bit closer to that daunting precipice, but climax remained out of reach. Violet had warned her that being taken in that hole would hurt more than the others, but if that’s what it took to finally get Law to bring her over the edge, she’d endure it.

Tempting as it was to take her up on that offer, partially as punishment for continuing to lie to him, Law staunchly refused. As much as he’d love to defile all three of her virgin holes in one night, training his new concubine honesty and obedience was far more important. Besides, leaving that one orifice unfucked gave him something to look forward to. Perhaps he’d save it for a special occasion…

He shook himself out of his fantasy when Baby 5 clenched sharply around him, back bowed as she rubbed herself harder. From the way her cheeks flushed and the desperate sounds that were pouring from her throat, it was clear she was caught on the precipice of her climax, but not quite able to push herself over.

“You’re still lying to me, sweetheart. I’m not going to do a damn thing until you give me the answer I’m looking for.”

“What…you’re looking…for?” she panted, aroused mind desperately trying to figure out what he wanted so he’d just fucking touch her and release the tight knot that twisted tighter and tighter inside her pulsing core.

Licking his lips lewdly, he purred, “Tell me what you want, Baby-ya. Tell me what dirty things you want me to do to you.”

Swallowing hard, managed to choke out, “I…I want you to fuck me.”

Law rewarded her honesty by removing her hand from her clit and replacing it with his own, giving the poor, abused bundle of nerves a brief but tantalizing grind before resting his palm back on her hip. “How do you want me to fuck you? Do you want me to bend you over my desk and take you from behind? To spank your cute little ass until it’s red and throbbing, then fuck it brutally while I play with your greedy cunt? Do you want me to tie you up and fuck you with an assortment of toys?”

“Yes~” she moaned, furiously riding his cock like she needed it to live, bucking in a frantic attempt to have his thumb brush against her pearl again. She was so close, she just needed that last touch from Law…

He wasn’t letting her have her way, though. “Wrong. Those are my fantasies. I’m asking you to tell me what you want. Now.”

Like waves futilely crashing against the rocks, Baby 5 clawed and grasped at the Dark Doctor’s chest, wordlessly begging him to just touch her, but he stood resolute.

“L-Law, please,” she finally screamed, tears welling up in her amethyst eyes. “I just want to cum! That’s all I want! I can’t make myself…” she trailed off, face a lovely scarlet as she buried it in her hands, ashamed and aroused and utterly desperate.

Gold eyes widened in both understanding and fascination. So, her psychological damage was to the extent that she couldn’t even take her own pleasure? Couldn’t climax at her own touch because her mind saw that as being selfish? No wonder she’d been so responsive to his touch. So eager for another orgasm. She’d likely never fully experienced one before tonight.

Oh, this just got so much better.

Grabbing her muscular waist with both hands, he slammed her down onto his cock, his hips snapping upwards to meet her halfway, smiling like the devil himself as she let out a gasping cry in response when the curved tip hit her G-spot. “Such a needy little thing,” he chuckled, brutally fucking up into her. “You weren’t desperate to get married; you were desperate to get fucked, weren’t you?”

“Ah! No, I—” she tried to argue, only to be cut off by a sudden climax, her mental barriers finally deeming it acceptable for her to cum.

“You were looking for a hard, thick cock, not a ring,” he taunted, continuing to take her through the aftershocks. Mischievously, he shifted his hand so he could rub his thumb over her pearl, relishing the way her slick walls spasmed and clenched him so perfectly as he once more prolonged her orgasm. “You would have spread your legs for anyone. Poor Baby 5 couldn’t get the job done herself, so she was willing to marry the scum of the earth just so she could finally get off. What a slutty little minx.”

He hit his own peak just as her tears started to fall, hot cum filling her tight cunt while saline drops splashed on his bare chest.

As soon as he caught his breath, Law flipped them over so he could hover above her, relishing her broken expression like an artist appreciating his work. Sweaty, crying, flushed, and caught between post-orgasmic bliss and despair, hers was a face he chose to burn into his memories.

Yet as much he enjoyed taking her apart, he would always make sure to put her back together; she just wasn’t as much fun in pieces, and that went for her mind, too. It was almost funny—even though he was trying to turn her into an obedient, compliant little weapon and plaything, he was remiss to relinquish that feisty spark she had. He always liked that she was willing to talk back to him, and he was a greedy man; he wanted both her obedience and her fire.

It would take some time and careful maneuvering, but he was patient, and the result was well worth the effort.

Pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, he cooed, “Lucky for you, I like slutty little minxes, and you’re definitely my favorite.”

“I-I am?” she hiccupped.

Cupping her face, he tenderly wiped away her tears, smirking slightly when he saw he was smearing her juices on her cheek. Leaning in, he licked away the mess, relishing the salty taste of her pain and pleasure. “Of course you are you precious thing. And so long as you’re only a slut for my cock, I’ll give you all the pleasure you could ever ask for. Because I’m your husband, and I always reward my good girl.”

Her smile was so beautifully ruined beneath him, he was nearly tempted to fuck her again, but his body demanded a break to properly recover. Acquiescing to his body’s needs, he pulled out and reclined against the headboard, wrapping his arm around his wife’s waist to pull her slick, exhausted figure against him. The veil in her hair was barely holding on to a few tangled strands, and he chuckled, plucking out the white lace comb and tossing it carelessly over the side of the bed.

As Baby 5 cuddled against him, Law activated his Room to fetch a cigarette and a lighter from his desk. The little orange flame licked at the end of the white stick as he promptly lit it, taking a long, steadying drag.

“So,” he began, releasing the smoke from his lungs as studied his thoroughly fucked wife, “was it as good for you as it was for me?”

“It felt amazing, darling,” Baby 5 replied, glancing up at the cigarette enviously. “Was it…everything you wanted, Law?”

“I got exactly what I wanted,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb along her swollen lower lip. “I knew he was wrong about you.”

“He?”

Though his expression remained carefully neutral, he could feel dark anticipation rise as he prepared to break her just a little more. “Joker thought you wouldn’t be able to satisfy me. Hell, none of the men did; they assumed you’d be a prude. Even took bets at the bachelor party on whether or not you’d get me to cum tonight.”

The naive maid’s jaw dropped slightly at the revelation. “They did?”

Law took a long, deep drag of his cigarette, drawing out her torturous doubts before he finally replied, “Mmm, I had faith in you, though. I knew such a good, obedient wife would give me all the pleasure I could ever ask for. Even if you did need some coaxing.”

“I…I’m sorry,” she whimpered, looking away in shame.

A tattooed hand gripped her chin, carefully turning her head back to face him. His other hand pressed the butt of the cigarette to the seam of her mouth, enticing her to part her lips and take it. “Shhh, it’s okay; now that we’re married, we’ll have plenty of time to practice. You’ve heard how…insatiable I am, and as my wife, it’s your duty to fulfill my needs.”

Her eyes lit up. “Of course!”

“My needs aren’t just sexual, you know,” he warned. “Now that you’re mine, that means you’re part of the Heart Army. Pica may outrank you, but you’re my subordinate now, so you no longer answer to him. My commands take the highest priority. So if I have a mission or task for you, you’ll obey without question, right?”

“Anything you need, Law!” she said happily. Though she’d miss serving with Buffalo and the rest of the Pica Army, it felt so good to know that her beloved wanted her at his side, even in battle.

Law couldn’t stop the dark, wickedly pleased smirk from curling his lips. Snatching the cigarette away, he gave her a long, hard kiss to compose himself. For a few minutes, he relished the way the assassin enthusiastically allowed him to dominate her mouth, tongues curling and stroking until they were finally forced to part for air. “That’s what I like to hear from my good girl. Can you keep a secret?”

“Yes!” she panted.

He gently ran his fingers through her sweaty, tangled locks before cradling her cheek with his palm. “Even from the rest of the family? Can you do as good a job keeping this secret as you have my name?”

“Anything for you, darling!” she cooed, nuzzling him affectionately.

His deep voice practically dripped with false concern. “Joker expects us to have a child together. Now, while I know you’ll be a wonderful mother, I’m scared; what if I didn’t remove all of my Amber Lead Disease, and it passes onto the baby? I couldn’t bear to watch my child suffer like I did.”

Violet eyes widened, the maid’s mind quickly remembering how weak and sickly Law had been as a kid. Of course he wouldn’t want his own children to endure the pain and stigma he had. And it might just kill her to watch her son or daughter wither away due to illness. “I understand, Law,” she said sadly, wrapping her arms around his waist to comfort him. “You need me to lie and say that it’s my fault; that I’m the reason we can’t have children.”

Long tattooed fingers stroked soothingly up and down her bare back. “No, but your consideration is appreciated. Doflamingo’s given me one year to study our DNA and do what I can to ensure we have a kid to carry on my legacy. But that’s not my only concern.”

She looked up at him, silently begging him to tell her what was on his mind. He knew she wouldn’t be able to bear the thought of her darling husband having troubled thoughts, especially now that he was dangling the possibility of a child in front of her.

“Perhaps I’m worrying over nothing concerning my disease, but even if you give birth to a perfect, healthy baby, I have so many enemies—people who might want to hurt our child. I even suspect there might be a traitor in our midst.”

Baby 5 gasped. “What?! Who?!”

He hid his grin by taking a long drag of the cigarette. Who indeed? “Right now, I can’t say—I only know that someone wants me dead.” That person was Doflamingo, of course, though only after he’d performed the eternal youth surgery. But at the sharp, protective gleam in his wife’s eyes, Law knew it was exactly the right thing to say. “I know we’re all supposed to be one big, happy family, but the Heart Seat is highly sought-after. Vergo is still bitter that Joker gave it to a disrespectful kid. Trebol frequently undermines my suggestions. Even Pica’s shown jealousy towards me, since no one mocks my voice.” Leaning in, he brushed his lips over hers. “I hate to say it, but you’re the only one I can trust, Baby-ya. The only one I know really, truly cares about me. The only one who would never even think to betray me.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Why else would Trebol have proposed? He must have caught on that I had feelings for you and wanted to steal you away.”

The fact that the disgusting executive had obviously proposed as a joke and had taken it back was irrelevant; in Baby 5’s cracked, romantic mind, this was a completely logical explanation. “He…to think I was almost stupid enough to accept his proposal!” she cried, burying her face in her hands in shame. He darling Law had been pining after her, and she’s nearly given herself over to another! Oh, how could her beloved even look at her, knowing she’d been so careless?

A pair of rough hands gently pried her fingers from her face, and gold eyes peered at her with adoration. “I forgive you, Baby-ya,” Law murmured, leaning in to brush a soft kiss to her lips. “What matters is you married me, and Trebol’s plans were foiled. But I don’t doubt he has something else up that snotty sleeve…”

“I’ll never fall for his tricks again!” she exclaimed, clutching his hands in hers, eyes full of earnest determination. “You said I’m the only one you trust? Then you’re the only one I trust! You were right, back in the lab; you’re the only one that cares about me enough to tell me the truth.”

Oh, the irony of it all. Still, perhaps later on he’d be more honest, once she was securely tangled in his web. He’d show her the dark side of the Doflamingo Family, offer up more proof that none of them had ever given a shit about her, and ensure that once his final plan for revenge was set in motion, she was past the point of no return.

The image of him standing over Joker’s dead, mutilated body was a regular fantasy, but now he envisioned Baby 5 resolutely at his side, arm a smoking gun as she shot a bullet or two into the heartless corpse for good measure.

The very thought brought a smile to his face, and he knew exactly what he had to say next.

Nuzzling her nose with his, Law whispered, “Baby-ya, I need to you promise me one last thing.”

“Anything.”

“If you see Joker trying to kill me, I need you to fight him with everything you have.”

“What?! But Doffy—”

“—has killed your fiancés before without hesitation. Perhaps it’s all some sick joke; to give you exactly what you’ve always wanted, then steal it away,” he sighed, hand dropping to run his palm up and down her thigh. The white stockings were smooth against his skin, and the likelihood of exactly who gave her the wedding lingerie once more taunted him. “Where you’re concerned, he seems to become somewhat…irrational and cruel. Despite us clearly being perfect for each other, it took a ridiculous amount of convincing to make him agree to our union.” Law’s other hand cupped her chin, tilting her head upwards so he could look into her eyes with trepidation. “I even wondered if perhaps…he wanted you for himself.”

“That’s ridiculous, Law—Doffy sees me as his little sister!”

A midnight blue eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Does he? No one can deny he’s even more insatiable than me when it comes to women. He’s been dressing you in that skimpy maid uniform for years—if he really saw you as his sister, he’d never put your body on display like that. He even told me he’d take you for himself if it weren’t for the fact that it would be the end of his bachelor lifestyle.”

“He…did he really?” she whispered, an edge of horror in her voice.

It took everything he had not to smile as he hammered the final nail in the coffin. “Baby-ya, who gave you your wedding lingerie?”

“…Joker did.”

Law shook his head. “Once we’re on our honeymoon, we’ll burn it and I’ll buy you a new set—the idea that he might be fantasizing about you in that puts me ill at ease.”

Baby 5 nibbled on her lower lip in thought. “But darling, if Joker wanted me for himself, why did he let you marry me?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say he’s got a long-term plan.” He pretended to think it over as he ran his thumb across her abused pout; she’d bit through the delicate skin hard enough that a few minuscule droplets of blood had bubbled to the surface, staining her already ruby lips a deeper red. “He only agreed to my request for your hand in marriage on the condition that I impregnate you with another medical genius—someone to replace me once I die giving him the Perennial Youth Surgery. Perhaps…once I’m gone, he intends to make his move. Take you for himself under the guise of providing for the widow of his late executive. He’d have you, eternal youth, and his next Corazon all in one fell swoop.”

“I’d never betray you like that, Law,” Baby 5 insisted. “Even if you died, I’d never even look at another man. And I’d certainly never marry the one that killed you!”

The Dark Doctor smiled like a leopard who’d had a baby deer stumble into its claws. “I know you wouldn’t. But if that’s really what Joker’s planning, we need to be careful. We can’t let him know we suspect him. We certainly can’t be sure who else in the Family might be in on it. So I need you to play the part of the feisty, dutiful maid and assassin while keeping your eyes and ears open for anything useful.”

“Absolutely. Anything I uncover that could be of use, I’ll tell you.”

“Good girl. And if the day comes where he realizes we’re onto him, do you promise to protect me, Baby-ya? To be a good wife and come to your husband’s defense should Doflamingo try to kill me?”

“Of…of course.”

Kissing her forehead to hide his smirk, he replied, “Such a good girl. I knew I was right to marry you.”

She beamed vibrantly at him; despite discovering that the people she’d considered her family had been plotting against her, she was comforted by the fact that she had Law by her side.

Wrapping her arms around his waist and gently kissing his tattooed pectorals, Baby 5 sighed contentedly. “It all feels like a fairy tale; I spent years looking for love, and there you were, right in front of me.”

The word “love” ripped at Law’s heart for a moment as Cora-san’s smiling face and final words overwhelmed his mind. What would his savior say if he knew what had been done in his name? Would he regret sacrificing himself for the sake of a man who would go on to take his place as Corazon?

It didn’t matter. Really, Law was doing more than the dead Marine had; he was successfully leading Baby 5 away from the Doflamingo Pirates. He was putting an end to the Heavenly Demon’s criminal empire. He would eliminate one of the shichibukai and perhaps even free Dressrosa as a result.

Not that he cared about any of that. All that mattered was revenge—the rest was just a lucky side effect.

Pushing away the memory of the man who had tried to protect him from this life, Law pulled his new wife flush against him. “Ready for another round, sweetheart?”

“Already?” she gasped as his mouth latched onto her throat, sucking a bright red hickey onto her neck—a mark of ownership nearly as unmistakable as the ring around her finger.

“All this talk of Joker lusting after you makes me want to remind myself that you belong to me; heart, mind, and body,” he purred, stroking her lush curves. “And you did tell me to use you however I needed tonight.”

“I did,” she agreed, turning her head to catch his lips in a kiss. He readily returned it, hands busying themselves with ridding her of the white stockings so she lay naked and defenseless to his lustful attentions.

Perhaps Cora-san wouldn’t approve of his actions. Would think him as cruel and monstrous as Joker. Right now, Law didn’t care. He deserved this. Life had been one massive pile of shit for him, from the Amber Lead to the genocide of Flevance to his servitude to Doflamingo—the universe owed him something as simple as a dutiful, sexy wife who could aid him in his ultimate plans.

Law needed this small victory to keep going. A reminder that his goal was attainable. And even if the universe didn’t owe him anything, Baby 5 did—he gave her her dream, so she had damn well better be willing to sacrifice everything for his.

They’d both be free of Joker or die trying.

The End

[ceaderblocks]

The Devil’s in the Details Ch. 6

Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three // Chapter Four // Chapter Five //

Read on A03

Created alongside @thematrixmutual

Join the discord here!

Cub knew it was wrong. He <em>knew</em> helping Scar carry the AFK Xisuma to the End was wrong (was he really AFK?), and he knew Scar shooing him away to hide Xisuma screamed bad. But he did it anyways, because Scar was his best friend.

Except Xisuma had been missing for three days now, and Scar was adamant he didn’t remember helping with the prank. Scar was also avoiding everyone, working at night and skipping social activities to work on the strange black tower in the shopping district.

He was still working on the large black pillar in the shopping district when Cub flew by, determined to catch him in person. It looked almost finished, imposing and dark against the other shops. Scar was at the base, humming as he dug through some chests. The sun was setting, and the torches began to let off some light.

“Scar,” Cub said, and the other builder jumped, smacking his head against the chest lid.

“Oh! Cub!” Scar said nervously, rubbing his head. He avoided eye contact, choosing to look at his scuffed shoes instead.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.” Cub said softly, placing a hand on Scar’s shoulder. He wasn’t wearing his jacket. “How’re you?”

“Busy as always,” Scar said, gesturing vaguely to the tower and still avoiding looking Cub in the eyes. Cub frowned.

“Are you okay, though?” Cub asked, concerned. Scar’s behavior was off.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Scar said, tugging on a pigtail nervously.

“You aren’t, though.” Cub said softly. “Scar, you’ve been acting strange lately.”

“Have I?” Scar frowned, looking concerned. “Guess I’m just tired.”

“Grian and False found both their bases aggressively terraformed, and they both said they hadn’t requested or paid for it. Black pillars have popped up all over the map. Jellie’s been sleeping at ConCorp. With me.” Cub said. Scar looked surprised at that final note, and finally looked at Cub.

Green eyes. Cub thought. Not blue.

“Is that where she’s been?” He asked, ignoring all the other points. “I was worried, I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Jellie never sleeps with me.” Cub continued. “Please Scar, tell me what’s wrong.”

Scar looked away again. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Cub.”

“Three days ago, you and I moved an AFK Xisuma from here to the End. He hasn’t returned, and you refused to let me know where you put him.” Cub said, and watched Scar turn from sadness to confusion to horror.

“Scar, something has been seriously wrong for a while, hasn’t it? Since we both fell into the Void a week ago?”

Scar bit his lip, on the verge of tears. He wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and nodded.

No jacket. Green eyes. Pigtails. Cub noted to himself.

“I’m really sorry Cub. Once I finish this build it’ll all go back to normal, I swear!” He said, and turned away, kneeling on the ground and re-opening the chest.

“Scar! Please!” Cub begged. He was so damn worried.

“Cub, I can’t-“ Scar suddenly fell quiet, doubling over and clutching his head for a moment before blinking rapidly and jerking upright, slamming the chest lid shut.

“Scar?” Cub asked, concerned. Scar turned to him, looking forlorn.

“Can we not talk about this?” He asked, an annoyed tone to his voice. He put a hand on Cub’s shoulder, leading him away from the tower. “Let’s do something else. Golf, maybe? We haven’t played golf in a while.”

“Scar-“ The grip on his shoulder tightened, and Cub fell silent, looking at his friend, panic leaping in his chest.

Blue eyes? Scar just had green eyes. What is going on?

“… Golf sounds great.” Cub finished, and Scar (this isn’t Scar) smiled, pulling his pigtails from his hair and re-arranging it into a ponytail.

“Super,” Scar said enthusiastically, pulling a rocket from his inventory. “Race you there?”

“Sure.” Cub said, hesitantly grabbing his own. “Should we invite some people to join us?”

“I think it’ll be a fun game between just you and I,” Scar said. “Besides, we haven’t gotten to have some quality time together in a while.”

“Right,” Cub said. “Of course.”

He needed to find out what was going on, and if he had to do it by being close to the enemy, so be it.

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The End was cold, as it usually was. Xisuma could usually spend lots of time in it just fine, but extended periods would even make the most well weathered Hermit a little chilly.

Xisuma was freezing.

Oscar had put him in Adventure mode, able to survive but not interact with most things. Xisuma had paced around the small cell, trying to get warm before realizing he was getting hungry and the Oscar hadn’t left him with food. He had then taken a few moments to figure out where he was. Xisuma came to the conclusion he was under an End Island, iron bars confining him to the small seven by seven block area. Oscar hadn’t left any food or water. Just Xisuma, his helmet and the emptiness of the Void. The doppelgänger had even taken his comm box.

“Bastard.” Xisuma had snarled, kicking an end stone through the bars and retreating to a corner to try and huddle and save body warmth.

That was a few days ago, now. Well, Xisuma thought it was a few days ago. Keeping track of time had never been a strong suit of his, and it was harder when there were no day cycles. It was also hard to focus when you were starving and freezing to death. He had stopped being nauseous from hunger a while back, the gnawing at the inside of his stomach taking second place to the violent shivers that wracked his body. He was exhausted but refused to fall asleep. Death had never bothered the Hermits before, but Xisuma was confident he wouldn’t wake up if he let his eyes shut.

A bright flash of white made Xisuma wince and weakly covered his eyes. Great. He was having hallucinations now. That’s cool.

“Finally.” A familiar voice said, and Xisuma uncovered his eyes, struggling to sit up. “It was terrible being banned. Nice of you to let me back.”

“Evil Xisuma?” Xisuma whispered, not willing to believe his eyes. There was his counterpart, dressed in red and stretching, seeming to not have taken notice of Xisuma quite yet.

“The one and only. Hey, where the fuck are we? The End??? God, you really didn’t want me to destroy the server if we’re all the way out here, huh.” EX said, touching his toes.

Xisuma was speechless. Evil X was banned. He shouldn’t be able to come back, let alone be summoned to him in this prison cell. This was definitely a hallucination. It had to be.

“Speechless, Xisuma?  I know, it’s cause- oh shit,” EX said, finally looking at his counterpart. “Dude, you look terrible.”

Rushing to his side, EX helped Xisuma sit up and lean against him. Xisuma shut his eyes, dizzy from the lack of food and water.

“Fuck, Xisuma.” EX said. “You didn’t unban me, did you?”

“No,” Xisuma said. Evil X dug through his inventory for a moment before pulling out a water bottle and some bread.

“Here, start with this. Slowly.” EX cautioned. Xisuma tore a small chunk off the bread and nibbled on it. His stomach growled. He felt sick from eating.

“If you didn’t bring me here, who did?” EX frowned, looking around. “Are we in a prison cell?”

“I don’t know who brought you,” Xisuma admitted, swallowing some water. “And we are. Scar’s evil counterpart put me here.”

“Hey, he’s stealing my style.” EX said. “I’m supposed to be the only evil twin here.”

“He’s dangerous.” Xisuma cautioned.

“And I’m not?” EX said. Xisuma chose to take another bite of bread instead of answering.

“If you’re here, you’re probably stuck in adventure mode with me.” Xisuma said.

EX frowned, opening his inventory. “Uh, no. I’m in survival. I have some stuff from last time and- holy shit Xisuma!”

“What?”

“I have admin controls!” EX said, thrilled. Xisuma perked up.

“You do?”

“Yeah, look!”

Evil Xisuma threw open a command screen. Xisuma was shocked. How was this happening?

“I haven’t been able to access this shit since season one.” EX said, typing in some commands. /give <Xisuma> golden carrots [64].

Xisuma gaped in surprise as 64 golden carrots popped into his otherwise empty inventory.

“Hell yeah,” EX said. “Now I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

“You need to help me,” Xisuma pleaded, grabbing onto Evil Xisuma’s arms. “Please, EX, the whole server is in danger.”

“You always say that when I’m around too,” EX snarled, looking unhappy.

“This is different.”

“How so?” EX asked.

“This evil version of Scar-“

“Oscar.” EX said.

“- right, Oscar, he's taking over the server by replacing Scar. He’s building towers everywhere and forcing the land in unnatural ways. You didn’t replace me, so- wait.” Xisuma stopped his explanation and struggled backwards, EX cocking an eyebrow.

“How do you know his name?”

“Because he spoke to me in the Void? Dude, we’re both results of Void death mis-happenings. He promised me admin powers if I came and helped him.”

Xisuma clenched his jaw. “And here you are with admin powers.”

“Yeah,” EX agreed, but he looked confused. “But I told him no. I thought you brought me back to help fuck him over or something. I’m not sure why I have admin abilities.”

“You gave that up?” Xisuma was rendered speechless for the second time.

“Hm?”

“You gave up being an admin and getting revenge on the server?”

“I’m not a dick,” EX snorted. “I just want a bit of mischief. Y'all are to uptight for your own good. Oscar’s a full-blown asshole. He wanted to ‘ruin everyones lives’ and ‘replace everything with death’ or whatever. Not my style. Anyways,” EX pulled up his command screens again.

/set gamemode creative <Xisuma> /give cheats <Xisuma>

Xisuma felt better instantly. The cold that had frozen his limbs dissipated, and the hunger gnawing at his insides left. He felt energized and alive for the first time in many days.

“Thank you,” Xisuma said. “Really, I mean it.”

“Can I ask a favour from you?” EX asked, suddenly looking very serious. Xisuma nodded, unsure once more.

“Let me live with you all- peacefully. And also let me kick Oscar’s ass.”

Xisuma snorted in laughter and smiled, sticking out his hand. Evil Xisuma took it, shaking it.

“Deal.”

[chimerahh]

Ransom

A loose IronStrange fanfic based on Whumptober prompt 27. Also posted on my account @sassystephden

(This is, however, mostly IronDad and angst).

TW: Torture

 ///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\

When Tony’s phone rung in the middle of a debriefing meeting, he thought nothing of it. When it rang again in the middle of a gala, he thought a little bit more of it. Even so, it was only after 20 hours spent in the lab, when he collapsed on the couch that he finally checked his phone.

He warily eyed the blocked number who had taken up a large portion of his message bank. Scrolling to the top of the conversation, he noted with smooth satisfaction that whoever this blocked number was had been sending him exactly minute-long messages every two hours exactly.

His thumb was getting tired by the time he scrolled to the top of the…17 messages? No way he was in the lab that long. But whoever this was had definitely achieved getting his (tired) attention.

After groggily pressing the play button, Tony watched with as the video opened onto two large metal doors, covered in scratches. This in itself wasn’t weird, considering it wasn’t the first time someone had found his phone number on the dark web just to send him a home-made action movie – for whatever reason he didn’t know.

What caught his attention though, was the soft sobbing sound coming from the corner of the room. Because that voice sounded strangely familiar. He couldn’t place it but –

“Mr Stark!”

Tony almost fell of his seat as the camera panned to Peter, huddled in the corner of a room. He slowly clenched his fists, and gave his attention back to the video. Because this was a joke. This had to be a joke. A really, really cruel –

“Mr-Mr Stark. P-please. I don’t. I don’t know where I am.”

A chill descended down Tony’s spine, as a soft laugh echoed from outside the camera shot.

“That’s it, little Spider. Beg just like that, you know he’s never coming. Don’t you?”

Peter gulped, and his Adam’s apple bobbed, eyes watering, and the man walked into the camera frame, face concealed by a white ceramic mask.

“The great Tony Stark, powerless, weak. We’ve taken you, Spiderling. And he still hasn’t noticed.”

Peter was meant to be in his room. He was meant to be in his room, at the tower, fixing the suit. He was –

“Mr Stark. If you’re watching this video, it means you’ve finally found time in your busy, busy life to sit on your phone.”

Busy, busy was an understatement.

“Normally, these jobs wouldn’t be too hard, but you and I both know the Spiderling has a lot of experience with these types of situations. He can ‘hold his own’ you might say, no thanks to you of course. So, for a little bit of incentive, let’s play a game.”

 The man turned to face Peter, who was slowly standing up; unwinding little by little.

“Here are the rules; little Peter is going to be here for as long as it takes you to find him. There is no ransom, no clues, no secrets and no calling any of your special friends. You’re a busy man, we both know that, so for every few hours that your Spiderling is here, we’re going to make him a little bit more uncomfortable. Right now, we’re feeding him and giving him water. How long do you think it will take for that to run out? What do you think Spiderling?”

The man got closer to Peter and Tony watched with sick satisfaction as Peter jerked up and attempted to fight the man, only to be restrained by three of his men.

“As I said. Such a fighter.”

The video cut to black, and saw red.

“FRIDAY, analytics. Now.’

“I already have Boss, they’ve encrypted all the videos, and the IP address is cut in a way I’ve never seen before. I can try to trace it, but it make take a while.” Her smooth voice ran over the speakers, and it make his head pound.

“Do it. Fast.”

“Yes, boss.”

Tony steadied himself, and stared at the screen. 15 videos. Peter had been there for 30 hours. A day and a half. A day and a half with this psycho.

He took a deep breath, and with startingly steady hands pressed play on the next video.

 Once again, the video opened to wide silver door, and panned across to Peter, the mans’ voice ringing out from his phone speakers.

“Look at him, Stark. So nice in the chains don’t you think?”

Peter was curled in a small ball, his wrists and feet cuffed to the ground in heavy metal that looked either like Vibranium or Admantinium.

“Stand up, Spider.”

Peter looked up softly, and started slowly uncurling himself. The chains clunked dully, and he stood to his tiny height. His shoulder looked like they were almost being pulled out of their sockets by the weight of the restraints, and Tony had never seen Peter look so pale.

“FRIDAY, scan the location.”

“Encrypted video Boss, I’m trying my best.”

“TRY HARDER!”

There was silence over the speakers, so Tony turned his attention back to the video.

“Mr Stark, it’s okay. I’m okay for now I promise. Just-just get me out of here soon? Please? I trust you Mr Stark.”

Tony swallowed thickly.

“Hmm. I wonder how long that trust will last. It seems like you want to find out as well. I hope you’re enjoying your evening, Mr Stark. I trust it will be a long one. Don’t you think little Spider?”

Peter looked at the man through the holes in his mask, and stood resolutely still, and Tony watched with disgust as the man stepped forward to run a thumb along Peter’s jawline. Peter snarled.

“Such a fighter. We will break him though, Mr Stark. You can ‘quote me’ on that.”

The camera cut to black.

‘FRI.”

“Boss. No match on the facials or IP yet, but we’re still trying.”

Tony didn’t answer, and stared into his hands. How could this have happened? Peter was meant to be in his room. He had turned Jarvis off for a minute, just one minute to check analytics and-

“Boss, this isn’t on you. You didn’t know he needed protection.”

Slamming a hand on the desk, Tony jumped to his feet and turned to where he knew the speakers were. “HE’S A BLOODY KID, FRI OF COURSE HE NEEDS PROTECTION. Just… what, what did I do?”

There was silence, and Tony collapsed back onto the couch.

“Let me know if anything changes.”

“Got it boss.”

Tony looked over to the bar. A drink looked really good right about now, but he shook his head and scrolled down to the tenth video, once again pressing play.

 The camera opened on steel doors, but this time it stayed there.

“My, my, my Mr Stark. You really are making the little Spider wait. He’s angry with you. Or, rather he would be. We might have to up the stakes hmm? It’s awfully hot in here. It can get hotter. How long do you think Mr Parker will last before he goes delirious? Maybe heatstroke? It’s been… oh, exactly 12 hours since his last drop of water and food. Should we see how long he lasts?”

The camera banned to Peter, and Tony’s heart simultaneously shattered into a million pieces.

He was curled up on the floor, completely still, ridiculously pale and sweating.

“We’re filming again Spiderling. Anything you want to say to Mr Stark?”

“Mr-Mr Stark. I-I don’t know what’s happening Mr Stark. Just-please, please I-I don’t know where you are Mr Stark. Please help me.”

Peter was crying, and his voice was hoarse and cracking. He lapped greedily at the tears that ran down his cheeks, and was met with a resounding slap on the face by one of the men behind him.

“No.”

Peter shuddered, and curled back down.

“Ten is a lovely number Mr Stark. Don’t you agree? I promised my boys no touching until ten and I must say, they are very excited. Sadly, Mr Parker doesn’t seem as enthusiastic as them, but I’m sure that is something we can change. Stockholm syndrome and all that.”

The man stepped into the camera frame, and faced Peter.

“I must give you credit though, Mr Stark. Your Spider is holding up surprisingly well. You trained him well.”

Trained. Trained like he was a dog.

“This isn’t on Mr Stark.”

Tony almost collapsed with a violent mix of relief and worry when he heard Peter’s voice, scratchy from disuse but still as sure as ever.

No-one responded, so Peter tried again. “It’s not Mr Stark’s fault.”

“Perhaps.” The kidnapper responded. “But he hasn’t come to get you yet? Has he?”

The film stayed running long enough to see Peter’s face fall with disappointment, looking down with unshed tears. Before it cut to black Tony was up and pacing.

“FRIDAY. Voice analysis. Material analysis. Anything!”

“I’m trying boss, hard. JARVIS is too, but we haven’t found anything.”

The smooth voice of Tony’s first (and favourite) AI cut through the speakers. “I must agree Sir. Whoever these men are, they are awfully good.”

“I’m meant to be BETTER. I need to be BETTER!” Tony was half hysterical, and pacing around the penthouse. When after a few minutes he was met with silence from the speakers, he sat back down, looking with disgust at the various technology around him.

“FRIDAY.”

“Boss?”

The AI sounded decidedly cool.

“Lock up the house, and lock down the lab. Power off everything that isn’t necessary to you finding this. All protocols and all codes. I want every stem of manpower we have on this.”

“Confirmation for the de-activation of protocols, Sir?”

She was definitely mad.

“Jotunheim. Turn everything off.”

Once again, the speakers were silent, and after a few moments, all of the lights went out. The comforting hum of the arc reactor went out, and Tony was left alone with his thoughts. He side eyed the bar, then turned back around to face his phone.

“See if you can find a way to contact Stephen. Be sly.”

The cold silence told him it was done, and he scrolled down to video 12.

 The steel doors were a cold comfort that they hadn’t moved anywhere else, and Tony didn’t dare breathe until the cold voice of the kidnapper wafted from the camera.

“It’s been a very long time Mr Stark. I’m sure you want to see your Spider hmm? I’m afraid that’s not possible right now. He’s indisposed.”

The camera stayed still, but Tony could faintly hear some grunts of pain coming from the side of the room. He picked up the sounds of heavy breathing, and there was a heartbeat of ominous silence, before the camera finally, finally panned.

Peter was in the middle of the room this time, hung up by his restraints like a small, pale Jesus.

“Look at your boy, Mr Stark. He looks up to you. He kept calling out your name. Where are you now?”

The three men standing behind Peter stood stoically as their boss moved forward.

“Mr Parker.”

Peter resolutely stared down.

“Mr Parker, look at me.”

Still Peter stared down, and the man took another step forward, and roughly grabbed his jaw, jerking his head up.

There were tears in Peter’s eyes, but he stared into the eyes of his captor in a way that made Tony’s heart throb.

The two men stood stoically for a moment, but ran forward when Peter slammed his head down on his captors fingers, and reached out to try and bite them.

The man withdrew his hand with an almost disdainful sniff, examining it and re-adjusting his mask.

“My, my little Spider. You certainly do pack a punch. You will pay for this, with your dear Mr Stark watching I may add.”

He nodded to one of the men circling Peter, and they stepped forward.

“I have to thank you, Mr Stark. Had you not taught your boy to be so tough, my men may would not be getting as much pleasure out of doing this.”

The man stepped out of the camera frame, and Tony watched with horror as one of his henchmen stepped forward with a small switch knife. Smiling with sick satisfaction, the man takes his time, using the knife to cut away Peter’s torn shirt, and slowly runs the knife along his stomach, and up his neck. When the man cuts forward hard enough to draw blood, Tony is surprised to see blood on his own fists when he looks down, his hands clenching hard enough that he smashed the glass he was holding. He barely feels it, and when he looks back to the video Peter has 3 brand new cuts streaking crimson down his torso.

His guts twists when he sees Peter in full clarity again, holding back a scream with pleading, bloodshot caramel eyes. But what made Tony truly seethe was the pleasure and enjoyment on the goons face as he leisurely dragged the dagger through Peter’s skin, his face lighting up each time a scream escaped Peter’s clenched lips.

When the captors voice rings out again, the dread in Tony’s stomach deepened to a level he didn’t know existed.

“Well, Mr Stark, this has been truly entertaining, but it seems we have gone over time. It’s been one day already. If I were you, I wouldn’t be leaving your little Spider too much longer.”

The video cut to black, and a message from Tony’s phone gave a dull chime. Video 18.

The mark that Peter had been in this place – wherever it was – for a day and a half. He felt like he was going to throw up, but instead pressed play on the video, dread settling deep into his gut.

 This time, the video didn’t open on the steel doors that by this point had come to be a strange reassurance, but instead onto a landscape shot of a street-style boxing ring set up in the middle of a large warehouse. Tony almost jumped when the chilling sound of the captor rung into the room, almost like it was right behind him.

“What do you think, Mr Stark? A fitting place for your little Spider to face his first real opponent? We even have a crowd.”

The shot focused on the mans’ three goons, standing to the corner of the room in a tight formation with their arms crossed.

Tony waited a few moments in sickening silence, before there was a rustling from out of shot, and Peter was flung in by two more goons, who quickly retreated into the shadows.

The masked mans’ voice rang out through the empty warehouse. “Get up, Spider.”

Peter slowly stood up. He was more pale than before, and glistening with a small sheen of sweat.

You are known for fighting villains yes? Why don’t you show us how you can fight.”

Tony could see Peters haunted eyes even with the camera positioned almost 20 feet away. Even so, he turned to look the masked man in the eye.

“Who first?”

The man had the audacity to laugh. “First? Oh little Spider, so brave. There is no-one first, I’m not cruel. You’ll be fighting me.”

Tony stilled along with Peter. Somehow even the goons seemed surprised. Still, Peter raised into a fighting stance.

When no-one moved, the goons advanced forward. Tony recognised the middle one as the one with a switch knife. His eyes shone with pleasure every time Peter moved in a way that made him wince.

“I’m not going to fight you.”

The man grinned. “So be it then.” He nodded to the goons. “Hold him.”

Tony watched as the men advanced, and efficiently wrestled Peter to the floor. It was a mark of exactly how tired and malnourished Peter was that he barely struggled, kicking a few times before allowing his body to go limp.

The goons positioned Peter to a spread-eagle position on the floor, and watched with glee as the masked man took a few strides to stand over them. He bent down slowly, reaching forward a hand to run his knuckles over Peters jaw.

“Have we done it Mr Parker. Finally broken you, hm? With Mr Stark watching?”

Peter didn’t answer.

“Perhaps we finally got under your skin. Or.” The man paused and growled. “Is that what you want us to believe?”

The man’s palm connected to Peter’s collarbone, and he screamed, the interweaving crack echoing through the room. He let out another wail of anguish as the man delivered a harsh slap against the side of his head.

“I thought you weren’t going to fight. Be quiet, yes?”

Peter bit back another scream as the man rammed a finger into the rapidly growing bruise on his shoulder, tears fighting their way to the surface,

“There we go. Finally learning.”

The man smiled, resting for a few moments on Peter’s legs before lunging forward and grabbing his arm, pushing his wrist forward until he heard a crack. The sound mixed with Peter’s muffled scream. immediately joined by a clear pop as the man bent Peter’s thumb back to meet his wrist, a bruise blossoming seconds later.

The scream Peter let out was animalistic, and the slap he got in return was just as loud.

“What. Did. I. Say?”

Peter was sobbing now, tears flowing down his face and mingling with the dried blood left on his chest.

The man pressed Peter’s wrist down further, and watched with satisfaction as Peter let out another muffled scream, biting down on his lips until there was blood.

“ANSWER ME!”

“You – you said I - that I should be qui-AAHHH” The end of Peter’s sentence was muffled as the man brought a hand down again on the large bump in his shoulder.

“I said that you promised you wouldn’t fight.”

The man grabbed Peter by his hair, and threw him into the corner of the room, where he stayed, immobile and slowly sobbing.

He slowly stalked over, and watched as Peter tried and failed to get up. He kicked, and the sound of boots hitting flesh echoed of the wall with a sickening crunch.

Peter collapsed, and the man turned back around, walking to stare into the camera lens through the gaps in his mask.

“Look at your prized apprentice now Stark. So bruised. So deliciously broken.”

His voice was soft and sweet, and it made Tony sick. He watched as the man re-adjusted his masked, and spared a glance over his shoulder at Peter. “I’m beginning to think that perhaps, you really don’t care after all.”

For once, Tony hoped the video would last longer, so that he could be sure they didn’t do anything else to Peter, but once again it cut to black, and he was left with the empty silence of the penthouse.

 A knock from the side of the penthouse window drew Tony out of his thoughts, and walking over his shoulder, he saw the shadow of a deep red cloak.

“FRI, open the windows.”

She did so, and Stephen floated into the penthouse, landing softly on the floor, turning to Tony.

“Tony –”

“It’s Peter… He – he.” Tony let out a sob, and collapsed into Stephen’s arms, heaving cries wracking through his entire body.

Stephen enveloped him, hands cradling through hair.

“Tones, it’s okay. It’s okay. This isn’t your fault.”

Tony stilled.

“This is on them, Tony. You’re not the one that took him.”

Stephen barely heard Tony’s response. “I was meant to be the one that protects him.”

Gently lifting Tony’s head, Stephen looked him in tear stained eyes.

“We all were. JARVIS as well. These people evidently know what they’re doing Tony. You’re one human man, you can’t put it on yourself to protect a family of superheroes.”

“He’s a kid.” The following sob Tony gave echoed around the room, and he collapsed into Stephen’s arms. He pulled Tony onto the couch.

“We’re all doing everything we can, Tones. You’re not any help to Peter dead though. Sleep. I’ll wake you in an hour.”

Expecting interruption, Stephen ignored Tony’s shuffling and continued.

“FRIDAY and JARVIS are on this Tony. This is quite literally what they were made for. Sleep.”

Stephen was met with silence, and he gave Tony a chaste kiss on the lips before sitting back, resting a hand on Tony’s head.

A few moments later, the phone rung with a new message, and Tony bolted upright.

The video opened on Peter, still bruised from the beating only 15 minutes ago.

“You called a friend, Mr Stark.” The masked man stepped into the camera shot. “Did you forget our rules?”

A violent wave of nausea rushed over Tony as he watched the Switch-Knife-Man approach Peter with a large bat, his eyes shining.

He brought the bat down on Peter with a flat crunch, and Tony watched as Peter jerked limply on the floor. Silent, but moving to cover his new wounds.

Stephen flinched when the bat came down again, hitting Peter right on the stomach and forcing Peter upright to throw up sickly green bile.

They watched as the goon brought the bat back on Peter again and again, getting increasingly excited every time Peter bit his lip with a desperately concealed moan. By hit five, Peter’s clothing was fully torn, and half his torso was black and blue. Tony was sure he had broken at least three ribs by this point, and the man kept hitting.

After ten hits, there was barely a part of Peter’s body that wasn’t black and blue.

The man’s voice rang out from the phone.

“A dozen more for every two hours your friend is by your side, Mr Stark. You have been warned.”

The video cut, and Tony turned to Stephen.

“Out.”

“Tony – ”

“OUT.”

Stephen slowly turned as the cloak wrapped around his torso, looking back when at Tony standing resolutely in the middle of the penthouse before stepping out into the air, the window closing behind him on the way out.

 Tony didn’t realise exactly how long he had been in the lab for until his phone chimed with another message. At this point Peter had been with the kidnappers for 2 days. This was video 24, and he really didn’t want to open it.

For the last 6 hours, he had been going through every single possible tracing route he could think of for the IP address, and had (successfully) hacked into the FBI database to scan the masked mans eyes, ears and tongue. After six hours of extensive work, he had found absolutely nothing. Nada. Nothing at all tracing the villain, and he hadn’t slept in about 45 hours.

With shaking hands and burning eyes, Tony opened the video.

Once again, he was met with a view of the cold, steel doors that he had become intimately familiar with while scanning almost all the infrastructure he could think of, and within a few moments the camera panned to the middle of an empty room.

“Mr Stark, I’m afraid once again Mr Parker is indisposed, but I thought this may be a good time for us to chat.”

The man’s voice made bile rise up in Tony’s throat.

“It has been two days. That’s 48 hours, and you still haven’t found your precious Spiderling. I think he’s beginning to lose faith in you.” He lowered his voice. “And I think I can prove that.”

The camera followed the man as he walked into an adjoining corridor, eventually turning the corner into a small side room.

Immediately, the camera focused on the roaring fire in the centre of the room, burning red-blue, and Tony could almost feel the onslaught of heat. It took a few moments for the camera to adjust, and it gently settled on Peter, who was bending over a small stone desk in front of the fire.

Peter was pale, sweating profusely and his eyes were sunken and drowsy. Thankfully, his bruises had healed from the beating, but Tony could still see the faint bump from his broken collarbone.

“Little Spider, tell Mr Stark how you are feeling.”

Peter didn’t answer at first, and the man stalked forward.

“Now, now. You know what happens when you don’t speak. Answer me Mr Parker.”

Peter didn’t even move his head, and Tony could barely hear his reply over a dull chinking from the corner of the room.

“Please, Mr Stark.”

It was little more than a whisper, but Tony’s heart sunk into his stomach. Peter’s voice was hoarse and scratchy from disuse, and he looked seconds away from fainting from the heat of the fire.

The masked man gave a satisfied smirk, and Tony saw the outline of a shadow in the corner of the room.

“Your gift is finally ready Spiderling. Are you ready to accept it?”

“Please, no.” Peter whimpered, and looked up, drawing Tony’s eyes with his.

A red hot branding iron in the shape of a decorative ‘A’ entered the camera frame, hissing with heat and giving off steam.

“Please, please no.”

The man laughed softly. “Come Spiderling, you know we wouldn’t be unfair to you. I do not want to have to use this on you.” He gently picked up the iron. “You only have to do one, simple thing.”

Peter softly whimpered.

“What was that? I don’t think Mr Stark can hear you.”

“Anything. Please, please I’ll do anything.”

Upon closer inspection, Tony realised with a start that the band was made of Vibranium – Peter wouldn’t be able to heal from this. He watched with rapt attention as the man walked towards Peter with the brand, reaching down to card a hand through his hair. Tony winced as Peter was sharply tugged up, and the man leaned down to face him.

“All you have to do, little Spider, is admit Tony isn’t coming for you.”

Peter and Tony stilled.

“Think about it, Spiderling. It’s been two whole days, and he still hasn’t come to get you. You and I both know that if he wanted to find you he could have.”

Peter slowly shook his head.

“I urge you to consider your choice very carefully, Spiderling. If you believe Mr Stark is coming for you, do you really believe he would want you back with this hideous scar?”

The man twirled the iron in his hand, and Peter looked down, tears softly falling down his cheeks onto parched lips.

“He’s coming for me, I know he is.” Peter spoke so softly Tony could barely hear it, but the man’s responsive growl was more than loud enough to be heard over the roar of the fire.

“Come, little Spider. I only have to do this if you don’t do as I say. You could stop this.” The man raised the brand marginally closer to Peters skin, and he frantically shook his head, pursing his lips.

The brand got so close that it was casting a red shadow on Peter’s skin, and Tony could almost feel the heat on his skin. He watched with bated breath as Peter got increasingly frantic, writhing under the hold of two of the men’s goons when the brand got close enough to start blistering his skin.

“You know what to do little Spider.” The man rested the brand above Peter’s skin, but Peter was still silent. “Very well.”

Tony watched as the man better positioned the brand atop of Peter’s torso, preparing himself to press it in before –

“Wait! Wait!”

The man cocked his head.

“He’s… He’s not coming… Mr Stark isn’t coming.” Tears were streaming down Peter’s swollen face onto his bruised torso, and the man gave a satisfied smile.

“Very good little Spider. But, you know what happens when you don’t obey fast enough.”

Tony and Peter screamed in unison as the man plunged the iron deep into Peter’s stomach, the hissing sound of flesh mingling with Peter’s wails.

He was hysterical, writhing on the floor and jerking in pain any time his torso moved, the blood on his stomach still cauterising when the man stood and threw the iron to the side.

“I didn’t want to do this, Spiderling.” He reached down to run his knuckles along the brand, and Peter scrambled away from his touch, crying out in pain. “I did warn you.” He nodded to the goons. “Take him back.”

Two men stepped forward, and Tony watched as they hoisted a writhing, crying Peter over their shoulders and carried him out the door.

The man turned back to face the camera.

“I have to confess Mr Stark, I am disappointed. However, I’m not surprised. The press and the public have known for years that you don’t care about other’s lives. I just wanted to make sure.” He paused.  “I just hope you remember this video every time you try to go to sleep.”

The video cut to black on the masked man’s Cheshire grin, and Tony rose from his seat on steady feet, crossing the lab to the bar.

 “Boss.”

“FRIDAY.”

“Boss.

“FRIDAY.”

“Boss, please think about this.”

“Excuse me, FRIDAY this doesn’t sound like information on the kidnapper. Or am I just getting hard of hearing.”

Tony was in the bar now, pouring himself a tumbler of golden scotch.

“Boss, please. Think of Stephen and Peter, they – ”

“THEY’RE ALL I THINK ABOUT!” Tony roared, panting and turned his attention back to his drink.

“Boss, please. You know I can’t let you do this. You put protocols in place for this.”

Tony looked up at the speakers. “FRIDAY I swear to whatever God is out there if you call Stephen, I will pour lemonade all over your circuit boards.”

“Sir, please consider, it’s been years now. This isn’t a –”

Tony downed his glass whole, looking up at the speakers over it’s rim.

“There. Protocol no longer needed. You only needed to call Stephen if I was considering drinking again. Well, I’m no longer considering it am I?”

Tony listened to silence as he poured and downed another drink.

“Both of you, sleep mode. Power off. Self-destruct or something. I don’t want to hear another word unless it’s about Peter.”

The silence continued as Tony downed one drink. Then two. Then three. Then four. By the fifth, his hands were shaking so bad he couldn’t pour out of the bottle anymore. He was considering either drinking out of the bottle or going down to the lab to get Dum-E to do it for him when a hand snatched the glass away from him.

“Tony.”

“Get out of my house, Stephen. NOW!”

“Tony I’m not leaving this time. You need help, Tones. We can –”

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! YOU KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN WHEN THEY SEE YOU HERE! THAT WILL BE ON YOU!”

Stephen stepped forward, and hand on Tony’s shoulder, and Tony slapped it away, retreating two steps for every one step forward.

“You need to leave. You need to leave right now, otherwise any minute now I’m going to get another video from them, and we both know what’s going to be in it.”

Tony’s voice was hoarse, and he looked towards the New York skyline, eyes and heart burning.

“Tony.” Stephen stepped forward. “If they already know I’m here then it’s too late, but we have two more hours before I have to leave.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t say that. It’s not going to happen again. It’s not – ”

Tony broke off, tears pooling in his eyes and he turned roughly away from Stephen, walking back towards the bar. He didn’t stop when a hand clasped around his wrist, only roughly shoved it off and took a swig from the nearest bottle.

“Tony this isn’t your fault. Please. Peter wouldn’t want this.”

Their eyes met, and each was shocked to see the other close to crying.

“You don’t know a damn thing about what Peter would want. FRIDAY,” he addressed the speakers. “Cue up the last video.”

Tony watched as Stephen turned his attention to the screen materialising in front of him, taking the opportunity to slip around the bar and grab a fresh bottle. He was a quarter of the way through it when Stephen stepped in front of him, fresh tears forming in his eyes.

“Darling please. None of this is your fault. Please. You’re not failing. You’re trying to walk into the centre of a hurricane, and getting angry when it doesn’t change its path. This isn’t something you can control. They would have done these things to him even if you had got there in time.”

Stephen heard the whir of the suit before he saw the red and gold, and only just stepped back in time when Tony swung a fist around to face him. He watched as the blue repulsors fired up, something he’d seen a million times, but never pointed at him.

“Tony.”

“Out.” Tony was shaking, and swaying slightly, but the repulsors stayed trained on his chest.

They stayed in the same spot until Stephen had closed his portal back to the Sanctum.

Tony waited, then stumbled over to the living room. Pausing a few moments to tear the ring from the chain around his neck, he eventually collapsed onto the couch, ignoring his phone and its insistent buzzing in his pocket.

 When Tony woke, his phone had 7 new messages. Which meant it was day 2 and a half exactly. Video 30, of course not including the two additional beatings because of… Stephen.

Tony looked across the room, and he could vaguely see the glint of Vibranium from his wedding ring. He left it there.

He opened the video as soon as his phone unlocked, not bothering to pause for the many messages Stephen had sent him throughout the night.

He zoned out for however long it took the camera to pan to Peter, and was glad he did because the man just wouldn’t stop talking, and that was really bad for his hangover. He zoned back in when the man walked forward, his boots echoing around the small room.

“Little Spider, so mailable for us.” Tony watched as the man stalked forward and ran a hand along Peter’s neck, stopping to squeeze ever-so-slightly. When Peter started to shake from lack of oxygen after a few moments, the man smirked and stepped back, watching with Tony as Peter took a few moments to compose himself, before returning limply to the position he was in before.

The man turned to face the camera, and began to address Tony again.

“Mr Stark, both you and I, as well as the little Spiderling here know that you are not coming to take him back. I think the previous few videos made that fairly obvious. But, I am going to keep sending these. Just in case I suppose. Right now, its been about 60 hours. From now, until hour 72, there will be no more videos. However, in case you particularly want to watch your little Spider, we will be giving you the option of a live video stream.”

The man walked to Peter’s side, and lifted his shirt up. Tony’s heart nearly stopped, arc reactor and all. The burn on Peter’s stomach was red and angry, and the Peter shuddered softly as the man ran a hand along it.

“Your Spider has been a lot more convenient to keep since this, I must admit.” The man was almost talking to himself, and his eyes shone ever so slightly each time Peter quietly hissed from lingering pain. “He shouldn’t be able to get this off. My team made sure of it.”

The man retreated from Peter, and began at a brisk pace to the other side of the room, where the camera followed him down a long corridor and into a separate room.

Once there, the man centred himself in the middle of the camera frame, and produced a long, thin syringe from the depths of his robe.

“This is a serum that my team and I have been developing for quite some time. We developed it specifically for your little Spider here. I think he’ll enjoy it. I know I certainly will.”

A goon stepped forward with a swab and antiseptic, and Tony flinched despite himself when the man stabbed it into his own neck.

He watched as the man shivered and coughed a few times before stilling. Slowly, the man’s morphed into a clean cut, and his face shape morphed. After a few moments the man breathed out slowly and took of his mask, and Tony watched as the remainder of his face morphed cleanly into one with a sharp jawline, sleek cheekbones, smile lines and a neatly trimmed goatee.

When the man next spoke, it was Tony’s baritone voice that rang out the speakers.

“I hope you stay to watch the show, Mr Stark.”

Tony clicked of the video, and collapsed into a chair, taking a few moments to breathe. After Mysterio, Peter had enough issues with hallucinations, and without EDITH to ground him he would be even more stressed than usual. Despite himself, Tony clicked back onto the video.

 The camera followed Not-Tony as he strolled around the corner and to just outside the main room, waiting in the shadows while the camera found a good view of Peter, curled onto himself in the centre of the room.

One of the goons stepped forward, and it was the first time Tony had heard them speak.

“Mr Parker, you have a guest.”

Peter barely looked up, and repositioned himself on the floor, curling around himself in a tighter b.

Not Tony stepped out of the shadows. “Hey kiddo.”

Peter glanced up, and Tony’s heart dropped when he saw desperate hope lighting up his eyes.

“Mr…Mr Stark?”

Not-Tony stepped forward.

“Peter.”

Peter had started crying now, sobbing in relief in between hoarse gaps for breath.

“Mr Stark. You came. You came!” Peter lurched forward and landed and the man’s feet, weeping and shaking on the ground. “Mr Stark, thank you.”

Peter weakly raised his hands to claw at the fabric of the man’s pants, and Tony flinched as his doppelganger reached down to clasp a hand around Peter’s throat.

“Mr… Mr Stark? What are you-” Peter cut off with a choke.

The man grinned as he tightened his grip.

“Look at this.” Not-Tony released his grip and Peter collapsed to the floor, before being jerked up as the man dragged him upwards by his hair.

“You couldn’t get out of this Peter? Look at this. I taught you how to get out of these. Can’t you even remember a simple lesson?”

The man tightened his grip and the chains shattered, the shards digging into Peter’s wrist.

“Surely you could have left Peter. You fought for the Avengers. You should be better than this.”

Tony could see a bruise blossoming on Peter’s wrist, rivulets of blood running down his arm, pooling onto the floor.

“Mr Stark, please. I don’t understand. I couldn’t – ”

The man snarled and stepped forward, face contorting in disgust, and for once Tony understood exactly how terrifying he looked when he was angry.

“Mr… Mr Stark I… I don’t…”

Not-Tony stepped forward to kneel on the ground in front of Peter and grinned manically.

“Really, Pete? You think after all this I came to get you.” The man paused, and shoved up Peter’s shirt, pressing a palm against the red burn on his stomach. “You weren’t strong enough, Peter. You seriously think I would save you?”

Peter was crying now, curling into himself, and weakly trying to protect his burn.

“Sir, please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Mr Stark just please take me home.” The pain and yearning on his face shattered Tony’s heart, and he closed his eyes for a moment, regrouping before staring back up at the video.

“Home? Peter, you don’t have a home. Your parents are dead. Your uncle died because of you. All you are is a burden to your aunt and after this, you really think you are strong enough to be an Avenger? You’re a burden Peter. A burden, and a failure.”

Tony watched his doppelganger jerk Peter’s head up, tears running down his face onto the burn on his torso.

“You’re a disgrace, Peter.” The man threw Peter onto the ground, and Tony watched as he retreated in the corner, shivering and sobbing.

“Please Mr Stark, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Mr Stark! Please. Please Sir I tried.”

Not-Tony stepped forward, and Peter shuffled further backwards in the corner.

“You’re a disgrace Peter. You’re one trial intern who just happened to have some good luck. Your powers? Your strength? They don’t come from you. You were just a temporary set-back. An inconvenience. You’re not special Peter.”

They both paused, and Not-Tony gripped Peter’s throat.

“ Say it.”

He grabbed Peter’s jaw, and Tony could see another bruise forming.

“Sir. I…”

Peter winced as Not-Tony gripped harder.

“Say. It.”

“I-I… I’m not worth anything Sir. I’m useless. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry Mr Stark.”

Peter started sobbing in earnest, and the man released his jaw with a grimace.

“I don’t believe you Peter. You’ve disappointed me. Horribly. You deserve this.”

Peter shook in the corner, shaking with silent sobs. He was sweating and shivering, and it broke Tony’s heart as he slowly hugged his knees and folded his arms over his head.

The man turned to face the camera with a satisfied smirk, and Tony jerked his head up from the screen staring wildly around the room.

“FRIDAY.”

“Boss.”

“Get rid of this caller. Block these messages. I don’t care. I don’t want to see these videos ever again.”

“Sir – ”

“Do it. Now.”

Tony could almost hear the AI sigh, but when he looked back down at his phone, the messages were gone. Finally, finally gone. Yet, every time Tony closed his eyes, the image of Peter’s broken spirit burned itself further into his brain.

  A glowing yellow portal appeared, Stephen stepping through it.

“Go away. I’m fine. Totally fine. And I totally don’t need you here.”

Stephen ignored that, and grabbed Tony by the collar, dragging him to the window.

“You need to see this.”

The cloak wrapped around Tony, squeezing just a little bit too tight, and they stepped out into the open air, Stephen muttering enchantments as the cloak took them to who-knew where.

After a few minutes, they stopped, and Tony reluctantly opened his eyes.

“I appreciate the fresh air Strange, but why the hell would you bring me to Times Square?”

“Just look.”

They landed above a building, and Tony unattached himself from the cloak, looking around.

With vague interest, he noted the various crowds of people, some of them filming him (because of course they would be filming him, he’s Iron Man).

After a few moments, one of the largest screens cut to static, and the crowds hushed and turned to face it.

There was a few seconds of silence, and then Tony’s stomach dropped down to his feet.

The masked man stepped onto the screen, malicious-looking and grinning.

“People of New York City,” he took a few moments to compose himself. “You have been lied to.”

This could not be good.

“You have been lied to and manipulated by the people that you look up to the most.”

The video screen cut to a photo of Tony, in his Iron Man suit fighting Ultron.

“This ‘hero’, Iron Man, Tony Stark, the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist has been lying to you, and taking advantage of you.”

A few people in the crowd turned to look at him on the roof while the man continued talking.

“Enter Peter Parker. Tony Stark’s intern, son-figure and prodigy.”

The video cut to Peter, and Tony’s stomach dropped through the floor. He looked worse than when Tony had last checked, shaking on the ground, thin, bruised and silent.

“Mr Parker, or Spider-man, as many of you might know him, has historically been very close to Tony Stark. They worked together every day. The media ate up stories about them, and it seemed like they were truly meant to be ‘father and son’.”

The camera refocussed on the masked man, glee shinning in his eyes.

“Peter Parker. Spider-man. Tony Stark’s prodigy child, has been here with me for FIVE DAYS.”

More people in the crowd were turning to look at Tony.

“The powerful Tony Stark, who could blow up half of America without so much as getting out of bed hasn’t been bothered to get HIS SON for five entire days.”

Stephen glanced at Tony, then back at the screen.

“Now of course, you shouldn’t trust me. I’m a villain I captured Spiderman.”

The man grimaced.

“I gave Mr Stark a choice. I gave him every opportunity to find us, and he didn’t. He couldn’t be bothered. Have a look for yourself.”

The man stepped into the shadows, and the camera cut to footage of Tony. Tony-Tony. Tony in his penthouse, watching the videos. Tony at the bar, throwing down drink after drink. Tony on the couch, sleeping, while the lifestream played in the background and he didn’t even remember that.

The footage cut to the man in the mask again, and the square was silent.

“Now, obviously, I cannot tell you what to think. But I urge you to consider, that Tony Stark turned Peter Parker, the Amazing Spiderman, into this.”

The camera panned around the room, and the crowd roared. It was Peter. Peter hanging from those ridiculously heavy chains, no top on and bruised from head to toe, his burn featured on his stomach now with two new, red, inflamed ones on either side.

“He did this.”

The video cut to black, and the crowd surged. Racing towards the building, fighting over each other to reach the famed Iron Man who had let this be done to Peter Parker, the friendly Spiderman.

Tony turned to Stephen, tears and fear in his eyes.

“Ste, please. Help me, I didn’t mean to.”

There was true pain in Stephen’s eyes as he faced Tony, the cloak flexing behind him.

“You did this, Tony. You need to pay the price.”

The cloak and Stephen lifted of the ground, and they were gone in an instant, leaving Tony on the roof of the tower, heavy footsteps falling just a few floors below.

“I did this.”

[emmbr]

Tips for being friendly in Drive throughs!

I work at S*bucks and love working in the drive-through! I wanted to put information out there for people who do not know what it is like on the other end of the drive-through! 

1. While you are at the speaker box we can hear you whether we are talking with you or not. Please do not make us listen to your music, phone conversation, or anything like that while you wait before or after your order! Sometimes people sit there and blast music and we can’t hear each other or it is just really annoying. Turn off or turn down whatever you may be listening to in the car while you order. 

2. I say “We” because almost all of the employees inside can hear you when you are at the window! I know it is a little unnerving to know that several people can hear you stumble over your order, but it is what makes everything go a little smoother. If you are rude to the person taking your order, know that several other people are mocking you over the headset before you come to the window. Obvious unspoken rule: don’t be rude y’all.  

3. Be patient when you have to repeat your order! The drive-through position requires a TON of multitasking and sometimes your order will not be heard the first time you say it. We are doing our best and we want to get your order correct! Please don’t get frustrated with us, we want to do well and we don’t want to have to remake your drink! 

4. While drive is one of my favorite positions because I love interacting with strangers, this is not always true of my coworkers! It is a lot of multitasking and people skills in a timed and fast-paced environment so just be kind even if it takes a little while. Trust me, we can see the amount of time that you have been waiting. 

5. Please do not get a ton of gift cards at the window. The gift cards are not kept over there and it is hard to show you the whole selection. Of course, getting one through the drive-through is doable, but if you are putting a ton of work on the register at the window you are going to ruin our times. Just come inside. Of course, this does not apply if you use the drive-through for disability access reasons. 

6. There are sensors at the microphone, and while you cannot hear it they repeatedly beep at us if we have not helped someone there yet. Plus, the microphone is automatically on when a car is tripping the sensor so we hear the drone of outside sound. Do not greet us before we greet you unless you have been waiting there for over a minute. Especially when the store is not busy, the person working drive-through is probably talking to a customer at the window. 

7. Yes, there is a camera so that we can see you while you order! It breaks with bad weather so it doesn’t always work, but I know some people lately have been surprised and unnerved by learning about the camera. What do you expect; you are always on camera nowadays. Fun fact: if we wanted to we could show you our face while we take your order from a camera on the monitor, but I have never met someone who actually wants to do that. 

8. Time intensive tasks include: pour-overs, >3 hot food items (depending on which ones and if you get duplicates), >1 frappuccino. Of course, a significant delay when you get these items will depend on how well staffed and how busy we are. I honestly think that S*bucks should ban pour-overs from being ordered through the drive-through. Just come inside (except for access reasons). 

9. Get a Starbucks membership on the app! When you run out we can always reload at the register for >$5, so you don’t have to keep a bunch of money on your card. You get rewards if you pay through the app, and a free drink on your birthday! It allows you to tip (unlike using your card). AND surveys about our performance are only sent out to members, so please influence those! 

10. If you want to be nice, tip well instead of “paying it forward!” I feel a little weird saying “give us money instead of other customers,” but I know for a fact that my coworkers need money more than our average customer coming to Starbucks. Pay it forward is a little annoying to ring up (but totally doable), but so many people do that instead of tipping- which reminds me that our customers are empathizing more with other customers they haven’t met than the worker that they are looking in the face who is more likely to be struggling financially. I know it ruins the “random” and “stranger” charm of pay it forward, but, honestly, if I were ever at the end of one of those pay it forward lines I would just end it and put what I would have paid in the tip jar. 

11. Standard in interacting with customer service: don’t order/ pick up your order while on the phone. I don’t care if you have one earbud in as long as you can hear me. I do care if I have to decipher whether you are talking to me or not. I do care that I am doing a service for you and trying to make a welcoming environment and you won’t treat me like someone you are interacting with. If you don’t want to talk with someone, just mobile order and come inside. 

12. We love to make sure that your drink is made correctly! It is usually no big deal to remake drinks, especially if we are not busy. Make sure you are paying attention to the screen where your order is when you are at the mic, and pay attention to what the barista reads back to you about your order (so the order is correct in the first place and you don’t have to wait!). Check your order before you drive away- it is super easy to give someone the wrong drink. If you are really picky go ahead and taste your drink before you drive away! However, don’t take advantage of us. No matter if it is our money or Sbucks’, no one enjoys being scammed. 

13. Maybe I just don’t understand this because I am not very picky, but I will never understand how much some people care about their lattes not having foam on them. It does not give you much more milk? And just makes the latte-making process longer (and harder for beginners)? You do you and ask for “no foam”, but don’t complain if it is made with a little bit of foam. Some foam even forms after scooping foam off after pouring. It really isn’t that much less milk.  

14. I should have put this at the top of the list: do not make a big stink about us running out of something. Sometimes our nitro tap breaks. We only have a certain number of sandwiches thawed each day. Sometimes someone makes a mistake with an order or sometimes there are district-wide shortages. I don’t want to listen to you be loudly disappointed at me when we don’t have the exact thing that you want. This is beyond our control, and you are probably an adult so be an adult about it. We will try to get you a comparable product and there is not much more we can do about that. 

15. This is just a personal small peeve: don’t start an order with “I need...” There is nothing in our store that you need. This is about having perspective and recognizing our role in your lives. 

Even though this post was pretty much complaining about customers, I do want to make sure that the reader knows that I genuinely do enjoy connecting with customers. I do assume the best, and unless you are actively rude it is not a big deal if you have done these things before! I get energy from every single positive interaction I have in the store. I love getting to know customers so well that I know their face, name, and order (which takes a decent amount of time and care for me to remember!). I genuinely am interested when I ask where you work if I have a moment with you, or when I ask how your day is, or when we talk about the sunrise or the weather. These interactions keep me satisfied with my job! I am moving soon and I am genuinely sad to not see many of my regulars again and genuinely excited to meet many more customers.