#i have always known i was going to die young. always. since i was like 8. and i wasnt scared. just sad

[forgotten-daydreamer]

knowing im going to die very young somehow doesnt make the psychological violence any easier to bear

[ctrlhope]

Bound By Blood (m)

synopsis: A servant to the state since birth, forced to work for the royal family until you die. These are the conditions that have granted you life, yet are they are the same ones that can take everything away. He can take everything away. But he would never, for you are his future, his eternity.

k.taehyung x f.reader

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: wc: 16.0k

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: genre: royalty au, soft yandere, fluff, smut, smidge of angst

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: content: soft yandere!prince!taehyung, maid!reader, power imbalance, talks about death/violence, blood, slight predator/prey dynamics, manipulation, misunderstandings, dom!tae, tae calls reader lamb, oral (f.receiving), marriage related dirty talk, virginity kink/loss of virginity, size kink, praise, reader is fucked dumb, implied kissing reader while she sleeps, implied offscreen somno, implied stalking, ownership, tae is rlly sweet and adorable

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: notes: hello!!! this was meant to be a drabble but as you can see it spiralled out of control lmao. i got a little hyper fixated (and grew a really bad crush on this taehyung) so it ended up being way longer than i initially thought! regardless, i hope you all enjoy it as much as i did writing it!!

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The Kim Empire. 

Your home, your family, your livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.

They practically brandish your mind, have been since you were no more than a babe. Stuck in the clutches of everything Kim since you were born. Your mother a maid, your father gone from the face of the earth. At least as far as you are concerned he is, anyway. 

He is better off dead. The alternative of him living scott free in some far off land, meanwhile you have to serve the hand and foot of the king sets no more than the bitter taste of coffee beans against your gums. 

Bedding your mother, no more than a fresh-faced maid at the time. Outcasting her the second after when he had to have known the rules of the palace. The demise it would cost both her and her future daughter. Perhaps every generation that followed as well– if there were to be any, that is. 

Housestaff are not meant to have relationships. They are meant to serve the king and his bountiful family. How are you meant to do anything else with a child bouncing at your hip, a husband grabbing at your ass. 

You’ve heard the speech plenty of times. The words ingrained in your skull just as the brand you received when you were far too young to remember the pain of it. Evidence that you are bound to the palace by blood until the very moment you take your last breath. 

The punishment for becoming pregnant within the walls of the palace are simple: your child belongs to them. For anything within the Kim Estate is their rightful property, given to them by the grace of god. 

You, a gift from god to serve the empire. You would snort at the notion if training from a young age prohibited it. You are just a result of your mothers kindness, her naivety. 

You could never find it within your heart to blame her. She was just a girl who thought she was in love. Fired for her love. Had her daughter taken from her to serve for her love.

Love is something you will never be granted the property of. 

You will be granted an allowance to send home to your mother to keep her afloat. You will be granted a room to sleep in, clothes to wear, food to eat. A secure job in which you can never be fired– well. That is a lie. Though, your termination would come at the end of an axe, rather than a piece of paper. 

You used to muse at the thought– when you were a young girl, no more than 11 or 12. Going through your melancholy years, hating the rest of the world for simply existing. For putting you in a position where you could not change your fate, instead had to endure your present. Feeling like a  girl trapped in a tower just like the bedtime stories had always prescribed. 

One time you had caused such a ruckus in front of the oldest Kim son you really did think you were going to get the axe. Hell, you were even prepared for it. Locked away in a cell for two nights, brought before the executor. 

Right before the swing was meant to be brought down against your neck the head maid ran into the room, gave some sort of letter to the man. She apologised profusely, gripping your ear and dragging you away from the scene. 

You hadn’t acted ary since then. It taught you your place. Made you realise the need to survive buried deep within your bones. In the innate way some sort of wildcat would lash out until it was bloodied and on its last breath. 

You would not die at the end of a knife. You’d live your life, acting a maid until you could die peacefully of old age. Even if it meant surrendering yourself to servitude for the most annoying brat you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

A quiet sigh slips past your lips at the mere thought of him. The sound would get you punished if anyone were to hear, especially in respect to the coveted crown prince of the kingdom. Few share the same opinion as you of him– but then again most that work here aren’t forced. 

It is only when the stars are strung high in the sky that you allow yourself to feel such things. When you stay awake past the beginning of rest hours, most of the staff (save for the night shift) falling to sleep hours prior. Only then when you’re out in the gardens do you allow indignation to satiate your brain. 

For the few hours of freedom you may hold dear until the next morning begins and you are forced to live the same day once more. Over and over again until the end of time. 

Your fingertips reach out as you walk, bruised from the scrubbing of floors, to find purchase against the walls of flowers rimming the maze. Rough fingertips dance against the gentle petals of roses, lulling in the feeling. Picking themselves against the thorns without much of a thought, not withdrawing. Only pausing feet to observe. 

How can something so delicate and beautiful wish to cause harm? It does not. It simply desires a way to survive. You could never fault it for that. 

“Pretty, are they not?” A dark, husky voice sends cold down your spine. Hairs become on edge, back straightens taught, ears perk just as if you are an obedient dog. Fear flashing through your entire being.

You do not wish to turn around. Do not have any want to face the man that has caught the air in your lungs. The one catching you in the garden without any proper attire in place. Though you must. You must bow, grovel at his feet for forgiveness for allowing him to see you in your nightgown. For not being in bed as you should. 

Prince Kim has never been known for being kind. 

Your body acts for you while your mind sets on pause– taking several steps forward, bending your body at the hips to give a proper 90 degree bow. Your hands clasp before you, hair coming down in front of your face. 

“Prince Kim–” You rush, suddenly out of breath, “Please forgive my insolence. I-I am not of right attire or mind to be standing in front of his excellency right now. Nor should I be excused for touching the property of the palace. I have no proper excuse and any punishment you decide will be deserving. Please forgive me.” The words recite from your lips like a bible– instruction of them being heard time and time again. 

Cold night air whips at your ankles, fluttering the gown around your ankles. The chill only adding to the cold sweat you’ve discovered has perspired. Making your hair dance around your shoulders.

You expect something, anything really. A slap, a single word. Though there is only silence in response. Silence that extends far too long and feels far too pungent for your taste. If he was going to do something, you rather he just get it over with. 

After what feels like an eternity, you finally hear the baritone of his voice once more.

“Pretty, are they not?” He asks again, repeating the same sentiments as before. Confusion bristles through as a kite in the summer air. Why is he asking you this? Is he not annoyed he caught a maid in such a level of disrobement? What is he trying to gain? What does he want? 

All the questions you do not have any hope to answer rush through you causing you to feel confused and incomposed. Every boring lesson you were forced to sit through never taught you how to deal with this exact situation. You aren’t sure what he wants, nor your place in the garden. The thought scares you. 

Against your better judgement, you allow your chin to tilt up only slightly. Only enough to look at the man– to try and read the expression on his face so you can better analyse your next action. 

The shock you feel when you find his face is only inches from your own, frame bent down to make his eyes level with yours is something you cannot explain in words alone. 

You would prefer to scream and run, however that is not an option at this moment, or so it appears. Instead, your eyes only widen in shock, in trepidation. Your mouth opens into a small ‘o’ as you stare.

Never before have you made eye contact with a member of the family. Never before have you had the luxury to view one so close. In any other circumstance, you suppose, you would surely be punished for such a thing. Someone lower should never view a future king in such a way.

You wish you could say he was a heinous, ugly beast for hatred of the palace alone. Yet you can’t, for he isn’t. He is beautiful. 

Sure, you knew that already. Paintings of him are plastered across the walls– his face is everywhere eyes are able to reach. Yet this close, at this angle, you can’t stop the way your heart skips a beat. Can’t help but admire every facet of his complexion before being thrown in front of the lion again. 

A gorgeous, blinding smile wipes across his face the moment you face him. Lips forming into an adorable box after he finally has your attention fully drawn on him. You’re startled back once again, sending your brain into a further whirlwind than before. 

He desires an answer.

“I um… Yes. I suppose they are.” You nod slowly in response, following in his footsteps as he returns to full height. 

You must follow his lead– it is how you will survive. 

You usher a stray lock of hair over your shoulder, trying to stop it from hitting your face. The air starts to become stale again, feeling empty in the lack of his reply. It is awkward, and the way he stares at you, eyes darting around your face– your figure, has you feeling in some sort of girlish, embarrassed way. 

You think you dislike the feeling. 

“Are you a fan of roses?” His arms are pulled behind him, wrapped together as he bounces on his toes in something that looks like… boyish delight? The muddle of your brain can't help to understand a single thing. He is making no sense, trying to make conversation with you. Trying to find a morsel of companionship in someone who is meant to bow to him like he is the true god of your mortal plain.

You will have to oblige until he allows you to depart. 

“I suppose so.” 

He frowns. Try again.

“I adore them, the palace always has the most gorgeous petals all year round.” You smile at him, hoping it masks any discomfort you feel. 

The smile returns to his own lips as he begins to walk. Tilting his head to you as a cue to join him. You try to keep your paces a few behind his own, a maid should never walk beside a member of the family. Though he only slows in response, matching your gate even though it is obvious he hates having to slow down. 

Why is he behaving in this manner? It makes no sense to you. 

“The flower of devotion.” He nods, breaking the silence once more and keeping his eyes straight ahead. 

You almost want to admire his profile– the gentle curve of his nose, yet you refrain. Training your eyes ahead, keeping your fingers laced in front of you. Trying to look as put together as possible at this moment. 

“Is it?” You quiz, unable to take the awkward silence anymore. He doesn’t seem to mind it. Unbothered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his loose, flowing sleep pants. 

“Of many other things, as well.” He nods, sending a slight smile at you. 

“I don’t know much about the language of flowers.” Though it feels wrong to be talking with Prince Kim so casually, you try your best. The more you give in, mayhaps the sooner he’ll bore and the faster you will be able to run from the cage. 

“Tell me your favourite, maybe I can tell you its meaning.” He pauses and you find yourself at the foot of the gazebo. He reaches out his hand, offering to help you up the small stairs of it. 

All over again you find yourself taken aback. The prince is requesting that you touch him, not for his service, but your own. He desires to help you. Is for some reason treating you like a lady. 

You don’t understand it, yet with great hesitation you oblige. You place your hand on his much larger one, allowing it to encase it. Help you up the stairs.

“I don’t know many…” You hope he cannot hear the hesitation in your tone, “Though I’ve always been fond of lilies.” You tell him, attempting to pull your hand away from his own as you reach the top. 

He doesn’t allow it, keeping your small palm tight in his own. Fear trickles in once more, circling around your heart, constricting it. 

You knew you shouldn’t have trusted him in the slightest. It is here where you shall face punishment for all the previous misdemeanours committed. White stone shall be painted with red and you will be left to your own devices to clean up the mess.

Your lungs start to take in more air, though of course you try to disguise it. Turning around to face him, to discover why he has kept you held firm, air is leaving your lungs for another reason entirely. 

He holds your hand close, examining your fingers. Tilting it back and forth, smoothing his thumb over the back of your skin. If he takes note of the little dots of red, he doesn’t make comment of it. He only curls his fingers upwards, hooking against your own. Bringing your hand up to his lips as if it was the most delicate thing on earth. Staring at them with a passion you doubt you’ve ever seen before.

“Rebirth.” His breath fans across your knuckles, slowly lowering to place a gentle kiss against the skin. His lips are soft, so gentle against your weary flesh. So full of safety, so full of song.

When he retracts, he pulls away no more than a millimeter, though his grip tightens. 

“Purity.”

Your first meeting with the prince had left you with a flurry of emotions, none of which you could hope to syphon through. For hours he kept you in the gazebo, sitting with you. Talking until it appeared the sun was cresting over the horizon. 

He refused to release your hand the entire time. His fingers playing with your own, perhaps obsessed with the feeling of your tiny hand laced with his own pristine skin. Did not pay any attention the several times you tried to excuse yourself, only changing the subject of conversation to try and keep you in place.

It was strange. Confusing. You did not understand the reasoning or cause behind any of his actions. 

Well, at least until the next morning while you were scrubbing the floors. Your friend Annabell cleaning right by your side. Catching up, gossiping about the new recruits found in the manner. It is only times like these when you actually get the chance to talk, to giggle with someone meant to be your equal in both age and house status. 

The only chance you’re truly able to forget about the fact she is able to leave once her contract expires. But it does not matter– any small amount of spite you hold is slashed away by her kind smile. The understanding in her eyes as she treats you like just another maid set to work for the king instead of a captive. 

It is only after the 7th yawn of the morning she asks about the poorly covered bags under your eyes. You had gone to bed with the rest of the girls, there is no reason you should be so tired. You never appear to be, at least it is not shown around others.

You struggle with yourself for a moment, trying to decide whether the night before was meant to be kept as a closely guarded secret to your chest. Yet one look at your closest confidant had you spilling everything. 

The entire night– the stars, the flowers, the way he prattled on. How tight he gripped your dirty, calloused hand against his pristine soft ones. 

You feel strange speaking of it, remembering it in any way. It causes your cheeks to heat and a fury to settle below your ribs. 

It is a strange feeling, yet not an entirely unwanted one. 

Your eyes train to the floor as you spill your soul, unable to keep it in once it starts pouring out. You try to keep your tone as neutral as possible– to tell her about the night as if it was a simple news story you heard from a guard. Though, you’re unsure of your success in the matter. 

A poised laugh leaves the lips of your counter, her eyes cresting into half-moons. 

“You cannot be serious right? You tell stories.” She giggles, shaking her head before continuing her assault on the floor. 

You simply shake your own. 

“It happened, I was as shocked in the moment as you seem to be now.” She lets out a small bellow of giggles once again. 

“No, no. I believe it happened entirely. I’m only talking about the fluster of your face.” She giggles, lifting her rag and shaking it for dramatic effect. You roll your eyes, cracking a small smile.

“There is no such thing.” You laugh knowing that there is. 

“Oh my heavens. Y/n, you cannot tell me you’ve grown fond of the Prince, have you?” Her words are hushed now, much more so than before. As if someone may be listening to the conversation. 

You tense in reply, unsure of the answer yourself. The closest you’ve ever felt to fondness of another man was a stable boy a few years back. Only 17 at the time, head wrapped in romance novels that you didn’t entirely understand. He was handsome and he was kind. However just as you were starting to become closer to him, he was sent away to work at another palace. 

You had not been optimistic since then.

She takes your silence as an answer in itself. Moving towards you, gripping your shoulders and hauling you to sit on your haunches. Forcing you to look at her face as she speaks. 

“You cannot be serious.” She repeats again, hoping for any sign of doubt. All she receives is bewilderment in reply, “Y/n. You can never trust Prince Kim.” 

You sigh, “I know, Anne, I–” You’re cut off with her own voice again.

“No, not in the way you’re imagining.” She sighs, letting her hands drop from your shoulders to continue scrubbing at the floor. Making work of herself as she speaks, “The other maids don’t tell you of much, do they?” 

You can’t deny it. Your seclusion within the castle walls is only partly of your own design. 

Other maids do not feel as though they can trust you, seeing as you are full property of the crown. In their eyes, you hold not a crumb of loyalty to your own kind. Few maids speak to you like Annabell does for fear the second they say anything wrong you are going to tell the world. 

You would never, though your word is worth its weight in feathers to them.

“They don’t care for me as you do… no…” You admit, continuing to clean as well. She already knew the answer, letting out an exhale before she speaks.

“Prince Kim has a pension for… debauchery… I shall say,” She flinches at her own words, yet doesn’t know a better way to put it, “The variety in which he uses pretty words to seduce young ladies to bed with him. Royalty from other lands, general’s daughters, maids. It matters not. He likes them for the night then pretends they shall never exist again.” 

Each word she speaks sends another stab into your gut. A dull pain blooming from the same places which a swirling was forming before. 

Ah. It all makes sense now. 

“Oh.”

“He has a particular fondness for the other maids, you know. Bedding them without a second thought.” A grimace forms on your friend's lips, scrubbing harder into the already shining floors, “There is no reason to form any sort of affection for that man. It will only end with his seed inside your core and a knife in your heart.” 

Yes, everything she is saying makes perfect sense. You feel almost stupid to not see it before. Maybe you just didn’t want to see it– want to think about it in any sort of fashion. But this makes much more sense than the crown prince wanting to speak to you for any other purpose. Explains why he was acting as a true gentleman to someone so much lower than him. 

However, you find that it does not take away the cavernous pit that has formed in your gut. 

“I see, I have no desire for either.” You nod your head in understanding, not sure of what else to say. “I don’t understand why he’s taken an interest in me, though.” 

She gawks, “I don’t understand why it has taken him so long to in the first place.” She shakes her head.

“Nevertheless, it doesn’t matter. Y/n, you must promise me. You will not fall for him, nor give any part of yourself to him. He is not someone that will care for you like you deserve.” She states, blue eyes piercing icicles into your own. She is determined and will not relent until you agree.

“I do not wish to. Not after hearing all of…” You make some sort of motion with your hand, “that. Anyone would be a fool to like him.” 

You nod your head while Annabell smiles in agreement. 

“Good.” 

Those are the last words you exchange with anyone for hours. The rest of the day passed by with lightning, an endless turnstile of things to take care of. A ball was to be held soon meaning the castle would be a wreck for the next few days. Too much planning, cleaning, sewing, coordination had to take place before anyone could rest. 

Honestly, you were grateful for it. A break from thinking was much needed. As is a good night’s rest. 

You sigh, already imagining how lovely it would feel to pull off your shoes for the day. Peel the cotton off your body and replace your dress with something more comfortable. 

Oo! Hopefully enough warm water will be left for a quick bath. That would be just wonderful, your muscles would be able to unfurl. The perfect thing to lull you into a glorious sleep.

Your arms stretch over your head as you finish descending the staircase into the maid hallways. Bones in your back pop from the pressure, causing a sigh to make its way from your lungs. Your nimble fingers make their way to the ribbon holding your hair in place, untying it and allowing the tresses to fall. 

Soon you would be in the maid resting quarters– your appearance would matter not there anyway. 

You send small smiles to other staff members passing you, those that have either just woken for the night or those who still have work to do. Yet in return, each one of them just stares at you with an incredulous look. Turning and whispering to their friends as if you were not still in front of them. 

You can’t help to understand why. Those around you may not have considered you a friend, but they were never rude. Always polite when need be. It has you feeling strange, some type of nervousness as you get closer and closer to the hallway extending to the maids personal rooms. 

Rounding the corner, you discover exactly why. 

His frame looks entirely out of place standing there. A perfect, pristine picture in a hallway of drab, illuminated only by the lanterns hanging on the wall. Royal blue tunic draped on his shoulders only emphasising his status. 

He looks as though he was never meant to be here. Like a mistake was made along the cobblestone walls. No, he looks as though he is meant to be among the living. Not in your dreary, windowless life. Nothing could change that. 

You stand there frozen, a deer caught in the lanturn of a hunting party. A pounding of your heart, as well as the dark swell of your gut coming back to life. Why is he here? Why the hell does he have a bouquet of flowers?!

You wish to scream, but you don’t. You have already been caught. 

His eyes look up from where he created a small pile of dirt on the floor. His face coming alight in an instant, pushing himself to full stature from where he once leaned against the wall. Long legs making their way towards you while he suddenly has the decency to hide the bouquet behind his back. 

Annabell certainly did not mention this method of Prince Kim’s seduction. You had never seen him down here before. 

“Hi.” Is all he says once he is finally face to face with you. His face bright and youthful. Excited.

It seems all formalities have been dropped in his mind, though you refuse the notion. 

“Prince Kim.” You simply reply, lowering yourself in a curtsy. 

He pays no mind, almost pretending you never did it in the first place. Instead, he simply rocks back and forth on his heels, bouncing slightly in delight. Wanting something, unable to voice it. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, hoping to end the encounter swiftly to stop all of the prying eyes leering into your being. 

“I brought you something.” His eyes do not break contact with yours once and you can see his hand twitch by his side as if it wants to reach out for something. You're glad he has the decency to hold back, so you shall do the same by pretending you never saw the flowers in the first place. 

You choose not to ask yourself why he brought you a present. It must just be a trick of seduction.

“I am honoured to accept such a thing.” You send a small smile his way, something between real and fake. It seems to make him beam. 

His arm comes out from behind, holding the flowers between both of your bodies. You look down at them, shock written across your features. 

Sure, you had noted them as flowers before. But you think these may be the prettiest ones you’ve seen in your whole life. Petals of orange, white, and purple cloud in your eyes. Stomatas filled with the sweet pollen.

Lilies. All different kinds– ones you’ve never seen before.

They’re out of season, at least you think they are. How did he get these? Why is he giving them to you? Why is he trying to get the butterflies to return? Why is he trying to make your heart explode?

“Prince Kim…” You’re not sure what to say– instead gently reaching out to feel the velvet of a petal. Staring intently at their colours, unable to pull your eyes away. 

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” His voice is a husk of a whisper, as if you’re the only two in the hallway. As if other maids are not passing, as if they are not staring at the two of you.

“Yes… I… I’m not sure what to say.” It is all so hypnotic. 

“Thank you would be a good beginning, no?” His smile is soft, a light chuckle present in the tone.

You pause, tilting your head to look up at him fully– a large, real smile donning your lips.

“Yes. Thank you.” 

You feel as if you are floating, just as you would when reading those romance books in your late teen years. Like the world has stopped moving save for the prince in front of you slowly passing the flowers into your arms. 

Your hands brush against each other and you feel his fingers twitch, tightening ever so slight. Wishing to grab onto your hand just as he had done the night before. Wishing to insect every line that traces over your fresh once more.

However, he refrains. Allowing his ringed fingers to sink themselves into his pockets.

“I was just going to have them delivered. I’m not really meant to be down here, you know,” His smile is shy, “But I didn’t know your room. That, and I wanted to see you again.” 

You look down, unable to keep the eye contact he presses you for. Prince Kim is too much for you. You don’t understand how he couldn’t be too much for anyone. 

“Oh…” You’re a flush, “Thank you for saying that.” 

“It is nothing to thank me for.” He chuckles, bangs dimming the hues of his eyes, “I’m sure I bored you with all of my ramblings.” 

He did, partly, but that was more discombobulation for the situation and a sense of tiredness creeping into your bones. You shake your head quickly.

“Of course not. I had.. Fun.” Mayhaps fun isn’t the right term, yet there is no word that exactly describes your emotions of last night, nor the ones of today.

“As did I.” His lips are tight in a smile again, feet bouncing on their heels once more. He’s nervous, wants to say something again but isn’t sure how.

You’re not sure how to feel about learning what that habit means. Not sure how to feel about what any of this means. You have not had a moment alone to truly dissect what all of it is. 

“I would love to spend the night talking to you again, if you would allow me.” You don’t think you would love anything more, yet you know you would not be able to function. Would probably make a fool of yourself, too. 

“I-I think it would be best if I were to get some rest… I had not even an hour before I had to start working last night.” 

He frowns, “That’s not good for your health…” He pauses, searching your face for any signs of distress, “Then let's talk in your room. I will only stay until you sleep.” 

You pause, air drifting back into your lungs.

Ah. Right. 

The words of your friend sink in once again, breaking you out of whatever trance he had put you under. Whatever spell he laced through both of your ears to have you singing songs of praises for him and the crown. 

He wants you as a notch in a bedpost. Nothing more. It is clear as day and you are a fool to think anything other than that. This is all just a cleverly rehearsed show. You will not fall victim like your mother. 

All royalty is the same. Use use use. Beat a dead horse until it stops coughing up any sort of reprise. 

Your posture is suddenly tense, fist gripping the flowers so tight your knuckles appear white. 

How dare he think so low of you. How dare he think he might be able to fuck you for nothing. 

“Men are not allowed in the women's private quarters.” Your voice is staunch, though it is not as if he can tell nor cares. 

If he does, he doesn’t show it. 

“Ah,” The lilt is still evident in his tone, the cat playing with the mouse, “But I am not any man, am I?” His body leans a bit closer, pulling his face parallel to your own. Smirk playing on his lips. 

Beauty is a deceptive thing, isn’t it? “When I am king I’ll make it so I can see you whenever we both desire.” Something heats in your gut at those words, yet anger quells it just as fast. 

“It is a shame that you are not King yet, then.” You nod politely in his direction, trying to excuse yourself. Yet your words only seem to excite something in his eyes, lighting a fire behind them. 

“My, I didn’t know you felt that way.” He smiles coy. A flustered sensation overcomes you as you realise the double meaning behind your words. You had made it sound like you wanted him in that way when that could not be farther from the truth.

“I do not.” You state, your voice ice. Though once again, it seems that it does not pierce him. 

“There is no reason to be so cold, Y/n.” He sing songs, tapping one of his long fingers against the side of his head. 

“I am not being cold! You are just not listening.” You sigh in exasperation. Exhaustion and annoyance make you forget yourself, causing your volume to rise just as his own does. This only seems to excite him more. 

“I have heard enough.” He giggles, boyish and what others would describe as cute. Right before you’re able to argue back once again, he cuts in with his own voice once more.

“I will leave you for now. Find a pretty place for the flowers.” 

He smiles generously at you, beginning to walk away, “Have a good night. I’ll see you soon.” 

In your shamble of a disposition, you’re left stuck there. Staring at his back as he retreats down the hallway. 

The shock of everything that had just transpired coming over you all at once. How poorly you had behaved. How you spoke to him. He could have you killed for any one of those things however instead he left you with a bouquet of flowers and a promise for another night. 

You scramble to find yourself, to move yourself from out of the eyeline of every other maid. To make your way to your room, your one sanctuary as quickly as possible. 

It is only when you’re in those walls, hard oak door shut firmly beside you that you have to remind yourself of your promise to your best friend. Remember that the prince fights his battles with words and emotions. 

Your second meeting with the man had left you even more confused than the first. Thousands of questions and emotions real through your bones at a pace your brain can’t manage to understand. Leaves you fuming, trying to form a single coherent thought as you analyse the last two nights with a ferocity unimagined. 

In your state, however, you neglect to think of the one question that should be dancing before you, held on a string just out of reach. 

Why did he know your name? 

It is apparent that since that night, Prince Kim has located which room you find habitance in. 

This morning, another letter has found itself slipped under the base of your door. They have become commonplace now– letters detailing apologies for why he was unable to visit, what he had gone about on his day, his regrets that he has not heard back from you in what feels like ages. 

He’s tried to speak to you a few times in the palace when you work. His eyes always trained on you with something you’re unable to describe when you clean nearby. 

You wish you could say it was perverse in manner, but it was nothing of the sort. 

Every once and awhile you would catch a lily pinned to his breast pocket. He would send you a secret smile whenever it caught your attention. As if it was a tale meant for only the two of you to know. As if he wanted to carry a portion of you with him.

You may be naive in saying so, nor do you have much experience in the matter, but these do not feel like the actions of a man who simply wishes to find home under your dress. These feel more personal. More extravagant than anything else. 

Nevertheless, you ignore every single advance. Annabell made you promise, and it was a promise you were intent on keeping until your dying breath. 

Put the letters away in a box, never to be responded to. Avoided looking at him whenever he was near. Rushed out of rooms when it appeared he was intent on  making his war for you.

Icing out the prince is what is best. Whatever lilies he will wilt and die and you will be able to continue on with your hatred of the Kim family as well as your blood pact with the throne. 

You only wish it was that easy.

“Y/n!! Miss Y/n!!” There is a scramble outside of the door, voices hailing for your presence. You don’t know why– you’re on wash duty. Anyone, unless they’re extraordinarily new, would know that. 

The voice grows more erratic, more panicked. As if their life depends on finding you in that very moment. The other maids in the quarters send their glaces to you, urging you to go yet not one opens their mouths. 

At least one bonus of endenturing your entire life to the palace is that you have grown in rank. More than 10 years has granted you a decent position. 

A hushed sigh slips past your lips and your hands find themselves forcing the pile of sheets into the washing tub. Your hands quickly wipe away at your apron, ridding them of any moisture before pushing open the door. 

Stepping into the hallway lined with stone you notice only a single girl. Her entire form shaking as she paces the hall– panicked. Blonde curls bouncing with every step, cheeks a fluster. 

A new recruit, indeed. Celley is the name she wears. 

She had just entered with the last batch of new maids, starting at the palace no more than 2 months ago. She was a recruit you were unsure of– not having a lick of grace or balance, nor any experience with serving. But you suppose there are many reasons maids are chosen. 

You do not like to think of them.

Her feet are suddenly clamouring over to you, noticing your presence for the first time since you’ve stepped in the hallway. Her small, shaking hands grip your shoulders, holding you with all the will she seems to possess. 

“Excuse me have you seen–” She stops herself, tiny pants pausing as her eyes go wide, “Oh my days! Miss Y/n! You must hurry!” She rushes, hand gripping your wrist as she tries to pull you away. 

Though your face twists in confusion, your feet remain firm. 

“What’s the matter?” You ask, both sympathy and concern entering your frame. You can admonish her later for her lack of manners, however now, the girl seems truly frightened. Her large steel eyes looking back at you, pleading. 

“The crown prince! He’s!” She’s out of breath once again, continuing to try and urge you on.

This time, the second the word prince is muttered, you begin to follow her pace, “He’s lost his mind! He’s going on a firing spree! Locking up anyone who tries to calm him!” 

“What? Why is that? Did something happen?” You ask hushed, urging the girl to keep her voice down. Though you both are similar in age, it is apparent who has experienced this type of thing before. 

“He got into some kind of spat with his father. His instructor was fired when he tried to continue on with their lesson.” It seems she understood your message, continuing to hurry you down the halls. 

“And what am I meant to do?” 

“I-I don’t know!” She lets out a quiet yelp, pulling you closer as you exit the maid hallways and enter the palace ones, “His personal maid is away visiting family. She said to leave everything to you if something were to happen! I-I didn’t know what else to do!” 

Damn Eleanor and everything she stands for. Why the hell did she have to bring your name into this?! Shouldn’t the head maid be called in times like this?! Not you, someone who wants nothing to do with any member of the royal family. Especially the crown prince himself. Sure, there must be rumours spreading around but you had managed nearly three weeks without speaking to him!

You let out a sigh, squaring your shoulders in an attempt to appear more confident, more put together. You will do this, and you will come out victorious. Every battle before has left you victor. What is one more?

“I understand. It will be dealt with.”

The least you can gain is the idyllic picture of the prince to be shattered forever. That would be the most ideal outcome, something to truly force him out of your heart for good. You will not fall prey to him and his earthly desires. He will not win your heart. 

At least that is what you hope. 

The throne room's doors stand before you, delicate lacings of gold worth more than your entire being etched into its surface. A glittering picture for what is sure to be a bloodbath behind its contents. 

A deep inhale of warm air fills your lungs, hand pressing against the door as you force it open. Face someone you have not wanted to see nor extinguish the flames of in nearly a month. 

He stands before you, 20 paces ahead. A broken bottle in his hand as he heaves, shoulders rising and falling with the passion of ten thousand suns. The look of murder in his eyes as he stares down at a maid, her form on the ground. Bowing with as much might as she can possess, looking for any exit possible. Few other maids stand around the room, keeping their heads low, avoiding any eye contact possible. 

Though he looks like a mad man– mayhaps a god of war himself, not a single hair is out of place on his head. He is still the picture of sovereignty. And though your breath spikes, you find that you are not afraid. 

What a strange feeling it is.

The creak of the door sends single to him, has him whipping his head to face you. Anger etched into his features, a new target befalling his sight.

You stand tall, moving towards him. You will rise to the position given to you, even if it shall mean your inevitable downfall. As long as the new staff are safe.

Only, when he looks to you, no wrath is found. No anger or deceit. The second his eyes meet your own, his expression drops along with the bottle in his hands. More glass littering the floor in its wake. 

His eyes soften, his lips turning from a sneer into a gentle frown. His shoulders automatically lower, and suddenly it appears that there is no one else in the room. His legs move automatically, carrying themselves to you with such a hurried pace you would have thought he had seen a long lost friend. 

Oddly, this scares you more than when he was angered. 

You start into a bow, “Prince Kim, I’ve come in place of–” 

His arms wrap themselves around you before you can speak another word. Pulling you in, wrapping you into his scent as you're pressed against his sturdy chest. Strong arms keep you in place as he tries to make his body become one with your own. 

His face buries itself into the crook of your neck, one hand raising to tie itself in your hair. It forces you to stay in place, stay attached to him just the way he wants you to be. Allows him to inhale, breathing in all of you. Finally delving into the scent that he has been craving.

Your eyes only widen, hands staying firm at your side in shock. Heart beginning to race, head becoming lost in the soaps that only a member of a family could possibly own. 

You’re not sure what to do. How to behave. As far as you are concerned or aware, this is something that no other has had happen before. At least not so openly. Not so brazenly in front of a myriad of other people. 

But, it seems to calm him. To placate him in a way you’re not sure anyone could explain. 

You try to make a small twisting motion with your hand, try to urge everyone else to leave while they have the chance. 

They seem to take it, exiting the room as fast as possible. 

You’re sure word of this will spread throughout the castle quickly. You hope the consequences will not be dire. 

“Prince Kim–” You begin to speak after everyone has cleared out, after he holds you for what feels like a lifetime. You can’t find it in you to want him to pull away, no matter how embarrassing this seems. 

“Shh,” He quickly silences you with a gentle press of his lips to your pulse, “Let me stay like this for a moment.” 

You are unable to move. Unable to breathe after he kisses you. War could begin in that very moment and you’re not sure you would have noticed in the slightest. You are stunned into obeying his whim as he simply inhales and exhales. 

The umber in his voice only comes after a millennia, after his shoulders have completely sagged. After all the tension is removed from his body. 

“You didn’t respond to my letters.” He still doesn’t pull away, his grip on your hair tightening a fraction. 

You pause.

“I…I didn’t know where to send them.” You lie and his hand loosens. The correct answer. 

“My study. Put them under the door to my study.” He instructs like a king would. 

You’re not sure why the tone of his voice sends shocks to your gut. Pooling into something you only find in your dreams.

“But if someone were to see them–” 

“Let them.” Mumbles in your ear to you and you alone, a growl practically spiking through his voice, “I want them to know.” 

Oh. This is new. This is definitely new. This is not the same way you felt with the stable boy years ago. This has become something entirely alienating. A completely different beast. You know that now as his baritone voice sends waves straight through your gut. 

You simply nod in reply, your mouth unwilling to say anything back. The arm around your lower back grows more firm.

“Tell me where you will put your replies.” He commands into your ear. 

“Under the door to your study.” Your reply is automatic, years of answering to the kingdom evident in your tone. 

He sighs, unfurling his fingers from your locks to gently pet the top of your head, “Good girl.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, soft as he touches you.

“Good lamb.”

You sigh, fingers deftly searching through your wardrobe for just a single pair of underwear. But once again, you turn up empty. It seems like every day that passes, another pair disappears without your knowledge. 

Perhaps one of the new girls is causing a fuss, messing up the laundry for everyone else. 

That is the only logical solution, at least. 

But logic doesn’t seem to make much sense at all anymore. You couldn’t hope to understand why few of your other belongings have come up indignant as well. 

Your favourite perfume, one of your stuffed animals, even your toothbrush! All have magically vanished from thin air over the course of the last week. 

It is too bad that you haven’t had the time to think about it, either. Preparations for the ball have been raging throughout the palace. Everyone has been on their toes, unwilling to face the wrath of the planners as they try to make everything perfect. 

You have had not one moment alone to think, either swept up in cleaning, decorating, or well… recently you and the prince have been going on walks through the garden at night. Though that doesn’t matter much. It doesn’t mean anything– just another thing he made you promise to. Claiming he wishes to spend as much time with you as he can. 

His recent fixation is trying to get you to call him by his true name. 

You would never dare, nothing is more inappropriate than such a title. It is something only his most beloved is meant to call him, and that person is certainly not you.

You try to force any thoughts of him out of your head, though it is clearly a fruitless endeavour. Especially with the dream you had the night prior. 

His hands finding themselves between your legs, touching you in a way no other has. 

You flush, quickly shaking all thoughts of the night away. 

The tea! Your tea, yes. A prescription from the doctor for this very thing.

More often than not, you wake to find a mess between your thighs. Sticky arousal between them in a perverse fashion. The region sensitive and overstimulated combined with a mess of dreams. More sexual in nature than ever before.

Embarrassed, you had turned to the only person you could trust. The palace staff’s doctor. 

She had told you it was normal– that you were simply having what she described as ‘wet-dreams’. The title alone made you feel embarrassed.

Nevertheless, she prescribed you a tea to help calm your nerves. It was meant to be passifying in nature, calming any lush desires you may have beginning to form. 

You were not sure how it functioned, however you trusted her. Found that it quelled whatever fire burned inside of your heart for the time being. 

Perhaps just a new oddity to add to your reality, you suppose. 

Finally, you find a proper set of undergarments to pull over your legs. Letting out a breath in relief now that you finally have them. 

Today is going to be busier than the last month combined– the ball is tonight. You know for a fact you will be rushed around the palace all day, fixing everything into an acute sense of perfection that only the Kim family is known for. 

You reach to spray your second favourite  perfume across your skin, only to find that the bottle has gone missing as well.

Your hairs stand on edge, a dark pit forming in your stomach.

It is all too strange for you to want to understand. 

Okay, now you’re sure Annabell must be wrong. She has to be, right? There is no other conclusion possible. 

The thoughts run through your head as you pace the small confines of your room. Thumb between your lips, biting the skin feverishly. Contemplating what it is exactly that you should do. A heavy box sitting on your bed, a letter laying next to it along with a single lily.

A month ago, you met Prince Kim in the gardens. A month ago you spoke to him all night long. A month ago he brought you flowers. He has been leaving you letters ever since. Three weeks ago he held you in his arms, made you promise to write him back. Made you promise to meet him in the gardens as many nights as you can. 

But this, you could not accept. You could not possibly think this is real. Why has he gifted you something like this?

A dress lays on your bed. The most gorgeous dress you have ever seen, in fact. Lined with crystals and gems, many layers of tulle poof from the underskirt. It must’ve cost a fortune, but it was not meant for you.  It is a dress meant for a princess, not a simple maid of the palace. Not… Not someone the prince simply wanted to bed. 

So why did it lie here, along with a lace mask and a pair of shoes. Why did it come with a note from the Prince, telling you to put it on for tonight's events? Is this why the head maid dismissed you so early?

No. You could not. You will not make a fool of yourself. You do not belong up there, dressed as a princess when you are far from the thing. That is your decision. It will be the one you stick to.

Even as hours tick past on the clock, even as you can hear the night in full swing, you stay locked in your room. Feeling the same as you did when you were a girl locked in the dungeon all those years ago. Helpless, indignant, stubborn. 

Lost in your thoughts as you try to piece together a puzzle that has several spaces missing. Feelings for the stable boy– life with him, it would have been easier than this. You’re sure of it. 

You allow yourself to imagine what life could have been like if he stayed. It would have been a cosy, peaceful. A straightforward one that didn’t leave so many questions in your head. Jungkook was always like that, spoke his mind without leaving anything to be guessed. You adored it, wished you could revel in it now. Wish you could kiss him under the cherry tree once more.

A pounding wakes you from the dream you were just beginning to weave. Loud, angry knuckles against the firm oak of your door startling you to your feet in an instant. Chills running down your spine as if your body already knew who was behind it. 

You wait too long to reply, another series of rapts following in quick succession. You’re in trouble. You’ve angered the prince in a way you’re not sure you’ll be able to find your way out of, but you have no choice. He knows your inside. You know you must face him. You must be brave.

Right before another series of knocks can echo against the walls, you finally pull the door open. 

There stands the man you knew would be there all along, sculpted like the lord had made him himself. You wish you could behold him properly, to stare at his beauty in the suit specially prepared for this night. One he asked your opinion of several times during its construction.

But you are unable to, not when his shoulders heave like a bull planning its charge. Not when his eyes are narrowed into a glare that enters your soul without consequence. Never before had you felt his anger directed at you. 

The future king would be a fearsome thing. 

“It appears you are not dead.” He states, cold and detached in a way you have never heard before. It makes you feel small, feel weak. Though by now, you know he wants an answer. He will not accept the lack of one from you anymore. 

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, “I suppose not…” 

“Then what do you suppose.” You flinch. You’re not sure.

“I– Prince Kim…” 

“Taehyung.” He interjects, though you ignore him. Only his future wife is meant to call him by that name.

“Prince Kim, I could not possibly accept this gift. You have to understand.” The way he looks at you makes you want to shrink. To appear as small as possible to placate the lion you’ve wondered into the den of. 

“I do not. You are to accept any gift I am to give you.” He is stern as if lecturing the ground beneath him. He looks massive in your tiny room, taking up much more space than you wish to grant him.

You begin to grow frustrated, annoyed. Does he have no sanity? Does he really think it is okay to play with the hearts of women so carelessly? It is disgusting. Repulsive even! You do not deserve anything like this. You begin to grow tense, grow firm like a wolf cornered. Ready to lash out with no remorse. 

That is what you are, anyway. A cornered animal with no hope to escape. 

“I won’t.” You raise your shoulders, stand taller and stare him straight in the eyes. If this will have you sent to the axe then so be it. 

He grows just as tense in reply, his lips forming a sneer as he takes a step closer towards you. 

Never before has Prince Kim been opposed like this before, you’re sure of it. The way his irises become darker is proof. 

“And why is that, lamb?” He mocks, and the fire inside of you only begins to glow brighter Of course, you’re just the lamb that's wandered into the lion's den. The lamb being prepared for meal. 

Steam clouds around your head, jaw becoming tense as you try to hold back your rage. Rage for your mother, rage for the life she was taunted into the same way the prince is trying to do to you now.

“I will not become another woman you bed and then lay waste to!” You practically shout, unable to hold back your emotions anymore. 

His nostrils flare, “Excuse me?” 

“You heard my words.” You state back, indignant, “I will not be an idiot. I will not become another woman who you use for your own pleasures!”

You hear him scoff, head turning away from you for the first time as he looks around your room. 

“You think that little of me?” His eyes make their way back to you, his face having the expression of somewhat… hurt? 

Suddenly, you’re unsure. You feel stupid all over again though you’re not entirely conscious as to why. You hurt him? How could you possibly hurt the most powerful person in the country? 

You falter in your stance, and it is obvious that he takes notice. Uses it to his advantage as he takes another step closer, makes his hand find your own. His thumb brushing soothingly over the knuckle. His hands are always so soft. 

“What else am I meant to think? I’ve heard the stories, Prince Kim.” Where once was fire lays blistering coals. Hot to the touch yet unyielding in their passion. The air in the room has changed in much the same way.

“Tell me of them.” He asks you, his voice now gentle, soft. 

It is strange, the complete change he’s had since first entering your room. Has your brain going a little haywire. Especially with the way he stares at your hands. Like they could be locked forever. 

“I…” You feel flush, embarrassed to mutter the words in front of the prince, “I’ve heard you seduce women… princesses, noblemen’s daughters, maids… the lot. Then you abandon them the next morning with your seed in their core and a knife in their heart.” 

You keep your eyes to your feet, face feeling hot by repeating the words of your friend. You refuse to look at him, you cannot take the embarrassment. 

A light chuckle leaves his lips, a hand coming up to attempt to muffle them, “Sorry, sorry.” He shakes his head, a playful glint in his eyes. You’re baring your soul to him! How dare he laugh! 

He coughs to muffle the rest of the sound, returning to the moment, “I apologise. I just had the realisation. You’re jealous of them, aren’t you lamb?” 

A mess of flutters takes up your stomach, your shoulders raising in alarm. Your lips open to try and form words, to try and deny the allegations made your way, yet you are entirely unable. 

Especially with the way he moves closer, crowds your space with such ease. Leads close to you, whispers words in your ear, voice lower than before. 

“You wish it to just be you I lay with, is that so?” You can practically hear the smile in his voice as another, more erotic chill finds its way down your spine. 

“Th-That isn’t–” You try to speak, but your voice sounds as light as air. He moves closer, arm carrying itself around your back, pulling you flush against him as he speaks sinful words. Words only for you. 

“Ah…” He sighs in relief, lips practically touching your ear once you’re finally connected to him, “You don’t like it when I go fuck your friends then come to spend my nights talking to you… writing to you… touching myself to the thought of you.” 

You cannot take it. You cannot take this, take him. Your head is spinning, clouding with the drug known as Prince Kim. Your knees feel weak, your limbs feel all too heavy. How can someone so pretty say such sinful words without a second thought. It’s too much. Far more than your poor little heart can take.

Your arms come up, press as firm as they can against his chest despite how weak they feel.

“Mmm…?” He asks in response, pulling back to look down on your face. Mock confusion spread across his features. He takes a step back, pretending to look you up and down. Like he is just playing a game of poker while all of your tells are as clear as day. 

“Or is that not what you wish?” He asks, head tilted to the side like a confused puppy, “You would like things to remain the same?” He smiles, drawing conclusions all on his own. 

He pauses, waits for you to say something, anything before continuing. But you do not, so he will keep playing this game by himself. 

“Then I shall go find someone to keep me company for the night. Mmm..” He taps his chin in contemplation, turning on his heels, meanwhile panic and dread fills every facet of your being, “What were those ones you’re friends with again? Celley? That pretty blonde? Oh, or maybe Annabell. I’m sure she would be prepared to go for a second round.” 

What? What? No, No! What is he talking about? Why is he starting to walk away?! Wait, Annabell, second time?! She has before?! 

Oh heavens, oh gods. 

“Anyway, I'll be sure to write to you after. Have a good night, dream of me.” You begin to hyperventilate as he takes one step out the door. No, he can’t leave. You don’t want him to. You don’t want him to be with anybody else. You can’t let it happen. You can’t afford such a thing! Ever! That is not where he is meant to be! 

Your body carries you before your mind does. Hand slipping out, gripping onto the back of his coat with all of the strength you can muster. Feet planted firm in your room, doing everything in your power to not let him leave.  

It is really too bad you do not see the sick smile that forms on his lips. Maybe then the pieces of the puzzle would have finally clicked in place. 

Instead he only tilts his head backwards, painting a complexion of boredom.

“N-No! I don’t want that!” You finally manage to stutter out, knuckles turning white with the strength you hold onto him. Afraid if you let go in the slightest he will pull away and disappear forever. “I don’t want you to be with other women!”

The silence that follows your confession feels a mile long. 

“Then go put on the dress.” Out of any response there could be, that certainly was not the one you were anticipating. 

“What…?” 

His chin tilts in the direction of it, urging you on, “If that is the truth, then go put on the dress.” 

“I…” You hesitate for only a moment, but scramble to motion once the prince turns to leave once again. 

You make quick paces to your bed, keeping your back to him. You feel his eyes on your back, intent on giving you no privacy to ensure you follow through on his order. 

In fact, all he does is close the door behind you. Making sure no one will be able to see in. No one will be able to watch you save for him. 

You slowly peel off the cotton of your nightgown, trying to appear brave even though his eyes are trained on your form. Even if your slip still remains on, you have never been this uncovered in front of a man before. You feel entirely bare. 

You do not look at him as you finally find your way through the tool, slipping the garment over your head with struggle, yet his face is practically predatory. 

You don’t know his plans, or what he wishes to gain. You never do. 

As the fabric settles over your hips, half of you wants to question how the size is perfect, but you refrain. Too embarrassed by everything else to even consider it an option. Your hands reach behind you to attempt to lace up the back on your own, yet another pair are already present in their place.

When did he get so close? How did he get so close without you hearing a thing? Your heartbeat must be the only sound in your ears, that must be it. 

His fingers work down your spine, tightening the dress so it fits you perfectly. Tying it off with skill you did not know he had. You feel his breath on the back of your neck. A fire begins to grow in your core. 

“I was going to present you to my father tonight.” He admits, placing a gentle kiss to the base of your neck, “The ball was meant to find my bride.” 

“Oh.” Those are the only words you can say when he is so close, arms enclosing around your waist. Pulling your back flush with his chest. 

Only words you can manage at the revelation.

“Imagine his disappointment, more so my own when the girl I had been speaking to him about did not show.” He grunts, almost as if it hurt him. Guiding your body to stand in front of the full mirror in your room. Asking– telling you to look at yourself. 

The sight is strange, yet incredible. The crown prince of the entire nation standing in your bedroom, in the maids quarters. Surrounded by squalor and chaos. Arms wrapped around a maid dressed as if she could be a queen. 

You look up at him to the best of your ability, regret plastered across your features, “Prince Kim–” 

“Taehyung.” 

“--I’m so sorry.” He does not look you in the eyes. They stay trained ahead, not straying once from the mirror. One hand rubbing small circles into the fabric covering your stomach, the other sliding to your waist.

He touches you without care, without reason. Feeling you against him for all that it is worth. 

“Actions have consequences, that is all. They can come later.” He states plainly, “For now I just wish to indulge in you.”

He brings his face down, placing it right next to yours. His hand rises, making your chin face the mirror as well. 

He forces you to make eye contact with him through it, forces you to understand each of his words clearly. 

“You’ll let me do that, won’t you?” 

You take a deep breath, gulping down all the air you can manage. You don’t think you’ve wanted anything more. 

With no more than a nod, his lips are on yours. 

Spinning you around, pressing your back against the mirror. His hands cupping your cheeks with such intensity you fear they may become etched into your skin forever. Keeping your lips closed against his own. 

His body cages you in, pressing entirely against you. Forming against you in perfect harmony, feeling two souls become one. Feeling each other fully for the first time– no pretence or public eye in the way to stop it. 

His teeth nip at your lower lip, biting in a way that has you opening them in pain. He takes the opportunity to lick his way inside, somehow pushing even closer to your body. 

Something hard presses against you and the discovery has your knees wishing to collapse. 

The prince can’t possibly be this big. He simply can’t.

The kiss has you reeling, unsure of anything. Unsure of what to do at all. It is nothing like your first kiss under the cherry tree with Jungkook. That was soft and sweet, docile as two people discover something new.

This, this is nothing of the sort. It is hungry. It is a beast that has been starved, finally getting its first meal. It is intoxicating. It is needy and desperate in a way that has your fingers trying to press themselves even deeper into the glass. It has your breath being robbed. Your lifeforce wilts away to satisfy only the prince. 

The groan he lets out as you finally give into him, finally allow him to take control of the kiss as arousal pools in your gut. It is one of the most deadly siren’s calls you think you’ve ever heard. One that would have any woman throwing themselves overboard for just a taste. 

“Finally,” He grunts, pulling no more than a millilitre away from your lips, wetness still connecting them, “My whole life I’ve been waiting for you.” He mumbles, hungrily connecting his mouth back to your own. 

Before you know it, you’re lost in the man once again. Allowing him to move you, to guide you to your bed without withdrawing from you once. Tangling your fingers into his hair, trying to make sure he doesn’t pull away. Making you drunk off of his taste, off of him. 

When he kisses you like this, you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to live without him. 

Your knees hit the frame of your bed and all of a sudden you're falling backwards onto its plush lining. Panting, trying to regain some of the air he stole from you.

For the first time you’re able to look up at him, to discover the mess that he has become. Cheeks red, lips swollen. Eyes dark and twisted with lust. Hair ruffled messily from where your fingers laid. Shoulders rising and falling with effort as he catches his breath as well. 

He looks gorgeous and you can’t help yourself hoping this will be only a sight for you forever. 

He leans down, pecking your lips once more, “I couldn’t stop myself from imagining this. Since the moment I placed an order for your dress.” 

He huffs, dropping to his knees in front of you. You sit up on your elbows, face twisted into confusion as you look down at him. 

God. It is too dangerous to look at him right now. You know that as another wave of heat runs straight to your core.

“Pushing up the future queen's skirt.” He groans, hands gaining purchase on your hips, pulling you down so your waist sits at the edge of the bed, “Letting myself have a taste of her while everyone else at the party danced.” 

O-Oh. Oh. He sees you as, oh god. 

His fingers bunch in the material of your skirt, drawing in a shaky inhale as he holds onto any drop of sanity left. 

When he sees no hesitation from you, he slowly begins to push the material up your legs. Eyes trained on your own, looking to you for any sign of discomfort. 

“Have her come undone on my tongue while no else was the wiser.” He groans as he finally comes face to face with your panty covered core. 

Your brain moves at a snail's pace, trying to keep up with every tiny movement the prince makes. Trying to process his words while your head becomes fuzzy with your own arousal. 

You feel like mush, so pliable in his grip.

His large hands slowly begin to part your thighs, to look at what he has been craving for so long when your brain catches up with you, embarrassment overcoming your being. 

“Y-You can’t! I-it is dirty to do such a thing.” At least, that is what you had been taught. Though, the look in his eyes and the growl from his throat tells you the opposite.

“You could never be dirty. No part of you could ever be.” The sound he lets out is more akin to an animal than anything else, and suddenly you feel like a schoolgirl. Flustered and embarrassed beyond anything else. 

The muscles of your thighs untense, the look on your face blushed and biting. 

“You will let me?” He asks again, and despite your embarrassment, you nod. He is going to be king… his word is rule afterall. He wishes it, so it will happen. You could not be more pleased to oblige. 

His grip on your thighs is more firm than before, blunt nails digging into soft flesh as he pries your legs apart. He lets a groan resonate from the back of his throat at the sight. Panties sticking to your center, wetness pooling just behind causing the material to almost become transparent before him. 

You did not know it was possible for a man to have such an effect on you. 

Without a second thought, he pushes the material down your thighs. His tongue licking a long stripe up your cunt, savouring the flavour for every cent it is worth. 

He moans at the taste, not wasting a second before he dives back in. Lapping against you like it is his last meal. 

A mewl leaves your lips, too many feelings crossing you at once for any of them to be worth anything. 

Embarrassment, shame, fear all vanish the moment his lips wrap around your clit, sucking against the small bundle of nerves in a manner that has your back arching against the bed. Fingertips digging into the sheets to find a second lease on life. 

You try to look down at him, to find him between all of your small pants of pleasure, however he is gone. Disappearing until the layers of fabric while he brings you sensations you never thought were possible. 

His tongue moves like it is made to pleasure only you. Taking turns flicking your clit to lowering into your center. Licking up any bit of arousal he can make out. Trailing up once again to press flat against the bundle of nerves.

All of it has your legs kicking, your breath melting. 

He is not quiet either, letting you know exactly how much he adores this. Adores the feeling of your thighs wrapped tight around his head. Adores every little sound and reaction you have to give him. Adores the taste of you on his tongue. It was only meant for him.

It feels like he has been wishing to do this far longer than you would ever know. Consuming you whole from the inside out. Causing you to become addicted, to desire him just as much as he carnally craves you.

His nails dig into the flesh of your thighs as your hips begin to rock against his face, seeking out every ounce of pleasure that he is willing to give you. Your adorable mewls and whines grow louder, peaking every time he sucks on your clit. 

A coil has begun to form in your gut, feeling as though it could snap at any second. You wish you could see him, to look at his face and see the crazed gleam in his eyes. Observe the exact look on his face as he licks your cunt. 

You try to picture it. Try to imagine the way he would look up at you from between your legs. The dark umber his eyes would become, the gentle circles he would rub into your thigh as you finally make eye contact. 

Your walls clench around his tongue, sending a new waves of whines out of your mouth. He somehow moves faster, more precisely with every movement. Like he is able to hone in on the exact things that have your thighs quivering. 

His tongue moves up, takes your small, worn clit into his mouth. Alternating between sucking against it, flicking at it, and pressing against it firm with the flat of his tongue. 

Without warning, nor any reprise, one of his thick fingers is thrust into your wet heat. Filling you in a way you have never been able to do to yourself. Stretching you. And all of a sudden, you’re flying off the edge of a precipice.

“Prince Kim!” Your back arches off of the bed, head thrown back against the mattress as you let out a moan. Your hips jolt, cunt squeezing around his fingers, heels digging into the floor as you come undone before him. 

He works you through it with ease and grace, finger slowly thrusting in and out. Tongue firmly planted against your clit to ride you through your high. 

It would not be your last of the night. He must be gentle. 

Slowly, you relax against the bed, chest heaving from exertion. He pulls away from you, standing to full height before leaning over your shaking form. 

Your arousal coats his face, a sheen from his lips and chin evident against the soft yellow glow of the room. He looks down at you, concern and adoration written across his features. Though in his eyes, it appears that the beast has yet to be quelled. 

He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. You taste yourself against them. 

“You are delicious. I wish to eat you every night until I die.” He mumbles against your lips, his knee sliding between your legs. Muscle pressing against your swollen cunt. 

You try to flinch away, yet the hand on your hip keeps you in place. 

He will not have you running away. 

Not now. 

Your cheeks flush at his words, wide eyes looking up at him like he is all that matters. 

He is. 

He presses his knee further against your pussy while his lips trail down the column of your neck. Urging you towards the headboard with no words spoken until your head is against the pillows. 

Your arms wind their way around his neck, keeping him in place, “I-if we were married, I would let you.” You manage to speak, your voice shaky.

He only smiles in reply. Fingers digging deeper into your waist as if he is holding himself back.

“Then we shall call this practice for our wedding night.” He smiles, sitting back on his heels. 

Marriage, wedding night. You allow the thought to ghost through your mind, willing it to be reality. 

He smiles down at you, taking note in the way you seem to gleam at the idea. A small chuckle leaves his lips, you really are too cute for your own good. 

His voice is no more than a whisper, forcing you to stay enrapt, “You will let me, right?” He asks, eyes glancing down to where his pants strain against his hips, “I wish to make love to my future wife.”

Your mouth practically waters at the sight, his hard cock pressed taught against the expensive material. You swear there may even be a wet spot where his cum has leaked through. 

Your pussy clenches, wanting nothing more for him to find his way inside. For him to claim you for himself. Destroy you so no other man can have you in the same way.

You struggle against yourself for no more than a moment, but the way his hand reaches down, grips at his cock. Brushes his thumb over the surface has you moaning in want. 

“Please.” 

He smiles, the motion following swift. All at once his hands unbutton his pants, pushing the material down his thighs just enough for his cock to spring free. He groans at the feeling, thick length hitting his stomach. Pretty pre-cum dripping down the side.

Your eyes go wide. If you imagined him to be large before, seeing it now looked impossible. He is thick, long. Far too big to ever hope to fit inside of you. 

But the desperate groan in his voice, the hungry look in his eyes only has you spreading your legs. Wishing nothing more than for him to destroy you.

One hand wraps around the base as he moves closer, the other forcing the skirt of your dress as high as it will allow. He makes space for himself in between your thighs, slotting himself in. Ready to do what he has been waiting years for. 

Not yet.

He sees the hesitation in your eyes, the worry. So he leans down, planting a gentle, soothing kiss to your lips. One filled with years of time behind it. 

He knows he must be careful with you. Knows all of his patience will have been worth it when he is finally able to take your virginity. 

“Will it hurt?” You as quietly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close. You find comfort in him. Find a sense of safety within his eyes. 

He nods in response, “Only for a little while, I promise.” He mumbles against your lips, placing a soft kiss against them once more. 

He slowly rubs the fat head between your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Your hips buck slightly in response, and he can’t help but smirk. 

So sensitive. So ready for him. 

As much as he wants to be rough, he can’t. He can’t scare you away just yet. 

He looks into your eyes once more, “Ready?” He asks, giving you one final chance to back out. You only nod your head, pulling him close, hiding your face in his neck. 

His head catches on your opening with the final drag of his length through your lips. His hands practically shake in excitement, as he guides himself inside. Letting go only once the tip is buried within your walls. 

He feels your teeth sink into his coat, your body burning with the stretch of him. He only has the first inch inside, yet you think it is more than you could possibly take. 

A choked cry leaves your lips as he continues to slowly thrust inside. Your arms cling to him as tight as possible. Tears prick in the corner of your eyes as he fills you, forming your entire body just around him. Just around his cock. 

He pauses only once half of his cock is buried in your needy cunt. You feel his hand come up to caress your cheek, to bring you back down to reality from the pain you feel digging at your core. Trying to bring you some sense of comfort. 

You pull back from his shoulder to look him in the eyes, expecting to see them soft. Filled with concern. Though there is nothing of the sort there. 

Behind his bangs is only the look of pure insanity. 

Though he tries to be compassionate, he really does.

“Are you doing okay?” His voice is strangled, coming out in only desperate cracks. He shakes, wanting nothing more than to fuck himself inside. Fuck himself deeper and deeper, until your cunt is shaped for his cock alone.

But he holds restraint. Just enough.

The way he looks at you, the way he speaks has a wave of pleasure rushing through your  skin. Your walls clamp around him, tightening even more. 

He is falling apart before you, because of you. 

He has gone mad because of you.

The feeling only makes you want to urge him on. See just how far the prince can fall.

You nod your head, looking at him with all the affections in the world, “Don’t stop.” 

He groans at your words, mind losing itself as he snaps his hips forward, forcing his cock inside until his hips are firm against your own. Teeth digging into the fragile skin of your neck.

You cry out in pain, your walls squeezing around him in shock. Pain coursing through your entire system as you are filled to the brim. Walls stretched as wide as humanly possible. The head of cock so deep inside you swear you can feel it in your lungs. 

“Shit.” He groans, mouth falling open, “This pretty thing is wrapped around me so tight, lamb. So fucking tight I can’t think.” 

He slowly tries to move his hips, though you only shout in response. Your legs wrap around his back, doing their utmost to keep him in place.

“Hurts!” You whine, shaking your head quickly. 

Fucking hell. What is the point of a pussy as sweet as your own if he can’t use it properly?

His hand moves between your legs, growl of impatience slipping past his lips as his fingers find your clit. They work with urgency, with need. Rubbing tight circles into it, trying to get you to feel the same pleasure he does.

You whine, overstimulated. Shots fired in all directions leaving you messy and confused. 

With every circle, a mewl sounds from your throat. Slowly your legs behind him loosen, the pain from before mixing with pleasure to become something wonderful. Something that has you whimpering for him to not stop. 

“See?” He grunts, slowly slipping out of your heat until only the tip remains, “We were made for each other.” 

He forces his cock back inside, fucking you open just for him. Only ever for him. 

Your nails dig into his back, heels digging into the mattress as you moan for him. As your cunt becomes addicted to the feeling of him filling you so perfectly. Addicted to everything he has to offer.

He moves too fast, too hard for you to even hope to keep up with. Hips pistoning into you, forcing you to take everything he has to give and more. Forcing you to be the perfect little doll for him, give him all the pleasure he can want and more. White mixing with red around the base of his cock.

Your back arches off the mattress to try and get closer to him, to try and keep up with him in any hope of the sentiment. Hips trying their best to keep him as close and as deep as possible, knowing they crave one thing and one thing alone.

“Prince Kim!” You moan, yet he growls in response. A sharp slap to your thigh sounds throughout the room as his hips pause, fingers removing themselves from your clit. 

“That isn’t my name to you anymore.” His voice is low, menacing in your ear. One more poke of the bear and you will be punished. “Tae–Hyung.” 

He emphasises the words with a sharp thrust of his hips, one that brushes against the bundle inside of you. One that leaves you crying out for him. Clinging on to him. 

“Say it.” He grunts, animalistic and desperate. Yet you’re too lost in yourself to realise how debauched he’s become. Looking less and less like a man, more like a demon come to lay waste to your soul. 

That is close enough to the truth, anyway.

“Say it until it becomes the only word you know. Every question I ask, every time I fuck myself into this sweet little cunt. Your only reply should be my name.” He grabs your chin, forcing you to stare at him. 

Your fucked out little features as you bob your head in compliance.

“I-I” You swallow, trying to understand his words as he pounds away at your core, “I understand!” 

He smiles, almost proud of the work he has done today.

His hips only move impossibly faster, impossibly harder in a way that has that knot in your gut tightening once more. 

“We’ll start simple then. What is my name?” He asks, angling his hips to press against your sweet spot with ever slight movement. Breathe panting, his mind falling deeper and deeper into the thralls of your body. 

“P-Prin–” You stop yourself, a pinch coming down on your skin, “Taehyung!” 

He groans, almost coming undone as he hears your name fall from your  lips for the very first time. The pretty sound your voice makes with every letter. 

It could be the only thing he hears for the rest of his life.

“Who are you going to marry?” 

You whine, your head thrashing around slightly. He smiles. You must really enjoy the idea of that, huh?

“T-Taehyung!” You manage to stutter out again, feeling your release coming closer and closer as the seconds pass by. 

“Who is the man you have fallen for?” The answer to the question is easy, especially when he is fucking into you like you’re the only woman that matters. Nothing matters except for him. 

“Taehyung!” Your brain is too fuzzy to process anything else. Anything other than the way his cock fills you. Anything other than the one word he told you is your gospel. 

“Who is the boy that kissed you under the cherry tree?” You don’t even know anymore. 

Does any man exist beside Taehyung anyway? You doubt it.

“Taehyung!” He smiles into your neck. 

“Who was the boy that was going to have you killed? That saved your life?” His words don’t process through your ears, yet you know what you are meant to say anyway.

“Taehyung!” He groans, his hips stuttering, losing their pace ever so slightly. 

“Who do you belong to?” 

“Taehyung!” You whine, your thighs shaking. The coil so tight you think you may just die if it doesn’t come undone in this very moment. 

His breath is quiet, only a rough whisper in your ear, “Cum.” 

Just as your king commands, you fall apart around him. White dots in the corner of your eyes as you clamp down around him, your legs pulling him close. A cry of his name leaving your lungs as if it is the very air you breathe. 

You feel him paint the inside of your walls white, his hips stuttering– fucking himself as deep into you as he could possibly manage. If you had any sense left in your little head you would have told him to pull out, yet your brain is so high. Filled with pleasure that only Taehyung can provide. 

Waves of arousal crash around you as he slows his hips, ensuring that you ride out your orgasm to its fullest before pulling away. You wish he could stay buried inside of you, just like that. Yet you doubt that would be very wise. 

“Was that good for you, little lamb?” He asks, slowly helping you into a sit. You’re not sure how to properly answer– mouth feeling dry. Your head has not yet come crashing back down, though that is probably a good thing. 

Facing reality is too scary right now. Especially when Taehyung is so warm. So caring as he removes your dress. Slips your nightgown back over your soiled body. 

“Very…” You nod, unable to take your eyes off of him as he moves around the bed. Tucking himself back into his pants, removing his shirt and dress-coat. Placing them over the back of a chair. Neatly hanging the dress on a hook, taking care that it is not damaged in any way.

Your arms find themselves reaching out to him, trying to pull him closer to you. He smiles once he takes notice.

“Would you like me to stay the night?” It is clear he was already planning on it, but hearing the words make you smile oh-so bright. 

“Yes, please.” You nod quickly, eyes already feeling tired. You did not know how he had so much energy, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Right now he is meant to be in your bed, arms around you. In fact, you become annoyed that he isn’t already. 

“Alright.” He smiles, slipping next to your form. Wrapping his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible.

You feel so safe. So warm with him. So protected that you can’t stop yourself from falling asleep.

“Goodnight my lamb.”

The Kim Empire. 

His home, his family, his livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.

Yet, the only thoughts that seem to brandish his mind since the young age of 15 are about you. 

When you first stumbled in front of him, carrying a tray of tea. Spilling it all over his shoes. That quick curse that left your lips before looking up at him. The wide, doelike vision you had once recognition had set in. One the realisation of error set into your bones.

He will never forget the way his heart began to race in that very moment. The way he felt a cloth of sickness overcome his whole body at the mere sight of you. Looking so serendipitous below him.

At first he thought it was hate, how silly he had been back then. Ah, the way he sent you to be killed was just funny to him now. He is grateful he talked to his mother before your execution date. Spilling his soul to her, detailing how he could not seem to remove you from his brain.

Ah, he was lucky he managed to get the letter to the executioner in time. What a pity that would be if he couldn’t. Then he wouldn’t have been able to lay next to you now. Wouldn’t be able to play with your hair, caress you like he pleases. 

It is truly too bad that was not his only trial on the road towards you. It was really a pity he had to send Jungkook away. Taehyung quite liked the kid. He was fun to play with and wouldn’t shy away from his games. 

But he just had to try and seduce you. Poor thing. You really were too innocent at the time. More than eager to kiss him for no reason. To give him even a peace of your heart that was meant for Taehyung alone.

He remembers as clear as day, the rage he felt as he watched your soft lips press against another mans. How terribly he wanted to go out and strike Jungkook with a sword. Of course he didn’t though, that would have scared you away. He would have hated that.

He thanks god every day he was really your first kiss, even if you didn’t know it. 

Patiences was the hardest battle of all, and he will admit, he has faltered a few times over the years. Kisses stolen while you sleep, a few of your belongings robbed to keep him satiated. Mayhaps a few trips to your room in the night. 

But who could blame him? He was a man in love. There was nothing that could stop him when he was so hungry for you. 

Ah, and then of course his father. He wanted to separate your love as well. A maid could never possibly be suited to be queen, blah blah. He doesn’t care. And at least that fight allowed him to hug you for the first time. 

God. You felt so perfect in his arms, then and now. You have always been meant for this. Meant for him.

If his father plans to keep standing in the way, he will simply have to remove him from the equation. His bonds to the man are as thick as water. He cares more for you than he possibly could anyone else.

You’ve belonged to him since you were born, anyway. If a maid becomes pregnant while working for the castle, her child becomes property of the state. Of the crown. Of him. 

It only makes sense that you are meant to be with him until death. It is the path lined for you. Your fate since birth. 

He knows it as his delicate fingers trace over the small patches of blood dirtying the sheets. Evidence of the hours before, of your virginity robbed. Of your promises to him.

You are bound to him by blood after all.

© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Cave boy Danny. What if he offhandedly mentions his parents being THERE (as in not dead) and being Doctors (not the same kind of doctors Bruce's parents are) and things like that and doesn't realize that the batfam starts thinking that this? This is what's different with this Bruce. He didn't lose his parents and thus does not grow up wanting vengeance, and his parents are similar in personalities but in a different field!

Now Danny is still as casual young Bruce as ever but the others are just freeking out around him.

Things are strange for a while. Danny knows that his actions have caused the Waynes to be....wary around him. Even Jason- who honestly threw a whole ass parade for Gotham in celebration of Joker's death- seemed to be tense around him.

Danny can't really say he blames them. He still doesn't know why Phantom reacted the way it did- a bit alarming. His ghost side marked Joker as a threat from the moment it laid eyes on him- a threat that could not and would not be reasoned with.

His ghost -half attacked, knowing that Joker's existence threatened his core. A core that was created from the desire to keep his friends safe at the moment of his death. (He had known he would die the moment the portal's electricity hit him- and Danny had not been mournful of his end but rather horrified that Tucker or Sam could have followed him to the afterlife. His last thought as a human was Please let me live long enough to keep them safe.)

Never has that happened before- not even when faced with Vlad or Dan. It was strange to watch Phantom attack and not be in equal amounts of control within his body.

Phantom has always felt a part of him but also not. Danny had once tried to explain it to Jaz, only to end up frustrated when she tried to paint Phantom as a different personality that shared the mind-space with Danny.

Danny knows Phantom isn't like that.

He's not another person- Phantom is Danny in the same sense that Danny is alive but dead. For the same reason, Danny is the flipped color scheme of Phantom. They are one, just viewed differently.

Or maybe they saw the world differently?

It's hard to say and even harder to put into words.

The closest Danny could come to explain was an example Tucker gave him. Someone is the same but acts ultimately differently online, even when they aren't trying to catfish someone.

It's the fact they are behind a screen that gives them just the extra amount of courage. Tuck had said.

Ancients, he misses Tuck. His ship is not ready to venture into his Ghost Zone- hell, if Danny is honest, it's barely able to move. He is trying his best to get it working, but it's slow going. Too slow, even with Wayne's generosity.

"Master Brucie," Alfred started, pausing just within the doorframe of Danny's room until invited in. He does that now, keeping to his manners as though Danny was a guest of the Waynes. Not someone who he can be so familiar with.

It stings to know his killing had lost him the right to be treated as a stranger when Alfred had always treated him as young Bruce Wayne the moment he was found.

"Yes?" He asks, trying to smile. It falls flat, but it's worth the effort.

Alfred's face stays impassive, and Danny tries to tell himself that he doesn't care. He's not a young Bruce Wayne. He wants nothing to do with the Wyanes'.

"There are more gifts for you." The bulter says. "Shall I bring them to your room?"

Danny has received a lot of fan mail since his actions were leaked to the public. Everyone knew that Joker was taken out by Danny Kane. And there wasn't a single person in Gotham who hadn't been hurt or known someone injured by the madman.

He is being praised as a hero.

For murder.

Danny can't find it in himself to feel guilty about it. Joker needed to die. He had too many chances to change, and too many people got hurt.

"That's okay. I'll go downstairs and look through them. I feel like watching a movie anyway." He shrugs his shoulders while strolling to the door in his lazy stride.

Alfred steps out of his way, bowing ever so slightly. "Very good sir."

Sir.

That stings.

Danny doesn't bring it up or mention that Alfred keeps a safe space between them. Not enough that it would be rude, but definitely one of a servant following a master instead of a man who thought him the younger version of his son.

When they arrive at the room, he is surprised to find a white shipping cart filled to the brim with packages and letters waiting for him. Standing beside the cart, flipping through the envelopes, is Tim.

He has yet to see much of Tim. Not since Danny proved his doubts weren't as unfound as Danny actively tried to convince the other teen of.

No time like the present.

"Hey, Tim." He calls just to mentally get the other prepared for his approach. As expected, Tim whips around with a narrow eye-ed glare that does nothing to hide his distaste for Danny. Alfred follows them into the room but stays by the door at an appropriate distance. "Anything good?"

"Good, how?" Tim bites, and Danny fights to not roll his eyes.

"I don't know. Maybe a letter from my mom saying I'm a good boy or another football from dad-"

"I beg your pardon?" Alfred cuts him off- which, okay, that's never happened before. The butler has never overstepped his position- even when they thought him harmless little Brucie- to talk over him.

Danny turns to find the man pasty white, looking both cautiously overjoyed and wishful. "Did you make a joke about your parents, Master Brucie?"

"Ugh, Yeah? Why?"

"Young sir, are- are your parents alive?"

Danny is floored by the choked-up emotion in that one sentence that all he can do is nod. Tim drops the package he was checking over, his jaw slacked, and staring at Danny like having parents was the answer of the universe.

"Thomas and Martha Wayne are alive in your universe.." Tim all but breaths. "They are alive and have more than one kid."

"Why is that a big deal?" Danny asks, unable to himself. "What happened to Bruce's parents here?"

"Master Thomas was a doctor," Alfred says, ignoring Danny's question. But he now hears the answer in the past tense when referring to Bruce's parents. "Is he still in your world?"

"Yes, and so is my mom." PHD doctors, but they don't need to know that.

"That's why you like this." Tim slumps into the chair closest to him. Danny is mightily alarmed that he seems pale now. "That's why you don't know anything about Batman. He was never inspired. You....you really are a civilian."

Danny will deny that he fleed the room when Tim burst into tears till the day he died. He does not look back even when Alfred yells for his return. He has outstayed his welcome.

He slips into his room, grabs anything not nailed down with any form of technology, and then activates his intangibility. He sinks down down, and down, to the caves. He knows where the Bats work, knows where to go from his nights where he tried to work on ship.

He flies in that direction, knowing he will never see the Waynes again. Not after realizing how much pain his lies have unwillingly caused.

Master Post Link

[coco-loco-nut]

I Hate It Here

Pairing: Max x Sister Reader

Summary: Max takes a stand for his sister

TW: jos verstappen, mentioned abuse, depression, mentions of death, mentions of an affair

requests open masterlist ttpd masterlist

——————

With Max gone, you were the one subject to the wrath of Jos Verstappen, especially when you stopped karting after a couple years. So while your brother was off winning grand prix after grand prix, you were continually reminded that you aren’t good enough, that you were the dud of a child.

“Maxie, tell me a story,” you call your older brother in tears one night, you don’t blame him for the fact that you are a failure. You love your older brother more than anything.

With a heavy sigh, Max dives into a made up story, like he was a poet trapped inside the body of a race car driver, except he is an awful storyteller. He does but doesn’t want to know the BS your lame excuse for a father told you.

Max is your best, and only friend, your consolation prize for surviving this far. You stopped really leaving home years ago, only leaving to go to the grocery store. Even to your job, you were just another remote employee.

Max only ever wants the best for his sister, you haven’t seen Victoria since you were so young that you don’t really even know if she actually exists, so he is all you have. Victoria doesn’t really remember you either, seeing as how you were the child of an affair. Max always tries to bring you to races as a lucky charm, but your response is always the same ‘i don’t believe in good luck, maybe next time’. It’s like you are scared to leave home, safer in the comfort of the walls you’ve only ever known.

You pull out your headphones and listen to music, tuning out the world. You hate it here, you hate your father, but you only know of one way to escape. You close your eyes and go to the little paradise in your mind. You read about something similar when you were a kid from a book Max you. It sits on your nightstand, the spine worn and frayed from years of use.

That’s similar to how Max finds you when he arrives a couple weeks later. By now he is used to finding you in that state, you spend most of your free time in your own mind.

“Y/n? Where do you go? In your mind,” Max asks, laying beside you in your bed.

“A little garden, you need a key to get in though,” you say, a little dazed.

“And how would one get a key?” He asks further, trying to keep you engaged.

“There is only one, mine,” you reply, moving to grab your headphones again. Max quickly, but gently takes them.

“Charles was asking about you. He wanted to know how you were, since he hasn’t seen you since I joined F3,” Max continues, you just look at him, an oddity in your dark room.

“Charles?” You ask and Max nods.

“My friend, you thought he had a silly accent, and thought he was cute,” Max elaborates, searching your face to see a look of recognition. You just shrug.

“We used to play games, travel back in time to different decades. You loved the 1800s,” Max says, not ready to give up.

“I was a debutante,” you whisper causing Max to smile brightly. You just shake your head, you read once that nostalgia is a minds trick. “I bet I hated it, it is always freezing in the palace,” you say, unknowingly giving Max a glimpse into the secret escapes in your mind. In your fantasies you travel everywhere even to space. Secretly you love it, but you are more than content to stay at home, even if you hate it here.

“Come to the FIA Prize Giving with me, pretend it’s one of your fantasies,” Max says, you nod your head, already away in another world where only the gentle survive.

“Max? Am I going to die?” You ask out of the blue, well out of the blue for Max. He doesn’t know how to respond before you turn back into yourself. He stands up, watching you for a minute. You stayed out of your depression a minute longer than usual, a small win for him.

“Leave your poor sister alone,” Jos says, Max just glares at him. Jos is the man who made you like this and Max will never forgive himself for it.

“Y/n is coming with me to Monaco, for good. Since you don’t care about her, I will take care of her,” Max says, prepared to stand his ground.

“Whatever, if you want to tolerate her worthlessness, that’s up to you,” Jos waves his hand, one less failure in his home.

“Don’t call her that,” Max grits his teeth. He was going to wait a couple days, but perhaps it’s necessary to expedite it here.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s your problem now,” Jos walks away. Max returns to your bedroom, getting a suitcase from your closet. Only the essentials for now, the rest can be picked up tomorrow. He packs up as much as he can in an hour before somehow convincing you to go with him to his hotel. You just stare out the window of the car as he drives, clearly uncomfortable. Max gives you the bedroom and takes the pull out couch. He immediately dials Charles.

“Max? What happened?” Charles can hear the exhaustion in Max’s voice.

“I’m bringing Y/n back to Monaco with me, she’s basically being left to rot by Jos. She’s lonely and bitter, but swears she’s fine. Y/n gets lost in her mind on purpose, there’s this fantasy land that she saves the good parts -her romanticism- in her mind. I’m losing her,” Max chokes back a sob.

“Max, what do you mean, losing her?” Charles asks, more alert.

“She doesn’t eat, she’s depressed beyond imagination, doesn’t leave the house, spends the time she isn’t working remotely in her mind. This house, our father, makes her feel worthless. If I didn’t come tonight, she might’ve died. Charles, she asked me if she was going to die,” Max has your image ingrained in his memory, a little too thin and pale.

“I just texted Maman, she will come over and visit her for a little every day, make sure she eats,” Charles says, holding back his own tears. He remembers you fondly as the little girl with pig tails, always excited to spend time with her big brother.

You struggle with the move to Monaco, one you didn’t get a say in it, likely because you spend most of the year in your mind. You have come to grow more comfortable with the woman who visits you and uses food from your brother’s fridge to feed you.

“Y/n? Feel like talking today?” she gently asks, setting the food in front of you, like she does every day. You look up, and Pascale nearly cries, seeing you start to breaks through. Your blue eyes pierce hers.

“Tell me something awful, like you are a poet trapped in the body of a finance guy,”

[sagesskies]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʙᴜʟʟʏ

✒ ᴀ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ

☏ - ɪꜱ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɢᴜʏ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀ ʙᴜʟʟʏ??? ʟᴍᴀᴏ… ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴀɴ ᴀꜱꜱʜᴏʟᴇ……. ɪ'ʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴇɴꜱᴀᴛᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɢᴀʙᴇ ɢᴜʏꜱ ꜰʀꜰʀ

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ: ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ɴᴏɴᴄᴏɴ, ʜᴏᴍᴏᴘʜᴏʙɪᴀ, ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴄʏ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴇxᴘʟɪᴄɪᴛ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ꜱᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ (ʙʏ ᴀ ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ), ʙᴜʟʟʏɪɴɢ, ᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ꜱʟᴜʀꜱ, ʀᴀᴘʜᴀᴇʟ ᴄᴀᴍᴇᴏ, ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰʀᴇᴀᴅ, ꜰᴇᴇʟ ꜰʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱʟɪᴅᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀꜱᴋʙᴏx ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ɪꜰ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ

Yandere Best Friend who was the king of the school, ruling over his subjects with an iron fist. They kissed his feet, and in turn he'd shove them into lockers when he felt grouchy and have them fetch his cigarettes so the teachers wouldn't know they were his. 

Yandere Best Friend who was once your best friend. Your ride or die who would have your back even when he acted like a complete ass sometimes. Sure he was wicked and cruel, but never to you. 

Yandere Best Friend who always kept you close, closer than Harry, closer than Hannah. He would pick you up from your house, he would eat at your table and welcome you to eat at his own. You would spend nights in his room, never on his bed, of course. But he'd take the initiative and set out an inflatable mattress for you, which was more than he'd ever do for the other guys who he'd leave to sleep on the cold hard floor.

Yandere Best Friend who you absolutely despised. Seriously, just the sight of him was enough to ruin your day. This wasn't petty envy– okay, well maybe it was. Just a bit. You hated how your parents blindly adored and praised him (“Why can't you just be more like Richard?”), you hated how you were known first and foremost as his best friend, Richard's cheerful little lapdog. You hated how you spent so much of your life at his beck and call, because what else were you supposed to do? Ignore him? Fuck. Even as kids, that would be social suicide. 

Yandere Best Friend who liked you more than you thought you did. He was always weirdly drawn to you, in the same way a starving dog would be to a rare bone thrown it's way. Hungry, possessive, and greedy. You reasoned it as something like imprinting, you were his first real friend. Not a mindless follower in awe of his assertive charisma. But somebody who he initially perceived as an equal. You say initially, because at this point he sees you less as an equal and more of an extension of himself, like a nice watch he can't bear to take off. 

You only truly discovered how deep this went when he learned you and Harry were sleeping together. 

Really it was Harry's fault. 

You were supposed to go have dinner with Richard's family at their place, a monthly tradition both your parents established when you two were young and have since kept up without fail. But then he yelled for you outside your window, and, well… he was still wet from his shower and you could never resist him when he was wearing his letterman jacket. 

That was when it started, you think. The first little clue in Richard's very own Nancy Drew mystery that has led him to slamming your bedroom door open on a Friday night while your parents are out of town.

“Jesus, ever learned how to knock?” You place a hand to your chest and act shocked, like swinging the door open like a battering ram wasn't a regular occurence. 

Usually Richard would respond with teasing, jokingly apoligzing for startling your poor, weak heart or for attacking your sensitive ears with such a loud noise. You never liked it, but you heard it so much at this point that it stopped bothering you a long time ago. 

“What the fuck is up with you and Harry?” 

‘You and Harry’. Three words you used to be afraid hearing in one go. You still are. Whenever somebody would say, “I saw you and Harry,” you would force a smile on your face and respond with, “Really?” 

But this is a different question. “What is up with you and Harry?” 

Your mind can only come up with one answer as to why Richard asked this question and that alone is to send you into panic mode. 

But you simply raise your brow, “Uh, nothing? Is this about the brownies? Sorry if I gave him extra but you didn't finish your share so if it's anybody's fault it's yours–” 

“This isn't about your shit brownies [Name]—” 

You gasp, once again pressing a hand to your chest, making sure to exaggerate your expression, but not too much, just enough to look convincing, “How dare you! You said you loved them—”

“Well I lied, idiot,” Richard's gaze hardened, he crossed his arms as he stood over you while you sat cross legged on your bed, “And don't change the subject!”

You raise your hands in faux-surrender and try to look like your feelings have been hurt, “I wasn't! You shit talked my brownies– which I'm not gonna forgive by the way— and I just defended them like any normal person would.” 

“So yeah, Richard, we are staying on subject! The subject is simply about my amazing brownies and your crappy taste buds.” 

Richard’s nostrils flare in exasperation. He curses under his breath while he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a polaroid picture which he then shoves at your chest. You look at the picture, and you can't restrain yourself from releasing the ensuing gasp. 

It was you and Harry, in Harry's car at night parked near the lake on the outskirts of town, making out under the cover of darkness. 

“Woah, holy shit– Harry's gay?!” 

“You're making out with him in the picture–” 

“Nahhh, that's not me bro! I was out… fishing with my… great uncle.” 

“Your great uncle died two years ago.”

“Well, I have another great uncle, and he's in tip top shape. Asshole.” 

“You have the same baseball hat you're wearing in that picture.”

“...No I don't.” 

Richard stares at you, then silently points to an identical hat on your bedside table.

“That's not mine. I borrowed it from Steve.” 

“Fucker, I gave you that for your fifteenth birthday.” 

—

Richard always knew something wasn't right with you. 

Listen, he didn't believe in whatever bullshit Father Callahan spewed from his mouth. Gay guys were freaks of nature, sure, but they weren't sent by the devil. 

But you were an exception. Shit, with the way you made him feel maybe you were a little succubus made to take him off the righteous path or whatever. 

Ever since you guys were kids he's always felt this uncontrollable desire to have absolute and complete control over your entire being. Richard doesn't know to describe it as anything other than an almost instinctual impulse, the universe telling him that you were meant to be his when he was still too young to understand. 

Still. He thought that you would have standards. Richard could see the common sense in wanting to bone, whenever he got to get it on with Hannah he was in bliss even if she wasn't you, but for you to choose Harry. The spoiled little wuss Harold Kelly, instead of him? 

He treated you better than the rest, but he had limits. Limits you overstepped. It's only fair that you're going to get punished. 

“Ahaha… uh, are you sure that's me and Harry in that picture…?” 

Richard clicks his tongue. When would you understand that there was no use denying it? 

“That is literally Harry's exact plate number on that car.” 

Your shoulders slump, and Richard feels a mix of dread and satisfaction at the resigned expression on your face. Satisfaction because he won. Dread because his worst fears have been confirmed. 

“Who took the picture?” 

Richard snatches the photo away from you, “Made that little freak Greg Werner stalk you two,” He sneers and takes a step closer, “Bet he got a lot of fap material from that. Scrawny little guy like him, there's no question he's a fag. You would know, wouldn't you? You're just like him after all–” 

“Okay, fine! So what if I am?” You jab your index finger into his chest, his green eyes widening as they focus on it, “What I do in my private time is my business and none of yours. My life is barely even my own, and it's all. Because. Of. You! So don't you fucking dare take what little personal pleasure I have away from me.” 

With each word you speak, Richard's heart aches. It's a sharp, cold pain like a knife is being stabbed into his does. There's a silence when you finish, taut with your resentment and Richard's hesitant regret. He wants to say something, but what could he say? That it wasn't his fault? That he was sorry? That he didn't want you to leave him? He felt like he was watching a beautiful bird he had nursed back to health and kept safe from the dangers of the world start flapping its wings and fly, far, far away from him. 

“Get out, Richard,” You turn away from him, “If you want me to leave your group and fuck off then I'll do so gladly.” 

“No.” Richard grabs your arm. 

“Wha- what do you mean no? Richard let go of me.” 

Richard weighs what is important to him on a scale in his mind. You, or his status. 

You were his best friend. Even if you were starting to slip away, to college, to Harry, out of his sight and out of his life, you were the only person he wanted to keep in his life. The only friend he could see himself going out for drinks with when he was older. 

You were his first love. His only love. The first subject of his shameful adolescent dreams that left him awake at night, sweaty and spent on his bed. Once he had contemplated running away with you, changing names, and living a life free from the close minded small town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere the two of you grew up in. 

But he had a reputation to maintain. A father who he had to satisfy with the standard accomplishments a father would expect of his son. He had a girlfriend whose father was the town's mayor. A town whose watchful eyes praised him as a good, upstanding young man who was destined for greatness. A star athlete who was going to play in the big leagues and finally place the town on the map. 

In the grand scheme of things, you were just another teenager in his shadow. 

You were destined to be remembered in history as merely another name in his autobiography. Richard Shepherd's childhood best friend. 

However Richard's stomach curled at the thought of that. You and him, separated. No longer within the same circle, but in different worlds entirely. 

The scales tip in your favour.

—

What happens next is a blur. You're shoved into the mattress of your bed and pinned down. You try to escape and Richard cows you into submission with a punch to the gut that nearly has you hurling from the force.

Your clothes are ripped from your skin, your protests go unheard, your body is a tool. Richard too has stripped himself, he spreads your legs. He grabs you by the chin when you close you try to look away, “Unless you want this to hurt more you're going to look at me when I do this.” 

So you look, and you cry, and you weep as you feel his cock invade you. It's not a dry insertion, but God it still hurts. Richard gasps when he sheathes himself fully inside, his eyes are blown wide and his mouth hangs open like he's seeing stars. His fingers dig into your waist, and he bites his lip, his face tells it all and even in this position you can't help but smirk. Feels better than Hannah's, doesn't it Richard? 

That's the last thought you remember having before Richard goes wild. 

You do it on your bed, against your desk, pressed against the cool surface of your window. Richard cums multiple times inside you, he even cries at one point, screaming words you can barely remember in your fucked out state as tears streamed down his cheeks. 

Richard makes you scream his name as he moans out yours. He asks if Harry kissed you before and when you're too tired to respond he slams his lips into yours and practically eats away at your mouth. 

Eventually he finishes, pulling out of your worn out hole, with a wet plap. Your body shudders as you release a long, shaky breath. 

“You’ve ruined me,” Richard pants, his blonde hair is sticking up, he’s covered in a light sheen of sweat, and his green eyes are blown wide open as he tries to compose himself, “I… I can’t- Hannah could never…” 

He stares at you as you lie below him, equally sweaty, your neck and shoulders are littered with hickeys and bite marks, and you’re on the verge of passing out. The rims of your eyes are red, and your face is moist with tears. Your lip is swollen from Richard’s teeth digging into them, nearly tearing them off in his fervour. 

You look like you’re about to die. 

He looks more alive than he ever has before. 

Richard looks like he wants to do it again. 

Yet his eyes are filled with fear, and you want to laugh, but your throat is crying out in pain.

“You’ve ruined me.”

Yandere Best friend Bully who keeps you on a shorter leash now. He doesn't do anything in public. Okay, that's a lie. But he makes sure he doesn't get caught. And despite being the classic stereotype of a small town jock, complete with his hot cheerleader girlfriend and powerful inner circle, he's not an idiot. He doesn't do anything to out you, or even leave any hints to your sexuality. He doesn't even tell Harry he knows. No, this is his little secret. Your little secret. Just like the old days when the two of you had a secret fort deep in the woods behind his father's farm. 

Yandere Bully who knows he can't keep you around his group, even to be the new punching bag. The guys would be too grossed and the girls.. well he didn't really care what they thought actually. Same went for the guys, to be honest. What mattered was the words they would say that would be whispered and spread like wildfire around the school. 

Richard likes keeping the school homo around

Really? 

Really! 

You think he fucks the fag? 

Why else? I don't see any bruises on the fucker’s face 

Yandere Bully who can't bring himself to hurt you. Is he disappointed? Yes. Is he furious? Yes. Does he want to beat somebody’s head in till the anger goes away? Oh, no doubt. But if he were to ever hit your handsome face then he'd hit himself over the head with a brick a hundred times over. 

Yandere Bully who resorts to being rough. He uses you like you're a lowly hooker, here to give him happiness and send him flying high to heaven with pleasure. He pins your wrists above your head. He smacks your ass. Digs his nails into your solid muscle till you bleed. He litters your skin with harsh, red bitemarks. 

You would cover it all up the next day by saying you spent the night with a girl. You never say, you never do, so nobody questions who. He used to be jealous, resentful of whatever bitch was able to lay her needy hands on you, but now he only smirks at the sight of the miserable pout on Harry's face. 

Yandere Bully who doesn't spare Harry either. Bumping into him in the hallways. Stomping on his foot during football practice. Flirting with his girlfriend by the lockers, a smirk on his face while his eyes are on Harry, quietly fuming while his girlfriend giggles and twirls her hair bashfully. His humiliation of Harry is what makes the other guys join in. They jeer at him, mock him by asking if he liked getting cucked, and start slowly respecting him less. That is, till you step in of course.

Yandere Bully who ignores the bitter complaints of the other guys, angered by the humiliation they suffer at your hands, and watches as resentment stews inside him as you scold Harry, hands brushing a stray chestnut lock away from his eyes while he smiles sheepishly, his ears burning red after being graced with your touch after so long of being deprived of it. The two of you looked natural, you looked happy, really happy. Real happy, with a real smile to boot.

Yandere Bully who sometimes wonders, during nights when he has you in his arms, your back facing him as you avoid his intense gaze by placing yourself in front of the wall, what exactly your feelings for Harry entail. Did you just want to fuck or did you like Harry the same way Hannah liked Richard? 

Yandere Bully who sometimes wonders what he feels for you. He likes you, more than Harry, and certainly more than Hannah. But sometimes he wonders what's the difference between liking somebody and desiring them. 

One day he looks at you the morning after a raunchy night in your bed and the sun pours in from your window, your brows furrow and a frown forms on your face. You bury your head in your pillow, and Richard decides that whatever he felt for you was completely beyond his comprehension. 

Yandere Bully who should have known that Harry would start poking his nose eventually. He couldn't understand what you wanted from Harry, but he knew that he and Harry wanted the same thing from you: You in your unsullied entirety. 

Yandere Bully who one day finds you alone in a room with Harry. He looks through a small gap in the doorway, and Harry is on his knees, drying your leg with a towel. The group was staying at Harry’s lakeside cabin during the summer, and you had all come back from swimming in the lake. Harry looks up at you from beneath his eyelashes, a seemingly innocent smile on his face while you narrow your eyes at him, a smirk curling at your lips. 

Richard does a sharp intake of breath at your laugh, floating through the air like a gentle, silvery breeze. Your head rests on your hand while the other plays with Harry's damp hair, “Jesus christ, it was freezing though,” You shudder at the memory of it, “I felt like I was gonna turn into a popsicle.” 

Harry giggles, fucker actually giggled, “Bet you'd be a hot popsicle though.” 

“What the hell— A hot popsicle? You mean sexy?” At Harry's shy nod, you throw your head back and laugh, “So what, you're gonna drag your tongue over me and lick every inch of my body?” 

Harry's ears start to burn red, “Well… I wouldn't… I wouldn't mind doing it even if… you aren't a popsicle…” 

Before you can even respond, Richard swings the door wide open and the two of you snap to attention, Harry jolts and quickly scrambles to his feet and you practically leap off of the bed.

“Richard! Buddy! Pal! Amigo!” Harry exclaims, “What're you doing there at the door? Come in, come in! We were just talking about… uh—” 

“The temperature,” You supply seamlessly with a firm nod, “I think my balls froze off in the lake man, they're numb as hell.” 

Harry gapes at you for a moment before shaking his head with fervour and then nodding with the same amount of intensity, “Yep! How about we go on a walk after lunch? Absorb some good ol’ vitamin D, whaddya say Richard?” 

Richard narrows his gaze at the two of you, his eyes flickering to Harry who beams like an idiot dog, then to you who sports a similar ‘ignorant’ smile. 

“Bring it up with the others,” Richard mutters in gruff tone, “[Name] go tell them to start making lunch, Harry stay behind would you? I have to talk to you about something.”

“About what?”

“Football.” 

“Ah, okie doke!” Harry smiles, not a single thought behind his blue eyes, “Seeya later [Name]!” 

You hesitate for a moment, chewing your lip in thought, but a sharp glare from Richard is enough to have you roll your eyes and head out, “Don't take too long unless you wanna be eating our leftovers.” 

“So is it about the upcoming game? The Bears have got nothing on us man, don't you sweat–” 

“Harry, you buffoon, that was obviously just a guise,” Richard closes the door shut, “I want you to stay away from [Name].” 

“Huh? Why?” Harry cocks his head to the side, “Is something wrong? Did [Name] do something?”

“It doesn't matter,” Richard waves his hand like he's swatting flies away, “I don't want you anywhere near him. Not even within an inch.”

“You can't just do that Richard,” Harry protests, but Richard is already turning away from him. 

“I can,” Richard narrows his eyes at him, green against blue, “And I will.” 

Before his fingers can even brush the metal of the doorknob, Harry grabs Richard's shoulder and spins him around, “No, Richard, you can't.”

There's an unusually serious expression on Harry's face that Richard never thought he'd see till Harry would reach his thirties, that is, if they were to even remain in touch. 

Harry was a coward, plain and simple. He cried like a bitch when he watched scary movies, he was deathly afraid of the dark, once on a previous trip to the Cabin there was a spider in the bedroom and he simply stood on the couch pointing and screaming at the insect as his own girlfriend was the one who took it outside using a glass cup and a piece of paper. 

When they first met, it took only three minutes for Richard to cement himself in Harry's mind as a person to listen to, to respect, and obey. And it was something that wouldn't change, till just now that is. 

“I know you've been doing something to [Name],” Harry stares him down, for the first time in his life it truly registers in Richard just how tall Harry is as he stands nearly half a head above him, “And whatever it is, I want you to stop.”

Richard sneers, “Look at you. Harold Kelly. The town pushover finally grew some balls, huh?” He shoves Harry away, “But if you think I'm going to listen to you just because of that then you really are as big of an idiot as everybody says you are.” 

Harry shakes his head, “You're hurting him, you know?” He meets Richard's piercing gaze without flinching, “You keep pushing him like this and he's going to snap eventually.” 

“Why do you care? What is he, your little girlfriend? That why you didn't bother stepping up when your girlfriend had her mitts all over me?” 

“He's my friend Richard, and friends care for each other,” Harry frowns, a disappointed look in his eyes that makes Richard want to sock him across the face (Who is he to look at him like that?), “You'd know that if you weren't so selfish.” 

“What are you trying to say to me Harry?” Richard takes another step forward, smirking when Harry instinctively backs away, “If you're saying I don't care about [Name] then you're dead wrong, because nobody will ever care for him in his life as I will, not even you Harry. You wanna know why? Because you don't understand him, nobody does. Nobody except me, and that's why even if you two are flirting and going at each other like the little fairies you two are, the only person who will stay in his life forever is me.”

“You know?” Harry's voice is quiet, whatever bravery he mustered up is gone and he's back to the wuss Richard pushes around in his free time. 

“Of course I do, nobody knows him better than I do after all, this is no exception.” 

Harry's mouth hangs open slightly, and Richard snickers at the expression, smirking at his undeniable triumph over the other, “I won't say it again Harry, leave [Name] alone. If you don't, I'll tell the school you've been raping him.” 

The threat makes Harry flinch, “No… you wouldn't.” 

“You know better than to think that Harry.” 

“E-even if you did, nobody would believe you!” 

“Harry people have seen [Name] with your hickeys and bite marks, it wouldn't be so hard to convince them you're gay and Lucy is just your beard. Besides,” Richard drawls in a sing-song tone, “I have pictures~” 

Harry's visage is consumed by an expression of defeat and hopelessness, “This is wrong Richard, you're ruining his life.” 

“Please, if anything the only reason he has this life is because of me,” Richard scoffs, ignoring the twinge in his chest at Harry's words, “Now, if you'll excuse me.” 

Without waiting for a response, Richard enters the dining room, and takes a seat beside Hannah and across you. 

“What took you so long?” Hannah looks up from her plate, a bored look in her eyes. 

Richard peck's her on the forehead, lips stiff, “Harry and I were talking about football.” 

“Geez,” Hannah rolls her eyes, “All boys talk about is sports and cars, tsk.” 

“Don't forget the girls,” Peter jokes. 

Hannah wrinkles her nose, “Eugh.” 

You send him a narrowed glance, a silent question hung in the air between the two of you. What happened? 

Richard merely smirks, it widens at Harry's arrival. You look at Harry hopefully, only to visibly deflate when he sits beside Lucy at the other end of the table. 

You turn to Richard again, eyes hardened, “What did you say?” You mouth. 

Richard shrugs. You curse under your breath. 

Yandere Bully who you can't stand anymore. At this point, could your life really be called your own? Richard always had his eye on you, day and night. He would spend his entire day with you. Even staying behind after practice to shower with you. He would eat at your table during dinner and stay over the night, you would be caged in your own bed, struggling to sleep while his hot breath fanned against your neck. 

Fuck. Even Tommy would send you pitying glances when you would visit his house. Tommy! The kid you would pin down while Richard tore up his drawings in front of him. 

The last straw is Harry. Lovable, cowardly, foolish Harry. Harry who avoids your gaze and practically flees when you enter his vicinity. Harry who tells you that he can’t see you anymore. That he shouldn't. That what the two of you are doing is wrong, it always has been. 

You can't take this anymore. You have to get away. From the school. From the town. From Richard fucking Shepherd. You could tolerate it, barely but you could tolerate it. But then Harry broke your heart and suddenly you don't have a reason to tolerate what Richard is doing to you anymore. 

Yandere Bully who expects to be offered full-ride scholarships to ivy-league colleges, but when scouts arrive they ignore him in favour of team players like Harry. You know this because the same night after Harry proudly announces he got a scholarship to the University of Michigan, he fucks you in the backseat of his car without a single shred of mercy, cursing under his breath the entire time. Talk about envy. 

Yandere Bully whose expression can only be described as devastated when you break the news over dinner that a college in the city has accepted you, over his parents congratulating you and your parents tearful smiles, he looks like he's about to cry and scream at you all at once.

Yandere Bully who that night, in the barn on top the stacks of hay, when he thinks you've passed out he hugs you, actually hugs you, as sobs rack through his frame. He begs you not to leave him, and you feel almost guilty for not opening your eyes and assuring him that you won't. But you don't, because even you're not so cruel as to give him such an empty promise. 

Yandere Bully who never sees you again after graduation. He tries to get you to stay, he even threatens releasing the pictures, but your only response is a shrug. 

“Will you miss me?” 

You scoff, “Will I miss you? Richard, there's nothing to miss. If anything, I should be asking you that question.” 

“What's that supposed to mean?” 

“I think you know exactly what it means.” 

“Enlighten me then.”

“You love me.” 

“You're delusional.”

“Wow, look at the pot calling the kettle black,” You chuckle. 

“I'm not gay [Name].” 

“Then why were you so mad about Harry then?’ 

“Because he was a fag.” 

"Well, I'm a fag too, but you certainly treat me better than you ever treated Harry.” 

“That's because you're different.” 

“I'm special.” 

“Whatever you wanna call it.” 

“I'm special… because you love me.” 

“I don't love you.” 

“But will you miss me?” 

“You're going to come back.” 

“And how are you so sure?” 

“Because I said so.” 

You smile, “Don't count on it, Richard.”

Yandere Bully who breaks up with Hannah eventually, after she catches him cheating on her with a relative of yours who was staying in town. What can he say? She had your eyes. 

Yandere Bully who only has the old baseball hat he gave you for your birthday to remember you by. It's either you forgot to pack it or you left it behind on purpose. Even if it hurts, he prefers the latter. At least it meant he mattered to you in some way, even if it's in a negative light. He always wears the hat, even if Raph teases him for it, all he has to do is knock the little shit in the head and he shuts his mouth about Richard's fashion choices.

Yandere Bully who writes letters he never sends, words written in a rough scrawl confessing truths he was too afraid to admit, that he's still afraid to admit to this day. 

[Name]

Sunflower gave birth today, a colt with a coat the colour of chocolate. We named it London. I think dad has been thinking of going there, but I don't think he ever will. 

Have you gone to London? I hope you haven't. We wanted to go there together, didn't we? You wanted to meet Harry Potter and I wanted to… well I didn't want to do anything there. I think I didn't mind where I was, I just wanted to be with you. 

I wish you came back. I wish you never left. I wish you stayed with me in this shitty town and worked with me in my family's shitty farm. I know it's cruel, and I know you don't deserve it, but neither do I okay? I deserved a life with you and it's unfair that you got to leave and I'm still trapped here

Sunflower misses you, I think she got more sad when you left and hasn't changed since. She keeps whinnying like she's calling out for you and it bothers all the other horses because they can't sleep, and when they can't sleep then I can't sleep, and you know I fucking hate it when I can't sleep so could you just come back and spare me further trouble? 

I got rid of the pictures. You don't have to worry about anything. I just need you back here. So I can sleep. 

Richard 

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ.

[c-nstantine]

sense of normalcy

description: Jason & Black!Batmom in four stages of his life

word count: 1.2k

warnings: angst, death, mommy issues, grieving, talks about Jason's death a lot

Jason: Age 12

Bruce had warned Alfred that there would be a guest joining him and of course, Alfred told Y/N. She was more than excited to have someone visiting the manor. It had been lonely since Dick struck out on his own. He visited but it wasn't the same as having a kid running around the manor. 

"Who might you be?" Y/N said approaching the boy who Bruce helped out of the Batmobile. He was rather lean for his height but his eyes looked like they sparkled as if the world never did him wrong. Y/N felt a pang in her heart and she looked towards Bruce who avoided her gaze.

"Jason Todd. You're on TV." He recognized the woman from the TVs that were on display in the stores that he passed as he walked down the street. Alfred had rushed back upstairs to fix the young boy something to eat.

"Sometimes, how would you like to stay with Bruce and me?" She had already decided that he would stay. She couldn't let the boy go back to whatever back alley Bruce found him on. 

"I'd love to," The boy's eyes twinkled once more as he smiled at Y/N.

Jason: Age 16

Jason was a good kid. He promised Y/N that he would be a good kid. He got good grades, and he excelled at English. Entering his teenage years, he only grew closer and more protective of Y/N but Y/N still saw him as the lean little boy who tried to steal the hubcaps off of the Batmobile. 

"Why is my son here?" Y/N asked, not even bothering to sit in the principal's chair. Her son had not a scratch on his face but he did have a bruised knuckle that definitely wasn't from patrol.

"He got into a fight, Mrs. Wayne," The principal of Gotham Academy said a bit smugly. Jason hated it here. He loved the teachers and learning but the kids were assholes. Not all of them, but the ones who thought he didn't belong because he wasn't born to the money. Kids could be cruel.

"Jason?" Y/N tilted her head towards her son, softening her gaze.

"He was making fun of me for being adopted and my accent," Jason spoke differently than the preppy kids of Gotham Academy but Y/N always encouraged him to speak how he wanted. His words were a part of him and he shouldn't have to change it for anyone.

"So my son was being bullied and he defended himself. Does that sound good to you, Principal Paulette?" Y/N gave the fakest smile known to the man while brushing faux loc behind her ear. 

"It sounds perfect, Mrs. Wayne," Principal Paulette simply groaned. 

"C'mon, Jason. We're getting ice cream." She smiled and waved for her son to follow her out of the office.

-

"Bruce is gonna be upset you're rewarding me," Jason said mixing his bowl of scooped chocolate chip ice cream together until it became the consistency of soft serve. He couldn't meet her eye yet. He felt like he had disappointed her and that maybe she regretted keeping him. What he didn't know is that he could never do anything that would make her not love him.

"You know I'll always love you, right? No matter what those kids say," Y/N said reaching over the table to ruffle his hair. He styled every morning with an absurd amount of gel but it didn't look like him.

"I know, ma, I know," He heard the words and wanted to believe them but he already decided that he'd leave and find his real mother. In his mind, she wouldn't miss him anyway, right?

"Good 'cause you my baby boy," She said with a bright smile.

-

He was in pain and cold. His mind was drifting in and out of consciousness. The faint beeping of the bombs was heard in the background and tears fell from his eyes as he realized this was his end. This was it. He was gonna meet the great big man in the sky and he didn't get to say goodbye to Y/N. He could die with disappointing Bruce but Y/N. Y/N had never seen him as more than a boy because that's what he was. He was just a child who didn't get to say goodbye to his mom. 

Jason: Deceased

Y/N was pacing a hole in the carpet. She stood in the study of Wayne Manor waiting here something, anything, back from Bruce. He hadn't contacted her since he left to find Jason and that was days ago.

"You said he'd come back," She said as Bruce walked through the grandfather clock entrance of the study. She noticed there was no Jason, she could hear his laughter like he normally did when he returned from a night out.

"Y/N," Bruce could see his wife about cry right in front of them. She tried to blink away tears so that they wouldn't fall down her brown cheeks. He could tell she hadn't been sleeping with Jason missing.

"You went to go get him. Where is he?" Y/N asked again with a bit more authority. 

"Honey, sit down. Alfred, bring her some tea," Bruce was trying to put the words together but Y/N simply fell apart on the couch. 

"No, don't tell me that, "She knew exactly what that meant, "He was just a baby," She whispered as Bruce held her in his arms. 

Jason: Age 22

"Ma?" Jason called for her as she was putting Martha and Alfred down for a nap. Y/N walked out of the nursery and closed the door behind her. His mom had aged a little since she took him home but not too much. Sure she had grey hairs mixed into her silk press but she was still the exact same woman who loved him at first sight.

"Yeah, Jason," She looked up at her son with a bright smile. Jason now towered her but he'd always be her baby boy. 

"I'm sorry," Jason said quickly. He had been holding it in since he died. He never told anyone but in the last moments before his death, he regretted not telling Y/N he loved her more and how much he'd miss her.

"What are you sorry for?" Y/N asked tilting her head slightly. 

"I'm sorry for leaving that night. I'm sorry for hurting you. I never wanted to hurt you," Jason's voice cracked as he moved to hug his mom. He didn't know how much pain one decision could cause.

"Oh, baby," She said rubbing his back. She felt tears coming to her eyes as she felt his on her cheek. 

"I'm sorry, ma, I'm so sorry," He muttered over and over again. His face had flushed red against her brown skin. Bruce had seen the moment but decided it was best for him not to interfere but he was happy to see Jason working through his emotions.

"You're here now and that's all I've ever wanted, okay? How about some ice cream?" Y/N said pulling away gently. Ice cream was one of her biggest pregnancy cravings so now they have a lifetime of Bluebell in their deep freezer.

"Yeah, ma," Jason spoke with a small smile. He was finally back to a sense of normalcy. 

[slackerlifewhere]

Involving kids in battles

There are a lot of opinions about Cale Henituse, formerly known as Kim Rok Soo. Some readers love him and some readers don't. Some find him funny and some think he's annoying. Some see his selflessness and some judge him as selfish.

He's a very complex character that is just tired of the bullshit the gods did to a lot of people including himself.

But the one thing that some readers do not like about him is how he includes kids in wars and battles against multiple powerful threats.

I've made a post about female characters that slightly mentions this. It can be found during On's part in the post if you're curious.

So here's the thing about the kids in TCF, or rather, the kids in Cale's group. They're strong in different ways.

And most of them, excluding Lily and Basen, are not humans.

To understand why I think their presence in battles are okay, let me first bring up Kim Rok Soo's past to understand the way he thinks.

As we all know, at least the ones who finished the first book, Kim Rok Soo did not have the best life. His parents died from a car accident when he was young and he was left to his abusive uncle. He was mostly alone with no connections to other people (for reasons you need to read about if you haven't yet) until the apocalypse (when he was a young part-timer) happened where he had to survive by himself until he became a member of a team with different abilities. He was a member who had to fight and watch people die when he was young until he's 36 years old.

He doesn't have a normal life and childhood.

'Kim Rok Soo had once had to starve in the past. He did not enjoy seeing children looking so skinny. Although Lock had always looked feeble and his tall height made him skinny from the start, he seemed even thinner now.' - Chapter 234: Something Obvious (3)

So if a person who grew up under these circumstances is suddenly thrusted into another world where anyone can die easily, what would he do?

Basen and Lily

His first reaction to the idea of Basen being sent to the plaza where Cale knows a tragedy might happen, is to agree with Deruth's idea of replacing Basen, knowing full well that his younger brother will not come back completely fine, especially since he's a normal kid. He chose to sacrifice his safety for a brother he barely knows since he recently just got transmigrated in this strange world. Basen is more fit to help in their territory than to fight in battles. And he does not see this as a weakness.

When Lily asks for a sword instead of a normal toy a child of her age would normally want, he easily agrees. This is a kid who wants to learn how to fight. He knows that there will be war coming to Roan Kingdom and their territory will be the first to face this danger. So the idea of her learning how to fight, with the mindset of someone who survived in an apocalypse, made him agree without complaints.

Raon Miru

Fast forward and he gained the trust of three children who are harmed by a tribe and a cruel noble. He pities them but also understands their pain at the same time, especially after everything he went through. He knows coddling them would not make things better since they already know how harsh the world is.

Raon is a baby dragon but he's stronger than all of the people in his group, except Eruhaben. He's a kid who easily talks about destroying the world if Cale doesn't wake up after fainting. He's a kid who wants revenge against Venion and he never let go of that anger even when he was freed by Cale and his group. He knows he's stronger than Cale and does not want to leave this "weak" human despite the strong enemies they face.

But Cale, even with this thought of "putting him to use" at first, told him to hide himself in all battles and when around strangers.

Even though he knows Raon can fight, it's obvious the little dragon will face potential problems if everyone knows there's a dragon in the group. Arm would do everything to get Raon and bring him to DHB, the nobles would probably become greedy, a lot of people will rely on him for things he shouldn't even need to do, and Raon will never be truly free from all the expectations placed on him.

He could leave Raon with Elves and Eruhaben but considering what Arm did to the elves, Eruhaben's lair, and Olienne, there are no safe places to leave him.

Cale gave him the freedom of choice. He can live freely as a dragon without trusting a human. He was fully confident that Raon will not follow him. But he did. So Raon is his responsibility now.

I made a post about liking both Cale and Reigen Arataka and I can honestly see their similarities in this part. They know the kid with them is stronger than them but they also know that fully placing all the responsibilities and expectations on this kid will ruin them.

He, like Reigen, tells his kids that it's okay to run when facing a strong opponent. That it's okay to rely and let the adults handle the hard part of the battle. He respects and relies on them when necessary and pulls them back when they face real danger.

When the White Star first appeared, Cale's first instinct was to hide Raon in his arms and to defend themselves from the man. He was also prepared to fight until Eruhaben appeared. No matter how much Raon wanted to fight, Cale kept hiding him and was genuinely scared for the dragon.

So yes, he cares for the kids in his own way but doesn't treat them in a patronizing manner.

On and Hong

Like I've mentioned in my other post, On and Hong also did not have a great childhood. They were chased from their tribe who wanted to kill them because they're "useless" and mutants.

They did not trust anyone until they met Cale who says one thing and does the opposite. They placed their trust on Cale who may appear indifferent and cold but seems to care for them by giving them bread, medicine, and meat without having expectations from them.

Some readers might find it distasteful but it's obvious that they want to be useful, no matter how small their contribution is to the fight. I think the term "useful" makes it cruel but for them, it's something to be proud of. When he first uses this term, it's when they were saving Raon. But his next instinct was to check if they're okay after infiltrating the cave.

Is it bad to let these kids fight after they escaped death? Yes and no.

They should be safe, away from harm or danger. That's normal to think about children and I agree they need safety like normal children. But once again, these kids aren't human and they are in a different world from us. They grew up in a tribe that expects them to be strong so in every opportunity, they look for ways to be strong.

That's not exactly a normal kid's way of thinking.

And again, Cale's initial indifference to everything around him is the extension of what his former life did to his psyche. He's not a normal person either. None of these characters are normal. Oddly enough, the most normal are Litana and Valentino.

And in all honesty, knowing how he thinks and respects someone's needs and wants, if they want to stay away from danger or stop fighting, there is no doubt he would accept their wishes and let them hide somewhere far away from Arm. But like Raon, they want to fight back against the tribe who wants them dead. In a sense, they also want revenge and to prove everyone that they've become strong.

Lock and the Wolf children

Lock is still a young boy, no matter how much he shoulders after the death of his tribe. I still see him as a kid like Basen.

When Lock was having troubles during the war, Cale did not scold him. Instead, he encouraged him to eat since he noticed how Lock hasn't been eating since he first learned he can't use his berserk form. He told him that he did not need to fight. His only role was to stand and protect Raon. Simple but it made Lock feel relieved and happy that Cale didn't get angry at him for being weak.

I see it as Cale just wanting him to step back and get stronger, to rely on the rest of the adults and to not worry about regressing. I can only imagine what Kim Rok Soo went through to be so wise about this kind of situation.

This part is one of the most memorable to me because of what happens at the end of the battle,

'I am the adult.

I am the guardian of these two children.

I need to take full responsibility since I chose to take them in.

I need the Super Rock's power.'

Cale, despite all his inner complaints and initial reluctance about how he's suddenly involved in a group of children's safety and protection, finally admitted how important it is that he takes full responsibility of those he took in. And the way he does it is by "sacrificing" himself.

When Lock finally overcome his fear and was about to protect Cale, Cale got annoyed and said,

"Children grow up so fast" with a pat on Lock's head.

He sounded like a father or an uncle who was proud of Lock for overcoming his obstacles. This one scene among multitudes of others made me recognize how much he cares for these children. It's happening mid-battle but it doesn't detracts the emotional value but only increases it. It was another reason why I find Cale Henituse so interesting and mesmerizing.

Conclusion

Cale Henituse, for all his self-hatred and low self-esteem, does not bring down a child or person's confidence. He gives them the choice to become strong and protects them when they're weak.

He does not force them to do anything they can't or don't want to do. He knows what he went through as Kim Rok Soo is bad and he doesn't want them to go through the same thing.

Reading between the lines made me see that there's something deeper than what Cale shows.

___

I'm not gonna lie, I sound like Clopeh at some parts whenever I write like this. I felt the same when I was writing about the female characters lmao

I'm sorry if this is so long 😅 I became too passionate about this topic. I understand the people who are worried about the kids but this is still my opinion about it.

[concretecultist]

Sacrilege

summary: being the daughter of a Pastor meant your life was the Bible through and through. Noah being the son of the choir director meant that even though he rejected the faith, he still showed up. You’ve known Noah all your life and always tried to get him right with Christ so he wasn’t predisposed to an afterlife of eternal damnation. What you didn’t expect though, was for him to begin chipping away at the walls of the only thing you’ve ever known. Faith.

pairing: PastorsDaughter!Reader x Noah Sebastian

warnings: sacrilege, smut, religious themes, corruption kink, unprotected sex, mentions of cult-like behaviors, "kool-aid" incident mentioned, just please beware reading this if this is not your vibe!!

word count: 4.6k

A/N: this is an 18+ blog so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! This is ALL FICTIONAL!!

You and Noah had known each other since you two could talk. He was always the rebellious one, you were the rule follower, you had to be. Your father was the Pastor of the Concrete Commune of Christ.

Coining its name based off of how "solid" the community’s connection to God was.

But even concrete can crumble.

“Have you changed your ways yet?,” You question him, “I grew up with you, Noah, I really don’t want you to go to hell,”

“Oh, Dove you’re gonna go to hell too,” he smirks, all of this was a joke to him. He has made it clear to everyone in the commune, from a young age, how he feels about religion but they let him stay in hopes that the 28 year old will one day accept Jesus as his Lord and Savior.

“No I’m not,” you shriek, “I’m a follower of God, I live by the book,”

“You live by the book huh?,” he plucks the collar of your shirt, “Deuteronomy 22:11, ‘ye shall not wear cloth combining linen and wool’… your little sweater with the mock collar is a sin,”

“Leviticus 19:28,” you eye his tattoos, any time you two were near each other, it was a banter like this. Noah found it amusing but you were serious. You cared about everyone in the commune, you wanted them to make it to Heaven.

“I’ve made my peace with knowing I won’t make it to those pearly gates,” he gets closer, “If I did it’d probably be to spit in your God’s face and dethrone him,”

“Noah, that’s blasphemous!,” you gasp, “W-what… what is wrong with you?,”

“Your God makes no mistakes right? So he made me this way”

“Satan really has his claws in you,” you give a shaky breath.

“He’s a cool guy,” shrugging as if it were a normal statement, “He’s not as uptight with the rules to brainwash you all like cattle,”

“It’s not brainwash! This is the way. The word of God is the true light,”

“Why do you think he’s called the Shepherd, Dove? Because you’re all sheep. None of you think for yourselves. It won’t be long before your father is feeding you all kool aid and you all commit mass suicide,”

“You’re real nasty you know that?,” How dare you he question your faith. Your faith is all you’ve ever known and as far as you are aware, it's the reason you wake up every day.

“Oh baby you haven’t seen nasty. I can show you though,”

“I cannot commit sin as freely as you,” the disgust written all over your face, “I cannot commit sin with a clear conscience,”

“So repent,” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, “What did your Lord and Savior die for if you don’t sin? You really want him to have died for nothing? Up on that cross with nothing but a sponge of vinegar in his mouth. You really want to be that ungrateful and not appreciate his sacrifice?,”

He gets closer to where he’s whispering in your ear. He’s so haunting, so… unholy, you question how he doesn’t burst into flames when he walks through the doors of the sanctuary.

“I can show you a real baptism. I bet you’d look pretty in all white… wet… as you cleanse your soul of the dirty acts you’ve committed”

“W-we… we should really focus on getting the lesson together, Noah,” you scoot your chair away from him and turn back to your bible, “I think the book of Psalms will be a great place to start. We can teach the others about the protection the Lord gives as long as you believe and do right unto others,”

Noah played your little game. Giving you pointers for the lesson. For someone who rejected faith the way he did, he knew the Bible pretty well, better than you actually, and almost no one in the congregation knows the Bible better than you.

That’s what started your time spent together. Your father was wary of Noah, considering his tattoos and his music taste outside of the church but when he saw the way Noah studied the Bible with you, he figured you were a good influence, he figured that you were following in his footsteps and spreading the gospel.

Except that wasn’t the case.

Noah was planting seeds in the garden that was your mind. He sat beside you every Wednesday night and Sunday morning whispering in your ear. Deconstructing everything your father was speaking at the altar.

He was able to plant seeds of doubt so easily and that shook you. How solid was your faith if you could question it in just a few weeks? Maybe the Devil is trying to get you on his side, but you must stand firm. So you pray more, you sit at the altar more, you sing hymns so that the voice of doubt could be drowned out.

But it was proving to be pointless almost, you’d go home every night and find it hard to read the Bible. Finding it hard to believe in a God that let horrible things happen around the world and to innocent people.

How do you keep faith like that?

That’s how you find yourself in the pulpit of the church.

Looking up at the statue of the figure that you called Lord and Savior for the last twenty something years of your life.

“Lord, if you’re listening I really need you to keep me strong in my stance. If you’re really there why is my faith in you wavering? If you’re really up there… why don’t you help the poor? Why do you keep sister Paula in an unsafe situation with her husband? If you’re really there-,”

“No one is listening, Dove,”

He has a teasing edge to his tone. He’s making fun of you.

“No one is up there answering your prayers,” his voice gets closer until he’s sitting beside you, “You’re alone. You’re praying to a voice in your head. You want to know why he doesn’t help the poor? Because he isn’t real. And if he is… then he’s one selfish fuck. Wanna know why sister Paula stays with her abusive husband? Because your father brainwashes his congregation into believing that divorce is something that immediately sends you to hell. Either that or your God is a sadistic voyeur,”

You feel Noah wipe the tears off your face as you turn to look for him.

“There are no pearly gates… there is no eternal damnation. Everything you were taught was to keep you in line. To keep you docile. But I know you wanna be set free, Dove,”

He sucks the tip of his thumb, humming at the taste of your tears.

“Do you want me to open the cage and set you free? Do you want me to show you the real light?,”

“I will be forsaken,” there’s a tremble in your tone. Your wings have been clipped long enough and yet now that you have the option to fly, a part of you wants to stay caged.

“You’ve already been abandoned, Dove,” his spit covered thumb traces over your lips, “I can give you something to pray to. Something that’s tangible. Something you can see… touch…,”

“I can be your God,” he was so close to your face now, so close that his lips were touching yours, you could smell the sweet mint of his favorite gum, “I can make today your judgment day. I can walk you to the light, Dove,”

“H-how? You’re just a mortal like me,”

“You doubt me but believe in a man that rose on the third day?,” he was smiling as if your words were the world's best comedy. The congregation had its hooks in you deep. But it's okay, he'd remove them with ease.

“Noah. I don’t wanna go to hell,” you cried, it was hard to break free of all you were taught

“With me, heaven is the only place you’ll go. Follow me and I can show you the real way. Follow me and you won’t have to live your life in fear. Follow me… and I will show you how a real God treats his followers,”

Before you can answer, Noah is taking your hand and guiding you to your father’s study, locking the door before letting go of your hand.

“Psalm 90:17, what does it say again?,”

You swallow thickly, you know the verse and for some reason it’s not coming out. It doesn't feel right to spew scriptures anymore.

“You claim to know the Bible front and back and can’t recite one of the easiest scriptures?,”

Why was he being so mean? One minute he seems as though he wants to help but the next he’s asking you questions related to scripture, what is his game?

“I do know it it’s just-,”

“Not important enough to remember,” he leans back on your father’s desk, arms folded, tattooed muscles stretching the sleeves of his tight black tee.

“Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands upon us. Yes, establish the work of our hands" Noah answers for you, sarcasm dressing his tone as he throws his hands up as if he's praising, “what does that scripture mean, Dove?,”

“It means… it’s a plea for the Lord to bless people and their work beyond imagination,” you seemed dazed.

“Every night that’s the last thing I speak before bed after I cum to the thought of you on your knees, praying to me,”

“M-Matthew 7:15, Noah… Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves,”

“And you are but a little lamb,” He pushes himself off the desk to circle you and suddenly… he feels like a hawk circling his prey, “I never came to you in sheep’s clothing… you knew who I was from the beginning,”

He was so close now. Whispering in your ear so close that it sent shivers down your spine.

“I had faith you could change. I prayed for you every night, Noah I wanted you to see the light,”

“I am… the true light. I don’t need you to pray for me… I need you to pray to me,”

“I cannot… Exodus 20: 4-5. There are no other Gods, Noah,”

His dark chuckle made your stomach do flips. How is he okay with laughing in the face of God like this?

“You’re forgetting a vital piece of that scripture, Dove,” his hands are touching you now and you find it embarrassing when his grip has to tighten when your knees buckle.

“I am not-,”

“I hate my people worshiping other Gods,” he answers plainly, “Your God admits there are others amongst him. He’s just a greedy…,”

A kiss to your neck makes you gasp, your mouth feels dry as you choke on your saliva.

“Selfish…,” a little nibble where your neck and shoulder meet, “Unworthy prick who doesn’t deserve a lamb like you. I deserve you. I deserve your praise. I deserve to hear you sing songs about me. I deserve to experience the look on your face when your knees ache from being on them so long when praying,”

His hand is under your skirt now, do you push him away? Do you… do you welcome it? What if this is God testing you to see if you’re a true follower?

Will you follow him?

Or the Devil?

“I deserve to be the flesh and blood you devour every first Sunday,”

His middle finger swipes between your lips and there’s an unfamiliar rush that takes over your body.

“Let me show you the fruit I bear,”

You can feel him smiling against your ear as he speaks directly into it. It feels like he’s speaking to your soul. All this time you’ve been praying and it’s been nothing but silence but now… now here Noah is, speaking his word into your ear and it’s taking over your mind.

That’s all you’ve ever wanted, was a voice in your ear with a sense of direction. Maybe the Lord has forsaken you… maybe it’s time to try a new path of faith?

“Show me the light,” you breathe out.

Those were the words he was waiting for. That’s all he needed to hear before he’s turning you around and gripping the nape of your neck to plant his lips on yours in a searing kiss. It was overwhelming, to feel his lips and his tongue and then his hands roaming your body as he sets you on the desk.

“Can I taste you?,” he asks, “Can I taste the sweet fruit you bear?,”

You don’t know exactly what he means by taste you but with the eyes of a lamb, you nod to him.

“I will be a good disciple. Show me the truth and I will follow you,”

The words coming out like projectile vomit. The haze of the confusion and deteriorating faith creates a cast over your mind.

Noah’s hands are slowly taking off your cotton panties, eyeing the string of slick that follows before it breaks its connection to your underwear and lands on your inner thigh.

“So ripe. So fresh,” he mutters as he lowers himself on his knees, “I just might have to worship you,”

It makes your cheeks heat up. All your life, all you’ve known is worshiping something you can’t see. You were taught to be humble and modest and yet here you are… with a heretic on his knees before you claiming he wants to praise you.

A flip switches.

“Show me,” you plead softly, “I wanna know what it’s like to be praised,”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought his eyes turned completely black for a second, but it’s too late now. You’re already committing sin and like Noah said… don’t let Jesus die for nothing, right?

His lips make a path on your inner thighs before they find that string of slick. You feel his warm tongue flatten against your thigh and suddenly his eyes are in the back of his head and he lets out a moan that was devilish, it came from the core, as if he was parched and it was the first drop of liquid he received after a long, desolate journey.

“I knew you’d taste good,”

You’re watching his every move. You can’t tear your eyes off of him. Especially when his mouth isn’t even an inch away from your core. He stared and stared and you were wondering if something is wrong.

So you try to close your legs but he’s not having that. His big hands spread them even wider than they were before, taking in the view.

“My goodness maybe there is a God,” he smirked as he stared at your wet lips, “Back out now, Dove, because once I start, I will feast as if it’s the last supper,”

“I wanna see the light. Show me the light, No- OH!,”

You’re immediately cut off when he finally touches you. His mouth is so warm, he’s getting you all over his face like a juicy peach in the summer time.

You’re gripping the edge of the desk as if your life depends on it and with what he’s doing, it seems like it does.

He’s suckling on your bundle of nerves, his finger tips are digging into your thighs and it feels so good but all the sounds you’re wanting to make are trapped in your throat.

“N-Noah… N-,” you wheeze

“N-N-Noah,” he pulls back and mocks you. He’s taunting you and it brings a wave of embarrassment so bad that tears flooded into your eyes, “Relax. You’re being a good disciple,”

Your eyes flutter at those words as he dives back in. He’s lapping at you as if you have a prize inside and he wants it.

Then you feel it. He’s sliding a finger in and it takes your breath away.

“There we go,” he whispers against your clit, “Tell me when I’ve hit that spot,”

You have no idea what spot he’s talking about. Not until he’s adding a second finger and reaches deep within you and lightly curls his finger.

“Oh! O-oh m-my… goodness!!,” your legs bend and tremble, toes pointed. You don’t know what that is but it feels immaculate.

“There she goes,” He’s got you now. He now has made a mental map of your core. Knowing what makes you cry out, what makes you mewl like a cat in heat.

His fingers are speeding up and your juices are splashing on the ugly carpet of the church office.

You’re committing sacrilege and you know it’s wrong but why does it feel so… right? so… Heavenly?

Your stomach begins to tighten and you need something better to grip on, so your hand flies to Noah’s head, gripping so tight the moan he gives goes straight to your core and before you know it, your body is convulsing and you’re crying asking the Lord for forgiveness for the sin you’ve just committed.

“You’re forgiven,” Noah answers, “Let’s repent, yeah?,”

He slowly stands up and within the light of the rising moon, his lips are red, swollen and glistening. He’s sucking on the fingers that were just inside you and a part of you feels as though it should make you cringe but instead it causes your heart to race and you want to taste his tongue.

As if he can read your mind, his lips are on yours once more and you can taste yourself. It’s not something you’d taste alone, but tasting it on Noah? That’s something you can get used to.

After he pulls away he pulls you off the desk and brings you around to the other side. On the back of the office door is a mirror and above the door is a cross.

“As much as I’d like you on your knees… I have something else in mind that’s far more exciting,” he pulls you back and takes the swiveling chair so the back is against the desk before helping you on it, situating you on your knees and pulling the neckline of your top down so your breasts spill over.

He toys with your nipples with a shit-eating grin, admiring the way your body responds to him.

“Hebrews 13:4,” you whine. The guilt started to creep back in, maybe you should stop, Noah would understand. With the cross staring right back at you, it all started to become too much, “Let marriage be held in honor among all, and let the marriage bed be undefiled, for God will judge the sexually immoral and adulterous,”

“I am the only God here, Dove,”

Your eyes meet his in the mirror and you’re back under his spell.

“What God keeps his people from experiencing something so good, so… freeing that it feels like they’re ascending? I am unclipping your wings, Dove. Won’t you fly with me?,”

You feel him poke at your core, spreading the wetness, coating his tip. He just wanted to slide right in but he knew he had to work you up first. His grip on your breast was tantalizing. His tattooed hand in contrast to your skin was a beautiful sight to see.

He was right.

What God kept his people caged from experiencing beautiful sights like this?

“Start praying,” is all he says before he starts pushing the tip in, “I want to hear what you pray for,”

It was a distraction tactic but he couldn’t get enough of your voice. Especially when you pray for the congregation after Bible study. It always made him hard, he always wanted to bend you over the podium and just hear your delusional prayers.

“I..,”

His hand that’s on your breast is now gripping your cheeks and keeping your head straight to the mirror.

“Don’t get shy now,”

“I call upon God, the Father..,”

He pushes in more and it’s not painful but it is a lot to handle.

“God, the Son a-and God, the Holy Spirit,”

With each word he slowly makes his way inside of you before his pelvis is flush against your ass.

He sighs as if he’s been reborn again.

“Keep going, baby,”

“I… I ask that you watch over us. B-bless us with the gift to see another day. Please continue to guide and protect me,”

“You sound so pretty praying to me,”

“B-but I’m praying to God,” You correct.

“Dove have you learned nothing?,” his chuckle was so dark, “I am your God now. Everything you do. Everything you pray for. You’re saying it to me,”

His hips roll and it causes you tremble in his grip. It’s dizzying. Your vision doubles as he begins a pace to move in and out of you.

“So keep fucking praying,”

There was no room to argue. There was no hint of teasing in his voice.

You didn’t want to anger him. You wanted to make him proud.

You had to be a good disciple, right? Prove to him that you’re worthy.

“God, enlighten my mind with truth. Inflame my heart w-with… with,” a gasp is ripped from your chest as his hips snap into you, he’s so deep. It feels like your nerve endings are on fire and it’s hard to think straight.

You hear the mess being created between your legs and its mouth watering.

“Oh God, please,” your head is thrown back and you turn to look at Noah, “What… why does it feel so good?,”

Noah licked the tears that fell down your cheek. Kissing your waiting lips, picking up his pace and he swallows your cries while you grip his wrists that are caging you in that way you don’t topple over.

“I told you I would baptize you. I told you I would show you the light. I told you I’d show you how a real God treats his followers. You’re being reborn again, Dove,”

Your eyes roll the deeper he gets.

“God, please,” a whimper drips off your lips, you call out into the empty office, “Inflame my heart with l-love… enrich my life with a-service,”

Noah’s hand snaked around to your core to add pressured circles to your clit. He was everywhere.

His breath fanning on your cheek, his hand at your core, his cock deep inside, his eyes boring into your soul. His aura wrapped you up in a warm hug. This is what the presence of God feels like.

The tears flowed. This is the first time in a long time you’ve felt the reward of faith. Maybe Noah was a God… a patient God who waited for you to find your way to him.

He has a follower for as long as you’ll live… and maybe there after.

“Don’t forsake me,” you moan, “I need you. I need something to b-believe in. Don’t f-forsake me. Don’t forsake me!,”

It was a prayer that Noah never expected to spill from your mouth with such conviction.

“A true God doesn’t abandon his people,” Noah’s pace was deadly now. His hips clapping your ass sounded like the church drums during Sunday praise and worship. Your moans were more beautiful than any gospel Noah would help direct during Tuesday night practice.

“I will follow you, I will follow you, My Lord,” you reach behind him to grab at his hair. At this point, your hips were moving back to meet him.

“Thank you!!,” a wanton moan escapes you as he adds an intoxicating amount of pressure to the bundle of nerves between your legs, “Th-thank you for… for you faithfulness a-and presence in my life!,”

Most people loved for dirty talk… but this was incomparable. This couldn’t be topped. The little bird of his dreams was singing her tune for him.

Anyone could get off to dirty talk. But only someone as twisted as Noah could get hot and bothered to the sound of the Pastor’s daughter abandoning her faith to pray to him.

He is God.

Your God has been dethroned.

You’re his now.

“I tr-trust you with this day,” your eyes were so glossy that it actually tugged at Noah’s heart, “And all that it h-holds,”

“Fuck,” it was a mix of a moan and chuckle as he felt his cock twitch, “Say my prayer, Dove. I know you’re close. Say my prayer and you’ll see the light,”

He gave you a few moments to enjoy his thrusts with an empty mind. Mouth hanging open, breath hitching, tears falling and eyes rolling.

The beauty of this moment must have been what Peter felt when he saw Jesus walk on water.

“C’mon, Dove. Say it with me,” he slowed his pace down to pull out his phone. He wouldn’t record the action, but he needed to record the audio. He needed this and you wanted to put on a show, wanted to prove to him that he made the right choice.

“You can do it,”

You don’t know if you can. He’s so deep, his fingers are circling at a pace that’s too fast. His lips felt like they were searing an imprint onto your skin.

“Look at the cross and pray,”

He softly turned your head back to the gold cross above the door, picking up his pace once more.

“Our Father,” he begins, coaxing you to speak the words.

“Who art in H-Heaven,” the tears were spilling too fast for you to keep up, “Hallowed be thy name,”

His deep tone was mumbling under your high pitched mewls, creating a lovely harmony.

“Thy Kingdom come!!,”

He's bent you forward now. Hand under your chin, other still torturing your clit.

“Th-thy will be d-done,” the cross was hazy now, you were losing your wits about you. This was too good. It was shameful and it felt too good.

“Keep going, baby. You’re making your God so proud,”

You clench around him and you’d have thought there was a dark entity around you with the way he growled.

“On E-Earth as it is in Heav… en,” eyes rolling, there’s spit dripping down your chin and onto the expensive leather that the church tithes paid for.

Noah was on the edge. This was so sinful, even for him, but yet he smiled as he took in the view of your face in the mirror. So innocent. So… dumb. You really did have the eyes of a lamb, no wonder it was so easy for the church to brainwash you. You didn’t know any better.

But it’s okay.

He’s here to set you free.

“Give us this day our daily bread,” he groaned along with you, “And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us,”

You were almost there. You could see the light. It was coming. This was real. Noah was right.

“And lead us not into t-temptation… b-but deliver us from ev… evil,” you were breathless now. Panting like you were suffering from heat exhaustion.

“For thine is the Kingdom,” Noah interjected, hips not stopping, you could feel your wetness dripping, your stomach was in knots.

“Oh God!,” You trembled beneath him.

“No,” he lightly smacked your cheek, “You can’t step into the light until you’re finished. Be good. You’re almost there. You don’t wanna disappoint me, do you?,”

“N-no,” you’re sobbing at this point. You can feel it in your guts. He’s stirring you up like brother Jackson’s gumbo. You were so wet. So fucking warm. The veins of Noah matching perfectly within the ridges of your own walls.

“Then finish. You’re almost there,”

“For thine is the Kingdom,” Noah prompted again.

“And the p… the power and the.. the glory forever a-and ever,”

Noah rolled his hips a certain way and pressed harder on your clit and that was your undoing.

“Amen,” he smiled darkly, it gave him a new life purpose to hear you scream and fall apart in his arms while staring at the cross above the door. His stills as he fills you up.

“Oh God!! Oh God, please, please, please,” you’re sobbing, face fallen against the leather chair.

“I’m right here,” he speaks against your shoulder, slowly pulling out of you, admiring the way his cum spills out of you and falls onto the vintage maroon carpet. He figured he should clean it up but then he opted not to.

He turned the recording off and cleaned you up as best as he could before sitting you flat into the chair and holding your face ever so softly in his hands.

“Breathe,” he had to guide you for the next few minutes.

“Am I dead?,” you ask softly. It was the most intense thing you’ve ever experienced. More than when you caught the Holy Ghost during a sermon.

“No, Dove. You’re very much alive,” he kisses your tear stricken cheeks.

“You’ve just been reborn. Welcome to your new purpose. Your new life,”

[beanghostprincess]

TW // Suicidal behavior/tendencies

The ASL brothers deal with suicidal tendencies constantly in different ways and I find it so interesting how little the three of them value their lives for completely different reasons.

Ace is obvious from the very beginning. He has been constantly told that he shouldn't have existed. That he should die. That he is not worthy of living. His whole identity was a secret from the rest of the world because if they knew, they would want him dead. But he knows already that people want him dead, so, whatever. He can't take love from others. And it is not he is actively trying to kill himself but he doesn't value his life at all. At least not until he meets Sabo and Luffy. And he still doesn't value his life much, but he realizes there are people who want him alive. And it is hard for him to believe it, but they do. Ace's journey is a tragedy because he keeps asking himself if he should be alive, constantly fighting against it because he genuinely thinks he shouldn't have existed, and then dying in the arms of his little brother and thanking him for loving him. And he dies because he is too proud and stubborn and it was just obvious that his recklessness would end up killing him somehow. It was not a conscious action but-- Ace knew he was dying that day. Which is extremely sad because he realized he wanted to live seconds before he was killed.

Sabo is just too focused on saving the world. He puts the greater good before him constantly because he quite literally has never known any better. He joined the revs with no memories and no purpose and only hatred for the ones with power. He was raised with love and friends there but-- There is only so much you can do in a place where they teach kids specific ideals and what they should do. And Sabo is happy there and more than glad to be of service, but he doesn't value his life at all. He constantly puts himself in danger, ever since he was a kid, to fight for others. And not even others as 'specific people' but just society and his ideals as a whole. Like he would rather die and kill if that spreads the revolution around. He genuinely doesn't care about dying if he is able to help the cause. I mean-- I think it does change when he meets Luffy again (he is canonically still reckless af okay this is self-indulgent) and realizes he can't let his brother lose him again. But still, he keeps on not valuing his life at all and acting without thinking things through.

Luffy is quite obvious, isn't it? It's not that he doesn't value his life, but he values his life around others. He is a person whose core need is to be with people. He was left alone at a very young age. Dragon left him with Garp and Garp, aside from being an awful role model, wasn't even there much and left the kid alone. The only role model he had was Shanks and he was going away constantly too. Uta basically disappeared from his life out of the blue without explanation. So when he finds Sabo and Ace it is normal that he gets heavily attached to them right away. When he is kidnapped and tortured he doesn't say a word about their treasure because he doesn't want to get in between their dream which-- Is another story. He values people's dreams even above his own life too. But there is also this layer of "If I break the promise of not telling people they will not want me" and it is just-- Pretty fucking sad. Like. Luffy's need to be around people and not lose the ones he loves comes from abandonment issues. Plain and crystal clear. He puts his life in danger constantly to not lose people and when he is alone he doesn't see any reason to keep going. He always finds something, of course, but being alone for him is quite obviously worse than death and he has had those types of thoughts/tendencies before. That is why I love the Baron Omatsuri movie so damn much. It is basically this whole thing.

Ace and Sabo are pretty similar when it comes to not valuing their lives and acting recklessly, but Ace is more on the 'I should not be alive' side of suicidal thoughts and Sabo is more on the 'I don't care if I die' side of self-destructive tendencies. While Luffy is on the 'There is no point in living if I am alone' side of abandonment issues.

I don't mean to go anywhere with this, btw. I just find it interesting how the three of them value their lives so little and end up forming a little family together. They found comfort and love in each other and I think their damaging tendencies keep existing because they are not together anymore. Like. Genuinely. In a Modern AU where the three of them are together their mental health would be so much better because of being next to each other. Ace would struggle with his self-worth but would be constantly reminded every day that he is loved, Sabo would overwork himself but they'd keep him from it being actually damaging, and Luffy would just not be alone at all.

[azaleaniath]

~ AO'NUNG X FEM!HUMAN!READER ~

human tsakarem

summary: after the battle, Parker Selfridge leaves his daughter with the humans that formed an alliance with the Na'vi. She grows up to become a scientist herself and moves to Awa'atlu to keep an eye on Kiri's health. There she meets Ao'nung who can't keep himself from being curious about her.

includes: guns, foul language, falling in love, insults, lil' dash of angst, arguments, mentions of death, rejection, courting, fluff, reader being a little brat, avatars

word count: 9.9k | SFW

A/N: OMG I've had this idea for a while now. I know some things don't make sense like being able to have a call from earth to pandora but just imagine it ok? Leave your thoughts below! Also if you see typos, blink. U didn't see anything, nuh-uh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The airship stood ready. Only a few humans were allowed to stay on Pandora and Parker Selfridge wasn't one of them. Neytiri's and Jake's eyes followed him as he stood in line, walking up to the airship with slow steps, his head hung low in shame and guilt. As he passed the couple, Jake had to hold his mate back from scratching his eyes out. It didn't stop Parker from walking up to them, barely finding the confidence to look them in the eyes.

"You know this isn't over?" he mumbled, but Jake didn't say anything. He only gestured him to board the ship. Parker swallowed heavily, turned to leave but ended up facing the tall couple again.

"Sully, I know I cannot ask this of you but... earth is no place for a child to grow up..." his voice was not much more than a whimper. Jake could see his wet eyes through his oxygen mask as he began to shake.

"She's all I have left, she's not responsible for my mistakes. I can't take her back with me, she's still too young for the cryo capsules. She will die, Jake."

For a second, the ex-marine's mask fell. He pursed his lips, closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"And you want me to take care of her?" Jake asked while Norm and Max approached as well.

Parker hesitantly nodded with his teeth clenched.

"I beg you..." he whimpered as shameful tears blurred his vision and his shaking intensified.

Neytiri didn't understand much of their conversation, yet she had figured out what he wanted. A man like him had only few to none weaknesses, but his daughter was one of them, probably the only one.

"I can't take her with me..." Parker whispered as more tears filled his eyes. Jake gave his two colleagues a questioning look and they shrugged.

"We're already looking after Miles, a playmate in his age can't hurt his evolution" Norm shrugged and Max copied his expression.

Jake only sighed and even Neytiri calmed down. Even if his daughter was a human, she was innocent. She couldn't hate a baby that had done no harm.

Parker's eyes switched to Norm, his shameful frown turned into a slight smile.

"You would take care of my little girl?" he asked for clarification, and the scientists agreed. What could one more human do after all?

~~~

It's been many years since that day where your father departed. He continued to live on earth, the planet that fell apart while you grew up on pandora. The scientists took good care of you even if they sometimes had the urge to simply throw you out into the wilds without your exopack. As you got older, Norm always shook it off as going through puberty while Max insisted on it being the genes of your father. An annoying teenager with a big mouth. A brat. An absolute pain in the ass, as the doctor liked to call it.

"Hey princess~" Miles, better known as Spider, sang from across the room, mocking you with one of the many nicknames your father gave you whenever he called from earth.

You looked up from the table you sat on, dropping the papers you held in one hand.

"Look, it's the monkey boy." you mumbled back unimpressed.

After all these years you had grown up like siblings, living together for all your life, but you wouldn't call him a friend. You two were way too different. Sometimes you even fought because of all the differences between the two of you.

He approached you with a grin, hiding something behind his back.

"I got you something!" Spider exclaimed as he took a seat on the table before you.

"How about you get yourself a detangling brush first?" you lifted one of his dreads with two fingers, dropping them to hit his face while your expression twisted in disgust.

Now it was Spider's turn to roll his eyes. "Good, then I'll keep it."

You crossed your legs and leant back against your chair, holding one hand out to him.

Spider crossed his legs too and dropped something into your hand. As you retrieved your hand you took a close look at the object he had placed in the palm of your hand.

"You gifted me... a piece of wood?"

"That's an arm ring! I've spent weeks carving it, you better be thankful."

With a confused look you tried it on but it slipped up to your elbow right away.

"Bit large, is it?" you scoffed, watching the wooden accessories dangle around your arm, checking how far it went up.

"You made me a collar, dude."

He only huffed and shook his head.

"I know what I made. Just wait, you'll see. Happy birthday you ungrateful brat." While Spider got up and left, probably to see the Sullys, you took a close look at the arm ring until Norm and Max walked in with a tablet.

They were currently on a call, so you didn't bother. Only when you heard your father's voice you sprung up and sprinted over to the two scientists, snatching the device from Norms grip, much to his dislike.

"Daddy?" an excited smile spread over your entire face, "can you hear me?"

You saw his visage on the monitor, he was dressed in one of his button shirts, as usual. Had you ever even seen him in other clothes anyways?

He had a little delay, but as soon as he saw your face in the camera his expression matched yours perfectly.

"Hey, my little princess, I'm sorry I couldn't call you earlier. Happy birthday sweetheart, how is my pretty girl doing?" he asked you as you sat down on your desk, leaning the tablet against a microscope.

You ignored the discussion about your audacious behavior between Max and Norm in the background and focused on the call with your father.

"Well, it would've been better if I would've gotten the cake that I specifically asked for!" The two scientists rolled their eyes as you raised your voice towards the end of your sentence, sending death glares to the two men who still argued how long it would take for Parker to come back to Pandora to kill them if they actually locked you out of the labs without your exopack.

"I'm sorry my dear darling, there must have been a misunderstanding. You'll get your cake, I- wait, what are you wearing, princess? What is that?"

Your father's look was struck with concern as he noticed your cropped tight shirt.

"Oh yeah, I cut it off. It's cool, right?"

You got up and spun around, but Parker only sunk his face into his hands.

"They let you run around like this? And your pants, what's this?"

"These are cargo shorts, dad. Calm down."

"Yeah shorts! They're too short! My princess, please put on some more clothing, will you?"

With a frown you looked down on yourself, not seeing an issue with your outfit.

"Good thing you're gonna have to change soon anyways."

You didn't understand why, until Norm and Max finally walked up to you after calming themselves.

"You know that you haven't been allowed to go to the med station, right? And now I can finally tell you why, my dear. Daddy organized for you to get your own avatar, isn't that cool? You get to connect with it and then you can go out and play!"

"Selfridge, we talked about that. It's dangerous out there, this is no playground." Max interfered, but Parker just shrugged while you squealed and cheered in excitement, clapping your hands while hopping on your chair.

"When do I get to try it out?! Can we go now? I can't wait to get outside without this annoying mask!" you asked Norm and he led the way.

"It's all ready and waiting for you."

~~~

You quickly got used to your avatar. The scientists weren't fine with the fact that you went outside in it alone, so you mostly snuck out without their knowledge getting scolded as soon as you returned, also by your father. He wanted you to live a happy and safe life on pandora. Sometimes you went out with Spider or the Sully kids, learning how to hunt and survive, but the Na'vi half breeds didn't take you in like they did with Spider. In the lab, you learned a lot about science. The older scientists taught you everything about all kinds of biological and medical knowledge. Even if you had a big mouth, they could at least work with you, and that made it a lot more bearable for them.

As the Sully's had to flee from their home and Spider was also missing, things changed for everyone. You still stayed in the lab until one day, your godfathers stormed in, telling you to pack up and get everything into the helicopter as soon as possible. He explained on the way to Awa'atlu what had happened and that Kiri needed medical help.

You were in your human body as you landed, jumped out of the helicopter and grabbed your med bag.

Many metkayina had gathered at the shore as the Samson landed. They were visibly terrified of the helicopter and, even more than that, afraid of Max and you since you both were humans.

Jake told his oldest son to keep everyone away while Lo'ak hurried over to you as well.

"Where is she?" you called out loudly, your voice fighting against the noises of the rotors. Lo'ak quickly lead the way, passing through the villagers which gave you all terrified or angry looks. They had been told that you were here to help but that didn't keep them from being frightened and yet curious.

You followed Lo'ak, making your way through the teal skinned giants as quickly as possible. Close to the marui that Kiri layed in someone blocked your path, gazing at you in curiosity. You looked up to the young metkayina man and clicked your tongue.

"Get your blue ass out of my way!" you snarled in perfect Na'vi, much to the boy's surprise. His blue eyes widened as he stared at you completely dumbfounded, jaw dropping as you pushed him away fiercly, leading him to stumble backwards.

His breath hitched at your touch. It was the first time in his life he had ever been in physical contact with a demon. There was something boiling up deep inside of him. No matter how much he wanted to murder those sky people, he was curious about your fierceness. He wanted to know more about you somehow. You were only a tiny little creature from another star and you still didn't seem to be scared of him the slightest. He blinked a few times, being completely perplexed by the fact that you just pushed him off and walked past him, the future olo'eyktan without the slightest bit of respect.

While Neytiri freaked out about her daughter you listened to Lo'ak who explained what had exactly happened to Kiri, so you got everything ready to run a few checks on the unconscious girl.

Soon, Norm in his avatar and Max rushed over too.

"Why did you bring this little missy anyways?! As if she's of any help!"

You heard Jake hiss, his fangs flashing.

"She has learned a lot, Jake. We taught y/n and believe it or not, she knows what she's doing." Norm answered, getting the equipment ready with you and the other scientist.

"Call me missy again and I'll sedate you, Sully." you growled while getting out more utensils from your back.

Jake watched you closely as you measured Kiri's blood pressure.

"Don't forget who I am. Without my father you'd still sit in that silly wheelchair. He payed your blue legs, remember that." you added, your eyes meeting his ones for a moment and he internally swore he'd kill you if you wouldn't be helping his daughter right now.

"Your father might be rich but that's not gonna help you here, so drop that attitude and do your thing!"

You simply rolled your eyes before refocusing on the unconscious Na'vi.

The three of you tried your best until Neytiri finally took matters into her own hands and Ronal, the metkayina tsahik worked her magic.

During that time, you decided to have a talk with Jake and your godfathers.

The problem was that they wanted someone to run test on Kiri regularly now, but they were both needed in the Hallelujah mountains. All eyes landed on you.

"Oh, and how exactly do you plan on doing this, smart heads?" you scoffed, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Max brought up the idea of bringing one of the link shacks over here, together with your avatar so you could take care of Kiri. The decision was made quickly and Jake went to ask Tonowari for green light, dragging you with him.

He led you through the village, the metkayina still stared at you in curiosity and angst. As you stood before the olo'eyktan you greeted him traditionally and in fluent Na'vi.

The tall man eyed you with curiosity as well, but spoke to you soon.

"You're a human tsakarem?" he asked, supporting himself on his staff.

"More or less. I'm a-" you thought about a way to translate it to him in Na'vi, "an explorer, a student. I learned about plants and animals, Na'vi too. I can heal people to a certain point too, yes."

He understood and nodded in silence while he mustered you closely. Next to him, two younger Na'vi appeared, also glancing at you, up and down.

One of them you had seen before, it was the guy that stood in your way earlier. His eyes especially drilled into your body.

The two of you tried to explain to the metkayina why they needed you here and how you had imagined it to work.

After careful consideration he allowed it and granted you to do as planned. It was the first time that their clan collaborated with a human, but if it was needed to ensure Kiri's safety he saw no other option.

During the entire negotiation, Ao'nung had circled you like a predator his prey but you weren't surprised. Bothered? Maybe.

~~~

Norm, Max and you went back home only to pack your things, prepare a link shack and bring it over within 24 hours. The three of you set everything up as quickly as you could.

Tonowari and Ronal watched the entire scene. Their daughter Tsireya had helped you carrying a few things into an empty marui where your avatar could rest properly.

Meanwhile their son Ao'nung was rather spooked by you which didn't keep him from annoying you. He stood next to his father but came closer to touch the link share for not much more than a second.

You watched him in confusion. 'As if my link shack is gonna kill him..' you thought and shook your head.

Lo'ak and Neteyam came to help you as well. As the younger brother passed you held him by his arm.

"Don't tell me that's the future olo'eyktan?"

Lo'ak huffed and nodded.

"Already beat him up with Neteyam some weeks ago. He's really a pain in the ass. Almost like you~" he teased.

"Like me?" you repeated in disbelief, raising your eyebrows at his words.

"You're both some offspring of men with influence, have a big mouth and you both have a problem with your attitude."

"One brat is already too much. Please don't befriend him, I can't even take one of you at a time." Neteyam chimed in before Tonowari called you, gesturing you to come closer and you did.

He had chosen his two children to help you get to know these lands better and shared that information with you, much to Ao'nungs disliking while Tsireya hoped to learn from you.

You turned on your heel, an unamused frown showing on your face before you called out to the brothers in english.

"You really had to jinx it, huh?!"

As your eyes wandered over to Tonowari's son, his gaze met yours. He was not happy about his father's decision but the knew that there was no point in arguing to he swallowed his protest and simply clicked his tongue.

Tsireya made her way over to you and kneeled so she was on eye level with you.

"How does this... thing work?" she asked, "what does it do?"

You mustered Tsireya from top to bottom. Even if she was still careful, Lo'ak seemed to be cool with you, and she trusted him.

"Come, come." With one hand you gestured her to follow you in, walking up the bright yellow metal stairs. The noise they made left Tsireyas ears twitching, but that didn't keep her from getting up, touching the iron stairs with her hand first before she followed with feather light steps. You held the door out for her and closed it as soon as she was in the airlock.

She didn't understand what you were doing as she crouched and observed how you pressed a few buttons.

"Don't get scared." you warned her with a monotonous voice. Before she could ask, a weird sound, too loud for her taste, filled the airlock and she could feel a windy breeze all around her body as she covered her ears.

You however took off your mask in relief and shook your hair a few times, taking in a very deep breath.

"Ahhh, this is so much better!" you cheered, running a hand through your hair.

The metkayina girl watched how you dropped yourself in your office chair, legs crossed.

"Look around, but don't touch anything."

The Na'vi did as you told and scanned the entire shack link. It was indeed rather small in here, but that explained why you were in your human body.

As you watched the ocean in the distance you took another deep breath. This was your new working place now. Far away from Max and Norm. From the forest, from everything you had known.

~~~

Tsireya was eager to learn from you to share her knowledge with her mother while Ao'nung circled you in silence. He often watched you through the window while you were working and he eventually grew more and more curious about all these devices. And about you too.

You got yourself a petri dish and marked it with a sharpie. Tsireya had brought you some local plants as samples so you could examine them closer. With one hand you adjusted your headphones that you wore during work. The cap of the sharpie was held by your teeth until you put it back onto the marker so it wouldn't dry out.

Once you placed the petri dish onto the table you turned to get yourself another petri dish as you looked up to a teal wall. Ao'nung towered you, blocking your way as he leaned over your shoulder to see what you where doing.

In panic you dropped the sharpie and raised your hands to rip off your headphones, shrieking loudly.

"How the fuck did you get in, idiot?! What are you doing here?!"

Ao'nungs eyes narrowed before he gestured towards the door. Sitting in your chair you were absolutely tiny next to his tall figure. You gulped as he came even closer but only to look past you and onto the table.

"I watched how you always get in. I'm supposed to be looking after you, remember?" he mumbled coldly before he straightened his back, hitting his head on the ceiling, causing the lamps to dangle around.

He hissed before he held his head and his empty gaze turned into a frown.

You clicked your tongue and facepalmed at his clumsiness, but it didn't stop there. As Ao'nung turned around he wiped half of your table with his thick tail, including the petri dish. The sound of glass shattering had you both flinching.

"Hey, careful!" you shouted at the man before he continued to check out the link shack. Your scent filled his airways and his pupils dilated. The sweet smell was everywhere, but apart from your desk it was strongest on your bunk bed and the link unit. With two fingers he poked into the silicone-like bedding of the link unit, slightly disgusted by the feeling. He got closer to the monitor next to it and accidentally turned the machine on with a few touches and presses as he tried to get a feeling for the material.

As soon as you were done cleaning the glass shards off of the floor and sorted the papers, books and other stuff from the desk back to where they belonged you charged after him.

"Stop fucking touching everything, god damn!" you hurried over to the link unit, squeezed yourself past Ao'nung and slammed the big red button to stop the machine from loading.

The boy only grunted and looked around some more, fumbling some objects in curiosity. You took a deep breath before exhaling with a loud frustrated yell, yet you silenced yourself as you heard your tablet ringing.

Too bad that Ao'nung stood closer to the device and grabbed it at the wierd noises it made. The screen showed something he couldn't read and two big circles.

"No, Ao'nung, you give me that right now! I swear if you press the green button-"

Before you could end the sentence he had done exactly what you told him not to do, just to see what would happen. There must have been a reason for your pale face as soon as the tablet made these alarming noises.

"Hey my pretty- y/n? Y/n?! Who is this, where is my daughter?!"

Ao'nung watched the tiny human that showed up on the display closely, baring his teeth at his foreign language and his aggressive tone.

"Dad, don't worry, I can hear you, I'm all good."

"Who is this savage!? What is he doing in your link shack, princess!?" Ao'nungs tail whipped angrily as your father got louder.

"He's a mess, daddy, that's what he is. Can you hang up and I call you back later?" you groaned as the metkayina boy growled, his fangs peeking out from between his lips more. Parker was completely confused what this indigenous boy did in your link shack and why he could only hear you but not see you.

"Are you alright? My sweetheart, please don't tell me you found yourself one of these indigenous monkeys!?"

Instantly you felt your face heating up at his words.

"Dad, no- what? No, he's supposed to be teaching me but right now he's just turning my shack upside down- I'll call you later, it's a long story. Can you please hang up? I can't reach my tablet cause this dumbass took it!"

The metkayina only growled louder and puffed his chest, tapping around on the screen wildly and ended the call accidentally. It probably was better anyway.

"Who is this demon?!He's not one of your people, is he?" he barked and dropped the device, you caught it in the last second before it could fall onto the ground.

As soon as you put the tablet away you grabbed the end of Ao'nungs queue and dragged him towards the airlock with all your force. He hissed in pain but gave in. Once you had gotten him into the airlock you sprinted back in and barricaded the metal door as quickly as you could. With one arm you supported yourself against your desk, panting quietly.

"Get out right now! You've messed up enough, idiot!" Ao'nung sent a deadly gaze through the window, still growling in fury. His ears tilted flat against his head and he turned on his heel and left in frustration. You held your forehead with one hand and sunk your face into your palm.

'Great... How do I explain this to my dad.."

~~~

Ao'nung wasn't allowed to get into your shack ever since. Tsireya on the other hand came around often, sometimes even for hours. You learned from each other, about the local plants and animals. Both of you were fascinated with the knowledge of each other and you took notes about everything, sometimes with Norm on the line to exchange some informations directly. You checked on Kiri every now and then, taking her blood tests and scans as Max had taught you.

Sometimes your father called too, to see how you were doing.

"You're telling me that Spellman and Dr. Patel took your link shack and avatar to an island far away to study there and take care of Augustine's daughter?!" Everytime you remembered his words, you pursed your lips and facepalmed yourself mentally. At least all of this left you with more freedom since you could come and go home whenever you wanted and work until the early morning without the scientists scolding you.

You walked through the village with a few leafs you had collected for research, passing your avatar's marui in the village. For a second you froze as you heard a familiar voice from inside.

"What is this?" you heard Ao'nung mumble, so you decided to take a peek in. He crouched next to your avatar and examined it closely. He held your arm up to check your hand closely. "Four fingers and a thumb, like the Sullys..."he mumbled to himself and compared your hand to his own. With crossed arms you watched him mustering your body curiously, fumbling with your tail.

"Baby tail..." he huffed, shaking his head with a grin that was hidden to you since you faced his back.

This was your chance.

Silently stepping backwards until you were out of range you turned around and sprinted to your link shack.

He lifted one of your avatar's lids. Yellow irises, like he had expected. As he let go, he noticed that your eye stayed open. "Oh, shit!" he whispered in panic, carefully trying to lower your lid. Both of his hands were held up and he prayed that he didn't break anything. A cold shower ran down his back, hoping that your eye stayed close.

He was about to run off quickly but you were quicker and ripped both eyes open, grabbing his wrists tight.

Ao'nung screamed, eyes wide open himself. As he tried to pull his arms away he lost his balance and fell onto his back. Once you let go of him he crawled as far away as possible until his back met the wall of your marui.

He felt a drop of sweat rolling down his forehead while his chest was heaving, jaw to the floor.

You sat up, unable to hold your laugh at his ridiculous look.

"You-" some more laughs escaped yoir lips, "you should see yourself!"

Ao'nung wasn't amused at all. He tried to calm and collect himself, returning to his usual cold gaze before he simply got up and left. Still laughing out loudly until your belly ached you followed him to the shore.

"Very funny, y/n." his eyes rolled at his own words.

"Why didn't you just tell me you wanted to see me in my avatar?" you giggled, holding one hand on your belly, but Ao'nung didn't even look at you.

"How could I? You locked me out of your demon box."

"Demon box?" you repeated in amusement, "more like 'your rage room'"

He had never heard that before but it was pretty self explanatory, even to him. With a loud call he had an ilu coming his way and he signalled you to get closer.

"My turn to have fun. Get on."

You huffed as the ilu rose it's head out of water, greeting you with a few fin slaps on the surface.

The look on his face told you that he wasn't joking around.

"I've never done this-"

"I know. But you are here to learn, so get on."

As the lesson ended, Ao'nung was indeed the one to laugh, much to your dislike. Yet it had fascinated you to learn about Awa'atlu. The animals, the ocean, the metkayina culture and also about Ao'nung. There was something about him that worked like a magnet on you.

~~~

As the weeks and months went by in no time, you found yourself spending a lot of time with him as well. He thought that, in your human form at least, he was always five steps ahead of you, but your big mouth and attitude easily kept up with his despite being half his size.

Like every day you sat on your desk, examining more plants. Ao'nung had gathered them at the bottom of the reef for you since he could hold his breath longer than you.

It was a pretty wholesome gesture. It felt like getting a bouquet of flowers. Many times you had woken up to some new samples in the airlock of your shack, but he was too proud to tell you that he had brought them. His sister on the other hand had shared this information with you.

A loud knock made you straighten your back and look to the door. Ao'nungs face was showing through the window next to the airlock, so you raised your hands and shoulders as to ask what he wanted. He pointed at a fish he held, so you decided to roll your chair back and grabbed your exopack to meet him outside.

Being the impatient brat he was, he opened the outer door and stepped into the airlock.

"You're not getting in here ever again!" you called out and gestured him to get back out, but he didn't listen. He pressed a button to his right which filled the small cabin with oxygen and opened the inner door.

"What did I tell you about my shack?!" you barked and blocked his way with the door and your petite body.

"Let me in."

You leaned against the door as he tried to push it open, but it didn't help much, you had no chance against him.

"I'm not touching anything."

"You better not, moron."

With that you closed the door behind him and walked over to your medical equipment, loading a tranquilizer gun, just in case. You quickly wrapped the belt with the gun holster around your waist, closing the buckle on the side.

Ao'nung placed the fish on a metal table on a corner as you turned back to him.

"My sister, uhm... she told me to bring you this." he muttered, scratching his neck with one hand, looking around to ensure he wasn't touching anything again.

"Your sister?" your brows furrowed with a sceptical look on your visage. "I didn't know she goes hunting too?"

"She doesn't but... i think she said she got it from one of the hunters."

Lying wasn't his stronghold.

You leaned against your desk and looked back to the bright colored fish before the corners of your lips curled up and your eyes softened.

"Then tell this random hunter that I am forever thankful for this rare, exquisite sample."

Ao'nungs eyes were gleaming in happiness, no matter how hard he tried to play it cool. His wagging tail betrayed him.

"Noted."

"This is the first time i get to see this species with my own eyes. Whoever caught it must me a mighty hunter. Well, too bad it wasn't you." you grinned, then crossed your arms.

Ao'nungs ears turned to you with his mouth agape before his eyes narrowed again.

"As if I care that much about you."

Awkward silence fell upon the two of you as you observed each other closely. In order to change the subject the young man cleared his throat, looking around your shack.

"What were you doing there?"

He pointed at the microscope and leaned in a bit, supporting himself on his knees. As you looked down to the desk you decided to take a seat, then waved him over to you. Ao'nung came closer and looked at the microscope as you leaned against the lenses, correcting the settings so the blurry image became clear.

You retreated and leant back into the chair, pulling the tranquilizer gun from it's holster.

"Look through here. But don't touch anything or I'll shoot a dart into your blue ass that will put you to sleep within seconds, you get that into your smooth brain?"

Ao'nungs eyes widened as you held the gun up to him, so he lifted his hands to his shoulders as if he would surrender.

He did as you told him to, examined the piece of tissue with an open mouth.

"What is that?" he mumbled, observing the structure of the cells he could see for the first time in his life.

"We call it microscope. Anything looks thousands of times bigger under there. I'm sure I could almost see your brain with that thing." you huffed, lowering the gun a bit as you noticed Ao'nung holding still and completely losing himself in the complex cell pattern.

He stared for quite a while before you got another sample from the fridge and switched the glass slides.

"These are the corals that someone got me two days ago."

He carefully supported his hands on the desk and you could see him smile at your words. Over the next thirty minutes you showed him some of the rarest and most unique samples you had collected over the last months. Neither of you would've thought that this actually interested him. Or was he just interested in what you were doing? Ao'nung himself couldn't tell.

"These look incredible..." he mumbled as you showed him the tissue he had gathered from an akula. How had he even done this? Nobody but him knew.

"The rich and wealthy demon brat actually has something interesting to show, huh?" he mocked and moved away from the microscope to which you only smirked and held the gun up to his neck for a second before lowering it again with a quiet laugh.

Your mind wandered off for a moment, forehead creasing at your thoughts.

"Why did you feel the need to disobey my orders and come in here?"

You asked, to which his expression softened for a second.

"I can't take you seriously with that weird mask. Looks stupid on you."

You couldn't help but frown, before he added something that actually caught you offguard.

"I prefer to see your full face like this."

A lump was stuck in your throat. It was the first time the na'vi actually made you an honest compliment.

"Ao'nung..." you mumbled in mental absence, your eyes fell on his lips for a second and he noticed, his ears tilted and his tail whipped around once. Luckily it only hit the underside of the table, which ripped you out of your trance for a moment.

"Wow, who could've guessed you can actually be nice, Ao'nung."

He didn't know what to say or do in this situation since his words surprised himself. Never had he thought he would grow fond of a human, not to talk about a human that aimed a tranquilizer gun at him.

You noticed how his chest was already starting to heave. All this time in here he had only breathed oxygen. Of course his lungs were well trained but he still started to struggle due to the adrenaline rushing through him. You too felt your heart pounding in your chest, up to your throat.

"Actually, no. You still look ridiculous, even without the mask." With that his usual expression returned. He'd rather tease you than to be in this weird situation and admit that you were on his mind constantly.

You stood up from the chair and tried to make yourself as tall as possible before him, gun in hand.

"pretty brave words for a fish face, now get out of my lab before I send you to earth."

~~~

Ao'nung held his promise and came by the next day, and the next, and it repeated itself every day for months. He had gotten you more fishes, grasses, shells, crustaceans and flowers. You didn't even know where to put them, but it had turned in some kind of ritual. Anything he found he brought to you, and now that he was even allowed in your shack again you often found a bunch of collected goods from all around, also his mother's ointments at your desk.

Sometimes you even woke up to him kneeling in front of the microscope, inspecting your samples or watching and listening to your video logs, even if he didn't understand your mother language. Who could've thought he'd get so obsessed with your work?

By now he had gotten familiar with your devices ans spent so much time around that he had to wear a mask as well for a few deep breaths here and there, that was all he needed.

As you got out of your bed and walked over to the young man he was already crouching in front of the desk, looking through the microscope.

"Don't you have to complete your iknimaya, smooth brain?" you asked mockingly while fixing your hair.

Aonung looked over to you with a cocky grin.

"Right, other than you I don't inherit my wealth, I work for it."

"Says the clan leader's son." you huffed with rolling eyes.

Ao'nung copied your expression before looking back to through the lenses.

"Ao'nung, can we talk?"

He didn't like the sound of your voice. His stomach turned at what you had just said, ears flat against his head.

As he looked up to you with narrowed eyes he could feel his heart rate quicken.

With one hand you flipped a switch on the microscope and turned it off before you took a deep breath.

"See, I'm happy you're helping me. Without you I would've never gotten all these informations, but it's getting... out of hand. It's too much. I have no storage space for all the samples you're bringing me. I appreciate it but please, tone that down."

Something about him visibly changed. His look turned all serious, a hint of disappointment reflected in his blue eyes.

"I understand..." he mumbled in a cracking voice once the big lump was gulped down, after which he got up and left your lab without another word. His head hung low as he dragged himself out and away, not looking back once.

You had expected it to be an unpleasant conversation, but Ao'nung acted as if you had just filed for divorce.

You quickly got into your avatar and went out to look for him, but he was nowhere to be found. As Tsireya and Lo'ak saw you searching for her brother they walked up to you, asking if you needed help and you quickly explained the situation.

Lo'ak earned a smack against his stomach as he huffed while you didn't understand what was happening.

She lead you into the marui she shared with her family as they where all gone. Lo'ak followed you and sat down with the two of you.

Tsireya didn't know how to say it or even where to start to Lo'ak took it into his own hands.

"You said you told him that you didn't want his gifts?"

You sighed and shook your head.

"I told him it's... too much. I don't know where to put all these things."

The girl took a deep breath and took your nervous hands into her own ones.

"You're not really that much acquainted with... courting rituals, are you?"

Her question had you blush slightly, cheeks tinted in a violet veil. A few blinks later you stammered a needlessly long version of a no, so she shifted her position a bit, trying to find the right words.

"So, if a male Na'vi is interested in a female, he goes hunting for her and brings her food. Now, since you're mostly in your human body and most things are inedible for your kind, i think he brought you some other rare things you value."

Speechless as you where you only continued to blink in silence, nervously biting onto your lower lip.

"He's trying to court you and rejecting his gifts, it's pretty bad. Ao'nung got himself into a lot of trouble for all the things he brought you, even father has argued with him already. But he took your words as a rejection, which in our culture translates to 'I don't value your life'. It's almost as bad as mating with someone else."

Now it all made sense.

You couldn't say anything for what felt like an eternity.

The inner corners of your eyes began to burn and soon, your vision blurred.

"Hey, you couldn't know, it's alright." Loak mumbled, placing a hand on your shoulder. Neither you nor him knew that you could be so weak and it was the first time that you felt this stinging pain in your chest. It hurt, but you were sure that Ao'nung was feeling much worse.

"We need to find him." Tsireya mumbled and got up, gathering a few friends to look for her brother before anything could happen to him.

~~~

It was already past eclipse and Ao'nung still wasn't back. Slowly but surely you got seriously worried about him. His friends had lead the party of you all to a few spots he liked to hang out at, but he was nowhere to be found.

Even his father helped searching eventually. As you paired up with him you apologized to the olo'eyktan for causing this trouble, but he wasn't mad at you the slightest. He knew that his son had never shown interest in anyone. He had rejected many pretty young women in the clan before, but you where the first one to -accidentally- reject him. In fact, he was happy to see him spending time with you after all. Ao'nung seemed to warm up a bit since he visited you on a daily basis and he eargerly talked about the things that he had learned from a human tsakarem. That was what they referred to you, as the clan leader had told you.

As you came back to the village empty handed you apologized to Tonowari once again for causing all this trouble. Your heart still ached in regret. Why hadn't you thought about these cultural differences before?

Your attention quickly got drawn to a few calls and cheers from the villagers and you quickly sprinted over to the gathered people. Making your way through them, your eyes landed on Ao'nung. His head was hanging low, his eyes were puffy and reddened.

You called out for him in relief, but he didn't look at you. He couldn't. His heart was still aching terribly. He was utterly disappointed and devastated.

Instead of looking at you he quickly turned away and walked home.

"I'll talk to him." Tonowari offered with a hopeful smile that settled the storm inside of you at least to a certain point.

~~~

The following day you did not wake up to any samples. No gifts and no Ao'nung.

It felt like something was missing.

You couldn't help but feel empty. All the money and the power you had always relied on had lost all it's worth. You remembered the day Spider had gifted you the carved arm ring he had made for your avatar.

"Happy birthday you ungrateful brat." you remembered his words exactly. He was right. You had been ungrateful, until you met Ao'nung. He had literally gifted you grass, rocks, leaves and it always made you smile from ear to ear.

Without him, work wasn't half as much fun.

He wasn't even watching you through the window anymore but instead tried to distract himself with hunting and preparing for his iknimaya.

You had told Max and Norm about it as well and they could tell that something about you, no, a lot about you had changed. You trained to become a real scientist and on top of that, you slowly became an adult. It was the right decision they had sent you here, even though these lonely days turned into weeks and by now, you couldn't even tell how long it was, but a long time passed in which you and Ao'nung did not speak one word.

Your head rose quickly as you heard heavy footsteps coming up the metal stairs. You couldn't believe your eyes as you saw Ao'nung coming through the airlock without a word. The look on his face concerned you, no matter how happy you were that he had returned to you.

"I knew you'd come back, all men do." you grinned in order to get him to tease you back like he always did, but he only grunted and sat down in a corner, in silence.

He just came back here after all this time and acted so weird all of a sudden. First he was spooked by you, then he liked you, tried to court you, ignored you and now he just came here without saying a word?

Confurion grew inside of you as he didn't respond to your teasing but only dropped himself into a corner, back hitting against the wall with his head back.

The your face relaxed a bit as you mustered him. He only closed his eyes and supported his hands on his shaking knees.

"Ao'nung? Are you okay?"

Still, he didn't respond.

His expression twisted at your voice as if his head was aching, and it did.

You swallowed before you walked over to him.

"Want me to sit with you?" This time your voice was a bit more quiet. The metkayina exhaled heavily and patted the floor next to him so you decided you sit next to him, legs crossed.

A good while passed like this. Just sitting next to each other in silence.

As you turned your head up to him he didn't react either.

"Ao'nung, what I did, I didn't mean-"

"Don't." he interrupted, raising a hand to signal you to stop talking.

"I don't want to hear a word about this stupid topic."

His voice was not much more than a breath and it seemed that these words weren't rolling off his tongue that easily.

"Your father..." he started after a long time, "he is... some kind of leader, right?"

As an answer you nodded slowly, so he asked another question.

"Does he have high expectations from you?"

A hard question.

"Well, in some kind. He doesn't like that I live amongst your race. He'd rather see me working for RDA. Wear fancy clothes and sit neatly at my desk, filling out confusing papers with overpriced pens, being the face of a huge company, ordering people around."

Ao'nung huffed, a slight smile crawled up on his face.

"Maybe we have more in common than you think..." he murmured under his breath, but in this silence his voice was still pretty audible.

"Did you have a fight with your father again?"

"Why do you think im here, the only place he never visits?"

You couldn't help but fake a mad expression.

"So my lab is only some hiding place for you, huh?"

As soon as your sentence had ended, he carefully poked his elbow into your arm and the smile on his face widened.

Again, silence fell upon you two.

After some deep breaths, the young man's voice disturbed this silence once more.

"I like being here. It's...calm."

"Yeah, if you don't run around like a wild thanator."

His ears turned at you remark and soon you felt his hand smacking your knee, causing a synched huff from both of you.

"You're not attempting to walk the path your father wants you to take, do you?" Ao'nung asked.

"Of course not. I think everybody should do whatever makes them happy. Fuck the 'rules', there are none. Only one self can decide what they want to do. That counts you in, smooth brain."

A warm smile appeared on his face, his eyes glistened with something you had never seen before. In your words he had found new hope. He was more motivated than ever to follow his heart, no matter what his parents said. He allowed himself to dream for a moment, to imagine what gteat things the future could hold for him and you.

~~~

Instead of spending most time in the shack you went to the village more often, adapting to the other na'vi and also the sea creatures. By now, Ao'nung had properly taught you how to ride an ilu and even introduced you to his spirit brother tulkun. You learned more about the sign language, about swimming and hunting, about their sacred rituals and everything these people had to offer.

During the day the young man rarely left your side. While hunting he always looked out for you. You enjoyed your life, and you wouldn't trade it against anything. Yet you had to return to your cabin every night. It was exhausting to switch between the two bodies, so you made a decision.

"I want you to transfer my soul into my avatar."

Ronal couldn't believe her ears. Ao'nung dropped his bowl of food instantly and stared at you with huge eyes. Tsireya was looking for words, and even Tonowari was completely speechless.

"Say that again." the tsahik whispered in disbelief, so you repeated "I want you to transfer my soul into my avatar. My conciousness, my spirit, however you might call it."

The tsahik looked towards her husband, shaking her head slowly.

"You can't be serious?!" Ao'nung blurted out while Tsireya still tried to process what you had just exclaimed while having dinner with them.

"Sully managed so I can do it too." Your voice was all calm since you had pondered this idea for some time already. Then you wouldn't have to run around with your exopack anymore and you could live amongst the metkayina. Become one of them. Finally have a place where you belonged to and the freedom to find a man.

The son stormed over to you and shook your shoulders as if he was trying to wake you up from a fever dream.

"This is dangerous! You might die!"

"Guess what smooth brain, i'm a scientist, I know."

Tonowari tapped the tips of his fingers together slowly, repeating your words in your head.

"Why would you want this?!" Ao'nungs face was on the thin line between angst and fury.

"What about your work, your lab, your father?!"

"It is what I want. I alone have the right to make this choice. It's stressful to switch and my human body is just not suited for this world. And since i don't intend to return to earth, I might as well become one of you."

Ao'nung pulled you up to your feet and dragged your avatar out of his family's marui in order to talk to you alone.

As soon as there was enough distance he faced you, grabbing your head with both hands. You whined at his unpleasant touch, but he couldn't help himself. His blue eyes darted straight into your golden ones, lips trembling, his entire body shaking in frustration.

"Why the hell do you want to do this?! What if you die?!" He spat with wild eyes.

"Then you better make sure to bring the prettiest flowers to my grave or I might haunt you. And visit me at the spirit tree-"

"You think this is funny?!"

You had never seen him in this state of fury but you had expected such reaction.

"Ao'nung, it's my life and my choice. You can't stop me."

He couldn't believe how by eywa you could stay so calm. His chest was heaving, blood ferociously rushing through his veins.

"This is madness, y/n!"

"I am a human in an incubated na'vi halfbreed body on a planet somewhere far away from earth where people and animals can literally connect their nerves to each other and you're telling me this is madness?"

He didn't know it was even possible but he got even more frustrated and enraged.

"For what reason y/n, what's it worth to put yourself through this?!"

Your face softened, lips forming a sweet smile as you stared into his bitter eyes.

"You."

Ao'nung swallowed hardly and his tilted ears stood up for a second. All his anger had dissolved, but only for a brief moment before he turned bitter again.

"Y/N... you can't be serious."

"Of course I am. Tsireya told be that you had some arguments with your parents about me. That you can't choose me as a woman. Don't you want to be with me? You must've thought about it as w-"

"Shut up." He growled.

His hands let go of you abruptly. He couldn't look you in the eyes for much longer, it pained him to see you as his thoughts formed into words.

"Of course I did. I dreamed about this for so long, but that's all it will ever be. A dream."

His words tore your heart into pieces, shattering all the pictures you had already painted out. Your breath hitched and you pulled both hands up to your chest.

"You know that this is not true. We can find a way-" you whispered into the air before he interrupted.

"Your 'way' is not an option. Which means there is no way."

Ao'nung took a deep breath and walked a few steps, only to come back to you.

"I'm not discussing my choice with you. I will talk about this with the tsahik." You mumbled quietly.

"If the great mother would've wanted you to be one of us she would have made you one of us!" his words were so loud that the distance between you and his family's marui didn't matter anymore. The entire village had probably hears him screaming into the night.

You slowly shook your head as he was done yelling.

"If the great mother doesn't want me to be one of you, she will let me feel that. You are not tsahik."

"Right, I'm the future oloeyktan! You should obey to what I say!"

He tried to calm himself but failed miserably. His fangs were bared, ears flicking angrily and his tail whipped around in fury.

"I thought you wanted to be more than a status..."

Here you ended the conversation and parted ways with him for today.

~~~

History repeated itself. Some days of not talking to each other at all followed, as well as him showing up to your shack.

He didn't apologize for his words, he simply walked in and sat down the same spot as always. Nothing in this village happened without his knowledge so he was already aware that you had talked to his mother and after a long consideration and deep talks with her husband she had agreed to your request. The ceremony was supposed to happen tonight so you had cleaned out your lab as you wouldn't be using it as much anymore.

You had called your father so he could see you one last time. He did everything but approve.

"Don't you dare! I will not allow this, are you mad?! What weird stuff did you smoke out there? These freaks clouded you brain! Don't tell me you're doing this for this boy?"

His words meant nothing to you. Either he accepted or not, but it didn't change your mind one bit.

"You really want to do this?" Ao'nung mumbled while you leaned against your desk, arms crossed.

"I will do this."

"You're pretty dumb for being such a smart girl, you know that?"

You only huffed and relaxed your arms before Ao'nung got up onto his feet again and made his way over to you. Both of his hands gripped around your waist and lifted you up to sit on the desk.

Your breath hitched at his actions and you couldn't help but blush madly. Not just your face but your entire body heated up as the metkayina came dangerously close to you, cupping your face with gentle hands unlike last time.

His blue eyes stared right into your soul before they fell onto your soft lips.

"Once the ritual starts, there is no return. Either your soul will transfer or..."

"Ao'nung, I will make it. Then I am one of your people." you flashed a wide smile at him.

"You are not just going to be one of us, y/n. You will also be mine."

He decided to waste no more time talking and let his actions speak, crashing his lips on top of yours. Instantly melting into the kiss you threw your arms around his neck, feeling your stomach toss and turn while he closed the gap between himself and your petite body completely, holding you close to his bare torso.

Both of you had longed for this for what felt like an eternity. In you he had found someone so different and yet so similar. No matter what you did, you fascinated him in every way. You actually managed to handle his ego and his rough personality, but he could also be vulnerable around you.

~~~

Ao'nung himself had carried your human body towards the cove of ancestors on his ilu where the ritual was taking place. He was praying to eywa that you would return from the eye of the great mother. Max and Norm had also shown up to the ritual, the Sully's too as well as the metkayina. Ronal and Tonowari stood next to each other, their daughter Tsireya right by their side as the ceremony was prepared.

The young man placed a last kiss onto your head before he had to let go of you and leave to the depths of the water as the spirit tree grasped out to you with it's strings, pulling you below the water surface until they were wrapped all around your body and your entire vision went black. All sounds were silenced.

No words were able to describe what you went through. What felt like an eternity probably went by in the shortest time before you were able to open your eyes again. A familiar face was right in front of you, holding your cheeks carefully. As soon as you detached from the spirit tree, you felt a pair of strong arms help you back up to the surface where you coughed out some swallowed water.

Before looking down on your own body your golden eyes searched for your human form which was completely covered from all these watchful eyes, deep below the surface. People cheered as your arms fell around the metkayina boy in front of you who pressed your dripping body against his shaking self. Some hysterical laughs escaped from both of you as you realized that the ritual had worked. Your chest was heaving in the tight embrace with the boy. His hands wrapped around your body as if he never wanted to let go of you again.

He pressed his relieved smile into your shoulder, still breathing out a few huffs in disbelief. As he felt your strong heartbeat, his own heart was pounding in excitement. Both your hands reached around his head only to pull him away from your shoulder gently to take a look at his visage. You got lost in each other's eyes, surrounded by luminous freckles all over your faces.

His thumbs traced over your blushed violet cheeks before you pressed your forehead to his.

"I see you, ma y/n." he whispered quietly and full of love.

"I see you, mao'nung."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @luvlykrispy @zatarias-pandora @vviolaswrld @yeosxxx @lilgurlbeoncrack @philiasoul @itszzmoon @simp4ff @itsnotme02 @et-j-art @lovekeeho

[brucewaynehater101]

Okay okay, so Tim finds out Bruce is stuck in the timestream and gathers all his siblings + Barbara for a meeting, presenting his evidence, a drafted plan of action to save Bruce . . .

. . . And asks what to do with this information

They all come to an agreement / majority vote

l e t h i m d i e

=========

Once upon a time they thought that Gotham, the world, that they, all needed Batman

Now that isn't the case anymore

Oh he was mourned, by the Justice League, by his allies, by civilians . . .

But the Batfamily has grown into their own, they've found a way to fight for Gotham, Bludhaven, Crime Alley because they've inherited the Fear of Batman

They've found their own ways to instill the fear of them into the criminal world

Their territories are becoming better even despite their Patriarch being dead

And they feel less dead than they were becoming under his thumb

The Dark Knight is Dead; Long Live The Dark Knights

· · ·

People questioned what would happen with the Prince of Gotham dead

Tim tried becoming CEO, but Jason stepped in himself to take the mantle from right under him, citing he was too young and should enjoy his childhood while it still lasted

That started quite a fight between them

Duke Thomas was adopted by Jason and while not technically joining the family's nightlife, Signal could always be found while the sun was up

Gotham's bones broke, organs failed, and flesh was bitten off

Gotham has never been better since Batman or even The Second Robin died

Praise the Batfamily

This is happiness . . .

?

=========

Somebody finds out they let Batman die

Be it the Justice League, other heroes, their rogues, or another hero's rogues, or somebody else entirely

They find out

Do other groups learn by themselves? Does this knowledge come into the hands of people who would spread it?

Either way, the Batclan is going to have to confront that it's known they let Batman die

Is the knowledge it used maliciously, is the accuser wanting answers, or is it a mix of both

Gosh, what will Alfred think if he learns? I imagine that even if he enabled Bruce's abuse they kept him around, stick close enemies and friends after all

(me thinks personally that Joker is throwing a fit with his nemesis dead, and he may not even be able to abuse the fact his own kids killed him cuz it was a child abuser who was killed by his abused)

(but I'd love to see your take on Joker's pov when he only knows Batman is dead and if he learns his kids left him for dead and if he learns they were abused by him and that's why they let him die)

Now I'm wondering what would happen if it got leaked to the public that the Batfamily knew Batman could've been saved but did nothing about it. There could be so many different reactions from different groups

Crime Alley people, criminals, people outside Gotham, Gothamites themselves, and Bludhaven residents would have different takes collectively methinks

Fucking hell, that isn't even accounting for all the fuckery you could do w/ Bruce Wayne = Batman and I'm not talking about an post-mortem identity reveal, I'm talking identity shenanigans

Like say the bats knowing they could have saved Bruce but left him for dead and somebody/some group learns this and leaks it

And then Jason steps in to say "you know the FUCK what? We knew our old man could have been saved and since he was shit we voted/agreed to let him die!!" And all hell breaks loose

And that's just one example!

=========

Inspired by that ask on Jason calling for a family meeting after learning Bruce is stuck in the timestream to figure out what to do from there

+ the one post where Dick tries and fails to get Tim to give up on Bruce so he doesn't embark on BruceQuest and Bruce dies in the Timestream

w/ Cassandra in particular, it'd be fun to explore her psyche in the Vote branch, if she votes to let Bruce die or not considering her "No Kill" stance

Heck, with both branches they alone bring so much fun to the table, even without the flavor of The Reveal

Agreement: You get the explore a world where all the bat kids + Barbara want Bruce dead, by why is it? You get to see all their reasons for it, and how their reasonings may mesh or clash and how they come to make their decisions!

Majority Vote: You get to see the conflicts between those who want him back and want him dead + what they do and think knowing who voted for what then onwards

Bonus if a batsibling or two start of wanting Bruce back but then decide they want him gone, or the reverse, or they flip flop again and again until they make their choice

Either branch I think would overhaul the Batfamily's relationships w/ each other in a major way and not just because someone has to take Bruce's spot as the family head or whatever, but because they chose/voted for said Patriarch to die

That's a big fucking deal

Oh yeah, Duke; is he ever taught about the (technically not) Patricide committed? Or do they keep him ignorant because ignorance is bliss?

Because if he learns through means other than them, yeah it'll be a shit show the Bats won't be prepared for beforehand

Oh yeah what about Gordon? Do you think he'd be in the know or learn via leaks or a leaker cuz he's kind of Barbara's family

Hello!!!!!!!!!!

Tw: abuse, death, murder, child abuse, suicide (let me know if I need to add more)

I love this idea, and I'm totally up for breaking it down.

If it's not an agreement, then it's likely that the ones who disagree will try to save Bruce regardless of what everyone else wants

This will turn into an all-out war as those who want Bruce dead try to prevent the others from succeeding. It would be like a weird version of capture the flag, clue, and escape the room. The save-Bruce team (whether out of love or duty) would need to gather all the evidence that Tim did while fending off attacks and working against the clock (there comes a point in time that it's too late to save Bruce).

Even if they all agree, it's still complicated feelings wise.

Bruce is an abusive piece of shit (especially in this AU), but it's hard to not love your abuser. The cycle of abuse is difficult to break out of. I think Dick and Jason would be at the point they are more apathetic to Bruce's care/love. They are adults who don't rely on him. They might still love Bruce, but it's easier for them to put a defense against the man emotionally to the point of condoning his murder.

Babs and Steph aren't his kids, so, while their feelings aren't black and white, it's easier to distance themselves from Bruce.

Canonically, I think Tim recently got adopted by Bruce. This makes it harder for him to outright reject Bruce. When given evidence (and shown what Bruce did to his other family members), Tim might come to the conclusion that it's better off without Bruce.

Damian is a child who just got to meet his dad. I doubt he'd be on board with this plan nor, with his hero worship, would he be able to find faults in him. He simply hasn't spent enough time with Bruce (and lots of angst to be explored there. Basically, his "siblings" that he's just met are telling him it's better for him if their dad is dead).

Cass loves Bruce. She trusts his mission, what he's supposed to stand for, and that he does love his kids (she can see that he truly does love everyone). At the same time, he hurts her siblings. She doesn't agree with leaving Bruce to die, but her feelings are complicated on the matter.

How the batkids feel about Alfred is similar (although not categorically per a kid) as they feel about Bruce

If they've reached the point where they have acknowledged that Alfred will never be on their side nor protect them, they still love that old man. They want him to be around, they would be sad at his death, but they know Alfred could and has hurt them. They know Alfred would choose Bruce over them.

The JL find out Bruce isn't actually dead with the Black Lantern battle thing.

Theoretically, other heroes can then start trying to save Bruce. Without canon Tim's information, though, they might not be able to. Bonus points to this batfam au if Oracle and others actively sabotage their efforts.

Gordon would be presented with all the evidence that Batman was an abusive piece of shit.

The Commissioner would try to bury any feelings of grief out of guilt for what he's unknowingly allowed his ex friend to get away with. If he knew that Batman was the same boy he threw a jacket over at the scene of that kid's parents' murder, he would sit at his desk with a bottle of scotch and a lit cigarette trying to figure out where it all went wrong. Jim would blame himself, curse Batman, and, as he curses himself for always allowing, do not a damn thing against what the masked vigilantes tell him to do.

Crime Alley and Bludhaven respectively probably would either not give a fuck, say "good riddance," or whistle at the fact the Bat's own kids refused to save him.

Gothamites know their vigilantes. If the batkids had refused to help Batman, than they trust the kids. There's nothing out there that would turn a man's entire family against him besides the man himself. By the end of the week, all Batman related stuff is burnt and replaced by the many symbols of the birds.

Anyone outside of Gotham (besides Bludhaven) will criticize the batkids. Gotham becomes fiercely protective over their birds after that and will fist fight anyone who tries to talk shit about them or their decision.

Fuck Joker, but here's how I think he felt about it.

Man definitely lost his shit in a fit of giggles. It seems (though Joker is slightly disappointed he wasn't part of the final showdown) that Batman was dragged down to the level of madness he swore he'd never go to. If Batman's kids turned against him, oh that must mean that the furry freak truly did horrendous actions against them!

That clown spends several weeks coming up with twisted fantasies and theories to ask out of the Birds to tease out their reactions for when he next sees them. He wants to know exactly how the Dark Knight fell and what was so dastardly to turn children against their father.

After he solves that mystery? Dealer's choice. He doesn't quite get as much joy without Batman around. He can play around with Red Hood and Red Robin specifically (if JJ happened), but nobody is the Dark Knight.

Maybe his melancholy turns into rage where he starts seriously gunning for all the Birds for not returning Batman to him. That, or Joker kills himself cause his nemesis/obsession is gone. Both are likely responses.

Anyways, I also love the positive notes you had that I didn't address. The hopefulness of them doing better for Gotham and Jason adopting Duke is fantastic. I'd love more of that as well as everything else

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Body Electric

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader x Billy Taylor (The Halcyon) Warnings: Angst, mentions of PTSD and familial death, (consensual) infidelity, voyeurism, smut. Word count: ~3.9k

Summary: Tom's been sullen since returning from the Navy, and when his sister, Lois, moves from Longsight to London it heralds the end of the honeymoon period of his and his wife's marriage. Deciding a trip to the capital is just what they need to reignite the flame, Tom's wife gets much more than she bargains for when they check into The Halcyon, and she flirts with the handsome young bell boy to make her husband jealous.

Author's note: For @adragonprinceswhore and @mefools. This is not a crack fic. I have warped canon (I mean, I had to get these two to exist in the same AU anyway), so Billy didn't die when he was drafted, and has gone back to his old job at The Halcyon. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Dappled sunlight plays upon Tom’s sharp features, the occasional shadow of a tree or building passing across his face as the train speeds through the British countryside. He’d look beautiful, bathed in golden hues, were it not for the pensive expression he wears, and the faintest of dark circles that linger beneath his eyes.

She can’t remember the last time he looked genuinely happy - perhaps it was their wedding day?

Her and Tom had met in secondary school, and she’d thought he was an idiot to begin with; handsome, but always mucking around in lessons, never able to take anything seriously. It wasn’t until they’d both left that they’d become an item. She’d go to the weekly dances at the Pavillion, and every week he would ask her out. The first three times she had said no, not wanting to get mixed up with a known troublemaker. On the fourth occasion she’d relented, simply in the hopes that if she said yes he’d leave her alone. But she’d found she enjoyed his company, he made her laugh effortlessly, and when his blue eyes gazed into hers it made her feel like the only girl in the world that mattered. When he had kissed her it had stolen all the air from her lungs, and from that point on she was smitten with Tom Bennett.

The night before he shipped out for the first time, she had thought he meant to slam the bed’s headboard through the brickwork of the wall with the force with which he took her. However, she had smiled to herself when she’d felt the pleasant ache between her thighs the next day.

“Something to remember me by,” he’d told her with a wink and that trademark smirk of his.

Something to remember indeed.

She’d barely recognised him when he’d returned. He was thin, tired, didn’t laugh as freely, and learning that his father had passed when the Bennett family home was shelled had darkened his mood further. He hadn’t stayed long, enough to argue with his sister, Lois, and enough to find his way between her thighs once more and make her swear to him that she’d marry him when he came back.

Of course she had said yes, there was no one in the world she could imagine wanting to marry more than Tom. But with how things are between them these days she is left wondering if he’d married her because he loved her, or because she was the one thing left in Longsight that he could anchor himself to.

They’d married quickly when Tom was discharged for the final time, the war at its end. It had been an intimate affair, and despite the toll his service to his country had taken on him, Tom still gazed into her eyes on their wedding night and made her feel like the only girl in the world that mattered.

But then Lois had announced she was taking Vera and moving to London - her and Connie had found a place they could share. A fresh start. She had hinted at wanting to move away from Longsight before, and Tom had dismissed it, insisting that the family must stay together. 

He was furious when she’d chosen to go anyway, refusing to be part of the send off party for her at the train station.

“This is where mum and dad are buried, how can she do this?!” He’d raged.

“They’re just headstones, Tommy,” she had tried to reassure him, “memories go everywhere with you.”

“You wouldn’t fucking understand,” he’d seethed back at her, “you’ve still got both your parents, what have I got?!”

“You’ve got me, you’ll always have me,” she’d said quietly.

He’d fallen silent at that, bowing his head and averting his gaze. It made her chest ache to see him that way.

It’s been close to a month since they were last intimate, and she has done her best to be patient and understanding. His time in the Navy has put him through a horrendous ordeal, coupled with losing Douglas, and his sister moving away, so she doesn’t pressure him.

However, she misses her husband. She feels that he is abandoning her each time he retreats into himself, going somewhere she can’t follow. Like two ships in the night, they pass each other by, laying in the same bed physically but emotionally never further apart.

When a letter arrives from Lois, letting them know she’s settled and would love for them to visit, she jumps at the opportunity. She has some money put aside from her job at the factory, and her and Tom never got to have a honeymoon, this would be the perfect way for them to rekindle the romance in their marriage.

She is shocked, yet thrilled, when Tom actually agrees to it, and the pair of them arrange a week’s worth of leave from their respective jobs, arranging to stay in a hotel rather than impose themselves upon Lois’ hospitality. There’d be plenty for them to do while they’re there, and she can’t wait to see the sights of Piccadilly Circus and Carnaby Street, she’s never been to London before.

Tom has stared silently out of the window the entire train ride from Manchester, though she knows better than to believe he’s taking in the scenery. It’s merely so he doesn’t have to make conversation. She can live with that, she is certain that once they’ve had their romantic week away that he’ll be much more talkative on the journey back.

Everything will be fine once we’re checked into The Halcyon.

It is early evening by the time they arrive, and Euston station is a crowded rush of people when they step onto the platform. She is fearful of it for a moment, never having seen so many people all in one place at once, until Tom takes her by the hand, guiding her through the crowds towards the taxi rank. Her heart soars at the gesture, a hopeful smile tugging at her lips over his protectiveness. Perhaps he is not lost to her after all.

She stares in wide eyed wonder out of the window of the black cab as it drives through the streets of London. It is similar to Manchester in its greyness and vastness, they both have all the trappings of big city living, however, the heart of London beats to an entirely different rhythm than that of Manchester’s. The capital seems harsher, more relentless than the northern locale that she calls home. She wonders if perhaps this is the right place to try to rekindle the spark in hers and Tom’s marriage after all.

That is until they step into the foyer of The Halcyon. Her heels click against the black and white tiles of the foyer, her mouth agape as she takes in the opulence of the huge pillars, the palm trees that flank either side of the entrance, and the yellow and orange hues of the stained glass panel in the ceiling. How could they not reignite their passion when they were going to live like royalty for a week?

“Billy!” The dark haired woman manning reception calls around the corner, once they’ve checked in. “Come and help Mr and Mrs. Bennett with their bags.”

A tall, lean young man, who can’t be any older than twenty, rounds the corner. He’s handsome, with bright blue eyes, and mousy hair that’s slicked back beneath the cap of his black and grey bellboy uniform.

He gives her a tight lipped smile, the tips of his ears turning pink as he looks at her and she can’t help the way she preens at his flustered state.

Still got it.

“Second floor, Billy,” the receptionist tells him as he leans down to grab their suitcases, “room twenty six.”

Billy nods. “Right this way, please, Mr and Mrs. Bennett,” he says, directing them towards the lifts.

She can feel the bellboy’s gaze upon her in the tight confines of the elevator and smiles to herself. At least someone was appreciative of her.

He takes his leave, bidding them both a good evening once their luggage is deposited outside of their room door, and her and Tom are left alone once more.

Tom whistles low as they enter, flicking on the lights, and she feels pride swell in her chest that he’s impressed by the lavish surroundings. A shiver of excitement runs through her as her eyes move over the crisp white pillows and crimson duvet that adorn the bed, thinking that this might be where they’ll finally make love for the first time in a month.

It’s a beautiful room; lace curtains hang in the windows, ornate floral wallpaper decorates the walls, there’s a writing desk by the window, and a yellow velvet armchair is placed off to one side by the bed.

Turning back towards Tom, she steps towards him, sliding her hands up his chest, over his jacket. She smiles demurely up at him, her voice a soft purr. “So, Mr. Bennett, what shall we do now?”

“It’s been a long journey, love,” he tells her, taking one of her hands and brushing his lips against her knuckles. “Let’s just get some rest, yeah?”

“Oh…okay,” she nods, stepping back and looking away. She feels like she might cry, as disappointment weighs heavily upon her chest. This is not how she imagined their first night here would go at all.

As she lays in the darkness, listening to the strange sounds of the city, motor cars and loud voices, all seeping in through the closed window, she can’t seem to fall asleep. She turns her face towards Tom, who lays facing away from her, wondering if he’s awake too.

“Tommy?” She whispers.

“Yeah?” He whispers back.

She pauses a moment, and when she speaks again she’s unable to disguise the tremble of emotion in her voice. “Do…do you still love me?”

He rolls to face her then, and the devastation of what she’s implying is evident in the arch of his eyebrows and parting of his lips, illuminated by the light of the streetlamp that pours in through the lace curtains. She feels a lump in her throat, regretting having asked.

“Course I do,” he says earnestly, tugging her towards him, and she buries her face in his chest. He presses his lips to the crown of her head, rubbing her back. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I’ve been letting you down.”

They stay like that for the rest of the night.

The next morning they sit in the hotel’s dining room for breakfast. Tom idly smokes a cigarette, a full English in front of him, while she butters her toast.

“Gonna go and see Lois today,” he tells her, taking a swig from his tea cup.

“I thought we’d arranged to visit her on Sunday?” She asks, frowning in confusion as she sets her knife down on her plate.

“We are,” Tom says, blowing smoke out through his nostrils - a gesture she has long since learned is a sign of irritation on his part. “But I’m gonna go see her today - alone.”

You’re going to start an argument, and then come back in a bad mood.

She sighs, folding her hands in her lap. “And what am I supposed to do?”

Tom shrugs. “Go to Carnaby Street, or whatever it was you were saying you wanted to do while we’re here.”

“Tommy, we’re supposed to do those things together, and I don’t wanna walk around London on my own!”

He nods, stubbing his cigarette out on the yolk of his fried egg, causing her to wrinkle her nose in disgust. He had barely touched his food, he never does anymore.

“Alright, look, I’m only gonna be gone a couple of hours, then we can do whatever you want. Why don’t you order some drinks for when I get back, and we can start our holiday properly?”

“You promise?” She asks with a small smile.

“Cross my heart,” he says, taking a final swig of his tea. He stands from the table and presses a kiss to her temple.

“And promise you won’t be horrible to Lois?”

“I’m not promising anything for that mardy cow,” he says, giving her a wink, before walking off.

She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

Fuck’s sake, Tommy.

She goes back up to the room once she’s finished her breakfast, and takes a long, hot soak in the bath. Almost two hours have passed by the time she has her make-up finished and her hair curled. Dressed in lingerie and a satin robe, she is still deciding on an outfit when she realises Tom will be back soon and she hasn’t ordered their drinks.

Calling down to the hotel’s switchboard from the phone on the desk, she asks for a glass of white wine and a whisky to be sent up to the room. Ordinarily, Tom is a lager drinker, but she decides he deserves a treat as they’re on holiday.

Ten minutes later, there’s a knock at the door and the bellboy from yesterday stands on the other side, holding a tray with the drinks they’d ordered.

She smiles warmly, watching him blush as he bows his head and enters the room, setting the tray down on a nearby table.

“Thank you…Billy, wasn’t it?” She asks, cocking her head.

He presses his lips together in a tight smile, glancing at her before looking shyly away again. It’s clear her state of undress is having an effect on him. “Yes, Mrs. Bennett,” he says, clearing his throat and straightening, clasping his hands behind his back. “Will that be all?”

Excitement flutters in her lower belly. It’s been a long time since a man has reacted to her so bashfully, and she’s enjoying it. She isn’t ready to let Billy slip away just yet.

“No need to be so formal, sweetheart,” she coos, “you can call me by my first name.”

He shuffles from foot to foot, huffing a nervous laugh. “Sorry, Mrs…sorry…”

“How old are you, Billy?” She asks, stepping towards him.

“I’m twenty-one.”

Seven years my junior. Not as bad as I’d thought.

“Did you serve, Billy?”

“Yes,” he says with a proud smile. “I manned the anti aircraft guns at the barracks for three years.”

The sound of a key in the lock draws both their attention towards the door, as Tom walks through it. Just as she’d anticipated, his expression is sour. He’s argued with Lois. 

“I’ll leave you both to it,” Billy says, with a polite nod of his head.

She knows how this will play out. Billy will leave, and Tom will allow his bad mood to ruin their day, either by refusing to leave their hotel room, or simply sulking his way around London when they’re supposed to be having a good time. Opting to use the current situation to her advantage, she decides to be tactical, and give her husband a reminder of what he’s missing out on. If he sees another man flirting with his wife, perhaps it will snap him out of this.

“No need to be in such a hurry, Billy, we were just getting to know each other. Or do you have somewhere you need to be?”

Billy eyes Tom carefully as he walks past the both of them, taking the whisky from the tray on the desk and sipping from it.

“Well, my shift finishes in ten minutes,” he says distractedly, “so I s’pose I could–”

“Perfect,” she cuts him off, taking his arm and guiding him to sit next to her on the edge of the bed.

Tom remains silent, taking a seat in the armchair and placing his glass on the table next to it. His jaw is set, gaze dark. He only ever looks like this when he’s sparring for a fight, but if this is what it takes, then so be it.

“Do you have a sweetheart, Billy?” She asks softly, fingernails grazing his thigh, causing him to flush bright red.

“Er…well…” he removes his cap, keeping his gaze fixed on it as he turns it round in his hands. “There was a maid that worked here…Kate, her name was. I fancied her…really fancied her, but she moved back to Ireland to be with her family when the worst of the bombing hit.”

“Oh, you poor love,” she soothes, giving his hand a squeeze. “I expect a handsome lad like you has girls queuing up.”

The click of Tom’s lighter pulls their focus back to him, and he exhales a plume of smoke, staring intently at them both. “Do you fancy my wife?” He asks Billy, with a steely gaze.

Billy swallows thickly, eyes widening in panic as he opens and closes his mouth.

“It’s okay, Billy,” she says gently, “you don’t need to be shy.”

“Well…I hope you don’t mind me saying, Mrs…sorry…but I think you’re beautiful.”

This time it’s her turn to feel embarrassed, and she averts her gaze as she feels her skin grow warm.

“Yeah, she is beautiful isn’t she? Would you like to kiss her?” Tom asks, lifting his glass and taking a deep drink from it, his eyes never leaving Billy.

Her head snaps up, looking at her husband with wide eyed shock.

Why is he asking that?!

“Tommy…” she says hesitantly, an edge of warning in her tone.

“It’s fine, love,” he takes another drag of his cigarette, settling further into the armchair, observing the both of them. “Go on, kiss her.”

Returning her attention to Billy, he’s shuffled closer, looking at her questioningly.

“Is…is this okay?” He whispers, leaning in.

She nods, closing the gap and her lips meet his. He is hesitant at first. His kisses are not as forceful as Tom’s, his lips are softer. As she reaches up to cup his cheek, he seems to grow more confident, applying more pressure, a quiet hum of approval rumbling in his throat. It makes her core throb to be desired like this.

When they finally part for air, she is breathless and flustered. She looks straight to Tom. He sits, watching them casually, fingers wrapped around his glass in one hand, propped on the arm of the chair, his cigarette burning low between his forefingers in the other.

“Do you wanna touch her?” He asks Billy, a low, darkened edge to his voice.

“Yeah…yeah, I do,” Billy answers, sounding more poised than he had just moments before.

“Go on then,” Tom instructs, “brush your thumb over her nipple, she likes that.”

She gasps softly as Billy leans in again, capturing her lips with his own once more. A quiet moan escapes her as she feels his hand tentatively slip into the opening of her robe, his thumb swiping gently over the lace of her brassiere.

He is not as self assured as Tom, Billy’s touch is featherlight by comparison, but it’s been so long since someone has paid this kind of attention to her that she responds to it just the same. She arches against Billy, her tongue slipping into his mouth as she hears his cap drop to the carpet with a soft thud.

“You can fuck her, if you want to,” Tom rasps, and she glances over at him, as Billy’s desperate kisses move down her neck. His blue eyes are still dark, she’s no longer able to tell if it’s from anger or arousal, the two states look much the same when he wears them.

There’s a part of her mind that’s screaming at her that this is wrong, that they should stop. However, if this is what it takes to get Tom to notice her again, then she’ll do it, and selfishly she’s enjoying how it feels.

Billy pushes her back, and she goes willingly. “Are you sure this is okay?” He whispers, his voice betraying his nerves.

She nods, untying and opening her robe, to reveal the lacy lingerie set she wears beneath.

Billy draws in a sharp inhale, before hurriedly unfastening his belt and unzipping his trousers with shaky hands.

He freezes, looking at Tom. “I…I don’t have a sheath.”

“Don’t need one,” Tom replies nonchalantly, crushing his cigarette butt out in the ashtray. “Best not keep her waiting.”

She pulls the gusset of her knickers to one side as Billy hovers over her. She can feel she’s soaked already. Billy is not quite as girthy as Tom, but still an impressive size that causes her breath to catch in her throat as he starts to press inside.

Tom chuckles quietly from where he sits. “She’s tight, isn’t she? Tightest little pussy I’ve ever had. Go careful.”

His words cause her to ache with want, and she moans wantonly as Billy bottoms out with a grunt. He’s gentle, much more so than Tom would be, slowly withdrawing before pushing back in, a dusting of pink prominent across his cheekbones.

“You won’t break her,” Tom tells him, “can just imagine how wet and warm she feels. Fuck her harder, and wrap one of her legs around you. She goes mad for that.”

She cries out, white hot sparks of pleasure swirling in her gut as Billy does as he’s told, the shallow pants of his breath puffing hotly against the side of her face.

Turning her head, she looks at her husband and he smirks, eyes raking over the scene before him as Billy continues to rut into her.

“T–Tommy…” she moans.

With each push of Billy’s hips into hers, she can feel her climax building, she’s right on the precipice, but it seems Billy is too. He tenses, a groan escaping him.

“Don’t you dare come inside her,” snaps Tom.

As if on cue, Billy pulls out, making her whine at the loss, coating her thighs in his hot spend as his jaw slackens and his brow furrows.

Before she’s had a chance to recover, Tom is rising from his seat towards the bed. “You can go now,” he tells Billy.

Still struggling to catch his breath, Billy nods, clambering off of her and fastening his trousers and belt back up. He stoops to pick up his cap, before hurrying towards the door, followed by Tom.

She lays there, dumbfounded and breathless, through glassy eyes she watches Tom hand Billy a bank note. “You’ll not tell anyone about this, d’you understand?”

“Y–yes, sir.”

She hears the door click closed, and Tom walks back over to the bed. His pupils are blown wide with lust and it sends a shiver through her.

“Enjoy yourself, love?” He asks, grabbing her thighs and tugging her towards the edge of the mattress, making her squeal.

“Are you angry with me?” She asks quietly, feeling shame bloom heavily within her chest.

“No,” he says distractedly, attention focused on her core. His thumb swipes through the stickiness that’s been left on her thigh, spreading it slowly over her skin. “No, I’m not angry.”

“You’ve been so absent lately,” she says sadly, propping herself up on her elbows. “Just wanted your attention.”

He straightens, nodding in understanding. “Yeah, I get it. I’ve been neglecting you, and that’s my fault. But don’t worry, I won’t anymore. Now–”

She clenches around nothing as his hands move to his belt, and she hears the metallic clink of it opening. “Now you have my full attention, and I’m gonna make sure you get all of it.”

[spacebarbarianweird]

Astarion with Wood Elf!Tav headcanons, pls?

I decided to stick to the prompt and write about Wood Elves as promised, but let me know in the requests if you want Wild Elf!Tav as well!

Astarion x Wood Elf!Tav

Masterlist

Headcanons

TW: a mention of suicide and PTSD

As a Wood Elf, you grew up deep in the woods in one of the many hidden villages of your people.

Since childhood, you learned to trust humans and dwarves and know how to survive in the forests.

You are good with animals and have your own familiar - a lynx called Mould (because of her weird patterns on the fur).

When you were sixteen, your woods were destroyed by orcs. You survived by hiding high in the trees, afraid of going down.

From now on, your path is the path of revenge.

To orcs, who destroyed your home. To humans who sicced them and solved the issues with Elves with their dirty hands. To dwarves who refused to help.

And to High Elves who didn't help a young orphan

You kill. You destroy. You are cruel and violent like a drow, not a Wood Elf.

Your rage and your blindness are used by the wrong people.

Your bow and your arrows become a weapon of destruction.

You leave a blood trace wherever you go.

Until you are kidnapped by mindflayers.

You aren't afraid. You want to die. You just wait until the cruel will of the Illithyds turns you into something monstrous.

But it doesn't happen. The tadpole blocks some of your most unpleasant memories and suppresses the bloodlust and disgust.

You've never felt so good!

As a leader, you gather your small company to get to Baldur's Gate.

You feel something is off with Astarion - Wood Elves have a good intuition concerning the Undead.

You feel compassion - you also left a trace of blood. You allow him to feed on you, and with every day you get closer.

He reconnects with the Elven culture through you, though Sylvan Elves and Moon Elves are different.

You braid his short hair and adorn it with little pieces of jewelry the same way men of your kin did.

On the other hand, he tells you about history and geography things that aren't known to isolated Or-tel-quessir.

You help Astarion to heal, and you feel like something is healing inside you. Your past, your sorrows.

But the moment the tadpole disappears...

It is all back.

The blood on your hands. The cries of your victims.

You want to die.

While the streets of Baldur's Gate are festive, you walk like a ghost.

You don't deserve to live. Not after everything you've done.

You want to end it all. You find a solitary place where no one will ever find you, and you take a dagger.

You faint as the blood leaves your body, and you feel like death lulls you to forever sleep.

You hope that your soul is too corrupt to be reincarnated.

But-

You wake up.

Alive.

Astarion has saved you.

He found you by the smell of blood and managed to find help before it was too late.

You remember his desperate cry for help, his attempts to stop the blood loss.

As you recover, he takes care of you. He spoon-feeds you, changes the bandages, and never ever says anything about your suicide attempt.

He knows why you did it. And he won't allow you to do that ever again.

Together, you leave the city and go into the wilderness.

You help each other heal. Astarion soothes your mental pain, and you help him with nightmares.

You have a few more attempts to off yourself, but Astarion always finds words to stop you.

With years, it gets easier. You redeemed yourself in your own eyes by helping people. You found the strength to keep living.

As for Astarion, he comes to terms with your mortality.

You will live for centuries, and you have a lot of time together. 

And you will return. You will reincarnate and, if he is still alive, you shall meet again.

A century post-game, you find yourself in the familiar woods.

You know this place.

It is your destroyed home.

You cry and grieve while Astarion holds you, not letting you fall into the dark abyss of your sorrows.

He helps you build a small shrine, a reminder about people who used to live there.

And you feel good. You feel free.

Astarion suggests going to see more of this world. Other continents, maybe, other planes.

And you agree. You leave your past and go into the future with your Thiramin, once and forever love.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati

[bmhcdnsms]

yandere best friend is your one and only.

x male reader

-> meant to be romantic (one-sided) but i think it can be read platoonically !

-> read my dni/byf before interacting with this post!!! FEM-ALLIGNED, MINORS, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED IF YOU INTERACT WITH THIS.

yan ! best friend . . . who has known you since chilldhood and would rather die than be anywhere without you. he insisted on following your footsteps, going to the same middle and high school, even the same university. you met in elementary and to this day, in your young adulthood, he holds a special place in his heart for that place since it brought the two of you together.

yan ! best friend . . . who got hit by the puberty truck especially hard and had grown to be taller than everyone around him, but most importantly you. who also starts seeing the value in going to the gym daily, citing it as a direct source in making him stronger and getting him to be more competent in protecting you. he sees himself as your protector, must always be alert and in tune with what's going around the two of you so he can protect you.

"[name], you're going to get hurt doing that," he lightly scolds you, easily pulling you away from whatever it was that you were going. his inhumane strength makes it easy for him to drag you away.

"bailee, are you serious? the vending machine just ate my money! the drink had to get out of there somehow!" you complained, looking at the drink that was caught at an angle that stopped it from falling down to the latch. you were smacking the plastic glass to make it budge, to no avail.

bailee, however, saw it as you bringing bodily harm onto yourself and refused to stand by and watch any longer. hence why he took action in physically pulling you away.

"do you need ointment?" he asks, ignoring your annoyed scolding.

"i don't need ointment, i need my drink, you asshole!"

yan ! best friend . . . who makes it very obviously known that he's been the closest person in your life and knows the most about you. it's his way of establishing dominance on those nobodies that think they're your "friends" they don't know anything about you. they don't know you like he does. to think that they're under the impression that they do, though, makes him go absolutely crazy.

"[name] doesn't like that sauce on his food," bailee snarls, grabbing your order from the person's hands, "what do you think you're doing? are you trying to ruin his meal? do you not want him to eat? fucking bitch, i knew you were up to no good,"

your "friend" stands there, sputtering as they try to find the right words.

"what? you didn't know that he doesn't like that?" bailee taunts, rolling his eyes at the end as his arms bulge underneath the rolled up sleeves in anger, "of fucking course you wouldn't! you'd never be able to understand him the way i do."

what was supposed to be a relaxed day at the mall with you, bailee, and a handful of other friends turned into bailee scaring away all the other nobodies away and ending the day with you and him together.

another time bailee asserted his dominance as your best, one and only. friend was whenever he talks about you to other people. one time, there was someone that had tried slithering their way into your life and he was not having it.

bailee had entered your home with a spare key that you had given him, eager to just lay down in your bed and sleep away his stresses. balancing work and school has been stressful lately and the only proper way bailee can relax is by resting in your bed.

but why the fuck was the first thing he hears when he walks in your beautiful, melodic laughter, paired with the annoying sound of someone else's. he grits his teeth, kicking off his shoes in respect of your home, and clenches his fist by his side.

when he turns the corner into the kitchen/dining room area, he sees you sitting at the table with some random stranger sitting beside you. his eye visibly twitches at the sight.

"oh!" he breathes out, taking in the scene and forcing himself to count to 10 to calm down. "who's this, [name]?"

"oh, this is my group mate from uni. we just passed our final with the highest grade in the entire class, so i invited him over to celebrate. we got some good takeout and a cheap cake from the store to eat later!" you say with a lighthearted smile, not at all sensing the panic, dread, and rage coursing through your best friend's veins, "oh, you know all three of us were actually in the same middle school class! turns out ryan here was one of the 70 other kids in our grade!"

bailee forces a smile as he can barely keep his composure. this guy was someone you two had connections to since middle school...

'well, he hasn't known you since elementary like i have so that makes his value absolutely fucking worthless,' he thinks to himself, a bitter grin on his face.

"wow, that's really crazy how the world works," bailee laughs, looking in between you and shitface ryan with a blank look on his face. the two of you were sitting awfully close. that couldn't have been how the seats were set up to begin with..."uhm, [name] can i talk to you really quick?"

you nod immediately, telling ryan you'lll be back in a couple of minutes and bailee almost barfs at the sound of it. almost as if you're nuturing him like some father - as if you cared about him, that piece of shit ryan.

"i was kind of hoping we'd have the house to ourselves today. work and school have been really hard lately and i wanted to relax, y'know?" bailee says, resting his hands on his hips as he puts in the bare minimum in acting fatigued so that you could agree to kick ryan out.

"oh, we can stay in my room then, that way you can properly rest in yours! we will be quiet, i promise and we won't get in your way,"

bailee almost punches the wall in anger. let that absolute stranger be in a room alone with you? no fucking chance. his breathing got heavier as he repeatedly clenched and unclenched the fist at his side.

"no, that's not what i meant. i mean, i want us to spend my off day together. i need you, [name], please. i'm so tired i just need to recharge with you," bailee grabs your hand in his, mustering up a smile, "just me and my favorite boy. what do you say?"

you seem hesitant so he drives the point home with: "i just feel like we've been drifting recently. i never see you anymore..." that was completely untrue, bailee makes sure to be stuck onto you with every passing second. unless he's at work or school. so he used that as his excuse, knowing it was at least somewhat beleviable.

"but lee, i really did promise ryan-"

"promises with ryan are more important than our bond?" he asks, a hollow look in his eyes as he tries understanding what it was exactly that you were saying. "is that how you feel, [name]?"

immediately, you deny the accusation and he goes on to guilt trip you from there. he never feels good doing that to you, but there's no other way for you to see it from his perpsective.

needless to say, ryan was kicked out when you returned to the kitchen and you and bailee spent the rest of the day sitting on the couch, centimeters apart from each other, and laughing your asses off until the sun set. and when it was time to sleep, he selfishly brought you on top of him to feel your body against his.

reminder that you chose him and he told himself that you would always choose him. he was your best friend, after all. you two know each other the best.

yan ! best friend . . . who is your personal guard dog. he's actually a really sweet, kind, and considerate person!!!!...only for you. everyone else he could give less of a shit about. he slams the door behind him for every room he walks into because he knows you're not walking behind him. he doesn't give a shit about how he treats the general population of people because they're not you.

"watch where you're going you fucker," he sneers at someone as they had accidentally bumped into him, vs. "[name], c'mon, hold my hand. the place is really crowded we might get seperated from each other. and you know how i get whenever we get seperated."

"i'm not paying for my meal? this shit tasted so bad, i don't even wanna give them my money for how terrible it was! blegh!" after an outing with friends suggest that he pay his portion of the bill (as one normally should...) vs, "[name]! don't even think about paying! look, i can pay for our meal and then some dessert after. it's my treat so just put your wallet away!!"

"*has a resting bitch face*" vs, how smiley and carefree he is when he's with you. he's all smiles, giggles, and blushing cheeks whenever he's near you. but if someone were to interrput that time you have together, his rbf gets amped up at lesat 20 times than normal and he's glaring at whoever intruded on your time together as if they were a speck of dirt. he does this until they eventually get scared off by the tall, muscular man hovering centimeters behind you.

[fettuccinealfred0]

Til Death Do Us Part | Part 1

Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 6.5k

(CW: general vampirism, period typical sexism, neglectful parenting)

Summary:

“I must thank you for your company. I fear you have been the highlight of my night.” Astarion gives your hand an affectionate squeeze before he’s dropped it and disappeared into the night.

You stand there for a moment, dazed and coming back to your senses. Your skin is still flushed and hot as you imagine again what Astarion’s lips might have felt like against the back of your hand. Or perhaps pressed against your own? You think of Astarion and his sweet words and beautiful face. Perhaps it was possible to marry for love, after all. Perhaps Astarion would be your saving grace. For who couldn't resist ending the night in love with that man?

Read on ao3 here

The carriage creaks and groans as it makes its way up the hill. You feel the stern eyes of your father pressing into you like a heavy weight, a reminder not to forget the importance of the night, a reminder to know your place, girl.

Your entrance into society had been underwhelming, to say the least, and you could rapidly feel your father reaching a point of resentment that he still hadn’t been able to marry you off. Being the youngest daughter and with your mother passing when you were a young girl, you were simply a loose end that your father needed to tie off before he could go back to doing whatever it was noble men liked to do in their free time. You always assumed it was a lot of drinking and hunting.

You didn’t particularly want to be married, so you hadn’t really been entertaining suitors. What was the point of shackling yourself to someone if not for love? What was the point of allowing a man to own you and control you? You’d much rather spend your time alone with a little house, to garden and read as you please. 

But, an unmarried woman is a dangerous woman, and that cannot be allowed. 

So, you were in the carriage, attempting not to shrink under your father’s gaze as you headed off to a ball that seemed to be a last ditch effort to see you married. You stare down at your dress, instead, intently studying the shimmery embroidery and beadwork. It truly was a stunning dress, perhaps the nicest you had ever owned. The corset was pushing so hard at your chest that your bosom threatened to spill out of the top. You were not an arrogant or boastful person, but even you had to admit that you were breathtaking when you saw yourself in the mirror. A ripe fruit ready to be plucked by a husband, as your father had said. 

The carriage rolls to a stop and you would prefer to jump out and take in a deep gulp of air to calm your nerves. But, you must always remember your manners first and so you patiently wait for the door to open and the escort’s hand to assist you down from the carriage.

The manor is fantastical, beyond even your wildest dreams. The entryway is full of candles in gold and gem encrusted candelabras, flowers blooming everywhere you look. The brilliant red and white roses fill the summer air with a sweet, perfumed scent. The House of Ancunin was always known for their opulence and it appears the newest young lord plans to continue the family legacy.

The Ancunins had been around for generations, their secrets and mysteries kept locked away in their manor on the hill, doors only opening for the occasional, extravagant party. It had been a long time since a ball had been hosted at the manor. For many years, it appeared that the noble family line had threatened to die off and fade into obscurity. 

But recently, the new Lord Ancunin had made his presence known and celebrated his arrival into society. There were rumors that he was a bastard or that he had bought his title as the last ‘real’ Ancunin had died off. But nevertheless, this was the first time the manor doors would be open to the public again since the days of your grandparents- and everyone will be flaunting their wealth tonight like desperate peacocks. 

You try to keep your mouth from falling open as you gawk at the ornate entryway, littered with art that it would take hours to fully appreciate. You would rather stop and admire, but your father rushes you into the ballroom. You’ve been reminded again and again what your job is for tonight- to dance and flirt and stop chasing nice men away. 

The ballroom, with its giant windows and chandeliers seemingly floating in the air stuns you when you walk in. You’re immediately swept onto the dance floor as the orchestra swells in a symphony of music. You catch the way your beaded skirt reflects the light in the mirror as you twirl and for a moment, you’re stunned when you see yourself. You look radiant. Perhaps the only person in attendance who seems to match the grandeur of the ballroom. 

Your first dance partner is dull, to say the least. And the next speaks only of himself, hardly paying any attention to you. You catch a break every now and then with a man who is at least light on his feet, but your night seems to be doomed to a vicious cycle. Dull and selfish, dull and selfish. 

As you continue to lament in your head, you’re glided into the arms of a new partner. It takes a minute to pull yourself back to reality. You had expected yet another brainless Sergeant regaling you with stories of his military prowess that you would be forced to pretend to listen to. When instead, you’re met with silence, you finally turn to look up at your new partner. 

Your breath catches in your throat and you feel your heartbeat quicken dangerously. The man’s stunning eyes quickly dart down to your throat before returning to your face. Or perhaps he was looking at your cleavage? He certainly wouldn’t be the first man tonight to fall victim to the wonders of corsetry. And was it just a trick of the light, or are his eyes red?

This man is undeniably the most beautiful person you have ever seen. The light from the room catches against the white curls meticulously framing his face, creating a halo. It seems impossible that this apparition might be human and not some hallucination conjured up in your boredom. 

“Forgive me for intruding,” he says, in a sweet, melodic voice that seems to lilt in time with the music. “But I could no longer endure your absence from my arms.”

You’ve somehow managed to keep in step while you’ve been waxing poetry in your head about the stranger in front of you. Perhaps it was a testament to the many years of dancing that were drilled into you growing up, or perhaps it was because this angel was so good at leading you. But your footsteps do falter at his words, only a step or two before he’s guided you back on track. He’s still looking at you expectantly and you remember that you need to talk, that you can’t just keep staring at him in awe. 

“Well, now that you’ve caught me, what do you plan to do with me?” You sound ridiculous, you think. Voice timid and tapering off a bit at the end from nerves. This is not who you are, some silly girl, driven half-mad the first time you’re given attention by a man.

But the man looks down at you through his pale lashes, eyes deep and dark with hunger and you think you might drop to the floor and weep and beg for him. A part of you wants to offer up your neck so he can rip your throat open with his teeth. 

His voice is low and dangerous, like a predator, and it fills your stomach with a warmth that spreads through your veins. “Darling, I plan on never letting you go again. They’ll have to tear you away from me at the end of the night.”

You can’t quite remember when your throat got so dry, but a breathless, strangled sigh involuntarily leaves you at his words.

“Nor would I want to be anywhere else,” you manage to squeak out and the satisfied smirk that spreads across his face is worth it.

The music swells again, the song coming to an end and you dip as the dance requires. The man bends with you and you feel his breath against your neck. He must be nervous, too, you think because his breath comes out as sharp puffs of air. Deep in your mind, a part of you wishes that he would close the gap and his luscious mouth would make contact with the delicate skin of your neck. You have to remind yourself that would be ridiculous and improper in the middle of a dancefloor.

You stay dipped in his arms for a few seconds longer than necessary, much longer than what is considered appropriate in polite society. Your eyes fall closed and you feel your tongue wet your lips as he breathes against your neck. You savor that moment, locking it away in a secluded part of your mind so you can relive it forever. All too quickly, you’ve been lifted upright again and twirled on your feet. 

“You’re an exquisite dance partner, madam,” the man compliments. You realize he’s trying to politely ask for your name and you give it to him. You would gladly give him anything he could ever want. You’re half desperate to rip the heart from your own chest and offer it to him on one of the gaudy platters that waiters are serving drinks on. 

The man repeats your name with a wicked grin and you feel said heart stutter in your chest.

“My father would preen to hear your compliment but in truth, I believe a woman is only as good of a dancer as her partner, sir,” you reply, truly shocked at the coherency of the words managing to tumble themselves out of your mouth. “May I ask your name?”

“Lord Ancunin,” he replies and everything connects. So, this is the mysterious lord of the manor. You can see why he keeps himself locked up in secrecy. He could bring the world to ruin with that handsome face. 

Lord Ancunin twirls you out and pulls you in close to his chest, his breath a deep whisper against the shell of your ear when he says, “Though, I hope you will call me Astarion.”

“Fitting,” you giggle when you turn to face him again and he quirks a pale brow up in question. You give him a dazzling smile of your own as you say, “A face as beautiful as yours belongs up in the night sky next to all the other stars.”

You did know how to be charming if you wanted to, even if your father never seemed to believe you. 

“Ah, so you do know how to spin honeyed words back at me. Have I finally met my match?” The smile he gives you is mischievous and it makes you feel like you’re in on some inside joke with him. You like that feeling, you realize. The feeling of just you and Astarion, wrapped together in a world all of your own. 

“If all it takes is a few sweet words to impress you, I am lucky you have found me so early in the night, before the crowd can woo you away from me. For surely everyone here will sing praises meant to dazzle our mysterious host,” you offer him a teasing smile of your own. He lets out a scoff and rolls his eyes. 

“Oh, but darling, the words only matter when they come from your sweet lips. The rest of this rabble is nothing compared to you,” Astarion’s hand has dipped ever so slightly lower along the curve of your waist as he speaks in a low, rich voice. His touch, combined with his words, send your head spinning. You’ve received flatteries and had your flirtations like any woman, but there’s something about Astarion that is addicting and leaves you craving more. 

Astarion has guided you to the edge of the ballroom floor by the massive windows overlooking the gardens, exploding with all varieties of blooms. Even in this darkened view, they’re stunning and a part of you wishes to go out and explore them. Perhaps you can convince Astarion to join you and you could walk with your arm tucked in the curve of his, letting your fingers ‘accidently’ sneak down to feel the sinewy muscles in his forearms. 

Your mind wanders, questioning if Astarion spends much time out in the gardens. Or what he does all day up in his manor on the hill. As any noble Lord, there’s bound to be servants, but you doubt Astarion has any family. The Ancunin line was about to die out before Astarion seemingly appeared out of nowhere to revive it. It’s sad to think of him spending his days up here with no one who loves him, a fate you had grown intimately familiar with yourself after the last of your brothers moved away.

“Is it lonely up here by yourself?” You ask brazenly. Your own voice surprises you as you speak the question you’ve been wondering aloud. Astarion’s mouth opens slightly and he’s silent, as if you’ve managed to shock him to his very core. The shake of his head is nearly imperceptible before he’s schooling his features again, lips curling back into a cutting smile.

“Perhaps I’ve simply been waiting for your company,” he says, but you’re a bit disappointed by his empty answer. Though, you suppose it was rather rude of you to ask a deeply personal question in such a public setting. 

“Do you like the gardens?” Astarion redirects the conversation, noticing how you’ve been staring intently over his shoulder at the greenery through the enormous glass windows.

“I’m quite fond of roses,” you tell him, a bit shy at the confession. Your mother used to have a few bushes that she cherished when you were a little girl, but they had died with her.

“Roses are very beautiful, as long as you don’t mind a few thorns.”

The double meaning behind his words is obvious to you in that moment, though Astarion is far more beautiful than any silly little flower you’ve ever seen. His beauty is just as sharp though, just as deadly. You wouldn’t be surprised if people had killed for this man, if people had died for him. 

“I’ve always had a special talent for avoiding them,” you give him a teasing smile back and his eyes sparkle with glee at your response. They’re such an unusual shade. In this dark corner of the room they appear an unnatural brown-ish red. They suit him, obviously, as if every feature on his face was carefully selected to create the most perfect man imaginable. But those eyes give him a dangerous gleam that makes you want to drown in him.

“I don’t doubt that at all, little flower,” Astarion says with that low voice that sends arousal pooling deep in your stomach.

Your heart stutters at the endearment. Little flower. Not a practiced, rehearsed platitude, but something just for you. Something based on a moment you had shared together. You hope against hope that you aren’t making this moment up in your head but no, Astarion is here and he’s real and maybe everything will work out alright. Maybe marriage doesn’t have to be a curse that plagues you for the rest of your life. 

Before you can speak, a man with dark, graying hair approaches Astarion, whispering quickly in his ear. Astarion’s gentle smile leaves his face as he listens intently. When the other man steps away, Astarion’s blazing gaze returns to you.

“I do apologize, my lady, but I have an urgent matter I must attend to,” Astarion’s lips are still turned down into a tight frown as he sweeps into an elegant, over-the-top bow. The motion looks so natural on him. 

When he rises, he takes your hand in his own. You feel your breath catch in your throat as his lips brush against the back of your hand. You really wish you weren’t wearing your stupid gloves and could truly feel the softness of his lips against your skin.

“I must thank you for your company. I fear you have been the highlight of my night.” Astarion gives your hand an affectionate squeeze before he’s dropped it and disappeared into the night.

You stand there for a moment, dazed and coming back to your senses. Your skin is still flushed and hot as you imagine again what Astarion’s lips might have felt like against the back of your hand. Or perhaps pressed against your own? You think of Astarion and his sweet words and beautiful face. Perhaps it was possible to marry for love, after all. Perhaps Astarion would be your saving grace. For who couldn't resist ending the night in love with that man?

You don’t know how you’re expected to dance with or entertain anyone else the rest of the night. Not after Astarion. Not after you had met perfection. You spot your father, head bowed and distracted in conversation with a short, greasy man.

You sneak out of a large glass-paned door into the garden. The roses out front were just a preview of the true beauty hiding here. Blooms of every size and color swirl together. You follow the well-maintained paths, entranced, noting the flowers you recognize and staring occasionally at a flower you’ve only seen drawn in books.

You’ve wandered quite a ways from the party when your ears pick up a quiet rustling, compelling you to investigate. Your curious nature had always been a curse: it had gotten you chastised by tutors when you read books that were not meant for a young lady’s eyes, and had earned your father’s ire when he discovered you sneaking in to watch and learn from your brother's sword fighting lessons.

In this moment, your inquisitive spirit wins out again, and your feet move, almost of their own accord, in the direction of the sound. You hear it again. It sounds like a person, or perhaps… was that a moan?

You find yourself in a secluded area of the garden and debate whether you should turn back for fear of intruding on a couple’s private moment. As you turn to leave, you freeze, eyes catching the glimmer of pale silver hair in the moonlight. 

Your heart sinks to your chest. Of course. Astarion is so beautiful it only makes sense that he would have lovers clawing the doors down for just a moment with him. In retrospect, it seems rather cruel of him to praise you as the highlight of his night when he was leaving you to meet with another woman. 

Unable to look away, you see Astarion holding a beautiful woman in his arms, dipping her just as he had dipped you only a short while ago. But this time, he’s closed the gap and his lips are pressed against her, kissing her neck. Her eyes are closed in what you assume to be ecstasy. 

And all you had gotten was a kiss over a gloved hand. An angry, jealous wave flares within you and you have to take a deep breath to calm yourself. The last thing you need is to reveal your hiding spot and make even more of a fool of yourself tonight than you apparently already have. 

You’re hidden out of their sight, positioning yourself strategically behind a bush. Not that they would even notice you with how enraptured they are with one another right now. You don’t know why you’re even staying. Perhaps there’s some masochistic part of you that wants you to remember this hurt, remember that this is why you don’t hope, that marriage born from love was a lie that only fools believe. 

You watch, ignoring the emotions boiling inside you and the gut wrenching pain that makes you feel as if you’ve been stabbed. Only… the more you watch, the less Astarion seems to be kissing her neck and the more he seems to be sucking at it?

Astarion parts from the woman and when he tilts his head up, the moonlight glints against the dark rivulets of blood running down his chin, his hand reaching up to wipe it clean. 

You can’t help the shocked inhale that manages to escape you and you see Astarion’s eyes open and whip over to your hiding spot. You had questioned if his eyes were red before, but you’re sure now as they practically grow crimson in the darkness. 

Your mind is reeling,  you need to get out of there. You aren’t even entirely sure how you got to this part of the garden, but you rush back toward the direction of the manor as fast as you can on your trippy, heeled shoes, doing your best to only stumble minimally on your flowing skirts. 

There’s no way it can be true, but you’re certain Astarion had been drinking that woman’s blood. You had heard the myths and legends about vampires, but it seemed impossible for the creature to exist in real life. Vampires were just scary monsters used to keep children from roaming in the dark, weren’t they?

Suddenly, everything clicks. Astarion’s unbelievable beauty was nothing but a farce, a trait evolved by a predator to draw you in. And of course, you had fallen for it like the silly little girl you were. A few minutes ago, you would have been willing to split yourself open for him to devour. He could have offered you the knife and you would have gladly let yourself bleed for his affections. 

Now, your heartbeat pounds in your ears, so loud you can’t tell if you’re hearing the thud of your own heart or of Astarion’s footsteps chasing after you. You think back to the woman. Did he mean to kill her? Did he mean to kill you, too, now that you had caught him?

The doors to the manor are finally in sight when you brave a peak over your shoulder. Sure enough, Astarion is rounding the final curve of the garden as you slip through the glass-paned doors. 

You force yourself to focus, to think. You can’t help wondering if this is how a rabbit feels when it’s being hunted. How it must know that its very survival depends on its ability to think quickly and get away.

Attempting to disguise yourself in the dancing crowd, you wind artfully between different partners and move in confusing, zig-zagging patterns so Astarion cannot follow you. But, you keep catching glimpses of white hair out of the corner of your eye, Astarion never falling too far behind. 

Your new dance partner is twirling you to the next person when you see the vampire’s red eyes over their shoulder. As he stares at you with a barely stifled rage, you can’t see anything but the red that was dripping from his chin a few minutes ago and it sends a new wave of urgency through your veins. 

Your head whips around and loosens a few pins from your intricate hairdo. The strands fall in your eyes as you frantically scan the crowd for an escape, or at the very least, your father.  His disappointment and rage at your lack of a marriage prospect tonight is certainly preferable to the death you are certain you will face if Astarion manages to catch you. 

When you look up, there’s a silver mirror in front of you. You look rattled and a bit disheveled, but Astarion is nowhere in sight behind you. Finally, you allow yourself to let out the breath you’ve been holding, shoulders dropping in relief. 

A cold hand curls heavily around your shoulder, sending goosebumps skittering across your skin and you look up into Astarion’s angry eyes which shine a brilliant ruby red. Your mind reels and you glance between him and the mirror a couple times because he is standing right next to you but is noticeably absent from the mirror’s reflection. You hate yourself for making such a stupid mistake, for forgetting the rules about vampires, the monsters who didn’t have a reflection. 

“Come with me,” Astarion’s voice is cold, so opposite of the sweet tone he used earlier while you danced. He uses his grip on your shoulder to start pulling you away from the crowd. To kill you without making a scene. 

“No,” you cry out and try to pull away from him but his fingers dig into your collarbone even harder and it starts to hurt. He’s supernaturally strong as he drags you beside him further and further away from the dancing crowd, further and further away from any hope of salvation.

You should let out a scream, alert someone, do something. It’s not in your nature to go down without a fight. 

“Stay quiet if you wish to live through the night,” Astarion hisses against the shell of your ear, like he could tell what you were thinking. You hate that his voice still sends a warm tingle down your spine.

Astarion pulls you around a corner to some sort of secluded closet where he flings open the door and pushes you inside. He’s got you crowded against the wall, his forearm angled so it’s pressing against your windpipe. He isn’t pushing hard enough to restrict your airflow, but his arm is a heavy reminder that he could if he wanted to. A reminder of the threat of death looming over you.

“Whatever you think you saw, you didn’t,” Astarion tries to rationalize with you, his eyes hard and unwavering as they stare into your own. Like if he says the words with enough conviction, he might just convince you. 

“You’re going through a lot of trouble if I, in fact, didn’t see anything,” you point out, which is maybe not the smartest argument to make in the face of certain death. You always had a bad habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. To keep yourself from making this bad situation even worse, you bite the inside of your cheek to keep quiet. 

“Impetuous woman. I was trying to hel- I mean…” Astarion grits his teeth in frustration. He seems to be recalculating in his head, figuring out what to do with you. “I had hoped to settle this civilly.”

Even though you feel like you’re growing to throw up, you close your eyes and force yourself to act nonchalant as you speak, “If you’re going to kill me, I’d prefer it if you didn’t drag it out unnecessarily.”

Your eyes are still closed, but you feel Astarion’s forearm drop away from where it was pressed against your throat, though his body still keeps you pinned tightly against the wall. This is possibly the closest you’ve ever been to a man and a dark part of your mind enjoys how his thigh is pressed against your own, only a few layers of fabric separating you from his pale skin. 

You bite a little harder at your cheek to focus your thoughts and are overwhelmed by the metallic tang of blood on your tongue. When you open your eyes, Astarion is staring at you like a man possessed, his eyes glued to your lips, pupils blown so wide his eyes appear black. 

Oh, right. Blood and a vampire are not a good mix if you hope to stay alive. You try to quickly swallow the blood down, as if Astarion hadn’t already noticed it. He lets out a sinful noise, something between a chuckle and a groan. 

“I’m not going to kill you, darling,” his voice is deep and hungry as he carefully traces one finger along the pulse point in your neck. “Why would I kill you when I can keep you all to myself?”

You blanch at his words, seeing your future laid out in front of you. Chained up in the dungeon as a vampire’s slave. Kept alive, but barely, a source of constant food for a greedy monster. For a moment, it almost makes you laugh to think that of course this dramatic manor would have a gaudy dungeon. 

“You’re a monster,” you say to Astarion, an angry sneer across your face. 

“Oh, don’t act stupid, pet,” Astarion scoffs at you, his hand now moving up to tuck the loose piece of hair behind your ear and his cheek brushes against yours as he leans in impossibly closer to whisper. “It’s unbecoming of you to pretend to be something we both know you aren’t.”

He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek as he pulls away from you and your mind is in such turmoil, you can’t even revel in the feeling of his lips finally pressing against your skin. 

“Tell me, what am I really? A monster, yes, but what kind?” His voice is so smooth and silky as he taunts you, like a spider spinning you into its web. The time for escape has passed.

“A vampire,” you whimper out, the emotions finally catching up to you. You think again of the woman in the garden. “Oh god, that woman. Did you kill her?”

“Hardly,” Astarion replies, with a roll of his eyes. “And I can assure you, she was a very willing, very well compensated participant. The worst she’ll have is a bit of a headache tomorrow morning from the blood loss.”

He didn’t kill her? That doesn’t make any sense. 

“For the record,” Astarion speaks again, interrupting your train of thought. “I have no qualms about killing people, but it’s such a hassle having to figure out what to do with all those dead bodies. I’ve found it’s much easier to get blood if you maintain a few snacks for the occasional top up.”

You’re still staring at Astarion, trying to understand how the man you met earlier tonight could be the same man pressing you to the wall and threatening you - when the door handle starts to rattle and turn. Astarion moves impossibly quick as he tilts your chin up and presses his lips to your neck, in the perfect imitation of a lover’s embrace. You can’t help the panicked noise that escapes you when you feel a sharp fang prick against your skin. It reminds you of the thorns of a rose. You know that this is Astarion telling you to play your part if you still want to stay alive. 

The intruder clears their throat and Astarion parts from you with an exasperated sigh, as if he’s just been pulled away from a delicious feast. 

“We’re busy,” he shoots over his shoulder, but when he turns his head, you can clearly see the outline of your father standing in the doorway, with the greasy man that he was talking to earlier beside him. A shock of recognition flashes in your fathers eyes before the hard mask of anger settles in.

“Lord Ancunin,” your father speaks, and you recognize the tempered fury that’s flowing in his words, threatening to erupt any second. The carriage ride home with him tonight was going to be unbearable if you managed to make it out of this. “Might I ask what you’re doing in this closet with my daughter?”

Astarion sighs again and finally, finally steps away from you, though you can see the reluctance he feigns in an attempt to keep up the act. Simply two lovers caught together at an inopportune moment.

Now that you have your own space, you feel like you can finally take a deep breath. You hadn’t realized how Astarion’s heady scent of bergamot and rosemary had been clouding your senses. Still, deep in your mind, there’s a small, shameful part of you that misses how the hard line of his body felt pressed against you. 

“You had said she was a virgin!” The short man next to your father yells, his face an ugly, tomato red. 

“She is,” your father swiftly attempts to placate the man. “She’ll still make a good wife, I promise.”

“The deal’s off, I don’t want damaged goods,” the greasy man turns swiftly on his heel and storms away. So, that’s what your father had been up to all night, scheming to sell you off by any means necessary.

When your father faces you and Astarion again, his eyes are flaming with anger. This night was not going to end well for you even if you did manage to escape. Astarion shifts a half-step in front of you. 

“Lord Ancunin,” your father hisses again. You can tell it’s taking everything in him to keep his words polite and befitting of his station. You know that what he really wants is to relentlessly hurl insults at Astarion until he tires himself out. “I trust you don’t make it a habit of tricking naive young girls into following you into dark closets?”

“Your daughter, a young woman,” Astarion emphasizes the word. You feel a bit vindicated by this as you had been fighting your whole life for your father to see you as something other than a foolish child. “Is capable of making her own decisions and dealing with the consequences of those choices.”

The second part of his sentence was directed at you. You chose to follow him out into the gardens, to go where you were unwelcome, and you would be expected to accept your upcoming fate with grace. Your heart twists again and you feel hatred for Astarion blooming deep within you. You had not imagined the beautiful man that you danced with would be capable of such cruelty.

“I will not allow this insult on my family’s honor!” Your father’s voice continues to rise. “If the next words out of your mouth are not asking me for my daughter’s hand in marriage, then you will have made a very powerful enemy.”

“Powerful enemy,” Astarion laughs at that and turns to you as if you’re in on the joke. It is rather funny that your father thinks himself anywhere near the same standing as Astarion, but you’re having a hard time finding the energy within yourself to laugh at the moment. 

“Oh, this is all going wonderfully according to plan,” Astarion claps his hands together in glee, face painted with a devilish grin. You think you catch the light glinting off one of his fangs in the dark closet. “For I had hoped to come speak with you about marrying your daughter. It seems you’ve already beaten me to the point.”

Your breath catches in your throat as the puzzle finally fits together. So, this was Astarion’s new plan. Keeping you as a slave must be too boring in his eyes, the vampire lord who wants for nothing, who has people falling at his feet for the chance to drink some of their blood. No, Astarion plans for you to keep his secret by controlling you. And everyone knows that the best way to control a woman is to marry her. 

You feel like your soul is slipping out of your body. Nearly an hour ago, you would have been weeping with joy to be married to Astarion. Now, it just feels like an extended death sentence.

Astarion’s fingers brush against your arm, pulling your attention back to him, though you can’t bear to look him in his eyes. 

“Dearest, would you like to go out for another dance? Or perhaps I can call someone to escort you to a room for the night?”

You nearly scoff out loud at the false choice. Both options presented by him, neither of which you really want to do. Either you go out on the dance floor and perform the act of a happy, loving couple or you’re sent off with one of his servants to be kept under guard. But, the chance of escape does seem higher if Astarion isn’t constantly by your side. 

“A room, please,” you manage to choke out and Astarion gives you a polite nod. He grabs someone’s attention in the hallway and another beautiful woman with long, dark hair arrives to lead you to a room. Why is it that Astarion seems to only be surrounded by beautiful people?

Astarion’s gaze follows you until you round a corner and are finally out of his sight. You don’t doubt that he will be returning to the party to flirt and dance and drink blood while you are caged in a room like an animal. There’s an spiteful, jealous part of you that threatens to lash out. You’re jealous of his freedom, you remind yourself. You’re certainly not jealous of the people who get to dance with him the rest of the night. 

You keep following after the dark-haired woman, but you can feel your father close at your heels. You curse the world for not just letting you mope in peace and quiet. Why does everything have to end in a fight with your father? Although he hates you, thinks of you as nothing but a burden, you know he is one of your last hopes of getting out of here. 

When you’re finally deposited into a bedroom, you turn to him, pleading. “Father, please don’t make me marry him. He’s not a good man, he’s not who he appears to be.”

“No,” your father cuts back. “That is exactly what you will do. You have brought shame to this family. What would your mother think if she knew you were galavanting around like some common whore?”

You stare down at the beautiful embroidery on your dress and try to hold back the tears. Why did you expect this to end any differently? It never does when it comes to your father. And he always does love to bring up how much shame your mother would feel about you if she were still alive. You stay silent, waiting for this to be over, waiting to be left alone. 

“You’re lucky” he continues, “somehow this is still better than you deserve. You will have a title and wealth. But do not think I will ever forgive you for this transgression. You will no longer be a stain upon this family.”

With a stern nod, he slams the door shut behind him, leaving you in an eerie silence. You aren’t surprised your father thinks you are undeserving of a title and wealth, though those are of little concern to you right now. You’d rather not be married, not expected to be subservient to some man. And worst of all, what you’d really rather have back is the person you thought Astarion was earlier in the night, the person you thought you might be able to love. 

You reach for the doorknob but it has predictably been locked when you test it.

Leaning against the hard wood of the door, you sink to your knees. You can feel the tears burning at your eyes as you pick at the beading on your beautiful gown. How horrible this night had turned out. The tears start with a whimper against the wooden slats of the door and soon you’re weeping, crumpled into a sobbing pile of your skirts. Between hiccuping cries, you mourn the loss of your family, the loss of your life. From now on, you are cursed to be the bride of a monster. A bird trapped in a gilded cage being constantly circled by a very hungry cat.

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Notes: Hehe and that's chapter 1! Get ready for a whole lot of angst, yearning, and misunderstanding as these emotionally repressed weirdos try to navigate their feelings for one another in their new marriage. This is the first fic I've ever actually posted so I'm super nervous, but I have a whole 10-part plan set up for this fic because the Astarion brainrot is real. It's almost like… he's a tadpole that's wormed it's way into my brain…

For reference, I tend to picture everything as regency era since that is my favorite, but I didn't specify because I know everyone has their own favorite time periods they love to imagine!

Hugest shoutout ever to my amazing friend who helped me edit and let me bounce ideas off her. She was the hugest help imaginable and has been subjected to my constant ramblings about my ideas for this fic. Check out her wonderful writing on ao3 at AliensNSuch!

Chapter 2 will be posted next Sunday, 12/24.

[shippyo]

Question for life: What’s your relationship with Morpho?

[this ask will have my own lore related to Morpho hope ya all enjoy💖]

also,i think [this] soundtrack might fit🩷

Morpho...Yes, she is very special to me, she is my daughter, the first of all, I reborn her myself with my own hands,lemme tell you the story...

Before long,long ago in immemorial times, far from when it all began but close to the dawn of it, Morpho was another and a completely different being, a young girl from a world that feels lost even in my memory,that, somehow in a way that I have never known,fell to my dimension, wounded, confused, with living tears.

I remember that being when asked who I was and after I explained myself she told me

"Why have you been so cruel to me?"

That paralyzed me,i..i been cruel,it was the first i realized such thing that my whole existence is contradiction,i bring wonders yet suffering to all living beings,even if im not able to control what happens.

That poor being cried for every terrible misfortune that occurred in her life, abuse, wars, the fall of her world, she was still alive, of course, but she begged me not to return, not even to go to the afterlife and rest in peace, no, the pain that her tears brought was so breaking that she wanted to disappear from existence itself.

Obviously it's not something I wasn't going to do, I COULDN'T even if I can do it, it was unfair, it wasn't her fault that her life went so miserable to such disgrace thought in her mind came into it with no return to change it,she was lost, in exchange, I asked her permission to not go to such path, but rather be something new and somehow,she accepted, thinking that would end all.

In all honesty, at that moment I was not clear about the extent of my power, I knew that I had it and that I could do something outside of normal understanding for others but that pulse in me screamed for act different and so, I grabbed her face and my hands shone with intense light.

Without realizing it, the body disappeared when my palms closed, I felt fear for the first time thinking i destroyed her being, but I suddenly felt the flutter of a butterfly.

When I opened my hand, that butterfly that you all know so much came out and it didn't take long to complete its own metamorphosis as a new being.

The being before Morpho had disappeared, my power had a price to pay, in a way.

I don't know the reason but all those who are reborn from my hands forget in a certain way their old being, not as if it had never existed, they are not unconscious of what they experienced, but their souls feel pure,different and determined in wanting to defend life in being a new them, I feel them as an extension of me and they are condemned to a strange line where they cannot die for being so tied to me and yet even if she knew this she...

Looked at me happy, with a passion for living on her face that was not there before and thanked me for what I had done, although she felt sadness for her former self and her past,she now understood how beautiful it was to be there.

From there she named herself, "Morpho" and she felt indebted to me, although I did not want to,she insisted that to fight for me, defend, be the judge of beings of all those infinite dimensions, save others like who she was before, I do not like to feel that Im using her because I accepted her like some short of puppet, but even so, she has always seemed happy since then to serve me as a knight of life.

From then on, I was her mother and hundreds, billions like Morpho today are part of this family and I love them all equally.

Although...sometimes I wonder if I could use my power to reverse that strange "immortality" that ties them to me, I wish they could continue happy as they are now, but return to the mortality of life so that they finish their true cycle and not be attached to such tasks..I know I can and maybe one day I will have the courage to do it for the first time.

@kirbyoctournament

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