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spookyblazecoffee · 10 months

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Teen Wolf/Theo Raeken headcanon

- Ever since Theo was young the only constants in his life were: Tara, his hair, and a book series Tara used to read to him about a young teen superhero with Intermittent Explosive Disorder. Considering his parents were always on business trips, he and Tara had to take care of themselves from the ages of five and seven respectively. When Tara died he lost two of those things, his big sister and the book series because the Dread Doctors wouldn’t let him take the books with him. - When he was eleven he was put in a school in Wichita, Kansas, and put with “Parents” that were hired by the Dread Doctors. He knew not to get too attached to these people. However, he couldn’t help but think that the little girl they had reminded him of his big sister when she was younger. That year was when he got the two things he lost when he was nine back, the little girl who reminded him so much of Tara had taken him to a bookstore after he told her about the books he remembered so little about and she had taken some of her allowance money to buy him one of the books, the first one, he read it in a week. - When he was almost twelve he went to another bookstore, this time he was in Grove, Oklahoma. He didn’t have any money, but he had a bag that could be mistaken for a backpack. He went straight to the section of the store that would hold the books made by ‘Jenna Geyer’ and put as many of the books as he could in his bag without it looking much bigger than it had when he entered. In the end, he got the second and third books. He saw two kids a few years younger than him with an older man right outside the bookstore when he left. The kids were a boy and a girl. The boy was blonde with freckles all over his face specifically his nose and right under his eyes which were a striking electric blue. The girl had reddish hair she had some freckles as well, not as much as the little boy though, one freckle was in the outer corner of one of her eyes which were a beautiful shade of jade green. The older man had scars under his eyes and one on his chin, he and the little girl shared an eye color. The older man had said to the kids: “Remember that your mothers are waiting back at the farm, so we have to hurry to make sure they don’t worry.” The kids had just responded with bright smiles and nods. If Theo felt a little bit jealous about their family dynamic, no he didn’t. - When he was thirteen he was put in a school in Omaha, Nebraska with another family that took care of him while he was there. The school he was going to was giving away books that weren’t checked out as much as the school library thought they would be when they first got them. The fourth and newest book in Jenna Geyer’s superhero series was one of the said books, so he got to take it “Home” and keep it. He finally read through the dedications of the books he had. The first one said: “To, mo chridhe*, my youngest son, my superhero, the inspiration of this story. Liam, I love you. Thank you for being an amazing, kind, sweet boy.” The second one said: “To, my sons, solais mo bheatha**. May you always know what it is like to have a family that loves and supports you throughout whatever you do.” The third one said: “To, my darling oldest son. Camden, may you always look after your baby brothers, no matter how far away you are or if you are with your seanair***, we can find you wherever we look. The fourth one said: “To, the fans of my books, my family, and my friends. Thank you for supporting my writing. I love all of you, and may you always know that I will be in your corner no matter what. Theo now feels a little less alone in this stupid life that he was born into. - Theo is fifteen when he hears that Jenna Geyer is making a new book, and he decides to go to the closest store he can find and get the cheapest phone he can to see the updates about said book. He has grown his hair out since the last time he got one of Jenna Geyer’s books and now has a mullet. He finds out the release date of the newest book is on October 21st, 2013, a little over a month before he turns sixteen. When he gets the book he immediately reads who it’s dedicated to. The book says: “To, my ex-husband. I hope you are happy that you hurt my sons, and I hope that you are ready to face the wrath of what happens to people like you in Dubnos****.” And Theo’s jaw just fucking DROPS to the ground because, after reading all of the updates about the latest book he could find and reading the dedications for the other books he never thought that Jenna Geyer of all people would be that harsh, but, as he knew from memories of Tara, you should never hurt someone that an over-protective sibling or parent loves with all their heart. - The next house Theo is put in his “Parents” force him to cut his hair because they don’t want to be seen with a boy who has long hair no matter if it’s a mullet or not. He cuts it, but not much, not wanting to lose the only thing that is still under his control. After he leaves that house he cuts his hair short on his own accord, not because some strangers forced him to. - When he goes back to Beacon Hills, he hasn’t yet become seventeen and he’s standing in front of his old best friends in the pouring rain, explaining why he’s back. He knows he’s being followed when he hears Stiles talking with someone who he can’t recognize the voice of. - When he gets back from Hell (for lack of a better term) he’s met with Liam and Hayden’s faces and scents, but he immediately pushes Liam against the wall, because he’s scared, but also because he feels the need to be in control of a situation for the first time in months. - After the final fight against the hunters at the hospital, he walks over to Gabe and kneels down in front of him, holding his arm and asking: “Does it hurt anymore?” Gabe had responded with a simple: “No.” Theo looked at Gabe and said: “Good.” - One day, after Theo and Liam get together, Theo is over at Liam’s after spending the night the day beforehand and they’re making breakfast for themselves and Liam’s parents when Dr. Geyer and Liam’s mom walk downstairs. Liam’s mom came downstairs first, seeing Theo and Liam singing along to We Will Rock You by Queen. “Hello, are you one of Liam’s friends?” Liam’s mom had asked when she saw Theo, having not met him before. Theo turned to her and when he saw who she was he whispered: “Putain De Merde... tu l'es... hum... Salut*****.” closing his eyes, embarrassed that he started speaking in French. Jenna just looked confused as Theo looked between her and Liam, who was wearing a matching look of confusion, while Theo continued to ramble in the languages he knows. Italian. (Liam and Jenna not understanding anything he’s saying) French. (Liam catching onto a few words, but not enough to understand what he’s talking about) German. (No fucking clue) Latin. (Again, no fucking clue) Turkish. (Liam and Jenna wearing matching looks of concern) Liam puts his hand on Theo’s shoulder and he starts to calm down. He’s still speaking in another language, but this time it’s just French. He starts to get angry with himself before mumbling: “Bon sang, Théo, Anglais. Tu parles à ton idole et tu ne peux même pas dire un putain de mot, imbécile******!” Jenna doesn’t know what he’s saying, but she knows it’s self-deprecating and she’s not having any of that under her roof. “Take your time, I don’t mind.” Jenna says, placing a hand on the shoulder Liam doesn’t have his hand on. Theo looks at her and blurts out: “I love your books!” Jenna looks pleasantly surprised at what he said while Liam looks confused because he didn’t clock Theo as the type to like superhero books. However he also didn’t clock Theo as the type to like him, so... “That’s very sweet of you to say.” Jenna replies, smiling at Theo softly, and then something dawns on him. The dedication of the first book coming back to him: “To, mo chridhe*, my youngest son, my superhero, the inspiration of this story. Liam, I love you. Thank you for being an amazing, kind, sweet boy.“ Theo just turns to Liam, eyes wide. Liam looks at him confused. “What?” Liam asks softly, Theo stares for a little longer before he questions: “Have you never read who the first book your mom wrote was for?" Liam nods slowly before confusion turns into embarrassment, making Theo smirk widely. Jenna looks between the two before clearing her throat. Liam turns to his mom before she asks: "So... how do you two know each other exactly?" Liam blushes even more before saying to Jenna and David: "Mom, Dad, this is Theo Raeken. My boyfriend. Theo, these are my parents." Theo stretches his hand out for David to take, having already been comforted by Jenna in her own goddamned home. Jenna has a smile on her face for the rest of the day, and Theo will be embarrassed for the next month because of this ONE encounter!

*My Heart (Scottish Gaelic) Based on @waiting-to-be-lost-at-sea ‘s nickname for Liam from Jenna. **The lights of my life (Scottish Gaelic) ***Grandfather (Scottish Gaelic) ****Celtic Mythology equivalent to Hell *****Holy Shit... you are... um... Hi (French) ******Damn it, Theo, English. You're talking to your idol and you can't even say a fucking word, you idiot (French)

#Theo Raeken #Tara Raeken #Raeken Siblings #The Gayken Siblings #Nolan Holloway #Ally Raven-Martin (Original Character)#Robert Raven (Original Character)#Oklahoman Nolan Holloway #Scott McCall #Stiles Stillinski #Liam Dunbar #Hayden Romero #Gabe Valet #Jenna Geyer #Mrs. Geyer #Dr. Geyer #Dr. Geyer Teen Wolf #David Geyer #Scottish Jenna Geyer #Scottish Liam Dunbar #Lahey Brothers (but only one of them)#Thiam #That awkward moment when you're meeting your boyfriend's mom for the first time and she just so happens to be the writer of you and your 1/?#dead sister's favorite book series and the main character was your first fictional crush and just so happens to be based off of your 2/?#boyfriend who's mother (y'know the one who wrote the books) also just happens to be your idol™ so when you meet her you start to speak 3/?#five out of the many (like nine) languages you know other than English and you get angry at yourself for being tongue-tied in a language 4/?#your boyfriend and his mom can't even understand but she can tell when you're talking bad about yourself and comforts you even though 5/'?#you are in her kitchen trying to make breakfast for you your boyfriend his mother and father who hasn't said anything the entire time 6/?#he's been down here and he's just watching the whole thing unravel until you finally blurt out what you've been trying to say in English 7/?#and she's really sweet but you're really embarrassed and won't be able to think about this moment normally for the rest of your life and 8/?

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bericas · 2 years

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― friedrich nietzsche (twaw2022: september 26 ↣ antagonists, side characters)

#twedit #twaw2022 #tamora monroe #nolan holloway #gabe valet #tw #*#my worsties!!! lets hear it for my worsties!!!!#the nolan gif was hard bc he does a little 360 so i guess staring into the abyss as like #he learned! from that! idk!#stood silent and stared at a wolf vs took out a threat #whatever it was hard we do our best #im very proud of the gabe one he moved in such a convenient way #the way he ends up with his face over liams... cinema #i think the monroe one came out cool too #the way she shoots the gun when she started off as the one bleeding on the ground #cinema!#really just nolan causing problems

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howlingforapack · 1 month

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App Count

Gabe Valet (1)

If you are interested in this character or any open role please feel free to submit your apps.

#teen wolf rp #teen wolf rpg #teen wolf #gabe valet #andrew matarazzo

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thiamblogger · 1 year

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imagine manipulating someone into thinking they need you by shooting up a house for them just to get manipulated yourself by a 14 year old at your grown age of 17.

#yes this is about gabe valet #apparently that's his last name #i didn't think he even had one.#NOT NOLAN SLANDER #he is my precious baby and anyone who hates on him will feel theo's wrath because that is his child #along with alec... and liam (cause liam is literally a big child)#even in the movie.#which we don’t talk about #gabe and nolan were definitely dating and then gave died boo hoo yayy #anyways alec saved him 💗

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wandafiction · 2 months

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First Time - Just Us Chapter 2

Warnings 18+: Smut, Fingering (Wanda Receiving), Discussion of Safe Word.

Word Count: 1511

Series List | Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

================================

"Yours...please." I wrap my arm around her waist securely, so we don't lose one another in the crowd, guiding her out of the club towards my car that is waiting for me. I open the door for Wanda who raises one of her eyebrows, seemingly impressed by the fact she is getting into a Rolls Royce limousine. I climb in after her and tap the divider between the front and back, I see my driver with a knowing smirk on his face as the small window rolls down.

"Back to mine please Gabe, take the scenic route."

"Of course ma'am." The window rolls back up. Turning to Wanda I see her looking around the interior as we drive off.

"This is yours?" She looks up to the roof of the car as small lights sparkle making it look like the night sky.

"All mine." A whisper out as I make my way to sit next to her, resting my hand on her thigh gently rubbing my thumb along the inside.

"You keep doing that and I'm going to make a mess in this beautiful car of yours." I turn to look at her, my hand moving up closer to her core before I start rubbing my thumb just below her underwear line, my eyes staring right into her eyes.

I lean my face towards her, my lips ghosting hers as I whisper "Good thing I can afford to get the best valet then."

With that she smashes her lips against mine, swinging one of legs over mine so she is straddling my lap both her hands holding onto my cheeks as mine hold onto her waist. I bite her bottom lip causing her to gasp, allowing me to slip my tongue in her mouth. She moans at the action as my tongue explores her mouth, her hips shift against mine as her hands slide down to hold onto the back of my neck, her fingers playing with the baby hairs.

I push my right leg up slightly so my thigh comes into contact with her core, as she moans into my mouth. I move my mouth down from her lips to along her jaw, then to just under her ear where I start nipping trying to find her soft spot. Another gasp. Found it. I smirk as I bite it a little harder and sooth it with my tongue, her core grinding against my thigh as she becomes more riled up by my actions. I slide one hand down her leg to reach the hem of the dress, moving my hand under it and slowly move it back up. I stop to move my face in front of her so her eyes can meet mine.

"Do you want me to keep going?" Consent people, basic human decency.

"Yes...please do...but...I...uhm...I..." She bites her lip slightly and tries to hide her face behind her hair as she bows her head, obviously trying to hide some nerves. The thigh grinding comes to a halt as she tries to figure out her words.

"What is it Wanda? No need to be nervous." She takes a breath looking back up to me, a shy smile on her face, a small blush on her cheeks.

"I've never been with another woman." She lets out a small huff bowing her head again.

"Hey, hey." I use my finger to lift her chin so she can look back up to me. "There is no need to hide that pretty face of yours. It is perfectly fine to be nervous especially when it is something you haven't done before. So how about tonight is all about you. Let me look after your princess. Let me give you the best night ever. But we need a safe word."

"A safe word?" She questions.

"Yeah so if you feel uncomfortable with anything or want to stop. I will immediately stop, I won't be angry or disappointed or anything like that. You say the word and I stop." I watch as she consumes the information, the gears in her head turning.

"I've never had a safe word before. What do you think it should be?" She mumbles the first part.

"Let's make it something simple. Like red. Yeah red. So you say red and everything stops, okay?" She nods, taking her bottom lip between her teeth as her hips slowly start moving on my thigh again. "See now you have a safe word."

"That I do."

"Do you want to get back to it?"

"Please." She releases a sigh as her hips pick up speed a little.

I get right back to work kissing and nipping down her neck finding her pulse point once again, as her grip in my hair tightens with the feeling. My left hand stays wrapped around her back to keep her in place as my right hand travels down to her thigh under her dress once again. I brush over her clothes core a couple of times, each time she lets out a tiny whimper and her hips shift to try and gain some friction.

"Please just fuck me." Holy shit okay. I stop the teasing, not even bothering to remove her underwear. I simply push it to the side as I rub a finger down her already soaking core. Wanda moans at the feeling, bucking her hips trying to get me to keep going.

My finger finds her clit and I start to rub gentle circles on the bundle of nerves. Her hands move from my hair and neck to my shoulders for support, her hips moving to the small rhythm I have going with each circle of her clit. Her face is flushed, her eyes staring into mine and all I see is lust. I replace my finger with my thumb as I slowly enter her with one digit a low guttural moan escapes her mouth, her eyes closing at the new feeling.

Her hips start to rock against my finger as I slowly pull it in and out of her. Slowly I add a second finger, and her eyes slam shut as I pick up my pace curling my fingers every now and again. She moans on a particularly pleasurable brush against her wall, her hands gripping my shoulders tighter. Using my left hand, still on her waist, I push her hips down more into my fingers encouraging her movements. She looks at me as I nod my head.

"I've got you princess."

I tense my fingers for her as she starts to ride them, her hips moving up and down slowly getting faster as she gets closer and closer to her high. Her moans also get louder, my name spilling out of her lips every now and again. Deciding to help her out a little I curl my fingers as her hips move upwards her face scrunches into a pleasurable grimaces her mouth hangs open as her breath escapes her. I keep curling them with every hip thrust.

"Fuck. Oh fuck. Don't stop. I'm so close. Fuck." Her words are interrupted by a moan of my name as her head falls onto my shoulder as her high takes over and she releases all over my fingers. Her grip on my shoulders relax as they find their way back around my neck as her hips twitch with the last of her high. I slowly remove my fingers from her core, and she gasps at the empty feeling, I bring them to my lips.

She moves her head so she can watch me as I take them in my mouth, cleaning them of her juices. "You taste just as good as you look." I hum out, her hips twitch at my words. I guess the night's not over yet.

"That was....wow."

"It was. Now we are not far from my place. Are you ready for round 2." She smiles as she brings her lips to mine, giving me a sweet kiss in response. "You know you looked so fucking sexy riding my fingers like that. I can't wait to taste you properly."

"This car needs to hurry up and get to its destination. I need you." Her hands move to hold onto my cheeks, mine are back on her waist as her eyes flick from mine to my lips.

"It's a good thing we are here then princess. Because I'm all yours"

The car comes to a stop and she practically drags me out of the car, making me laugh a little. I give Gabe the rest of the night off and a tip for dealing with us, and wrap my arm around Wanda's shoulders as I lead her into the tall building. She looks up at me, more colour visible in her eyes then before placing a kiss on the underside of my jaw. I pull her into the elevator and press the button for the top floor.

I wonder how she will react to the fact I own a penthouse...

================================

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x you #Wanda Maximoff smut #Wanda smut #just us series

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nitewrighter · 2 years

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Cindy Part 12

As always, for previous chapters, please refer to the masterpost.

Posting this because the epilogue got too honkin’ big!! Have some ‘Meet the Parents!’

---

Cinderella’s arrival at the castle is very quiet. Like, mostly, everyone is aware how volatile a situation like, “Hey whoever fits this shoe is going to marry the prince” is. So it’s like… 4 gardeners, 3 maids, and the butler see an absolutely filthy girl sleepily slump out of the royal carriage with the prince supporting her in her descent, and they carry about their business. If there’s an announcement, they’ll hear about it later. This is just a perfectly normal instance of some weirdly dirty rando showing up the castle in the company of the captain of the royal guard, the royal valet, and an almost-equally dirty footman who is certainly not the prince in disguise, no sir! Still, a royal messenger is discreetly sent to the king and queen, and they both hurry to the foyer just in time to catch the prince and the supposed shoe-fitter quietly trying to make their way through. In their company is, of course, Gabe the Valet and Guard Captain Brad.

“Chaz?” The queen calls out.

Both the prince and Cindy look up.

“Oh—Mom, Dad, this is Cindy. Cindy, these are my parents.”

“Hi,” Cinderella gives a small wave, “I mean—” she’s been a little thrown off by the whole ‘these are my parents’ thing and remembers this is the literal fucking king and queen and she quickly curtsies, “Your majesties.” She stands up straight again and brushes her hands down her skirts, sending a dusting of ash onto the palace floor. “I—um—“ she stuffs her hand into a fold in her skirts—oh it’s a pocket—and pulls out the slipper, “I have the shoe. The other shoe.”

“Ah,” the queen blinks and she gives a glance over towards the king, who like, he’s not upset, but you can definitely kind of hear the laptop fans whirring on him seeing this girl. Like… Is that a rat? On her head?

“Darling,” the queen places a hand the king’s shoulder, “Do say something.”

“Right—” the word stumbles out of the king, “So… the shoe fits then?”

“The shoe fits,” the Prince says.

“Here—I can—” Cindy slings an arm around the prince’s shoulders as she stubs her heel out of the shoe and puts the slipper on again, once again extending her leg, though this time it’s less of a toe-pointed ‘ta-daaaa’ gesture and more of a foot-flexed can-can kick.

“I… see,” the King says slowly.

“You can try it on other feet if you need to,” Cindy pipes up.

“Seeing as the other shoe…” Gabe starts and isn’t really sure how to finish that sentence.

“You know what?” The queen clasps her hands together in front of herself, “I know this whole slipper search has been an ordeal, so we’ll have some apartments made up for—for our most distinguished guest, and you can tell us all about it once you’re a bit more…settled.”

“Just so, Dearest,” the King agrees, desperately thankful for an opportunity to compose himself a bit more but now eying the old-as-balls dog sitting on its haunches just behind Cindy.

“You will have my report on the events that transpired surrounding the shoe, sire,” Gabe dutifully places his hand over his heart.

“And my debriefing as well, your majesties,” Brad bows from the hips.

“Good—good…” the king says blankly.

—-

So that night, both the king and the queen are in bed, and the king is wearing a fancy, kingly little nightcap and the queen is reading in bed next to him.

“I’m glad he found her,” the king says firmly, as if trying just as hard to convince himself as he is the queen.

“Mm-hmm,” the Queen turns a page.

“And she seems very nice and it’s clear he’s quite taken with her and—and you know him! He’s odd! He’s picky!”

“Mm-hmm,” the queen nods.

“But the state of them both—”

“Darling, they hardly looked any worse than we did when we first met,” the queen glances up from her book to lovingly brush her thumb over his sideburns.

“Well that was different! When we met, they were asking me which finger I would prefer they cut off to send to my parents, and that was—” he catches himself, “My god, you don’t think he found her in such a state?”

The queen thinks for a few moments. “No… no, I don’t think so. But there is a lot we don’t know about the situation.”

“I know, I know—there’s the reports and the debriefs—and I’ll be doing my own research as well.”

“Oh I know you will. That’s where Chaz gets it, you know,” the queen kisses the king on the temple.

“Mm,” the king responds.

“That’s an ‘I’m turning off the light’ kiss,” says the queen, turning off the lamp next to the bed.

“Mm,” the king murmurs again.

There’s the soft settling of pillows and sheets as the queen snuggles in for the night.

“…the rats are a bit of a hard-sell,” the king says after a few long beats.

“The rats are a little weird,” the queen concedes.

——

“I don’t think they like me.”

It’s late in the afternoon and early in the evening the next day. Cinderella is fidgeting with her fingers as she and the prince are walking through the garden. She’s wearing one of her nicer Frankenstein gowns, still too nervous to take any of the beautiful dresses in the wardrobe within her apartments. The prince just watched her plant the hazelnut she took from her family estate in a bare, quiet patch of the royal gardens.

“They’ll like you! They will! Just… things need a bit more time to get settled, that’s all,” the prince is holding Chauncey’s leash. This dog is old as balls so they’re both stuck walking very, very slowly, “Everything came together so fast…” he trails off briefly. “And.. I have a lot of questions, but I don’t know how to ask them, and I don’t know if asking them will undo everything—”

“What do you mean ‘Undo everything?’”

“Well… there’s the shoe. I know the shoe isn’t a normal shoe because I wanted to have glassmakers create a hundred replicas of it to expedite the shoe-fitting process but they couldn’t come up with any consistent measurements or fittings and—”

Cinderella pressed a single finger to his lips then, quieting him.

“It’s not a normal shoe,” she confirms, “But… I’m not really in a position to tell you more about it. All I can tell you is that the shoes, the dress, the carriage, everything, were lended to me by a very dear friend, and I had to give them back at midnight. And I’m not in a position to discuss this friend’s identity or resources—only that… they were acting out of a kindness that… is very rare in the world, and even if they’re a little snippy, they mean the best. Do you understand that?”

Her finger still pressed to his lips, the prince nods.

“But also, like you, I’m scared of kicking a hornet’s nest I can’t really see, so… I’m just going to take the good. And you’re the good. And I just hope I’m the good, too.” She withdraws her finger from his lips.

“You are,” he says quietly. He glances off for a second. "I—look, I should say this—about the ‘intended bride’ thing…” they pause under the willow near the reflecting pool that the prince threw himself into a few days earlier. There’s a little bench there and Chauncey takes the opportunity of this slight pause to lower his bad dog hips to the ground and lay down. “I—” the prince glances down and looks at her, “You don’t have to.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to do the thing. The marriage thing,” the prince offers a hand to Cindy so that she can sit down on the stone bench beneath the willow, “I mean, you can if you want, but I know it’s a lot. I know they’re a lot. And I know I’m a lot. And—“

“You’re not a lot.”

“I’m not?”

“You know, you seemed a lot more cocky at the ball.”

“I was a jerk at the ball. Everyone was… pulling out all the stops for me, doing all this stuff, and it wasn’t even about me, it was about their families! Their livelihoods! But all I could think about was how uncomfortable I was and…”

“Well you’re not livestock!” Cindy throws her hands up.

“I mean, yeah but—“ the prince’s jaw tenses, “Just… it was nice that there was someone who… didn’t see me as… that? For just a little while? But that’s not how things are, and it’s not fair to pull you into things just because I like you—I mean, I really like you—but it seems like you care about lots of things so—”

“I’m not the same person you thought I was at the ball either!” Cindy blurts out, “I do care, I do, I’m just… I’m scared, all the time. I’m horribly, awfully scared that everything’s going to collapse on me at every second, and I cry a frankly unreasonable amount, and—and—the only reason why I acted the way I did was… I figured everyone would forget about me… Like they’ve always done.” She blinks a few times and it kind of hits her that she actually hadn’t thought that much about the impact she would have on people after the ball—that her initial concern was about being recognized.

“How could anyone ever forget you?” The question comes out of the prince, incredulous, as he bends to look at her. Literally every staff member or guest at the ball remembered her for some good deed or kind word or the impossible speed with which she could scarf down celeriac tarte tatin. He’s almost looking for an indicator that that was a joke, but he studies Cindy’s face for a few seconds and he realizes that no, it’s not a joke. His eyes flick downward. “Cindy?” He says, not making eye contact.

“Yes?”

“Everything I’ve gone through these past few days to find you has been… the most exhausting thing I’ve ever done in my life. And I know that’s stupid—I know it’s nothing because you and everyone else is working so hard all the time while I’ve been off… fucking reading! Or horseback riding! Why am I better with horses than people? They’re the most fucking paranoid animals on the planet!”

“It’s not nothing—” Cindy starts.

“But I’d do it all over and over and over again a thousand times over or however many times it takes if it meant making sure you have a home with people who love you and value you.” The prince has been bent over the bench, but now his back is starting to hurt, so he drops down to one knee to maintain eye contact with her.

“Is.. is that here?” Cinderella’s voice is brittle.

“If you want it to be,” the prince glances off, “This… was also supposed to be a conversation where I give you an out. In case.. I don’t know… you have way cooler things going on. There’s so much I still don’t know about you, so much I want to ask but I’m… honestly scared to ask.”

“I know,” Cindy interlaces her fingers in her lap, “But… I don’t know how much I can tell you about it right now without sounding completely mad or without making things very complicated for the friend who helped me. But as soon as I can—if I can—I will. I promise. And—and I don’t have anything cooler going on. I do want to stay here. Very much so.”

“I mean, of course you could still stay at the palace—like… just… as an advisor. I can deal with it. I can be cool about it. I swear. But like, I mean as far as official titled jobs go, I think… you’re.. really… well… qualified for um. For the whole ‘princess consort’ thing?”

“So you’re giving me an out but this is also… a proposal…” Cindy says slowly.

“Well, yeah if you want to get really intense about it—” the prince huffs a little then realizes he’s on one knee, “I mean… Yes. Yes it is.”

Cindy snorts hard.

The prince presses his lips together. “I mean there are people out there— I can see that now—I… I can be with people, and I can be okay—”

“Prince—” Cindy starts.

“And I know that sounds stupid and completely removed and selfish of me, but… you’re the person who really made me see that. I mean, also people made me see that because that’s the whole point—”

“Prince…” Cindy starts, a bit more softly and affectionately this time.

“And I really do like all your ideas! I really think we can hammer some stuff out that can make things so much better for—”

“Prince!” Cindy suddenly cups his face in her hands.

“Yes?” His cheeks are a little smushed with the gesture.

“I get it,” Cindy smiles.

“Oh. Good. That’s good,” says the prince. A pause passes. “Is this a ‘Yes?’”

“Yeah, it’s a yes.”

The prince’s hand comes up and clasps around one of hers, still on his cheek, holding it tight to him. He squints his eyes shut for a few moments, just feeling the warmth of it. He seems to catch himself and his eyes flick open,

“In case it wasn’t already abundantly clear, I’m not nearly as cool as I was at the ball,” the Prince is staring into her eyes.

“Neither am I,” she says before kissing him.

——

The king has been poring over numerous documents pertaining to the estate where the prince’s soot-covered partner emerged from as the queen looks out the window with a chilled glass of white wine in her hand. She’s watching the whole ‘whoops-it’s-a-proposal’ unfold in the garden below, and like—this is really nice wine that you do want to take your time with (Is it new? When did they get wine this nice??)—but she does take a slightly larger gulp at seeing her precious baby boy who is just as deranged as his father get down on one knee to a girl who was covered in soot and rats just yesterday. Like, yes, she knows she and the king had their own very unique situation, but it’s like, there’s you, and then there’s your kid, you know? You want things to be better for your kid and you don’t really know what this whole deal is yet so she’s counting on the King’s nerd ass to figure this mess out.

She glances back at the King who is still flipping through different documents at his desk alongside Gabe.

“Well?” The word comes out of the queen a bit thick. It’s not clear if the king heard her. “Darling?” She turns away from the window.

“Mm?” The king blinks several times as if breaking out of a trance.

“What were you able to find?” The queen clarifies.

“Oh…” and the king seems to get distant for a few seconds, “Do you remember a Lord Ashcroft?”

The queen thinks for a second. “Oh!” She says after a beat, “It’s been a very long time but—yes. Charming fellow. Hammered out some amazing textiles deal with the east a long while back, didn’t he?”

“Yes! And we sent him that bottle of port when his daughter was born!” The king perks up with the memory.

“Oh yes—such an adorable, chubby little girl—and of course Chaz was fussing and miserable throughout the whole christening—” the queen’s face drops, “Oh god—don’t tell me that’s—”

“It’s… her,” and that distant look settles back on the king’s face.

“But surely she would have been announced at the ball!” The queen briskly approaches the king’s desk, “Her father—”

“Died,” the word comes out of the king as a flinch, “When she was 12. Only a few months after he remarried.”

Something dark flickers over the queen’s face and the King blurts out, “Appendicitis! Appendicitis! The doctors ruled it as appendicitis! And grief, probably? Heart and gut.. couldn’t take it…”

“Grief,” the queen repeats, unconvinced.

“Dearest—”

“I know—I know…” the queen lets out a shaking exhale and then does this calming, pincer-like gesture with her fingers with another steadying breath, “Just… instincts and cultural differences…”

“I know,” the king touches her arm.

“So this… remarriage…” the queen starts hesitantly.

“Well… on paper it seems respectable enough—but then there’s fact that they didn’t even pay for an obituary—for Lord Ashcroft! I would say that’s a bit suspect. And I had Gabe look into some expense records registered for that estate with the local merchants and bankers… all these heirlooms sold immediately after his death compared to the actual costs of the funeral… I suppose we all grieve in our own way, and its difficult keeping the things of a lost loved one around after they’ve gone but one would think they’d at least keep the some of the objects on here for his daughter’s sake—”

“But as a young girl, she wouldn’t have a say in it,” the queen’s voice is brittle.

“Not with the stepmother being the acting executor of the estate…” the king rubs his brow, “Granted, there’s still a lot we don’t know."

“Chaz said the poor girl was locked in a basement. I don’t think we need to extend a lot of the benefit of the doubt here, darling,” the queen’s voice is terrifyingly icy.

“There were murmurings at the ball about that family as well…” the king muses.

“I need to talk to her,” the queen says firmly, “This situation requires a woman’s touch.”

The king kind of gives her a look then.

“What?”

“Are you saying ‘This requires a woman’s touch’ as in you’re going to kill someone or—”

“No! No, of course not! Probably not!”

“Probably—?”

“I can be sensitive! I’m sensitive!”

“Of course, dearest.”

——

Cinderella’s been at the palace for a few days now. Honestly between the tour of the grounds and the ins and outs of her own proper quartering and getting to know the staff, it’s all been a bit of a blur.

“You can come in, dear,” the Queen is squeezing some lemon into her own tea before leaning back in her seat.

Cindy edges into the room. She’s been scrubbed head to toe and has been laced into maybe the first new, not-made-by-herself, not-made-of-magic dress she’s ever worn since she was 12.

“…would you like to sit down?”

Cinderella shuffles over to the couch and sits down a bit stiffly.

“Here,” the queen pours another cup of tea, “Sugar? Cream? Lemon? Honey?”

Cinderella’s eyes flick across the tea set like it’s a bomb she needs to defuse.

“No wrong answers,” the queen settles back into her seat.

Cinderella gingerly spoons a little bit of honey into her tea and the smallest splash of cream. The queen watches her hands, the scuffs on the knuckles, the brittle nails clipped to the quick, before Cinderella raises the teacup to her mouth and sips.

“It’s delicious, thank you.”

“Mm,” the queen nods, and there’s a few beats of silence.

“It’s… it’s an honor to be here,” Cinderella says, forcing herself to make eye-contact, “I—I promise I’ll learn everything I can to be a good princess consort. I’ll read more, and—um—I know I’ve been throwing the servants off, but I really am used to making my own bed! It’s not because I don’t think they can do it, it’s just… I’ll figure things out. I promise. I—“

“It’s all right. Breathe, dear,” The queen is refilling her own teacup, squeezing more lemon. “Do you know the story of how the King and I married?”

And Cinderella blanches for a second like ‘Oh shit I didn’t know there was going to be a quiz.’ She really doesn’t know how the king and the queen came together. She’s read what she could, and she’s decently smart because her stepsisters would sometimes make her do the homework that their tutor gave them and she would be forced to learn what they hadn’t been bothered to paid attention to in one fourth of the time, but these were mostly subjects tailored to the running of a house and the cultural refinement of a lady, like etiquette, poetry, a little bit of law, and some arithmetic with a focus on finance and expenses. History and science? Not so much. But the queen is just swirling her tea in its cup, not quite looking at her.

“The royal historians downplayed a lot of the… ugliness that came before it,” the queen says, and Cindy eases up in her seat a bit thinking ‘oh thank god it was a rhetorical question.’

“You see…” the Queen gently sets her teacup and saucer down on the table and primly folds her hands in her lap, “The country I grew up in—that is, technically, it wasn’t quite a country as I was growing up—but it was… oh, how to put this politely? A flaming death pit full of murderous power-hungry petty tyrants all with delusions of grandeur and no care as to how many soldier and peasant lives they needed to ruin or end to gain one more acre of land.”

Cinderella blinks at that, and doesn’t really know how to respond to it so she just sips her tea while maintaining eye contact.

“I grew up the daughter of one of these petty tyrants, then as a political hostage, to secure my father’s alliance with a neighboring lord,” the queen’s gaze has trailed to the window, now, “And then my father and brothers were killed, in one of many stupid, pointless battles, for this bridge or that mountain pass or some other such nonsense…From there I saw two clear paths laid out for me: Either my foster-lord would have me killed so he could snatch up my father’s lands, or, more likely and far less pleasant, he’d marry me to one of his brutish sons who were at least twice my age to, again, secure my father’s lands. I was lucky enough to have a handful of retainers from my father’s house to help smuggle me back to my own family estate where I could regroup and see of my own forces and resources but…” she sighed, “From there…It all kind of blurs, to be honest. A part of me became just as merciless as everyone I fought against, but at the same time I hated them so much, so I hated me so much—I couldn’t bear the thought of just… becoming one more of them. And looking among the people that were my responsibility to protect…” she trailed off, “I wanted a better life for me. For them. For all of us. But I didn’t know what that looked like. I was terribly stubborn about the idea of marriage, you understand. I imagined myself having some… passionate torrid affair with some battle-scarred Samson, and then naming whatever bastard came of that my heir to continue the fight when I inevitably died in one more stupid battle for this bridge or that mountain pass.”

Cinderella is kind of thrown off by the bastard thing, like ‘You can do that? That’s allowed?’ But then Cindy has the reasonable assumption that probably no one told the queen she couldn’t do that, and if she had done it, no one would really try to tell her after the fact.

"But then I met the king,” the queen goes on, “He was just a prince himself, then. The poor fool was traveling through our lands as part of some… diplomatic mission when he was captured by one of my remaining enemies. I didn’t even know he was in that keep, I was just… there to take down one more scourge. And I took them out right before I found him.” Her eyes get a little distant then. “I must have looked monstrous the first time he saw me…” she’s quiet for a few beats, then she seems to catch herself and she smiles a little, "Once I found out who he was, I more or less bullied him into our match. I was of high enough birth, after all. I thought he was so agreeable because he was afraid. But… I soon came to learn that there are many different kinds of bravery. Which… brings me to my point, dear,” the queen leans forward from her own seat, “Between what I saw of the king, and what I saw of my own people… I know what it means to have to be brave far longer than anyone should have to be. Something happens in the eyes…” the queen extends a hand and Cinderella unconsciously shrinks back in her own seat. Cindy’s mouth opens to apologize on reflex, but the queen is drawing her own hand back, fingers curling in. “What… I want to tell you is that… we want this place to be a home for you. I know what it feels like when your home… isn’t your home. When what remains of your family—” she catches herself again. “I’m sorry. I’m overstepping. This all must be so much on its own—“

“It’s— it’s fine—“ Cinderella is still tense in her seat, “It’s—it wasn’t nearly as bad as you think it is—I—I was never in a war—”

“It doesn’t have to be a war,” the queen says gently.

“Well, yes, but my stepsisters calling me stupid and ugly and saying I smelled bad all the time isn’t a war—”

“They called you stupid and ugly and told you that you smelled bad all the time?”

“But I did smell bad because I was cleaning out the chicken coops or the stable, or shoveling from the compost heap, or hauling laundry around, or because I had smoke pouring over me from the hearth and I got ugly muscles in my legs from going up and down the stairs all day—”

“They were making you do all that and they weren’t helping?”

“But that isn’t a war!”

“But you’re afraid of them,” the queen says softly and Cinderella flinches at the word ‘afraid.’ “Even now, even here, you’re afraid they can still make you hurt like all the times they hurt you before.”

“I—I—” CInderella stammers.

“Am I scaring you now?” The queen asks, not accusing, but genuinely concerned.

Cinderella’s knuckles are white around the handle of her little teacup. She’s gone deer-in-the-headlights again.

“It’s so hard to turn off…” the queen says softly, and Cindy isn’t sure if she’s talking to her or to herself. “And when you can turn it off you just feel so silly for thinking that way, but then something happens and it comes back all the worse…”

Cinderella’s half-come out of what would be called ‘tharn’ in Watership Down enough to sip her tea a little bit. The teacup rattles a bit in its saucer as she sets it down.

The queen gestures at the little tiered cookie trays. “Um… macaron?”

Cindy takes one and munches it down in barely a bite and a half, eager for the gap in conversation chewing affords her.

The queen huffs and slumps back in her seat. “Chaz was right about you. One really does feel like they can tell you anything and you don’t know if you’ve made a fool of yourself until after you’ve said it.”

“Is that… good?” Cinderella is picking up her teacup again.

“I think it’s good,” the queen says, taking a cookie herself and taking a bite out of it, “People are cynical, you know. It means a lot to inspire that kind of confidence. You managed to make quite the impression on a number of the palace staff the first night you came here.”

“Because I crashed the party…”

“Because you were kind. And helping seemed to be your first instinct about, well, anything. So this is what I’m saying—with regard to.. your previous living conditions, regardless of the abuse put upon you, there is only a limited degree to which the crown can respond. But I can assure you we will find every means we can to—”

“I don’t want to punish them,” Cindy blurts out, tense in her seat.

The queen’s gaze flicks up to her.

“What they did to me…” Cindy starts, but then stops and glances off, “I don’t think hurting them further than how they already are will help. I don’t know what will help them. But all I know is that I don’t want them anywhere near me. And I don’t think they need to hurt to know that.”

“…exile, then?” The queen munches a macaron and Cindy blanches.

“No,” Cinderella says quietly, “That doesn’t feel right either.”

“Well… we have a whole library and dozens of legal experts at your disposal, dear,” the queen smiles, “I trust you to be a far more merciful person than I’ve ever been.”

Cindy stills in her seat, full deer-in-the-headlights mode.

“…that’s good,” the queen says, reaching forward and putting a hand on Cinderella’s knee.

“Oh!” Cinderella eases up, “Th-thank you.”

And so, over the next few days and with much discussion with many royal lawyers, the first restraining order was invented. Granted, if you look up legal history as we know it, the modern restraining order popped up in like, the 1970’s, which is… really fucked up and you’d think it would pop up sooner. But also people are terrible so it makes sense that it would take that long. But we’ll just assume this was kind of like the whole ‘sometimes people act like Don Quijote was the first novel and not Lady Murasaki’s Tale of the Genji just because Don Quijote saw wider distribution,” and also an instance where something was so unusual for its time we wouldn’t really see its implementation until a long-ass time later situation. And also I made up the country they’re all in so fuck it. They invented restraining orders. Which is what Cindy deserves.

Oh god. like, I would hate being in the presence of the stepfam in any situation, but what I wouldn’t give to be in the room when the royal messenger shows up at the stepmother’s doorstep. Like the stepmother would totally think she’s receiving a ‘guest of honor’ invitation for the royal wedding despite the Prince’s absolutely harrowing look at her, and she’s like ‘Finally that little rat of a girl is proving herself useful.’ And there’s the royal messenger on the doorstep like, “Good afternoon ma’am, I have the distinct honor of issuing to you this royal decree that you and your daughters are not to come within 800 paces of the Princess Consort-to-be. As well as this fruit basket.” (The palace had never issued a restraining order before and as such wasn’t really sure the proper means of delivering it, and the fruit basket was Cindy’s idea so that they might ‘part on good terms.’ Cindy’s never issued a restraining order before either, and she also has a very inflated opinion of the power of gifts and fine food, so go easy on her.)

“…I suppose… the seating for the wedding will accommodate?” The stepmother says a bit blankly.

“Oh—Madam, unfortunately, I have no invitation for this household. But! You will observe that this fruit basket does indeed have a pineapple! So let that be a symbol of the crown extending all the hospitality it can extend in line with this decree.”

“Ah. Yes. A… a pineapple,” the stepmother says, blinking several times.

“Oh, yes, and also this sack of gold to cover any additional medical expenses with regard to the…” the palace messenger clears his throat, “Toe incident.” The messenger unceremoniously plops a roughly coconut-sized sack of gold onto the fruit basket. “Ladies,” he says, tipping his hat before leaving.

The stepmother snatches the gold sack up right quick but then she and the stepsisters are stuck staring at this pineapple for three days in utter befuddlement. Both the pineapple and the gold are enough to take their minds off of the increasingly large groups of starlings gathering in the hazel tree on the side of the house… for a while at least.

#love at first sight exists #but only in the sense that I consider that part of skyrim where you watch farkas turn into a werewolf 'love at first sight'#POV: You've been taken captive and you watch the hunter from Bloodborne carve a bloody path through your captors #like how can your brain NOT go 'wife' in that context???#what I'm saying is... Queen--it is fine he was absolutely INTO IT #cinderella #'also we've just tanked your entire social future but here's a pineapple byeeeeee'#Common sense: Hey you know you probably could make the epilogue one big chapter if you left out the queen's backstory #me: NO FUCK YOU I'M KEEPING IT

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