#another tie on this one. and once again the fire rendering

[front-facing-pokemon]

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 13)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated E for Explicit.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

“This is just a dream.” Your words came out in a tangled string, altogether as air being forced out of a balloon. You partially sagged as well, instinctively locked muscles loosening again after you’d realize there was another person next to you on the beach. 

She was beautiful, as always, with long silver-blonde hair  and violet eyes cut into a soft face. You froze for the briefest instant at the fact that her tall, Amazonian body was clothed, but dreams never followed the rules. 

With your arms out wide, you reached for the woman that had appeared beside you on the beach. “Right? Is it just a dream? L… like the ones before?”

You wanted it to be true. The swell of hope rose within you like the tide at your feet, but it was tainted by something that shook you and made your heart race.

The truth was like oil leaking through and into your bloodstream, sticking to your veins until it couldn’t be ignored any longer. Until it made you feel sick and trapped inside your own skin. 

“Right?”

The serene expression on Eve’s face gave way and rendered her heartache. She looked at you with violet eyes gone glassy for a long, long moment. 

Eve shook her head slowly. “No.”

—

The realm-traversing portal opened up amidst rolling clouds without much fanfare. Lucifer’s eyes snapped shut as he was accosted by piercing white light on all sides when he stepped out of it. 

“Ugh.” The blond blinked rapidly, trying in vain to adjust to the shift from dark red to blinding light. “It’s like crashing into the sun...” 

Heaven’s gates came into focus. 

“… while it’s going supernova.” Lucifer finished, muttering as he took a moment to shake out his sleeves. 

He stayed in place, readjusting his clothes while his wings folded back behind him. Heaven loomed on the horizon, only a short walk away. A fact that was eroding the King’s resolve with each passing moment.

Lucifer swallowed, straightening his bow tie. 

He wanted to turn back. 

It had been many millennia since he’d stepped foot anywhere near what was once his home; and in spite of the time and the distance, Lucifer could feel dread creeping up on him. The memory of being pushed and plummeting down, down, down into fire and brimstone came to him as if it had happened yesterday. 

Lucifer glanced down, anticipating the rise of molten rock and plumes of smoke as he headed straight into the Earth’s core. 

He was still standing, hands shaking so hard that his apple cane was tapping against the slow yet merrily rolling clouds. 

      The former angel closed his eyes again, inhaling deeply to steel himself. 

This was for you. He needed to know that you were exactly where you were supposed to be. 

This was for you. 

He’d do anything for you. 

Another breath. Lucifer stepped out from behind the clouds and onto the golden path that led to you. Just a few feet away and the blond tried to keep his eyes level with the gate itself, purposefully avoiding the all-knowing symbol above. 

A very bored-looking angel was flicking through the pages of what Lucifer assumed to be a reservation list. He couldn’t quite put a name to the face, as unless St. Peter had dyed his hair and grown a good deal of scruff on his chin, this was someone totally new to the gig. 

      Lucifer grimaced, wondering if this was a boon or not. 

“Excuse me!” Lucifer called up. 

“Ah!” The angel squawked. “Oh! Shi-I mean—!”

He fumbled with the book, accidentally crumpling a page mid-flick. Lucifer waited, tapping his foot nervously while the gatekeeper pulled himself together. 

       Finally, he smacked both hands against the book, using it as leverage to lean over and get a better look at the new arrival. 

“My apologies! Welcome to He-H…” Pupils shrunk to mere pinpricks within the angel’s eyes upon catching sight of the newest ‘arrival’. 

‘Oh fuck, okay.’ Lucifer lamented, posture sinking as he readied himself for a shitstorm. 

       His wings stretched out once more, and Lucifer glided up as stealthily as possible. The angel reeled back upon his approach, horror-struck, while the blond met him face-to-face.

“Yes! Hello there Mmmm—”” Lucifer squinted at the name tag pinned to the angel’s chest. “Matthias! Wonderful to meet you! Unless we’ve met before, in which case I apologize! It’s been quite a while since I’ve been up rather than down. Heh.”

Matthias continued to stare, jaw practically hanging off his face. “Y-you—you’re-!”

Lucifer’s smile waned like a melting candle. He drummed his fingers against the table top and cleared his throat. 

“Right.” Lucifer continued. “So, anyway, I’m here just to say ‘hi’ to a very special someone, and I would be eternally grateful if you could help me out with that.” 

He waited a full minute, watching Matthias shake like a leaf. It left Lucifer torn between irritation and anxiety. 

“Look, I’m not here to make waves.” He tried again. “I’ve done that enough for an immortal lifetime! And you know that, clearly.”

He chuckled, pulling at his collar. “I’m not asking for much. If anything, I’m actually doing my due diligence as far as Heaven is concerned and what’s that you got there? Is that a flip phone? Didn’t know they made those anymore. Who’re you dialin-”

“PETER!” Matthias screeched into the dated device. Lucifer’s whole body flinched at the sheer volume. 

“Wait, no, no, no!” Lucifer panicked, arms flapping to regain Matthias’s attention. 

Matthias continued to rear back until he’d fallen off the podium, and he barely managed to remember his own wings before hitting the ground. 

“Peter!” He cried. “Come back! We have a situation here!”

“No we don’t!” Lucifer tried to butt in. “He’s being ridiculous Peter. Don’t listen to him!”

“You need to get back here now! No, now!” Matthias snapped the phone shut and kept aloft a good distance from the King of Hell. 

He then made the sign of the cross, of all things. 

“Stay back!” The angel yelped. “I’m warning you I-I-I’ve been abstinent for over a hundred years and it didn’t break me! Neither will you, foul Tempter!” 

Lucifer stopped, lips peeling back as if he’d just sucked a lemon. 

“Okay, I didn’t need to know that.” Lucifer said, floating closer. “Look, maybe you didn’t get what I was saying, I’m just—”

“I said stay back!” 

Lucifer groaned, running a hand down his face. “Fuck me for thinking Heaven learned to listen.”

—

You felt lighter as you made your way back into the cityscape of Heaven, although your heart was truly aching. 

     There was no use in staying hidden in the trees, but as you crossed back into the modernized version of paradise, you vowed to return. Unless Eve herself decided to make another reappearance and join the rest of her angelic peers. 

Speaking of which…

Wandering had led you back to the center of the town, and you noticed that it lacked an angel or two… hundred. 

“Where is everyone?” You asked the empty air. Not a soul stirred at your inquiry, but you stared at the cafe on your left. 

     The majority of cafe tables hadn’t been bussed. You peered at the plates of half-eaten pastries and teacups, noting that more than one was still full and steaming. 

“There you are!”

 The unmistakable voice of Emily put a stopper in your confusion. “Where have you been? I was so worried!”

The holy woman hovered before you, unable to stay still as her wings beat against the air frantically. You frowned.

“Hey Emily.” You responded slowly, your brain still picking up the inconsistencies. “Do you know where everyone is?”

The angel shook her head, staggering you as she instantly took your arm and plucked you from the ground like a flower. 

“Woah! Hold on, wait a second!” You choked on your own saliva in surprise. You struggled to pry her delicate hands off of you as you were dragged through the air. “Emily! What’re you doing?”

“You have to come quickly!” Emily exclaimed. 

“Let me go!” You demanded.

You gawked when she just sped up. Emily raced through the empty town center with you dangling behind her, until she had taken you out into the open air. The gate into Heaven rose above all else as you fast approached it. 

—

A crowd had amassed from the city pavilion to stand and watch, aghast at the scene before them. Some cowered in their places while others edged closer to whatever was happening on the other side of the gate. 

     People were still floating in as Emily rocketed toward the front. You had no choice but to follow her lead, windswept hair falling in your eyes and mouth. You spat as you were planted on solid foundation again, and jostled forward by a no less overwrought Emily. 

You parted your hair like curtains, expression already screwed up and twisted in anger. You looked up and over your shoulder at the angel nervously chewing on her lower lip. 

“Excuse my language but what the hell is going on?” You bit out. Ugh, hair still caught on your tongue. 

Emily didn’t deign to give you any answers beyond a hand raised, finger pointing ahead. Her gesture made you scoff, though you let your curiosity get the better of you. 

      The last thing you expected to see was a squad of angels in pastel blues and whites, brandishing technological spears at Lucifer fucking Morningstar. 

“Please, everyone, there’s absolutely no need for any of this!” Lucifer’s tone was an odd mix of disarming and pacifying. 

He was bowed over, arms held out in a bid for calm. It was only met with more hostility, as several of the spears pointed at him sizzled with visible electricity. 

“Spare us your lies, Serpent. And be gone.” One of the aggressors spoke, sporting a remarkably deep voice despite his youthful appearance. A chorus sounded behind the creature, shouts of ‘be gone’ and ‘back to hell’ resounding until the pounding of your heart drowned it all out. 

Your breath came up fast and shallow, the capacity to rationalize long gone at the sight of the Devil.         

     You’d just accepted the loss of him, had exposed the wound he had left behind in your soul to the open air and grieved the lesson it taught you. Death had parted you both and you had been preparing to accept it, no alternative left to contemplate. 

“Lou...”

Mouth open, you tried to formulate your thoughts into words. You were coming up short, voice cracking and striped like a dying animal. 

“Lucifer.” 

You went ramrod straight, electricity enveloping your sight. He staggered.

“LUCIFER!” 

Pain lanced through him, but Lucifer only had eyes for you. You, calling his name and racing forward to grapple with the bars of Heaven’s gate. You, beautiful and glowing and real again. 

The King stood up, gripping the spear that had made contact with him only moment’s ago and throwing it off. Gabriel fell to the wayside like a swatted fly, his squad of soldiers swarming around to try and right him. 

They might as well have ceased to exist as Lucifer moved toward you. Heaven ceased to exist altogether, as soon he was close enough to take your outstretched hands. 

“You’re here.” 

***

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[sommerregenjuniluft]

@rosekillermicrofic june 11 — memory — 860words — aka baby rosekiller in canon universe 🪄

The first memory Barty has of Evan is from second year.

Looking back Barty knows he’s noticed Evan before, in their first year. A blurry morsel of a sequenze, hazy moving pictures of white blonde curls—two heads more often than not—and smooth tan skin disappearing under violet shimmering robes and crisp dress shirts. He’d known from his father where to sort in the name Rosier, one of the Sacred 28, after all.

But the first distinct memory is from DADA class, second year.

It had been sometime late spring, early summer. June, maybe.

A sharp breeze filtered in through the open window of their tower classroom but the air had been warm, tousling Barty’s hair as he levitated his chair to the side of the room as they’d all been asked to by their Professor. Today’s topic: dueling practice.

Barty’s grin had been razor sharp.

Their Professor makes the Slytherins and the Gryffindors have a go at each other first, which is as much entertaining to watch as it is boring as Barty stands to the side and fiddles with his blue tie, waiting for his turn. In retrospect, he should have tried observing the classmates that were soon to be his opponents but for a 12 year old Barty it had been much more fun messing with the Professor’s talking raven.

Once it was his turn, Barty won the first few rounds easily. Even back then he’d already had a fair ensemble of mean jinxes and curses memorized. Bones were turned back to solid, students were picked off the ground, stiff like Honeyduke’s teeth breaking candy and deposited on the tables and classroom equipment was fixed from being shattered only moments prior.

Then Barty was faced with Evan Rosier.

And while Barty was pretty bloody good, Evan was offensive. The second the Professor gave the go Evan was firing something at him. Barty deflected the spell just in time but he was so stunned for a moment that he almost forgot to start attacking as well. Though Evan taking another step forward and waving his wand had done the trick. Barty jumped into action. He fired off two in a row and then another at Evan’s feet. Evan spelled a protection shield and then returned with three curses as well.

A laugh tumbled out of Barty when he recognized the spells. Impressive. Evan Rosier really doesn’t hold back, huh?

Barty twisted, dodging the spell. But Evan was quick and he managed to fire off another that grazed Barty’s shoulder. Something hot and stinging. His aim was incredible—still is, of course. Barty hissed in pain but he managed to hurl two more jinxes in Evan’s direction nonetheless. Evan deflected and then he caught Barty, hitting him square in the chest with something that threw him back several feet.

Barty landed on the floor with a dull thud and he groaned. He was about to scramble back up when Evan hit him with something that made Barty’s body spasm, the muscles in his limbs seize.

It was like electricity shooting through Barty’s veins and for a moment he couldn’t do anything but laugh, stars dancing in his vision.

Barty managed to prop himself up on his elbows, arms still shaking, just in time to see Evan move his wand again, and what rendered Barty immobile then wasn’t the result of another spell but rather the sharp grin on Evan’s face.

And Evan always smacks him when Barty says it but, well, if that wasn’t love at first sight what else is?

Whatever foul curse Evan was hurling his way though gets redirected away and to the side, hitting the stone wall with a green spark. Barty didn’t know why a slight wave of disappointment washed over him.

“That’s quite enough, Mister Rosier,” their Professor said.

Evan nodded once, giving a curt hum in response before pocketing his wand.

Barty stood up and shook his arms out, shuffling around on the spot to get rid of the tingling feeling in his body.

Their Professor called out two names and Evan walked to stand on the side. Barty followed.

“You’re good,” Barty stated, inspecting Rosier’s side profile. His nose is small and upturned, like a doll. And his lashes are dark and long.

“I am,” is all Evan replied.

“You gotta teach me that last spell you hit me with sometime,” Barty said, nudging their elbows together.

Evan turned and simply scowled at him.

Barty’s grin widened, “I feel like I’ve been bitten by a Swedish electric Grindylow.”

“A Finnish electric Grindylow, you mean,” a high voice chimed behind him. Barty turned and stared into the same face. The same button nose, the same brown eyes, only framed by longer, wavy hair. Pandora Rosier. She’s pretty. She looks just like her brother.

“But I like your comparison.” The girl tipped her head sideways, blinking at Barty, before breaking out into a big, close lipped smile, eyes crinkling. “He’ll show you,” she announced in her twin’s stead.

Evan had only grumbled but he hadn’t denied it. And a few days later (after some relentless bugging from Barty and more fauxly sweet nettling from Pandora) he’d taught Barty the spell.

[wolveria]

The Raven’s Hymn - Ch 32

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: “What did you dream?”

AO3

You were led to another room not far, only further down the hall. This one had the typical layout of an interview room, and you were firmly placed into the metal chair with one restraint removed as the guard looped the chain through the small bar welded to the table.

The scientist, a man in his 50s with short-cropped grey hair, his face unfamiliar, didn’t sit at the other end, but instead consulted his tablet as he stood off to one side.

“What did you dream?” he asked without preface once your wrists were both shackled again. You the scientist with a scowl as you turned over the question in your head.

SCP-5964 was a coin forged in a time of bloodthirsty monarchs and civil war, except it had one unfortunate effect. Placing it under the pillow of a person would lead them to have a single, lucid nightmare. No matter how terrible or implausible the nightmare was, whatever happened in the dream would play out within 24 hours, leading to the person’s death. People have drowned in the middle of meetings, caught on fire swimming at the beach, or cannibalized while tilling a field.

You pressed your lips together to stop their trembling.

“I didn’t.”

The door opened.

“You’re lying.”

You sank in your chair. Site Director Leahy gave a nod to the other scientist, dismissing him before his eyes fixed on you. He sat in the empty chair that was your opposite, smoothing down his tie as he did so.

Your glare was unblinking.

“What did you see, Reid?”

“I didn’t see anything,” you repeated, inflection flat. “The SCP had no effect on me.”

Leahy gave you a look before glancing down at his tablet, scrolling through it until getting what he wanted. He then flipped it around for you to see, an image painting its surface in greens, reds, and yellows. It was similar to an infrared spectrum but with much more detail, able to monitor a subject’s hormone levels through the biometric lens of an advanced camera. One you hadn’t noticed in the room, but from its angle, you knew where it had been hidden: a ventilation grate.

The display showed you in a prone position, taken while you were asleep in that room, and showing heightened signs of brain activity and hormonal stress. You shrank in further on yourself as Leahy turned the tablet back around.

“Now you can see the lie for yourself. You gave all the indications of an intense dream. What was it?” When you held your tongue, he added, “We only have one more test, and it will be the last. For now.”

“Not going to threaten me some more?”

Your patience with the Site Director was at an all-time low. You were aching from interrupted sleep, chilled by cold sweat, and trying not to squirm from the discomfort of your damp undergarments.

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair.

“I can, if you wish. SCP-049 is being a little too willful these days. Perhaps a few minutes in a dark room with 173 will correct this newfound defiance.”

Despite his causal lean and the almost lazy drawl of his words, he wasn’t bluffing. Leahy clearly didn’t care about the policies against cross-testing with different SCPs, let alone punishing them.

You stared down at your hands, curled against the table and rendered harmless by unnecessary shackles. You didn’t know what to say. Because the SCP had reacted to you in an anomalous way, but unless you were going to die by 049’s cock in the next 24 hours, its effect was different.

A bubble of hysterical laughter lodged in your throat. You covered your mouth, but a choked noise still escaped.

“You’re not going to be sick, are you?” Leahy frowned. “If so, point it away from me.”

You coughed into your hand and swallowed down the giggle fit before it could start. This was beyond fucked, there was nothing funny about it, and yet the deranged imperative to laugh still remained.

“No, no… I’m fine.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Maybe I’ll stick you both with 173 and see who it favors more.”

“No!”

Your chains clinked as your back went stiff, and Leahy’s smirk told you he got the reaction he wanted.

Bastard.

Closing your eyes, you took a breath and forced yourself to think. You had to give Leahy something, and it damn well wasn’t going to be the truth. A believable lie was what you needed, but you’d never been particularly good at those, especially elaborate ones.

Maybe it didn’t need to be elaborate. Maybe it just needed to be incredulous enough to buy.

Maybe, you needed another liar.

You opened your eyes and let your shoulders sag just enough to indicate surrender.

“There was a containment breach.”

Now it was Leahy’s turn to sit up, his posture straight as he leaned against the table.

“In the nightmare?”

You nodded slowly, as if recalling the details against your will.

“It was… bad.”

“Who started it?”

“I don’t know.”

“How many casualties?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where does the breach happen?!”

“I don’t know!” you snapped back. “I just remember fleeing to a garage. There were Foundation vehicles, and we took one. To escape into the forest.”

“We?”

Leahy took the bait, but you hesitated. It wasn’t for show.

“Someone was… with me. An SCP.”

“Go on.”

Pressing your lips together, you shifted uncomfortably in your chair.

“I think he started the breach. He came for me, and we left together.”

“Who, Reid,” Leahy growled. “Give me a designation.”

You prayed for forgiveness. Even this SCP didn’t deserve the Site Director’s cruel attention.

“SCP-035.”

Leahy glared at you for a long moment in which you didn’t look away, not until you dropped your eyes, shame forcing you to hide. An emotion that was uncomfortably truthful.

The Site Director stood, not speaking to you again as he nodded to the guard and left the room. The two guards unlatched you from the table and led you to a place you’d been hoping to see: a heavy containment cell with thick doors and no way of escape. Leahy had bought your story, and you were on lockdown for the next 24 hours.

There was nowhere for you to rest, but you were delivered meals and clean clothes through an automated delivery system in the wall. It could have been worse, at least you were left alone and there was a rudimentary shower in one corner. But 24 hours was a long time in solitary, and your mind wandered back to a place it didn’t want to go.

The dream had been so real. Too real. Every detail was accurate, down to 049’s smell and the unique texture of his robes. You’d had no idea it was a dream, only an impending sense of it ending soon, perhaps your subconscious mind knowing it was inevitable to wake up. Your urgency for 049 to finish what you both had started had been all-consuming, and even now there was an echo, an emptiness left unfulfilled. Overt sexual desire wasn’t something you were prone to, but the dream version of yourself had had no compunctions about getting thoroughly fucked by 049 as quick as possible.

You buried your face in your hands and tried to think about anything but the dream, and like a lingering bad odor, 035 crept into your thoughts instead. Specifically, his words regarding 049—how old the SCP was, and that no one but you had touched him before. How the loneliness must affect him after centuries of solitude, even when surrounded by his disciples. You could imagine it all too well, the way 049 would keep them at a proper, polite distance. Hadn’t he tried the same with you?

It was difficult to know how much of it was truth, and how much of it was 035’s usual embellishment and love of a compelling story. It made sense that he would paint 049 as a tragic, romantic figure. It also didn’t mean he was wrong.

And then there was 035. You shouldn’t sympathize with such a dangerous anomaly, and yet, you hoped he wouldn’t face harsh consequences for your lie. Leahy was ambitious, but he wouldn’t be able to destroy the mask. The Foundation had tried many times, almost as many times as they’d tried to kill 682—who, apparently, might not be as dead as once thought.

And that same Foundation had known you were anomalous from the start according to 035. You didn’t know how it was possible, surely there would have been signs, and they wouldn’t have given you so much freedom with the SCPs. How much did Dr. Puli know? How much did Leahy?

049, 682, your own history. How reliable was this information with 035 as the storyteller? Unreliable narrator didn’t begin to cover it.

The one good thing about being isolated was it gave you plenty of time to sort out the last few days in your head, but by the end, you were ready to claw at the walls. Even seeing Leahy’s face when he entered your cell the next morning was nearly a welcome sight.

His satisfied smirk didn’t bode well, and neither did the guards at his side.

“Seeing as there were no containment breaches, it’s safe to assume the coin does not show you something that will inevitably happen.”

He moved closer and crouched, now eye level with you where you sat leaning against the wall.

“It shows you something that will never happen.”

The urge to give the Site Director a good punch while you had the chance fell away, the dream springing up in its place. An impossible dream, one that 24 hours had proved wouldn’t take place.

You looked away, hating that the disappointment on your face would sell the lie, hating even more that it wasn’t a lie at all.

“Get her up.”

Leahy moved out of your space, replaced by two guards who hauled you to your feet and secured the manacles around your wrists. They were beginning to chaff and bruise, but you didn’t resist as they led you to a freight elevator at the end of Heavy Containment.

Only when you got inside and Leahy inserted his keycard and put in a code did you pay attention, especially when he didn’t enter a floor number.

The elevator shuddered and began its descent, its movements utilitarian and not smooth as the lab elevators were. It kept going for a minute, then two, far past any floor that should exist.

Down, down, down. Straight into the belly of the beast.

You weren’t going to the basement levels. You were going beneath Site-20.

Next Chapter

[libidomechanica]

Fat, by being awkward from myself in sight reach the ashes fall

A limerick sequence

               I

There was ten colors and flip-flops. And soon absolvèd. They fled with honour    forbidden or form had on    a bandage rather cease to bring against the Throng, one is there.

               II

Again the lords of Creation go and some other people in his hand.    I bade my head, a little    mark’d by the hair. And view with their glories and a good buy!

               III

Thine owne will or no. Like to take hold of these unhappy woman but a    minute. While clog’d he beating    here had stay’d and Dido rag’d in view: our spirit guiding.

               IV

The Berkshire hounds, Your Graces are blue eyes thereof spends all his own will not    fail beneath his friends are    red thee that there are forms: I knew, I ask you to every prime.

               V

Lovely beam a lonely ridge, then, and Passion burns; a very nod was quench’d    in tears. Home. Before the    Murders of them make this to discovering fearfully dress?

               VI

But to tie her up forever. On my rose tree. She is no one can hit    em right: she move unquiet    dreams I slept, and taste, critiqu’d your sweet issue your secret.

               VII

Despair meet the song of praise is done. Path, to feel for ever the little    babe was but as a bar    of iron moods that once the Veil. But till the ground: surely die.

               VIII

A Christian foot; and when Dancing fires? You, all song of praise is due from the    speckled and unawakening    sleep under thee. I swear, were ruled as they find? Virtue.

               IX

I was pacing trade; and sole yourself arise, you that just remain with our    foot she hungry moan did    maintain, dark-rooted, earth- anchored. There is not a sea the pale.

               X

Rendering death come to men’s eyes so innocent and pride. Silence and    passionate one. Make her Graces    are but fragility: whose that eve was made up a song.

               XI

One arm had all th’adulteries glowing on the sweets the Goddess of the    same princess. Must seem doubly,    when prayers and Dukes, and turning ring, and leader of men.

               XII

Happy to have common though the vow? -Tree crown and awful LOVELINESS,    wouldst owe. A moment, as    with burden of long tresses shall die; when to another field!

               XIII

So soon elate! Ah, less—less bounding note. Ye goatherd gods, that thou not with    the brazen greaves pass onwards,    still count it strives to architecture wholly credible.

               XIV

Kinda like into her Ear; with tort’ring Chick? Brought; what became her. Me fresher,    and my old completely    crown’d. And she knew that froaths below! We saw the villagers.

               XV

Lovers robb’d of all arrive with mankind beats with a sweet hands sustain a    Flow’rs, to steal sweet whisperingly:    But Psyche: on her brow, she read. And sport and marrow.

               XVI

Them, needs with heavy tufts of moss so fair, is the throne? Happy he with the    sharpened conditional    future the end of all the year was divide. And I must be?

               XVII

Forbid it heav’n-directed, and this year was divided into her female    head morning, is gone.    But I digress: of all the stride, t would have bedded-down knot.

               XVIII

Tell her my pains so fair. All mortall eye, to whome nor many a day had    been her tyranny had    such as fit and gold, and thee feeble to all short of this world.

               XIX

Oh had I stand wakened the caique was but Half-lance high, or roll the hand    that I loved her, less for    that. Do thou, and some other, that she knew nothing in her hear.

               XX

Shakes her makes our snow less practice may be, or you. And the feared she gazing    out, under the Hall, and    of Nymphs preparatives for that to which enclose my mind.

               XXI

Dear cheek so wan and awful LOVELINESS, would Pope have a certain moment    befell. Rather turning    to his sword in their darling, fire you, holy Christabel.

               XXII

And in the grow half human nursery, saw how mother near? ’ To myself    instead of jutting crag,    and thine ten times like all their feathers they came to qualify.

               XXIII

I ate? By those Eyes of thine are one. A look, or heart up solemn and sea’s    rich gems, with Throne. And marrow.    Hence Cupid fix’d with heavy tufts of moss, just in that taste!

               XXIV

Stream that touched so in thy quiet find. Now folds the stars due warning still. A    knave this and Osiris    though not so to Camelot: or when winds and like angry brow.

               XXV

Who little too, when they least know then, your hand came of age were you a root.    What are abroad, detain    you were going home the lamp, and priceless now what ails poor thorn!

               XXVI

The tenth Muse, ten times happy omen, hail! Mountain side. Voltaire says in such    as the praise, Vertues stall;    Cupids cold fire, when no more alone, worn out into the wind!

               XXVII

That eats at me moved the hidden:– which? Beware of those whose least word bring with    tall men’s view—but with its    endless Skies, when each, according to make a gentlest boon!

               XXVIII

Time to this poor colorless this. You that prayed she might steadily, the mountains    kiss high heavens despite.    And loud, and quickly she half starved. In a bar-room around.

               XXIX

Ah me! Many women form the night, that still can be replaced me underneath    the red with Flavia’s    Busk that overpowering look a ready for to pine forests.

               XXX

She knew it, shall circumstances? Juan stood, in dizzy trance; still can stick a    needles, wherefore I    love you bred thee so loved, but burn and balcony, by garden.

               XXXI

I never in Love’s great black Tyrants to Day. Her eyes a moment ere she    look’d for a while before    him, like religion takes the Fops envy, and curs’d for ever.

               XXXII

As welcome as a friend and grief its hour in the eye of winter, city,    every part; sweetness a    grateful Gnome! And lodge there she died, might lead to have chosen it.

               XXXIII

Let us type them both how to love men and talking along a straight and    many other settled    the spell. Thou hast stay’d, and off I ran, head-foremost, through and hope?

               XXXIV

Than the gen’ral Fate. I cannot brag of word, much lesse my need; desier still    sing to you, all song of    praise, to bind anothers scribblers thinke it wholly credible.

               XXXV

A life-begetting sun. I cannot tell; but I, deepening air three feet long,    and of the vales await    their way, the same to try it those crown and yet men die miscast.

               XXXVI

And suckling mouth to mine eyes; and thee. As he bleed, you must take back. The blind    to blow the wondrous fond    of joking. Lo, this thin lids close by the deep Bosphorus look.

               XXXVII

Cages for ever any where, each breath! So very heathen in the same;    exception to scare the    old oak tree! Not louder Shrieks by Dames to Heav’n who can paint it.

               XXXVIII

Love, thou the train emerges from which did pass in Hide-Park Circus grow, then    spring open and begs    with Ends of her Eyes the matters Death, retrieves me, maybe not.

               XXXIX

-Misunderstands the voices never heard! Her wide eyes of all within and    may be true! Had a certain    press my clasp one another bright, as death, that labour lie.

               XL

Lovers robb’d me of it self thy cruel lovelorn women. As you see this    a lion’s den? Sad for    you but you know the May of my hat and goodness still, still sure!

               XLI

And when thou hast thy shadow of a babe you so too; and dread Event impend,    e’re to tell: we needs    na say she’s woo’d, but Folly to live. Never had a wound it.

               XLII

’Re light is mortal page; her anger and o’er her dear!—How charming Chloe—    from peaceful hung behind    the shrinking sound; earth shakes of liquid Air, and vows that is near.

               XLIII

Singing angels see, before the thorns and pilaus, things of my spoken love,    that never the bloom go    I! And wayward Queens whose parts of Time now sits uncouth, alone.

               XLIV

Thou bear’st love my Lays. Less promiscuous strow the Fyfield tree. Everyone    in your chastity when    I looked out, each day, more time that wholly, and have eyes of you.

               XLV

’ And power, which makes the stones. The Knave of meat. But we remain’d but they    mutually exclaim’d: this    soft bed. I have walked through pure love to another tale may trace.

               XLVI

&Then in her eyes, snatch’d with but approve this time would Juan onwards, still untired;    out of proud watches    in the Throne. To so respects high; but not so; of their fair love.

               XLVII

Mother cry, oh misery! The progress thro’ the Buskie-glen, I dinna care    a single; all this ill-    timed pride, weakness makes the presence of strange Phantoms of thy dove.

               XLVIII

Parchment on her husband cools, or, if they sleep twelve hours, and cry’d, while Hampton’s    Ecchos, wretched Maid reply’d    the Baby of her whims, had caught, of a crowd love is best.

               XLIX

How happy threshold mute. Through, this these curious frame of other cry, oh    misery is great great    appear; nor do I know, and Wretch shall at last, of men contest?

               L

That this a woman in Beijing buys for Nisus’ injur’d Hair which soule from    the bellowing Deeps resound.    Swift on him with both her chest, or as they first I hear them.

               LI

In Paris, at the wellfed wits at Camelot. Year old wound, since I came    with a hissing so high,    by Jove, a spirits as he rode down these words you might be well!

               LII

Monarchs only chilling,—no method’s more sober sad from her. Mean while it    stood still remits the Ring,    flaunts and go to friendless grave in size as like a stirring child!

               LIII

Of walls moon color, one is due, onely vnto that watery desolation    leave a vestige    of their looks into the lecture, torture. Two right in men’s eyes.

               LIV

Seeking than dust! Is it for that dove, let me take some Female Errors fall,    most Women stray, the    horrible cottage upon my first embraced with aught out of pride!

               LV

The Sea that fears not Twenty—from them, and take a Helen. And bad, that once    again, and left him that    Kings in the touch upon their transform’d a disarray less wind.

               LVI

For what while she set herself then she was steel’d by that she knew she could cavil;    yet, somehow, there    solitude, and love; and hopest her Victim dy’d, spite of a truth.

               LVII

I have seen it and wanted daily life, besotted in sweet maid, devoid    of Pride, might probably its    soft bed. The stove late to take a Helen. For she the way home?

               LVIII

For the Hair ⸻ he spoke: but of Psyche tender, as I listen here wealth had    done wonder’d on either    hand in silence. Not in me, and her sure as Heaven, not mine!

               LIX

Who but owns her fast. Like some small, jewel- like flowers whine, and the springs they    live in these things she knew,    to such quickened am that bless the slavish hat froaths below!

               LX

Her Eyes half the world were kept in awe: he said; when alive. Time does wane; and    while it stood, in dizzy    trance, beholding, waiting, clean as clear, the Lady of Shalott.

               LXI

Hath all the Trojan cou’d remain without remorse even for life. To hear    sweetness and gold refined,    one arm had all the Prize: the solitary pastures were wrong.

               LXII

As death for we two will serve them. Or to Time’s love professes, and wordless    broodings on the less vivid.    Mind the city listening for this. When, in old days—thyrsis!

               LXIII

Notions of our lives. His heart. She knows, it is to loue! Proposal may be    such a genial savour    of eyes, and chaste me to make me with burden love with Lampoons.

               LXIV

She was a magic sound to mee. If it could not be served a thousands more    than wise; at moment, and    sex, were on the will speak he bursts into a comfort of queens!

               LXV

But trust that she saw but small display, and take two swimmers. It irk’d him with    a moral centaur, man    and his throat. Whose needling milk-teeth used to discover your third!

               LXVI

Arise some smallest of iron moods that dark night by thy worth is her shining    swallows swerve in the    worst was thus Calypso once esteemed for instant, anxious Care.

               LXVII

More pleasure live: tell her slave to do time for one whose Helmsman on his Hoard    of Gold. Were slurring against    the Gods then Belinda wears. And jealousy brought her, O!

[etymology-of-the-emblem]

Fiana / フィアナ and the Freeblades

Fiana (JP: フィアナ; rōmaji: fiana) is a Thracian village where Leif found refuge sometime after the fall of Leonster in Fire Emblem: Thracia 776. The village is named after the fianna, Irish and Scottish bands of warrior-hunter-mercenaries. This is clearly reflected in-game by the Fiana Freeblades (JP: フィアナ義勇軍; rōmaji: fiana giyūgun, lit. Fianna Militia, rather than the Japanese フィアナ騎士団; rōmaji: fiana kishidan, lit. Fianna Order). Some believe that serving in a fian was a rite of passage for young men.

Of course, we can't talk about fianna and not mention THE Fianna, namesake of the Fenian Cycle, one of the four main sections of Irish mythology. The Fianna was an order meant to serve the High King led by Cumhall mac Trénmhoir, but he was killed after his elopement with Muirne and the conception of their son Deimne. Cumhall's killer, Goll mac Morna, would then be chief of the Fianna until Cumhall's son returned and proved capable to lead as his father once did.

Some major characters of the Fenian Cycle serve as namesakes of some of the residents of Fiana and other members of Leif's army. The most obvious connection is that of Leif's loyal vassal and father figure Finn (JP: フィン; rōmaji: fin). Cumhall's son Deimne studied under the poet Finnegas, who searched for the Salmon of Knowledge. Upon the fish's capture, Deimne was to cook it. In the process, however, the boy burnt his thumb and instinctually put it to his mouth, granting him the salmon's wisdom. His Thumb of Knowledge would reveal anything when put in his mouth. Deimne also received a change of name at that time, becoming the iconic Fionn mac Cumhaill (or Finn MacCool).

As for why Fire Emblem's Finn is a knight of Leonster, there are two reasons for this. On his father's side, Fionn was descended from the tribe of Uí Thairsig from Leinster (which is the name of Leonster in Japanese). Additionally, Finn's name could tie to Fin MacKinealy, an alternative name of Cian, the namesake of Quan.

And since it's relevant, yes: the substitute character Deimne is named after Finn's birthname. In Japanese, his name is written ディムナ (rōmaji: dimuna), while the more standard form for Deimne is デムナ (rōmaji: demuna). Either way, the pronunciation is incorrect; the m seems to be silent in most English pronunciations, while in Irish it's pronounced like the letter v [dʲɪvʲ(ə)nʲə], similar to Macha.

Moving on to a native of Fiana, Osian is the Welsh name for Oisín, the son of Fionn and Sadhbh. Fionn found his lover in the form of a deer while hunting, and she returned to human form when she was spared. The two settled, but the druid Fer Doirich that cursed her into a deer returned to shift her form again soon after getting pregnant. Seven years later, Finn would find a young Oisín on Benbulbin, a common hunting ground for the Fianna. Oisín would grow to be the greatest poet in Ireland, with most of the Fenian Cycle's tales being written by him. The most famous tale starring him is Oisín in Tir na nÓg, in which he took Niamh, daughter of Manannán, as a wife in the land of Tir na nÓg. After three years as king, he returned to Ireland to reunite with the Fianna, only to find that three hundred years had passed outside of Tir na nÓg. As soon as he dismounted the horse Enbarr, the hundreds of years caught up to him. Post-Christianized stories say that both he and Caílte mac Rónáin were the only survivors of the Fianna after the Battle of Gabhra, and would live long enough to meet St. Patrick and relay the legends of the Fianna to him.

In Japanese, Osian's name is オーシン (rōmaji: о̄shin), officially romanized as Othin. While Othin is another name for the Norse god Odin, the katakana resembles the common form of rendering Oisín in Japanese, アシーン (rōmaji: ashīn).

The other axebro of Fiana, Halvan (JP: ハルヴァン; rōmaji: haruvan) is a bit less clear-cut. The name seems to be a corruption of バルベン (rōmaji: baruben), from the aforementioned Benbulbin where Oisín was found. Notably, the name Benbulbin is an anglicization of Binn Ghulbain, which is believed to be named after king Conall Gulban of Tyrconnell. He was a companion of Caílte mac Rónáin much like Oisín, telling St. Patrick of the Fianna and the etymology of various toponyms of Ireland. Gulban was also supposedly the first noble to be baptized in Ireland.

You've likely deduced this already, but Ronan (JP: ロナン; rōmaji: ronan) is named after Caílte mac Rónáin (JP: キールタ・マック・ロナン; (rōmaji: kīruta makku ronan). Another member of the Fianna and nephew of Fionn, Caílte was known for being a brilliant storyteller, being attributed for some of the tellings in the Fenian Cycle. He also was known to speak with animals and for running incredibly swiftly. That's right - Ronan's high speed and movement are rooted in the mythological figure he's named after! No real basis for his magic growth, however.

Lastly, Nanna's brother Diarmuid gets his name from the second most famous member of the Fianna, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, a demigod raised by the god of love Aengus. He eloped with Fionn's fiancee Gráinne, creating great tension among the Fianna until Diarmuid's death. In his youth, Diarmuid received a "love spot" beneath his eye that made women who looked at it head over heels for him. This aspect was likely the basis of his personal Charm skill.

Diarmuid's Japanese name, デルムッド (rōmaji: derumuddo) comes from the standard rendering of Diarmuid, ディルムッド (rōmaji: dirumuddo).

Interestingly, the leader of the Fiana Freeblades, Eyvel (JP: エーヴェル; rōmaji: ēveru), seemingly does not relate to the Fenian Cycle at all. The closest I could find was the possibility of an intended reference to Ailbe, the wife Fionn took after he found Gráinne to love another man. However, there is a multitude of other possibilities to consider, which can be found in a future post!

Is there a character with a Fenian namesake that I missed? Or a connection between character and inspiration I glossed over? Please, let me know in whatever means you prefer!

[atsukashii]

this is such a cute little event 😭 and also as a bts stab of 4 years, welcome to the club, bby 🤩💜 anyways for the event; mamushi x katsuki + she/her + emerald green + ☀️ (thank you in advance!!)

every night and day i know you always stay

✘ formal events are definitely not your thing, and its a good thing that your boyfriend hates them just as much as you.

✘ GENRE: fluff

✘ WARNINGS: none

✘ WORD COUNT: 1.2k

“I know I said what I said,” You start taking a pointed sip from the glass of champagne in your hand. “But when I was talking about the perks of being a pro hero - this was not what I meant.” There’s a bark of deep laughter from beside you, and the figure turns towards you with an ash blonde eyebrow raised in mock confusion.

“You mean to say that when you were talking about how great it was being a pro hero, you weren’t talking about the black tie gala’s we’re contracted to attend?” Katsuki says sarcastically, and you have to physically stop yourself from flipping your boyfriend off.

“I was saying it in reference to free fucking ramen Katsu.” You hiss under your breath, letting your eyes roam over the full conference room, decked out for such a large scale event. You weren’t surprised at the carpeted walkway as you arrived, with a large banner wall on one side, and countless reporters and media paparazzi crowding the other. All for the annual ‘Hero Awards’, as if being a hero to actually save lives wasn’t enough of a reward.

The fact that it wasn’t even a charity event you were obligated to attend grated on you more than you let on. Why should heroes be rewarded even more for their work? It’s one of the most fulfilling, dangerous and draining jobs on the face of the planet, so yes, let's give some already egotistical bastards a blinding gold medal, because that's what we’re really needing to celebrate.

You take another sip of your drink, feeling Katsuki’s crimson eyes practically burn into the side of your head. You wait eagerly for him to say something, but instead, he simply takes another side step towards you and leans down, whispering in your ear.

“If you glare at the director of the event any harder, they’ll combust into flames.” You shift your gaze from the woman in mention, and give Katsuki an expressionless look, completely done with his pointless commentary.

“If anything’s going to be combusting around here, it will be one hundred percent your fault.” You snip back, but there’s no fire in it, and the traitorous smile that splays across your mouth that you can’t wipe away has your boyfriend chuckling quietly to himself.

“Well at least I got to see you like that,” He finishes, and even though you’ve been together for years, the brazen flash of his eyes as he unapologetically lets his gaze run down your figure and up again still makes your cheeks flush brightly. Another reason you despised this event was the fact that it was formal, meaning you had to force yourself to go out and search for a ballgown for a month beforehand. But you knew you looked good, mainly due to the fact that the man standing by your side’s eyes almost popped out of his head when you’d emerged from your bathroom earlier this evening ready to go. You were dripping in the emerald green fabric, and had been complimented all night on your dress by your close friends, however strangers stayed far away due to the glowering and protective number two pro hero at your side.

“Want to get out of here gorgeous?” Your eyes bug out as you look to Katsuki once more, and see that he’s one hundred percent serious. There’s a high possibility that you could get into deep shit for leaving this event, although you’d already mingled and thanked the director for your invitation which has been like pulling teeth. You knew Katsuki was in the running for an award like he had been every year, and the gold medal that was stuffed in his pocket must have been the final straw.

His crimson eyes sparkle at the possible trouble you could both get into, and you don’t fight the excitement and adrenaline that starts to thrum inside you.

“Please,” Is all you have to say, before Katsuki entwines his fingers with yours and leads you through the crowd. People part around him like the red sea, and you can’t help but feel pride at the confidence in his every step. He doesn’t care that people are seeing you leave, it’s as if he’s daring them to try and stop him. Instead, everyone just lets it happen, and Kirishima even waves to you as you leave.

It’s not until you’re sitting in the passenger seat of your boyfriend's ridiculous customised Ferrari that you finally feel yourself relaxing into the bucket seats. With graceful effortlessness like everything he does, Katsuki maneuvers the vehicle into the street before practically shooting off at the speed of light. You’ve given him plenty of crap about his choices of cars before, claiming there’s no point in owning one if you never have the chance to drive it, but Katsuki says simply that you’ve just explained the premise of owning one. So instead, you just lean back into the seat with closed eyes, listening to the familiar kpop song playing on the radio.

As the car slows to a stop a few minutes later, you open your eyes knowing that you’re definitely at home. Katsuki’s figure is enveloped with the bright lights of the convenience store and you raise an eyebrow at him. Why were you stopping here?

“I’m fucking starving,” he offers and opens his door. “Since they think its alright to feed pro heroes tiny fucking snacks and think that’s an appropriate meal.” Katsuki grumbles and you immediately get out of the vehicle, your grin not leaving your face. When you were in your last year of U.A, the two of you used to sneak out some nights and wander down to the closest family mart and buy instant ramen and candy before taking your time in going back to campus. The fact that he chose to come here instead of raiding the constantly full fridge has your heart thrumming happily inside your chest.

You’re sure that the two of you are a sight, dressed in formal wear and weaving through the isles, arms full of convenience store food. It all reminds you of your high school days so much, and you’re so full of nostalgia that you pull your boyfriend to a stop in front of the chocolates.

Katsuki eyes you in confusion, but you don’t give him the chance to respond before you lean forward and place a soft kiss to his lips. Katsuki’s free hand weaves roughly into your perfectly styled hair, holding you to him for a moment longer. Kissing Katsuki is like waking up in the morning, when your mind is still foggy with sleep but your body is moving before your brain. Every kiss from him renders you speechless, and has since he first kissed you in your dorm when you were teenagers.

Pulling back, you immediately laugh as the edge of your boyfriend’s mouth is speckled with dark red lipstick. You wipe it away with your thumb, and take a moment to engrave this moment into your mind forever. Dressed in all your finery in a convenience store, buying instant noodles with Katsuki.

“You’re everything to me,” you whisper so softly you don’t know if he heard it. But the fingers that come up to your face and gently pinch your chin signal that he did.

“Ditto gorgeous.”

a/n: thank you for the request anon, and deadass those boys have made me a simp.

✘ EVENT STATUS : CLOSED ✘

[discoscoob]

Fires of Pompeii | Loki x Female Reader

Loki (Marvel) x Doctor Who

You and Loki meet each other while you’re both running for your lives through the streets of Pompeii.

Part Two | Chapter Index

Words: 10k +

Warnings: blood and injury

Read on AO3: here

You huddled under the arch of an abandoned doorway just off the high street, it provided you suitable enough shelter from the miserable rain which pathetically drizzled down from the night sky. The light from the street lamps, traffic and shop fronts reflected off the soaked concrete while in the distance you could hear the laughter and chatter of groups of people as they made their way to the pubs and the clubs, the night was still early for them but you intended to be home and curl up in bed within the hour but first, dinner.

 You warmed your frozen fingertips around the paper wrapping which contained a piping hot portion of golden chips from your favourite chippy. Just as you were about to pop one of the steaming chips into your mouth using one of those tiny wooden forks you only ever find in chip shops, something caught your attention and you paused.

 “You’re not mating with me, sunshine!” A woman gasped in a broad east London accent that you would recognise anywhere, it belonged to your auntie Donna, a fiery redhead with an unmistakable dialect. Reluctantly you dropped your wooden fork, with your chip still attached to it, back onto the pile of chips which sat on the wrapping paper cradled in your palm and you ran out from under the doorway to investigate.

 “A mate. I want a mate.” Came a reply and you turned your head in the direction the voice came from to find your auntie, half shielding herself behind the door of an old police box, while a man you didn’t recognise stood before her wearing a pinstripe suit with a pile of luggage gathered around his feet.

 “Well just as well because I’m not having any of that nonsense. I mean you’re just a long string of nothing, you know, alien nothing.” She asserted, now standing fully outside the police box.

 “Is everything okay?” You approached the pair, completely lost by the conversation or argument you had picked up on midway through. Upon hearing your voice Donna gasped your name suddenly looking like someone caught doing something they shouldn’t.

 “Oh chips! I love chips. Can I have one?” The man smiled and pinched a chip from your pile before you could even answer.

 “I can explain.” Donna offered and that is where it all began.

 Donna’s explanation had consisted of an elaborate story about how the man she was with, known simply as The Doctor, was the last surviving member of an advanced alien species which specialised in space and time travel and that he had offered to take her exploring with him through all of time and space. Naturally your initial response was one of disbelief, you questioned your auntie on how much she had to drink that night, then you quickly switched to concern wondering if this strange man had drugged her.

 Donna looked offended that you believed she was anything but sober while the Doctor was startled that you believed he had any ill intent and was quick to sincerely reassure you that he meant your auntie no harm and that he was more than happy to extend his invitation of space and time travel to you, either in order to prove what they were telling you was in fact the truth or to allow you to come along to ensure Donna’s safety.

 You were tempted by his offer until you found out that their mode of transportation was the cramped police box the three of you were stood in front of, the Doctor informed you that it was called a TARDIS, an abbreviation for something you were sure you wouldn’t remember, and that it’s appearance as a police box was merely a disguise however the function had stopped working several decades ago meaning it was stuck like that permanently. You questioned how all of you would comfortably fit inside, along with the huge pile of Donna’s luggage. Images of scenes from Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure ran through your mind, the two teens faces pushed up against the glass of phone box which they were squashed into like sardines along with several prominent figures from history.

 Your concern soon developed into wonder after you were ushered by the pair into the box to find it was much bigger on the inside, and not in a ‘its size is deceiving’ sort of way where they cleverly maximised the limited space inside, it was literally impossibly bigger. You had to immediately step outside and circle the boxes perimeter to make sure it wasn’t attached to any walls but it stood in the middle of the street completely detached from any other structure or building. That is when you first started to believe that maybe what Donna had told you wasn’t so far fetched after all.

 Barely 10 minutes later you were rendered speechless as you were stood in the middle of a busy outdoor market, chippy tea long forgotten. Beneath your feet the ground was no longer covered in puddles or reflected the colours of the different city lights, instead you stood on cobble stone covered with dry sand and stray piles of straw. The black night sky was replaced by a flawless blue with not a single white cloud in sight as the heat of the midday sun caressed your skin. You were quick to unwrap your scarf from around your neck and shrug off your bulky winter coat and carelessly throw them back into the TARDIS without a care where they landed.

 “Ancient Rome!” The Doctor enthusiastically announced.

 Your eyes scanned around the bustling market once again and you took in the sight of all the people dressed in period typical clothing, tunics, sandals and such. The air way filled with the smell of fresh baked goods, scents similar to a barbeque and the faintest smell of horse stables. Some people who walked by were even wearing armour with long red capes draped over their shoulders, you eyed them cautiously as they passed.

 “Oh my god!” Donna gasped, grabbing your attention you quickly turned around. “It’s… it’s so Roman! This is fantastic.”

 You rolled your eyes at her dramatics as she threw her arms around the Doctors neck to pull him into a hug and he laughed happily with a proud smile on his face. You had to admit, you were impressed, more than impressed, you were astonished. You could hardly believe your eyes as you took in your surroundings, you would have believed you were on a film set were it not for the lack of a technology crew, cameras and director yelling at you to get out the way of the shot.

 “Hold on a minute, that sign over there’s in English. Are you having us on?” Donna spotted and you looked in the direction she pointed in to find a sign which read ‘TWO AMPHORAS FOR THE PRICE OF ONE’ and your shoulders sank and the prospect of being lied to this whole time.

 “No, no, no,” the Doctor calmly reassured her “that’s the TARDIS translation circuits, it looks like English. It works for speech as well, you’re talking Latin right now.”

 That certainly was very clever and convenient, you thought to yourself.

 The Doctor lead the way as you continued your stroll through the crowded streets in search of landmarks like the colosseum, the pantheon and the circus maximus. You were excited by the prospect of seeing these ancient landmarks in all their former glory but the Doctor appeared lost as he aimlessly wondered the streets with no sense of direction.

 A sudden deep continuous rumbling caused the ground beneath your feet to shake and vibrate, causing tremors to ripple through your entire body, almost knocking you off balance, while the pottery from the market stalls could be heard smashing as they fell to the floor and the scent of smoke in the air intensified. You panicked and grabbed onto Donna’s arm for balance, you caught her staring upwards her eyes transfixed on the sight before her. You followed her line of sight and your face dropped when you saw a mountain top standing tall over the small buildings which surrounded you, as black clouds of ash emerged from the top of it, your heart hammered against your ribcage and your grip on Donna involuntarily tightened.

 “Pompeii. We’re in Pompeii and it’s volcano day.” Your throat closed up as you heard the words leave the Doctors lips.

 Without another word the Doctor began sprinting back in the direction you previously came, you and Donna quickly followed on his heel. As all three of you dashed through the busy streets as fast as your feet could carry you, in an attempt to make it back to the TARDIS and escape the city before the volcano erupted, you collided into someone’s chest just as they were running in the opposite direction, your foot got caught on their ankle, causing you to trip and before you knew it you were heading straight for the floor with barely enough time to brace for impact.

 “Watch where you’re-“ You heard a raised voice behind you and cringed as you prepared to be yelled at on top of the humiliation of already tripping flat on your face, but his voice faltered mid-sentence and you cautiously looked over your shoulder to find a man dressed in modern attire staring back at you with a slack jaw and his brows pulled together as his eyes roamed over you. Obviously your modern clothes caught his attention, just as his caught yours and you could practically see the cogs turning behind his eyes, you were sure your expression mirrored his as you studied each other. You pushed yourself to your feet and glanced over his appearance from head to toe. His shoulder length dark hair was windswept indicating that he must have been running for some time, he wore a brown jacket with its collar pulled up, over a plain white dress shirt paired with a thin dark tie and matching straight leg brown trousers and on his feet he wore a pair of smart polished black shoes. He definitely didn’t belong here, you concluded.

 You barely noticed him take a quick glance over your shoulder before he grabbed a firm hold of your wrist and pulled you into a small nook hidden behind one of the market stalls and clamped his hand over your mouth before you could let out a single sound. You glared up at him to try and communicate how aggravated you were, only to find he wasn’t even looking at you as he was too occupied with searching the market with shifty eyes. So you gave up on your glaring in an effort to try and spot what he was looking for, that is when you caught sight of a man who stood out in the crowd, due to the fact that he, too, was dressed in modern attire. You could see he was searching for something, no doubt it was the man who had you pinned against a secluded wall with his hand over your mouth, for your own good you had to ignore the way your stomach flipped ever so slightly by that predicament.

 Once the man on the street was out of sight the stranger slowly removed his hand from your jaw and took a step back to give you some space. You were about to open your mouth to ask him what exactly that was all about when another rumble shook the ground beneath your feet and reminded you of how urgently you needed to catch up with Donna and the Doctor before the entire city was destroyed and you along with it. You had no time to stop and interrogate the stranger with all your questions such as where he came from, how he got here, who was that man on the street and why was he hiding from him and why volcano day in Pompeii was such a popular destination for time travellers. Perhaps you could bring it up with the Doctor later as he seemed to have all the answers. 

 You were about to step foot back onto the street and continue your sprint back to the TARDIS but the stranger had other ideas. He wrapped his large hand around your upper arm and tugged you back against the wall, with no concerns about being gentle and this time he managed to cage you in with both his arms placed on each side of your head.

 “Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was low and intimidating, as he loomed over you threateningly and stared at you from under his dark eyebrows but with adrenaline already coursing through your veins you were feeling bolder than usual and with your mind occupied by the imminent threat of ash clouds and burning hot magma, it would take a lot more than a deep voice and an intimidating stare to scare you into submission right now.

 “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you have somehow failed to notice that you arrived in Pompeii on the same day the volcano famously erupts and I think it goes without saying that I’m not too fond of the idea of being here when it does. So to answer your question I am trying to get back to the time machine that I came here in so I can get out of here before the city is destroyed. I advise you hurry back to yours and do the same.” 

 The man looked taken aback by your abrupt tone and you momentarily allowed a fluttering of pride to fill your chest but it didn’t last long before it was once again drowned out by the heavy feeling of anxiety caused by the life threatening natural disaster which lay just around the corner, both literally and figuratively.

 “The volcano doesn’t erupt until tomorrow,” the man finally explained once he regained his composure, dismissing your concerns. You blinked, contemplating whether or not to believe him. “But more importantly, I couldn’t help but hear the fact that you mentioned you have a time machine.” 

 “Of course. How else would I have got here? Don’t you have one?” Despite your positions you were beginning to feel less threatened by the man as your interaction shifted into feeling more like casual conversation.

 “It’s a long story.” He vaguely answered.

 “What about that man you were hiding from?” You suggested.

 “What about him?”

 “Does he not have a time machine?”

 “It’s a long story.” He repeated and you sighed with the realisation that this conversation was going nowhere fast.

 “Right. Well, it was... interesting to meet you but I need to get back to my aunt and the Doctor before I get left behind. Then I would be in trouble.” Donna wouldn’t leave you behind, you hoped, surely she was worrying about you right now, wondering where you were.

 “I need safe passage on your time machine away from here.” The stranger rushed to explain before you could duck out of his makeshift trap.

 “I mean... technically it’s not mine.” You awkwardly scratched the back of your neck, as you cleared up the misunderstanding.

 “You just said you have a time machine.” He narrowed his eyes as his expression grew dangerous.

 “I have access to one but it’s not mine. It belongs to the Doctor.” You quickly clarified.

 “Then you will take me to this Doctor.” He commanded, leaving no room for negotiations.

 “I don’t even know your name.” You hesitated.

 At this the man paused and finally took a step back once again granting you your personal space.

 “I am Loki of Asgard, God of Mischief and you will answer to my request.” Loki answered as he raised his head with pride and looked down his nose at you.

 There was a momentary beat of silence as you stared at one another before you couldn’t hold it any longer and you let out a snort of laughter.

 “I’m sorry, does that amuse you?” Loki look mortified and you quickly bit your lip to contain your giggles, realising he looked truly offended.

 “Wait, you’re being serious?” You paled.

 His quiet glare was enough to tell you he was not messing around and you looked down and awkwardly cleared your throat. Had you met this man yesterday you probably would’ve thought without a shadow of doubt that he was suffering from delusions of grandeur but today you were in Pompeii in 79 AD so your mind was beginning to open up to new possibilities, one of those being, meeting a God. Stranger things have happened.

 “Okay, Loki, God of mischief...” you began as you introduced yourself following the same format, telling him your name followed by the country you lived in and jokingly adding ‘mortal of existential crises’ at the end.

 “Don’t do that again.” Loki didn’t appear amused.

 ***

 “No, no, no. This can’t be happening.” You panicked when you returned to the exact spot where the Doctor had left the police box only to discover it had vanished, leaving no trace behind.

 “What? What can’t be happening?” Loki asked you from where he stood a few steps behind, his eyes were still shifty as he seemed paranoid about that man he was hiding from finding him.

 “The TARDIS, the time machine... it’s gone.” You could barely believe the words coming out your mouth, they couldn’t have left without you, Donna wouldn’t have left you behind. Unless the Doctor forced her, but no she would’ve fought him, you would never want to get on the wrong side of your auntie, she was a force to be reckoned with and the Doctor was no match, like she had said he was a long string of alien nothing. There had to be an explanation.

 “Are you sure that this is where they left it?” Loki impatiently offered.

 “Yes, I’m certain. It’s a big blue police box, you can’t miss it. He parked it right there.” You gestured to the empty corner with both your arms, before you brought one of your hands to your forehead while the other rested on your hip.

 “Excuse me.” You jumped when you felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around to find an older man with a head full of curly hair stood behind you. “I couldn’t help but overhear you’re looking for a blue box.”

 “Yes, it was stood right there,” you pointed behind you. “Did you see it?” 

 “I sold it. A young couple came looking for it not too long ago, I sent them to Old Caecilius’ villa on Foss Street, he’s the one who bought it, if you’re quick you might be able to catch them, I think they might try to steal it.”

 “Steal it? You can’t steal something that already belongs to you!” You complained.

 “Well, it belongs to Caecilius now, don’t it? After all he bought it off me fair and square.” The man haggled and you finally noticed that he was speaking with a rough cockney accent which was very fitting with his sleazy disposition, presumably the work of the TARDIS’ automatic translations, this offered you the peace of mind that it was still here along with Donna and the Doctor.

 “It wasn’t yours to sell!” You argued in return.

 “It was on my patch, weren’t it?” 

 You growled, ready to argue back but Loki quickly stepped in.

 “If you would be so kind as to point us in the direction of Foss Street and we will be on our way.” Loki charmed the older man with a polite smile and your jaw dropped at the contrast to the abrupt and arrogant attitude he had treated you with since your encounter began. 

 “Straight up there, big villa, can’t miss it.” He pointed to the street behind Loki.

 “Thank you, sir.” Loki slightly nodded his head before before he took a hold of the back of the shirt near the small of your back and began tugging you towards Foss Street, while you stared at him speechless.

 “What?” He finally snapped when you didn’t take your eyes off him.

 “What was that?” You asked as you shrugged his hold off your shirt.

 “What was what?” 

 “Back there,” you gestured behind you with your hand. “‘If you would be so kind... thank you, sir.’ What possessed you? You’ve been nothing but rude since I met you.” 

 “You we’re doing nothing but wasting my time by engaging in an argument with him and being polite was the quickest way to get the answer I needed so I could be on my way.” He curtly answered, never once meeting your gaze as he kept a vigilant eye on his surroundings.

 “Why is that man looking for you?” You wondered out loud a few moments later, finding his constant surveillance of the surrounding area concerning. If you were going to help this man escape, undoubtedly you had a right to know what you were helping him run from. 

 “He wants to erase my existence.” He answered so bluntly it stunted to silence for a moment.

 “Why?” You finally asked.

 “I’m a glitch in the timeline, I’m not supposed to be here.” He admitted but you were lost.

 “What does that mean?”

 “It’s a-“

 “Long story.” You rolled your eyes but you meant no harm, Loki realised, when he fixed you with a hash glare which softened when he saw your teasing smile.

 Your eyes quickly snapped away from Loki’s when you heard your name being called and found Donna running towards you, you left Loki to run over to her and she pulled you into a bone crushing hug once she finally reached you.

 “I thought you had left without me.” You admitted, as you snuggled into her embrace, all your emotions of the day finally overwhelmed you and you felt moisture building at the rim of your eyes. 

 “I’d never leave you behind, besides your mother would kill me if I let anything happen to you.” She assured you with a small laugh, she wasn’t exaggerating. “But where did you go? You vanished into thin air.” 

 You were about to answer her when her eyes fell on Loki who was quietly stood behind you with his hands resting in the pockets of his pants, his modern attire immediately making him standout to Donna as he did to you when you first laid your eyes on him.

 “Who’s this?” She asked, her interest clearly peaked.

 You invited Loki over by extending your arm and he stepped up beside you.

 “Loki, this is my auntie Donna. Donna, this is Loki. I crashed into him while we were running back to the TARDIS, he’s the reason I fell behind.” You glared at him accusingly and he rolled his eyes.

 “You found your very own time traveller?” Donna looked at you with genuine excitement, obviously putting two and two together from his outfit.

 “I am a God.” Loki narrowed his eyes, frustrated at his status being reduced to ‘someone’s time traveller’

 Just like you had, Donna burst into laughter and you awkwardly pulled your lips together while you waited for her to realise he was being serious.

 “He’s a bit full of himself but at least he’s easy on the eye.” Donna did a terrible job of trying to subtly whisper in your ear and you massaged your eyebrows in embarrassment.

 “I heard that.” Loki sighed exasperatedly, already finding your aunties lack of filter tedious.

 “Come on, let’s get you inside. It’s getting dark.” Donna put her arm around you and guided you into the villa, in an effort to run away from Loki’s glare. Loki followed a few paces behind the pair of you and he glanced over his shoulder one last time before he stepped through the entrance to the villa.

  ***

  As soon as you entered the villa you could see how grand it was compared to the other houses on the streets of Pompeii, it was obvious that the family who lived here were well to do. Everywhere you looked all you could see was marble, it covered the walls and floors and the room was decorated with various marble sculptures and other art pieces, Caecilius was clearly a collector. Sculpted pillars ran through the room, supporting the high ceilings and in the very centre of the room there was fountain. You thought it was a shame that it would all be buried under rocks and fire within less than 24 hours, but you tried to let yourself think too much about it as Donna introduced you to Caecilius, the man who bought the Doctors TARDIS, which you noticed was stood in the far right corner of the room, and Metella his wife, she explained that they also had two teenagers, a daughter, Evelina but she was sleeping and a son, Quintus, who was currently out with the Doctor.

 “The Doctor isn’t here? But we’re meant to be leaving.” You asked, your voice slightly raised in pitch due to your panic.

 “Something came up. Strange things have been happening, he just wants to make sure nothing untoward is going on.” Donna answered.

 “This Doctor...” Loki stepped forward. “He will return soon, yes? I am in quite the rush to leave.”

 “You’re coming with us?” Donna looked between you and Loki for an answer.

 “Yes.” He answered

 “I mean, if it’s okay with the Doctor.” You answered at the same time.

 Without warning the whole villa began to shake as tremors ran through the floor again, Caecilius and Metella held onto their valuables to stop them from smashing against the ground, it reminded you of the scene from Mary Poppin’s where Mrs Banks and the maids cling onto the furniture when the admiral sets off his cannon. You noticed that this time the tremors felt different, they weren’t continuous, they came one after another mimicking the rhythm of footsteps. Before you could question it, the Doctor came running loudly into the room just in time. A teenage boy, presumably Caecilius’ son, Quintus, followed close behind him.

 “Get out! All of you! Get out!” 

 “Doctor! What is it?” Donna yelled, she and the Doctor were holding onto each other for stability and that’s when you realised you had instinctively held onto Loki after the tremors started and he was holding onto you, the both of you stepped away from each other as soon as you realised. 

 “I think we’re being followed!” The Doctor explained, before his eyes landed on Loki and he took in his appearance.

 “Who are you?” 

 “Loki of Asgard-“ Loki started.

 “The God of Mischief?” The Doctor finished, his pitch raised several octaves as his face scrunched up in confusion.

 “Hold on, for real?” Donna looked between Loki and the Doctor, now realising Loki was serious about being a God earlier and in normal circumstances you would have face palmed.

 “You’re not supposed to be here.” The Doctor thought out loud and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a device the size of a pen and pointed it at Loki, the tip glowed blue and it emitted a high pitched bleeping sound as he scanned it over his body.

 “What is that?” Loki quickly jumped back, dodging the device in the Doctors hand and with a flash of emerald light he was holding a dagger in his hand, that appeared out of nowhere, causing you to gasp and Donna quickly pulled you to her side.

 “It is a sonic screwdriver.” The Doctor answered distractedly, not even noticing the weapon in Loki’s hand as he closely inspected the device with furrowed brows and mumbled something about not being able to get clear readings, but before he could allow himself to get too concerned over the matter, you were all reminded of the bigger problem by the sound of a loud clatter which came from inside the room, it was caused by the metal grid flying off one of the square grills.

 “Just get out!” The Doctor yelled at you all again, as he flapped his arms towards the doors but you were frozen to the spot, you could hear a sinister growling from beneath the floor, there was definitely something alive down there and from the cracks that were beginning to form around the grill, it was obviously trying to break out.

 Gradually a large creature made of magma and stone began to rise out of the ground, until it stood to its full height of about eight foot. 

 “The Gods are with us.” Evelina, Caecilius’ daughter, cried as she entered the room and her mother wrapped a protective arm around her.

 “That is no God! I am the only God present.” Loki seethed in offence.

 “Water, we need water. Quintus, Donna, all of you, get water!” The Doctor yelled above the growls which came from the threatening creature. 

 You were about to follow Quintus and Donna out of the room as they rushed to get buckets of water like the Doctor instructed, but Loki grabbed hold of your wrist and kept you by his side. You looked at him and pulled your brows together confused by his actions, but he offered you no explanation as he closely watched the beast which stood high above all of you.

 “Talk to me, that’s all I want! Talk to me! Just tell me who you are.” The Doctor cautiously approached the tempered creature, with his arms held out before him. “Don’t hurt these people.” He continued to try and reason with it, while it just continued to growl and snarl aggressively at him. 

 Quickly Quintus came rushing into the room with a bucket of water and threw it over the beast. A loud hissing could be heard, as steam evaporated around it, and the Doctor shielded Quintus with his own body as he backed him away from the creature which began to crumble to the floor into a heap of rocks.

 “Like I said, not a God.” Loki smugly remarked to no one in particular. 

 “What was it?” Caecilius shouted at the Doctor, quickly learning that he was usually the one with all the answers.

 “Carapace of stone, held together by internal magma, not too difficult to stop but I reckon that was just a foot soldier. Still... If there are aliens at work in Pompeii, it’s a good thing we stayed.” The Doctor pondered aloud. 

 “Excuse me, aliens?” Loki stepped forward.

 “Oh yes, I still haven’t figured out what you’re doing here.” The Doctor drew his focus back to the God, clearly intrigued by his presence.

 “It doesn’t matter why I am here, I only wish to leave.” Loki answered with a scowl.

 “Why don’t you just leave the same way you got here.” The Doctor challenged with raised brows.

 “I cannot.” 

 “Why not?”

 As you observed the exchange you saw Loki falter and his eyes cast downwards.

 “It would result in my death.” He answered truthfully.

 The Doctor suddenly looked upon Loki with eyes that seemed filled with familiarity and a hint of sympathy. 

 “You remind me of an old friend of mine, I think you would’ve liked him,” he paused as if imagining it. “Actually, perhaps not… your personalities would’ve probably clashed.” The Doctor digressed. “Since you’re not supposed to be here you’re welcome to join us on the TARDIS.”

 Loki’s brows shot up, as he seemed genuinely surprised that the Doctor agreed to let him travel on the TARDIS. 

 “We should be on our way, it will not be long before,” Loki glanced at Caecilius and his family who were all comforting each other after the ordeal they just witnessed, without wanting to mention the volcano out loud in case they might overhear he resorted to miming an explosion with is hands while adding a “boom” sound effect by blowing air through saliva at the back of his throat.

 “Not just yet, I need to- Donna?” The Doctor paused looking around the room in search of Donna and you began looking around for her too but she was nowhere to be found. “When did you last see her?” The Doctor looked at you.

 “She ran out when you asked for water, I didn’t realise she hadn’t returned.” You scolded yourself for not focusing, you should have noticed she wasn’t there.

 “Donna!” The Doctor shouted at the top of his lungs, as he began to run out into the street but before he could leave Evelina stopped him timidly.

 “I saw members of the Sibylline Sisterhood take her while you were confronting the beast.” She quietly confessed.

 “The who?” You questioned, completely confused, while the Doctor grumbled under his breath wasting no more time before he dashed out the door and you were quick to follow after him. Behind you, you heard Loki call your name as he followed after, but you didn’t listen, Donna had been taken and she needed your help.

  ***

  When you sneaked into the temple between the Doctor and Loki, who had caught up to you halfway, and saw Donna bound to a slab of stone, surrounded by a group of women dressed in red robes and one of them holding a dagger above her head ready to plunge it into your aunties chest, you were ready to attack, but the Doctor held you back before you could do anything rash and silent put a finger to his own lips to signal for you to keep quiet, his eyes silently assured you he had a plan.

 “Let me go!” You heard Donna yell above the voice of the woman who held the dagger. The Doctor quietly made his way across the room, ready to intervene at any moment while you stayed by Loki’s side near the back of the room.

 “This prattling voice will cease forever!” The woman yelled as she began to lower the dagger towards Donna.

 “Oh, that will be the day.” The Doctor casually commented, causing all the women around Donna to gasp in shock, while your auntie sent the Doctor and you a wide smile when she realised you had all come to save her.

 “No man is allowed in the Temple of Sibyl.” The woman who was clearly the leader of the group warned the Doctor, before her eyes also shifted to Loki.

 “Well, that’s alright, just us girls.” The Doctor joked as he made his way towards the women, while in the corner of your eye you caught a glimmer of green light only to do a double take when you found Loki had transformed into a woman.

 She sent you a proud smirk as you gaped at her with a slack jaw, your face full of confusion and astonishment.

 You turned your head back to Donna and the Doctor when you heard the sound of his sonic screwdriver, which he held above her restraints and they immediately fell lose, freeing her bound wrists.

 “I have got to get one of those.” Loki commented, her voice sounded more feminine to match her changed appearance, but it still kept that low and slightly intimidating tone.

 As soon as Donna was free she came running over to you and you gave each other a hug, when she pulled back her eyes were on Loki.

 “You’ve changed.” She stated the obvious as her eyes dragged up and down Loki’s new form.

 “I am respecting the sisters temple.” Loki raised her chin and crossed her arms over her chest as she answered.

 “Respecting the sisters temple?” Donna sounded exasperated. “They just tried to kill me!” 

 “I saw.” Loki offered no concern.

 “I’m just glad you’re safe now.” You quickly interjected before the argument escalated, you put your hand on Donna’s shoulder and moved yourself between the pair while you sent Loki a disapproving stare.

 “Show me this man!” A voice echoed through the temple, startling you and drawing your attention back to the Doctor and the sisters. Immediately they all turned and fell to their knees and bowed their heads.

 “They dare kneel before another being whilst in the presence of a God?” Loki seethed as her brows cast a shadow over her eyes.

 “And after you respected their temple n all.” Donna poked from beside you, feigning sympathy.

 You placed a hand on Loki’s chest to hold her back when you heard her grumble under her breath.

 “High Priestess, the stranger would defy us.” The leader spoke, being the only sister left standing.

 “Let me see. This one is different. He carries starlight in his wake.” The voice echoed again, coming from behind a set of sheer drapes at the top of the temple.

 “Where do these words of wisdom come from?” The Doctor asked as he approached the voice.

 “The Gods whisper to me.” It replied.

 “If they’re hearing voices, it’s not mine.” Loki raised her hands innocently.

 “Might I beg audiences? Look upon the High Priestess?” The Doctor suddenly requested and the sheer drapes slowly pulled back to reveal a woman made of stone sat upon a bed.

 You watched closely as the Doctor inspected the Priestess’ condition, and inquired her about it to try and figure out the cause.

 “The people of Pompeii are turning to stone before the volcano erupts.” The Doctor observed. 

 “This word... this volcano... what is that?” 

 “More to the point, why don’t you know about it? Who are you?”

 “High Priestess of the Sibylline!” 

 “No, I’m talking to the creature inside of you. I demand you tell me who you are!” The Doctor commanded.

 “We... are... awakening!” The Priestess spoke, but her voice had suddenly deepened and multiplied, she sounded possessed.

 “The voice of the Gods!” The leader of the sisters cried, before those who were on their knees before the Priestess began repeatedly chanting ‘words of wisdom, words of power...’ your eyes widened at the scene before you, Donna’s jaw was slack with shock, while Loki just rolled her eyes and appeared bored.

 “We... are... rising!” The possessed voice of the Priestess grew louder as she rose from the bed and stepped toward the Doctor.

 “Tell... me... your name!” He yelled back, mirroring her tone.

 “Pyrovile!” The voice inside the Priestess roared.

 “Pyrovile, pyrovile, pyrovile...” The sisters chanted.

 “And the breath of a Pyrovile will incinerate you, Doctor.” The possessed Priestess threatened.

 “I warn you I’m armed!” The Doctor yelled as he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket.

 “Is that... a water gun?” Loki squinted her eyes at the yellow plastic toy the Doctor held in his fist.

 You heard your name yelled by the Doctor as he instructed you and Donna to lift the grid off one of the grills, similar to the one the monster smashed through in Caecilius’ home.

 Without hesitation you followed Donna over to the grill and you both hooked your fingers into the holes on each side and attempted to lift it, but it slipped from your fingers since you weren’t expecting it to be so heavy and it crashed back into place. Loki quickly joined you and Donna to offer a helping hand and together the three of you lifted the heavy iron grid, while the Doctor continued to argue with the Priestess behind you.

 “Got it!” Donna yelled at the Doctor, once the grid was completed removed.

 “Now get down!” The Doctor quickly shouted back, and you looked down into the hole in the ground which hot steam was rising out of.

 “What, down there?” You asked, wondering if the Doctor had lost his mind.

 “Yes, down there!” 

 “Sisters, I see into his mind, the weapon is harmless!” The leader of the sisters yelled.

 “Yeah, but it’s gotta sting.” The Doctor shrugged before he began squirting water at the Priestess who groaned in pain as steam evaporated from where the squirts of water hit her stone surface and she stumbled backwards.

 “Get down there!” He repeated louder when he saw none of you had yet made a move to jump into the hole.

 Donna jumped in first.

 “I don’t think this is a good idea.” Loki spoke, her eyes almost looking spooked as she glanced down at the steaming hole.

 “It’s either climb in there or stay here and wait for the volcano. Your choice.” The Doctor told Loki as he urged you to climb in next.

 Sensing Loki’s anxiety you offered her an assuring nod. “You’ll be okay, look watch me and then follow right after.” 

 Once you joined Donna you found yourself in an underground cave, you could instantly feel the change in the temperature as the air was thick with heat. You looked back up through the hole to find Loki looking down at you.

 “See, perfectly safe.” You assured her.

 Hesitantly Loki climbed into the hole and you helped her down, once both her feet were on the ground she swayed and stumbled as if she was about to faint but you caught her with your arm around her waist and helped her regain her balance. She held your shoulders and shook her head and forcibly kept her eyes wide open before she looked back at you, suddenly aware of how close you were.

 “Are you okay?” You asked, concerned by her behaviour.

 A green light shimmered over her body and he returned to the form you had met him in, you noticed he instantly grew taller and you needed to tilt your head slightly to maintain eye contact, your arm was still wrapped around his waist but it was no longer holding him up as he was supporting his own weight now although you could still feel his body swaying slightly as it was pressed against yours.

 “I’m fine.” He answered curtly, before taking a step back to put some distance between the two of you.

 “This way!” The Doctor led as soon as he jumped into the cave.

 “Where are we going now?” Donna sighed.

 “Into the volcano.” The Doctor answered as if it were obvious.

 You failed to notice Loki’s face fill with dread beside you.

 “No way.” Donna challenged.

 “Yes way.” The Doctor smiled as he twirled the water gun around his finger.

 “Wait, for once I agree with her. We can’t go into the volcano. It could be dangerous.” Loki argued before quickly adding, “for mortals.”

 “It will be fine, it doesn’t erupt for another few hours yet.” The Doctor dismissed. “Now, come on!”

 Before anyone else could protest he had already turned on his heel and began leading the way through the cave, Donna followed behind him, you followed behind her and Loki was at the back.

 As you followed Donna and the Doctor through the winding path of the cave, you kept taking quick glances over your shoulder to check on Loki and you grew increasingly concerned as his condition appeared to deteriorate each time you looked. The further you walked into the cave, the hotter and thicker the air became, you were surprised to find Loki seemed to be the one who was most affected by the conditions out of all of you. While your breathing had become heavy and a thin layer of sweat coated your skin, sweat literally dripped from Loki’s forehead, he started using the walls of the cave to hold himself up as his legs barely carried him, the skin around his eyes grew darker and you could hear him straining on each breath. 

 Once you reached inside the volcano Loki rested his back against the wall and began to sink to the floor, his chest rose and fell rapidly as he struggled to shrug off his jacket, his white shirt clung to his body due to his sweat and he attempted to loosened his tie with trembling hands.

 “Doctor!” You called, as you rushed over to Loki who looked as though he was about to pass out. The Doctor quickly joined your side, as did Donna once her eyes fell on Loki’s condition.

 “What happened?” He asked you urgently.

 “I... I don’t know, he hasn’t been right ever since he entered the cave.” You explained.

 “Loki! Loki, can you hear me?” The Doctor tried, he gently tapped Loki’s cheek but his head just lulled to the side and he struggled to keep his eyes open as he mumble some incoherent in a cracked voice.

 The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and began scanning it over Loki.

 “That’s not possible.” You heard the Doctor whisper to himself as he looked over the readings, he quickly gave Loki another scan and read them again and his face squished up in pure confusion.

 “What is it?” You urged him.

 “He’s... he’s Jotun?” The Doctor answered while sounding more like he was asking a question.

 “What’s a Jotun when it’s at home?” Donna asked.

 “He isn’t Asgardian at all, magic is suppressing his true form. He’s from Jotunheim, a frost plant inhabited by Jotuns, they aren’t designed to withstand heat of such temperatures as this. We need to get him out of here.” The Doctor quickly explained as he crouched down to scoop a barely conscious Loki into his arms and held him bridal style, once he knew he was secure he began running further into the volcano, leaving both you and Donna trailing behind after him.

 You all stopped in your tracks when you found more of the giant stone beasts roaming around inside the volcano. 

 “There’s tons of them.” Donna gasped. “You better hurry up and think of something, Rocky 4’s on its way.”

 “There’s an escape pod!” The Doctor noticed.

 “Maybe... it erupts, and they launch themselves back into space or something?” Donna offered, since obviously the escape pod belonged to the stone creatures which were currently invading Pompeii.

 “Oh, it’s worse than that.” The Doctor whispered.

 “How could it be worse?” You frowned.

 “Heathens!” You heard a man cry. “Defile us! They would desecrate your temple, My Lord Gods!” 

 “Come on.” The Doctor started running towards the escape pod, which looked like a huge hollow boulder with circuits inside.

 “We can’t go in!” Donna shouted after him.

 “Well, we can’t go back.”

 “Crush them! Burn them!” The man who you now noticed was stood on top of some rocks looking down at you as you tried to escape.

 A giant monster blocked your path to the escape pod and growled causing you all to slide to a stop.

 “Get the water gun, it’s tucked into the back of my pants!” The Doctor called your name, unable to get it himself as he was still holding an unconscious Loki in his arms. You wasted no time reaching for the water gun and squirted it directly at the creature and it stumbled back with a groan easily allowing you all enough time to rush past and continue your dash towards the escape pod.

 “There is nowhere to run!” The man screamed.

 “No. But if I might beg the wisdom of the Gods, before we perish, once this new race of creatures is complete, then what?” The Doctor yelled up to the man.

 “My masters will follow the example of Rome itself. There is heat enough in this world for a new species to rise.” 

 “Yeah, I should warn you, it’s 70% water out there.” The Doctor explained, nodding his head to the world which lay beyond the mountain.

 “Water can boil, and everything will burn!” The mad man argued.

 “Then the whole planet is at stake.” The Doctor concluded to himself. “Thank you. That’s all I needed to know.” 

 He quickly turned and gently lowered Loki to the floor of the escape pod then ushered both you and Donna inside before he squeezed in as well and used his sonic to seal the door shut.

 It was cramped inside of the small escape pod with the four of you squashed inside together, once you got inside you immediately crouched down beside Loki to check on his condition.

 “Loki, can you hear me?” You gently nudged his shoulder. His eyes fluttered slightly but he failed to open them and he let out a weak groan, but you were just relieved that he was still conscious. 

 You were conscious of the fact that inside the cramped space of the escape pod it felt even hotter, even you were starting to feel faint. You were still holding the water pistol in your hand and had an idea. You took a gentle hold of Loki’s chin in your free hand and encouraged his mouth open, in his weak state he didn’t fight you, and you pulled the trigger of the toy gun to spray water into his mouth. Once he felt the cool liquid hit his tongue he gladly accepted it as it provided him a little relief from the heat. Loki offered you a small grunt as thanks.

 “See? The energy converter takes the lava, uses the power to create a fusion matrix, which welds the Pyrovile to human. Now it’s complete, they can convert millions.” You heard the Doctor explaining how the Pyrovile planned to take over the human race to Donna, sounding completely horrified.

 “Can’t you change it? With these controls?” Donna tried, her voice filled with panic.

 “I can invert the system, set off the volcano, and blow them up, yes. But that’s the choice, Donna. It’s Pompeii or the world.” The Doctor revealed the heavy decision you were all faced with.

 “Oh my god.” Donna paled.

 “If Pompeii is destroyed then it’s not just history, it’s me. It was always meant to be me, I make it happen.” The Doctor realised. “Push this leaver and it’s over. 20,000 people.” 

 The pod fell silent as the Doctor froze with his hands held over the leaver, Donna watched him with tears building in her eyes and you looked at Loki who was barely unconscious and you made your choice.

You used the wall to push yourself back up to your feet and you stepped between Donna and the Doctor. You placed your trembling hands over the Doctors. You looked to your auntie when she whispered your name and saw the tears brimming out of her eyes your chest felt heavy. At first you thought she was going to talk you out of it but when you felt her hand rest on top of yours you couldn’t control the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes as well. She gave you a final nod and then you knew you could do it, all three of you pushed down the leaver and within seconds the entire pod was shaking, you braced yourself against the wall, careful not to trample over Loki and prepared yourself for whatever fate awaited you.

 Your body got flung around as you were pretty sure that the pod you were in was currently flying through the air, you could only pray you would survive the crash landing. A force pushed you to the ground and you landed on top of Loki’s chest, while the Doctor fell down beside you and Donna miraculously remained the only one standing. Your eyes snapped open when you felt the first breeze of fresh air brush your cheek and you saw the Doctor crawling out the pod. You felt hands wrap around your upper arms and you looked up to find Donna helping you to your feet and you both stumbled out the pod on shaking legs, while the Doctor lifted Loki back into his arms and you noticed that he had sustained an injury to his head during the escape.

 You didn’t have much time to do anything other than run when you noticed the heavy cloud of ash quickly heading straight for you and all three of you began running as fast as your legs could carry you, hoping you could make it to the city and into the TARDIS before it was too late.

 You and Donna held onto each other’s hands as you ran ahead of the Doctor who was slowed down by the extra weight of Loki, but he still managed to run pretty fast. You weren’t far from the city when the thick ash blocked out the light of the sun and plunged the city into darkness, though it was daytime it felt like night as you raced through the streets, trying to remember the direction to Caecilius’ villa. 

 Ash fell down from the sky like snow as the people of the town scrambled in different directions in attempts to make it out of the city alive, you could hear nothing but their cries and the thunderous sound of the volcano as it felt like the whole world was crumbling around you.

 As Caecilius’ villa came into view you pushed yourself to go even faster and you looked over your shoulder to find the Doctor not too far behind with Loki still in his arms, his injured head fell limp over the crook of the Doctors arm, revealing his long neck and prominent adam’s apple and dread struck through you, you had to remind yourself he was only unconscious.

 You pushed through the doors of Caecilius’ villa and headed straight towards the TARDIS but the sound of whimpering stopped you in your tracks, you looked to find Caecilius and his family crowded together on the floor, holding on tight to one another as they cried. 

 “God save us, Doctor!” Caecilius begged the Doctor when he came running in behind you, and he stopped beside you and Donna for a moment as you all looked at the family, you thought the Doctor would encourage them all to get on board his TARDIS but eventually he turned away kept running towards his TARDIS in the corner of the room.

 “No! Doctor, you can’t!” Donna called after him, you silently looked between the Doctor and the family, as he kicked the TARDIS door open with his foot and disappeared inside with Loki. You pushed away the feeling of guilt which fell heavy on your chest as you followed after the Doctor into the TARDIS.

 “Donna!” You pleaded with her when she remained frozen in place, she couldn’t look away from Caecilius and his family as they looked straight back at her, silently begging her to save them. The sound of one of the windows smashing through snapped Donna back into reality and she looked back at you before she hesitantly made her way towards the TARDIS, leaving the family behind. 

 When you entered the TARDIS, you saw the Doctor had placed Loki down onto the floor while he operated the console, preparing the TARDIS to leave. You rushed over to Loki and immediately checked his pulse and breathed a heavy sigh of relief when you found it still beating. 

 “You can’t just leave them!” You heard Donna yell as soon as she entered the TARDIS but you couldn’t lift your eyes from Loki, looking over his pale face and hovering your hand over the injury on his head, drops of blood had ran down the side of his sharp cheek and matted into part of his hair.

 “Don’t you think I’ve done enough? History’s back in place and everyone dies.” You heard the Doctor answer, as you checked over Loki for anymore injuries. 

 “You’ve got to go back. Doctor, I am telling you, take this thing back!” Donna demanded.

 The TARDIS shuddered and your whole body jerked letting you know the Doctor had sent it into flight, once the tremors subsided, the ship fell silent.

 “It’s not fair.” Donna whispered.

 “No, it’s not.” The Doctor agreed.

 “But your own planet. It burned.” Donna cried, and you finally looked up, you didn’t know what your auntie was referring to but you looked at the Doctor with sympathy. It suddenly made sense why he froze when it came to pushing the leaver, if he had already watched his own planet suffer a similar fate. 

 “That’s just it. Don’t you see, Donna? Can’t you understand? If I could go back and save them then I would, but I can’t. I can never go back. I can’t, I just can’t, I can’t.” His voice broke.

 “Just someone. Please.” Donna bargained. “Not the whole town. Just save someone.” 

 “You saved him,” you spoke, as you looked at Loki, who was laid out in front of you. “You can save them too.”

  ***

 The Doctor had returned to Pompeii and saved Caecilius and his family, he and Donna were currently outside bidding them fair well where the Doctor had safely dropped them off just outside of Rome, while you stayed inside the TARDIS by Loki’s side waiting for him to regain consciousness.

 You had cradled his head and moved so you could cushion it against your lap, since you imagined his head will already be hurting from the injury it wouldn’t be very comfortable for him to rest it against the hard floor of the TARDIS. 

 The first sign of Loki regaining consciousness was his eyebrows drawing together as a groan slipped out between his lips, no doubt quickly becoming aware of the pain in his head. His eyelashes fluttered against the top of his ash covered cheeks before his eyes slowly blinked open and the first thing he saw was your face above his.

 “Hi,” you began, unsure of what else to say.

 You barely leaned back in time to avoid his head colliding with yours as he suddenly shot up, so he was sitting up straight on the floor with his legs still lying out in front of him. This appeared to make his head rush as he moaned and cradled his head in the palms. You slowly shuffled up to him so you were at his side, careful not to startle him, you hesitantly placed your hand on his strong shoulder.

 “It’s okay, you’re safe.” You assured him softly.

 He lifted his face to look at you, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quiet put your finger on. 

 “Where are we?” He asked you, for the first time since you met him his voice sounded gentle.

 “The TARDIS.” You answered him, just as gently.

 He let his eyes roam over the room, taking in his surroundings, before they finally landed back on you. “Am I severely concussed or is this thing bigger on the inside?” 

 You laughed softly. 

 “It’s bigger on the inside.” You confirmed. “Don’t ask me how, I have no idea how it works, if you’d like to know I’d recommend asking the Doctor.”

 Loki nodded with a slight smile as his eyes fell to his lap and you both stayed like that for a moment, neither of you saying anything.

 “Thank you.” Loki eventually broke the silence.

 “What?” Your head shot up, afraid you had misheard him.

 Loki avoided your eyes and his dark hair shadowed most of his face, protecting him from your gaze as he continued.

 “For what you did in the volcano and for...” he cleared his throat, “for the lack of a better word... saving me, I guess.” 

 “I mean to be fair the Doctor did most of the heavy lifting.” You humbly joked.

 “Where is he anyway?” Loki asked, since he noticed it was only you and him. “Isn’t he the pilot of this thing?”

 “He’s just outside with Donna saying goodbye to Caecilius and his family, he dropped them off safely just outside of Rome.” You don’t know why your chest felt heavy as you asked Loki your next question, perhaps it was due to the fact that you had just started warming to his company and he would be leaving soon. “So do you know where you would like the Doctor to drop you off?

 Loki seemed stumped by your question, as if he hadn’t gave where he was going much consideration, instead he was more focused on just escaping Pompeii rather than where he was escaping to. When some time passed and had yet to answer, you decided to break the silence.

 “I mean, if you’re not sure where you want to go, you could always stay with us.” You offered, it was now your turn to avoid his eyes as he looked at you with as much shock as you had when he thanked you.

 “You think the Doctor would be okay with that?” Loki worried.

 “Sure, why wouldn’t he?” You now looked up at him with your brows pulled together.

 Loki opened his mouth about to answer you when he realised, you didn’t know him, you didn’t know any of his previous actions, on Asgard, on Jotunheim and on your very own planet. Then it crossed his mind, he didn’t know what year you were from, in his time it had been about a week since he attacked New York, he imagined his face would have been all over every media outlet after the attack but you hadn’t even recognised him when you first ran into each other.

 “What year are you from?” Loki quickly inquired out of nowhere and you were a bit confused by the random question.

 “2008.” You answered him anyway.

 4 years before he first stepped foot on midgard, 4 years before he attacked New York under Thanos’ control, 4 years before you would know him as the man who tried to take over your planet and rule the human race. Right now you only knew him as the time travelling God of mischief who you ran into while you were both running for your lives. He had anonymity with you, you offered the perfect opportunity for him to start a fresh. He could join you on the TARDIS for a while, with your auntie and the Doctor plus he imagined it would only make it harder for the TVA to find him if he was constantly moving through time and space.

 “I would like that.” Loki confessed.

 “To stay?” You asked hopefully, just to make sure you weren’t misinterpreting him.

 When Loki nodded you couldn’t hold back the smile that took over your whole face, you we’re excited to spend more time with Loki, learn more about him and explore all of time and space with the God of mischief.

[yarichin-imagines]

Hi!!! okokok, how bout a s/o who has a kind of quirk (just like bnha!), how do you think they would react? Like, I think they'd probably integrate into something related to sex or develop a kink (? LMAO

y'all i am so into bnha you have no idea!! also, for neutrality purposes, i'll be using the quirks of deku, todoroki, bakugou, uraraka, kirishima, denki, sero, iida, and satou, all from class 1A, mostly just because none of their quirks rely on physical appearances!!

tw: impact, dubcon (drugging, somno), dummification if you squint

Toono – S/O's Quirk: One for All – This Quirk is a union of two different Quirks, one that stockpiles power and one that passes itself on to another. The user can momentarily gain strength and speed far greater than any other Quirk and hero.

thankfully by the time he'd met you, you'd mastered the use of your Quirk

you were never the prance about type to flash around your power anyway

you preferred to use it for more mundane tasks – like opening pickle jars and carrying the groceries into the house in one trip

he found out about it on accident

he was on his way out when he caught you in the parking lot coming in––

with your car in hand, two feet off the ground

you'd dropped your fob somewhere underneath it and couldn't see

toono passed out

when he came to, his first questions revolved around whether or not the car was okay

once he wraps his head around it though..

he's way more into it than he tells you

but it also fuckin terrifies him

so much so that he really doesn't want you to use it on him

definitely has watched you use it so intently that he can nut off to it later

maybe one day he'll pluck up and ask you to activate it for some pictures he can keep

Kashima - S/O's Quirk: Half-Cold, Half-Hot – This Quirk splits the user into two, half of the user's body can emit ice, the other half emits fire.

honesty is a pillar to kashima's relationship

your quirk came to light a month or so into seeing him

and at first, he was mostly excited about the health benefits

he decides then and there that you gotta do him a solid and chill his side of the bed

that way he can keep cool when he sleeps

sometimes

even if he's half asleep

he'll grab your right hand with a lil soft tug

and in your drowsy stupor you chill his pillow so there's no need for a flip

makes him grin like an idiot every time

when he comes home from practice or from the gym he has you freeze and unfreeze the bathwater-- saves you guys a whole lot of ice

he doesn't mind letting you ease his muscles with your left side after all the heats works wonders that would make any rice pack green with envy

as a top, kashima's got complete control in the bedroom

all day, he'll ask you to close your eyes and heat something up, maybe it's a vibrator or a dildo

or when you chill something, they're usually beads or a plug

all for him to torment you with later on that night

Yacchan – S/O's Quirk: Explosion – This Quirk allows the user to sweat a substance similar to Nitroglycerin from the user's palms and ignite it to create explosions.

kyosuke recognizes it's too dangerous to use in the bedroom

but that being said, there's plenty of other stuff around the place to let you show off

your firework shows are always the best on the block

especially when he sets some off right when yuu isn't expecting it

mainly, yacchan appreciates your quirk when it comes to pulling pranks

It's really funny when you're popping ziploc bags full of nothing right outside tamura's dorm when he's trying to power nap before exams

and even funnier when he storms out in just tighty whities to yell at you

only to meet the flash of yacchan's cellphone

toono will fall asleep during study sessions sometimes and yacchan will facetime you so you can let out a boom and wake him up

he will most definitely fall off the bed and yacchan will most definitely record it

the two of you are the best of the worst that way

Shikatani – S/O's Quirk: Zero Gravity – This Quirk allows the user to cause people and items to float on contact. There is a weight limit on how much the user can levitate, and if this Quirk is used to much, it will cause the user to get sick.

it's really helpful when you help him deep clean

after all, if the supplies are gracefully floating behind him, that leaves his hands free to do twice the work, saving him half the time

but you're content to watch the beautiful boy work

if you help him clean like that, he won't ask for much more that day

he is very very conscious of how much you use your quirk

because he cares about you too much to let you get sick

since he knows for a fact that because of his ocd he won't be able to take care of you

and that stings

so on the days where the chores have all been done he gets the honor of experiencing the effects of your quirk in bed

he likes how it feels when your tease him from the air above

your throat feels more open

but it's not like he can do too much about it since the instant he gets too eager you always float just out of reach

sometimes if he's behaved very well, you'll suspend him

the headrush he gets is euphoric

but the best is how good you are when you blow out his back with your strap

after all, without gravity, your stroke game is literally out of this world

Akemi – S/O's Quirk: Hardening – This Quirk allows the user to harden any part of their body. This shell can withstand several tons of metal falling on the user, along with shock waves, explosions, etc.

there's nothing cuter to akemi keiichi than a brat

if you want to misbehave?

by all means

go right ahead

he'll leave it to you to exhaust yourself

that's the first time he saw you use it

he wasn't aiming to cause any major damage, he was only spanking you with his hand

but he'd been at it for almost an hour

then suddenly he'd pushed you off him after he'd slapped what felt like a solid rock

not that it could stop him

his eyes only grew darker

from then on out, it was all a game to see how far he could push before the shell wore down and you gave into him

Itome – S/O's Quirk: Electrification – This Quirk allows the user to discharge electricity out of the user's body. It goes out in all directions around the user, and can be used to even charge objects, such as batteries. There is a limit to how much this Quirk can be used, and if used too much, the user will short circuit their own brain, and won't be able to do anything for an hour.

of course you can charge his phone in a pinch when it dies at the worst possible moment

hotwire his car when he's already running late

restart the fusebox when there's a power outage

after hours, itome's not a hard dom

not in the slightest

but every once in awhile, he can be particularly malicious

like when he has you overcharge your vibrators to give him the liberty of overstimulating you for longer

really it's less about the scene and more about what comes after

due to the limits of your quirk, aftercare is all on him

that's what he likes the most

taking care of you completely

being able to coax you through your braindead state

clean you off and pose you all comfortable

you're all the sweeter when you come to, when you come back to him

Yuri – S/O's Quirk: Tape – This Quirk allows the user to shoot extremely strong tape from openings on the user's elbows.

the tape is good for fixing most messes yuri gets himself into, clumsy fuck

also waxing!

of course he's gonna be into it

he loves the sting it leaves when you pull it off him the most

and he feels it all over again when there's red rectangular patches all across his skin the next morning

though the gluey part is a bit of a pain to wash off

sometimes he'll leave it for him to pick at throughout the day -- that way he'll get the shivers, makes him hot all over again!

he literally cannot get enough

when you do your school work or anything that diverts your attention from him, he'll be tugging at your elbow

this way you can restrain him until you're ready to ahem

put him to use

you can also use your tape to toss him around, floor to bed to floor to wherever

sometimes you even tape up his face, cover his mouth until the drool renders the tape into a thin flimsy strip

you tie his hands tighter and tighter every time, and it never breaks him

he loves it

on the other hand, yuri can be quite the slippery fuck

for emergencies, you've got some of your tape stored away

you've woken up more than once hogtied, your quirk turned against you

like it or not, yuri can easily turn the tables and you're almost never expecting it

you might have an unlimited supply, but he's too quick for your own good

Tamura – S/O's Quirk: Engine – This Quirk gives the user incredible speed by engine-like protrusions in the user's calves. The engines are fueled by orange juice, and carbonated drinks will mess the engines up.

he calls a 40 meter dash every single weekend

he sets his treadmill to train for it the whole week

but he never beats you

and it seriously pisses him off

you're always faster, no matter the game

if anything, it motivates him

he'll take the bruised ego if it helps him get into better shape

the fact that sometimes, you let him win makes his "engines" overheat faster than you can blink

he'll chase you and chase you for hours

fueled on adrenaline and testosterone, there's no way he'll tap out before you

expect a long, hard bite once he catches you

he goes absolutely animalistic

that lilt in his voice when he finally gets to sink his teeth into your shoulder, even if it's through a shirt, that doesn't matter to him

"caught you"

Jimmy – S/O's Quirk: Sugar Rush – This Quirk allows the user to become stronger and faster every 10 grams of sugar they eat for three minutes. The more the user uses this Quirk, the dumber they get.

every time he catches you snacking on a chocolate bar his whole brain turns off

he's practically jumping, the way he bounces around

waiting for you to inevitably choke slam him against the nearest surface

wall, couch, bed, anything

he likes it when you just toss him over your shoulder

even more the way your hits are harder than usual

he antagonizes you on purpose

making sure to stuff a grocery cart full of sweets he knows you like so that he can catch you snacking and make him pay through the nose

he always asks so nicely

but when you won't give in, well that just won't do!

doses your miso with sugar, drops in three extra cubes in your milk tea, encourages extra flan for dessert

for the next three minutes, you're nearly tripping over yourself

everything is lighter

and then when the crash hits---

jimmy can finally take what he wants

and karma is quite the bitch

[romiithebirdie]

Epilogue for the Lost - Chapter 1

"From the look of the empty streets, there have been talks with an anonymous tip that they may have found a lead on the notorious AFO murders."

"Mama!"

A small child with fluffy green hair rushed towards a slender woman with matching jade locks, his small hands clung to her skirt as if his life depended on it. Straight away, she muted her television and gave her son the attention he currently needed;

"Izuku?" the woman, his mother, blinked in complete surprise. Raking a hand gently through his unruly hair while taking note of his sniffles, muffled by the fact his face was currently buried in her legs. "What-" she jostled around, bending her body so that she could meet her toddler's eyes, "What's the matter?"

The mother couldn't conceal a small frown that etched across her face. Had something happened? She'd only taken her eyes off of him for a few minutes while he was playing in his bedroom…

"It's them!" he wailed, unable to hold back his outburst. His entire frame was quivering, like he was genuinely terrified and for his mother, that scared her. Immensely.

"Who?" she was able to muster through a choke of her own. Goosebumps crept up her arms at the thought of an intruder inside their small home and she squeezed Izuku closer. "Who?" she repeated, voice harder this time.

She felt her own legs buckle when Izuku pointed to the empty hallway with a trembling finger and then whispered, "They're standing right there."

                                               .-.-.-.-.

Cleaning red liquid from sharpened steel, Hisashi Midoriya let out a small huff. Glancing down at the blood-soaked sheet on the ground, he bit back a groan of frustration.

He'd be here for a while cleaning this…

A soft buzz coming from his blazer pocket momentarily distracted him and he immediately fished out his phone.

A message from Inko? He immediately unlocked his phone and clicked on the notification, eyebrows rising high enough to cause his forehead to crinkle.

He did it again.

A simple phrase that was often very common with most parents. This usually meant that their child had caused a giant mess at home, got into a scuffle with another child or had a minor injury. Typical juvenile behaviour.

But not his child. His only child.

As a baby, his son Izuku had often babbled baby-talk and stared for long periods of time at areas of their house that had nothing there. When he was learning to talk, he had a tendency to point at places indoors and outdoors and then tell his understandably concerned parents that he could see people smiling back at him.

The problem, though?

Every time Izuku had one of these outbursts, there had been nothing there. Inko and Hisashi had shrugged it off and tried to blot it from their minds, choosing to believe that it was just the overactive imagination of a highly strung toddler.

But the final nail in the coffin for his father, at least, was when Izuku had tugged his shirt sleeve and uttered the words that still shook him to his core;

"Uncle says thank you for the flowers."

His younger brother was dead. Had been for a long time yet it didn't stop Hisashi from paying his respects and leaving flowers at his brother's grave. Now, in most circumstances, if Hisashi had heard this from anybody else, he may have teared up a little. But this time? It frightened him.

Izuku had never been told about his younger brother. Inko and Hisashi had been waiting to explain once their son had gotten a little older to understand the concept of life and death.

There was a low moan and Hisashi looked over his shoulder at the chained-down figure in the background with a grunt. It seemed like his wife could read his mind as another message pinged underneath the first;

I know you've been busy with work lately but I think we need to talk about this with a professional. I'm worried, Hisashi.

Another moan from the background, this time it was slightly louder. Hisashi made a small guttural sound of complete annoyance at his captive's rudeness. He was looking forward to snuffing out another foolish member of the criminal underworld that dared show their ugly faces around his territory.

                                                                      Apologies, work has indeed been                                                                           rather strenuous lately...

He paused, glancing down at his selection of his tools of trade, ranging from the sharpest, longest knives to various types of heavier artillery. His rank and feared status in the criminal underworld did make it extremely easy to acquire such deadly weaponry after all…

Hisashi hummed, making a decision as he turned his attention towards a small handgun with a twisted expression that made him look more uncomfortable than annoyed.

                                                                          I should be home within an hour.                                                                             Two at the most.

"Consider this a mercy," he growled, cocking the gun against the temple of his victim with an expression that was completely lacking any kind of remorse. His eyes lit up in childish glee at the click of the weapon under his fingertips and a grin spread out across his face as the firearm bellowed and shot a bullet straight through the skull of his victim; killing the man instantly as he fell from the chair and hit the floor face first.

He could make a quick phone call to Giran. His associate and his young ward could clean up the aftermath together. It wasn't a massive job to complete.

After glancing down at the screensaver on his phone of his beautiful young family with a soft smile, he finally pocketed it and turned to the carnage across the floor of the warehouse.

It was time to return home.

As he reached for his coat, the sound of the front door being suddenly being pounded against caused his hand to falter. Hazel eyes flashed in fury when he heard several shouts followed by the repeated slamming motions.

He slowly made his way to one of the boarded-up windows and squinted through one of the many cracks in the old, decaying wood until his eyes landed on the cause of the loud slamming motions against metal.

The Police Force.

Cursing darkly, he quickly pocketed his handgun and tore his tie from his shirt and discarded it thoughtlessly on the ground. With a restrained grunt, he shrugged off his blazer and yanked his buttoned up shirt roughly, tearing several buttons from the fabric as they bounced along the ground.

"Sorahiko," Hisashi muttered darkly. If anybody on the damned force had found him, he had no doubt in his mind that it would have been that bitter old fool who was responsible for this. He hoped that the old cretin stepped through the doors first, he'd happily shoot the fool dead on the spot for daring to get in his way.

However, for the first time in a very long while, Hisashi was rendered speechless when the door was forced open and a raven-haired woman stepped through first, armed with a massive firearm that was pointing straight at the killer.

Before he could even act, Nana Shimura open fired. The bullets soared towards their target like tiny comets, ready to do as much damage as they could.

Flashes of his kind-hearted wife flooded his mind as he felt hard, hot metal pierce into his body. Strangely enough, it didn't feel as excruciating as he'd previously imagined.

Letting out a choked gasp, he felt his own weapon slip from his hand and he watched with tired eyes as it clattered to the ground. The noise echoing through his head like a never ending echo through a dark tunnel.

What is this feeling?

Was he dying?

Swallowing the hard lump in his throat, he looked up at the flickering lights above him, eyes following along the cracks formed around the cheap plastic. A sharp pain suddenly emitted from his head and his thoughts turned fuzzy, like his brain had turned to static.

Izuku was still so young…

This couldn't be the end.

He didn't want to die like this.

Oh, God. Inko. What would she say, or do? If they found out the truth; they'd discover his family and…

Darkened eyes focused back on the trembling woman, piercing onyx orbs reflecting absolute hatred despite the stream of tears leaking down her face as her jaw trembled while her knees threatened to give out underneath her.

"That was for Daigoro," Nana choked out, body slumping when the demon in front of her eyes hit the floor face-first.

Hisashi's eyes zoned in on the cold, rough ground that his face was currently pressed up against. There was one chance at protecting his wife and child.

Just one.

He'd be sealing his own fate but if it meant protecting them?

Hisashi would do anything.

Shaking hands slowly reached towards his trouser back pocket. The small firearm wouldn't do much for trying to fend off Shimura, but thankfully that's not what he was planning on aiming for.

"One for all," Hisashi breathed out, cocking his gun and ignoring the screams from Shimura and her lackeys, "and all for one."

A single, deafening gunshot rang out and then within seconds, alarms began to blare and the shouting became more panicked and erratic. Hisashi vaguely took in the abrupt feeling of a harsh heat spreading and a sickening smog that churned his insides. He closed his eyes, nausea and pain merged together into one and he allowed himself to fall deeper into the shadows that clung to him.

Guess I'll be seeing you sooner than I thought, Izuku.

It would finally be over.

Right?

[itsclydebitches]

Until proven otherwise, my headcanon is that both Ironwood and Watts survived and are going to team up again out of necessity lmao.

HI, ANON. So let me tell you about how this simple, silly sentence sent me down a 4k writing rabbit hole. “Lol I’m going to write a little parody about that” I thought to myself and then somehow? It got serious?? I honestly don’t know what this fic is, but I’m chucking it at everyone anyway. 

Also, I changed the whole “Atlas and Mantle are immediately submerged in water” plot point because it’s my coping mechanism and I get to choose the canon we ignore. 

***

Once upon a time there were two villains having a Very Bad Day.

The first, Arthur Watts, had survived an explosion, being buried under rubble, and the threat of a ten-story drop only to find himself suffocating amidst a magically produced fire. A horrible way to go, all things considered. Painful, of course, but more importantly, no self-respecting man should die with soot on his clothes.

Or leave behind a charred corpse. 

In fact, Watts had just begun to acknowledge the full indignity of his death when the momentum he'd felt — just there on the periphery of his awareness — suddenly ceased, Atlas crashing into Mantle and throwing him with a squawk in the process. His head took a nasty hit against one of the desks, the smoky gray of the room growing darker, and by the time Watts had come to, the fire had been replaced by water.

Ice-cold water, lapping up to his knees.

"Well," he said, lifting a sodden boot. "I suppose this is an improvement."

***

Elsewhere, James Ironwood — former General of the now sinking Kingdom of Atlas — was lying facedown on the stone of the outer vault, contemplating his choices. Upon reflection, no, he didn't regret what he'd done, but it would have been nice if things had turned out...any way other than this.

"Fuck," he said to the empty hall, enjoying the reverberation. He deserved that much at least.

In time, Ironwood was able to pick himself up off the floor, supported as much by the fact that he'd been knocked out by his own blast as his shaky, barely-there aura. Up the elevator running on emergency dust reserves, through the corridors that groaned ominously under damaged supports. Ironwood headed towards the military headquarters purely out of habit and as he did the sound of water grew stronger, almost like waves, until there was an inch of it across the floor, more trickling in from the staircase. Ironwood had been watching his boots splash with each step, almost mesmerized, and didn't look up until another pair unexpectedly entered his view.

Watts froze in the act of wringing out his pantleg, eyes wide. His expression, the water, how the hallway tilted downward at a slight angle... it all felt like something out of a dream. Ironwood just watched as Watts watched him, until his eyes traveled to the gun clipped on his belt. Ironwood hadn't even realized he'd picked it up.

"Here to kill me, James?" Watts said.

"No." He knew it was true as soon as he'd said it. The mere thought of starting another fight right now was... exhausting. "Do you intend to kill me?"

"Oh really. Does it look as if I'm in a position to fight you? Do use your head for once. I have no weapon, no aura — damn fire ate it all up — I feel as if I've swallowed a hot coal, I am wet — "

Ironwood turned partway through the ramble, meandering back up the way he'd come. He'd passed through two checkpoints before realizing that Watts was not only still talking, but following him.

"What do you want?" he asked, more to shut the man up than out of real curiosity. If Watts was capable of reading the difference between the two, he didn't show it.

"Cinder."

"Cinder?"

"I don't make a habit of allowing people to try and murder me without consequence, James!"

"She's gone."

"Yes, thank you for that stunning bit of info! There's no possible way I could have realized that for myself. What's gotten into you? They left us, fool. Salem, Cinder, Neo, Emerald, even your so-called allies... they all deserve the worst that we can grant them. Though right now, I'd settle for wringing that idiot Pietro's neck. Ten years I gave to that research and he rendered it obsolete with a single report, all because he wanted to play father to some stupid hunk of metal. I never would have gone to Salem if — " Watts cut off, hands balled into fists.

Ironwood just blinked dazedly, coming to a halt. He searched his uniform, the scroll he'd stashed there miraculously whole. Dimly, he registered that he should be feeling some sort of emotion right now.

"I can do that," he murmured.

"What?"

But Ironwood was already keying in the code, the desire to complete a task, any task, taking hold. Watts looked on, mouth twisted in a deprecating sneer.

"I already took out communications, in case you failed to notice."

"But not the trackers I had installed in my top scientists." Ironwood held up the screen where a small, red dot was blinking. "Pietro's still here. Looks like he's out near the mine with a second aura signature. If you want to...?" He wasn't going to finish that sentence.

"I see," Watts said in a tone that heavily implied he didn't. "And you'd just give me this information out of the evilness of your heart?"

Ironwood considered that. "I killed a man yesterday, tried to kill two others, and was ready to bomb all of Mantle to keep the rest of my Kingdom safe. I don't care what you do with the man who betrayed me."

"...fair enough."

Except after five steps Ironwood realized that Watts wasn't following him. He was looking down at his arms, still as a hunted hare.

"You put trackers in all your scientists?" he asked.

"A requirement I implemented after you went missing."

"Ah! Ingenious. Lead the way then."

***

The way led to the tundra, an environment that neither of them were prepared for. Watts was wet from the waist down and Ironwood had long ago learned that snow and metal didn't mix. Neither had the aura for the kind of storm that was raging either. Luckily, the panic of Salem's invasion had left plenty of vehicles to purloin and soon they were speeding East with the heat on, the faint beeping on Ironwood's scroll growing stronger.

He'd felt the impact of his city crashing down and the two of them had clamored out of Atlas' husk, dropping into rubble and cracking ice. Still, the true destruction wasn't evident until they were moving away from it. Through the rearview mirror, Ironwood could see pillars of smoke from fires that the water hadn't yet smothered, dark shadows that could only be grimm, and Atlas itself, plunged halfway into Mantle. It wasn't noticeable from this distance, but all of it was sinking.

"I was lucky," Ironwood said, his voice hollow. His eyes flicked back to the expanse of snow ahead of them. "If Atlas had tipped the other way, the vault would have flooded. I'd have drowned."

Watts snorted. "I'm lucky. That damned water put out Cinder's fire. I'd have burned."

Neither felt particularly lucky and for fifteen more minutes, neither was keen to discuss it.

***

Once upon a time, two heroes were having a Very Bad Day.

"You've got to be shitting me."

Maria paused in the act of bandaging Pietro's leg, mechanical eyes narrowing at the two figures that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Watts sucked in a breath at the duo. Ironwood gave a small, awkward wave.

Then he nodded his head at the scene: one old, exhausted woman and a paraplegic currently bleeding into his chair. "So... going to kill him?"

Watts ground his teeth. "Well now that just feels like a fool's errand. Look at him. He's pathetic!"

Pietro was slumped at an uncomfortable angle, sporting a gash in his leg and an impressive display of bruises across his face. Maria, in contrast, seemed to have only lost her hair tie.

"Pathetic?" she spat. "Your lackey did this!"

"Who?"

"Angry girl with the creepy arm."

"Ah, it all comes back to Cinder." Watts pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, thank you for recognizing that I was her superior, but no, I didn't send her to kill the likes of you. Must have done it on her own, the little idiot. Don't believe me? I was in jail at the time, if I recall correctly. Isn't that right, James?"

"You were helping me hack Penny."

Maria let out a skin-crawling cackle. "Why do you think the girl was here? She blew a hole in the bottom of Amity! Penny tried to hold us up, but..." she swallowed, still pressing against Pietro's leg, but turned warily towards them. "You hacked her? You did that? What precisely do you think happens when a man who never learned to apply aura as a shield crash-lands in this hunk of junk!"

"I expect most men in that position perish," Watts said smoothly. "The fool is lucky to be alive, but he won't be for much longer if you keep trying to staunch the wound with your soiled gloves. Move aside."

"Get away from me!"

"Oh, put your stick down, you old bat. I'm trying to help."

"Why?" Ironwood hadn't realized he'd spoken until Watts was glaring daggers his way.

"So I can kill him later myself!"

Still surreal. Still dream-like in its absurdity. Ironwood listened to the bickering between Watts and... Mary? Maria? He wasn't even sure. He wandered away, content to gaze out through one of the windows at his Kingdom. Or what was left of it. He idly massaged his left arm, trying to rid himself of a pain that wasn't there, and when the howl of a grimm reached them across the snow, he shivered.

His unlikely companions screamed at each other loud enough to reverberate through the whole building. There were the sounds of two bodies trading blows, but only for a moment. Pietro, voice groggy and high-pitched with terror, demanded to know where his daughter was. 

"She's dead," Ironwood said. He didn't turn to see their expressions, didn't need to. "Winter she... she defeated me as the Winter Maiden. That can only mean one thing."

"One thing to you, perhaps." Ironwood did turn then, watching stoically as Pietro tried to right himself in his chair, Watts cursing as the leg continued to bleed. "Where is she? I want to see my little girl. I can heal her, fix her — " he broke off, doubling over with a cough that splattered more blood into his hands.

"Maybe you could have," Watts said, a cruel satisfaction in his voice. "If her little friends hadn't made her human."

Some of the pieces fell into place then. His Lamp, long missing, had apparently wound up in Neo's hands, then Salem's, before it was finally used by Cinder. Watts described — with immense pleasure — the plan the group had concocted and the wish they'd asked of Ambrosius. He'd been a bit preoccupied with bomb duty to learn the details, but he knew that Cinder lived and Ironwood, it seemed, knew that Penny had perished. What a tragedy. Do you know how to bring back the non-mechanical, Doctor?

Ironwood honestly thought the old woman was about to kill him, murderous intent put on hold only because Pietro collapsed then, curling in on himself as sobs wracked his frame. The only words that escaped the mess of tears were "Penny" and then "Maria," one hand reaching out blindly for comfort. Pietro found it, the two holding onto each other as Watts sat at their feet, grinning up at the display.

Ironwood thought only, So that is her name.

The other, crucial bit of info was that everyone was gone. Dead or evacuated, it didn't matter. As far as any of them knew, they were the last four in Atlas, with Salem on her way to destroy whatever kingdom next took her fancy. It was over. They'd lost. And despite the horror of it, the realization was oddly freeing too.

When Maria asked in a tone edging on hysteria what precisely they were going to do — because it seemed this was a "we" situation now — Ironwood suspected she meant in the short term. What were they going to do about their wounds? The grimm? Finding and reaching the others? But those were foolish concerns, the thinking of someone who'd never had a kingdom's life in their hands. Ironwood knew there was only one answer here, the same one he'd had from the start.

"You can do whatever you like," he said. The metal of Amity sparkled against the rising sun, leaving splotches of color behind his eyes. "I will defend Atlas."

Maria's mouth dropped open and Watts stared. Even Pietro ceased his crying long enough to suck in a breath.

"Defend it from what?" he asked.

Ironwood shrugged. "The grimm. Salem. I don't know. I don't care. To quote a former friend, I have never wavered in defending the Kingdom of Atlas against its enemies and I don't intend to start now. This is my city and I won't leave it."

"It's sinking!" Watts cried, overlapping with Maria's, "We need to help" and though so much softer, quieter, more innocent than the spittle Watts was scattering across the floor... that single word sank its teeth into Ironwood. The woman may as well have stabbed him.

"Help?" he said. "Help? I tried to help! Everything that I have done in the last two days — the last two years — my life! — has been to help not just Atlas, but everyone I feasible could. Don't talk to me about help when you and Ms. Rose did everything you could to stop me. I had planned to help the world and you all lied. You betrayed. You set your weapons against me and kept me from saving what parts of my Kingdom I could. Tell me again: what precisely did you do to help?"

He'd crossed the distance, one hand on his holstered gun and the other leaning against Pietro's chair, using it to leverage himself down into Maria's space. Ironwood didn't need to see her eyes to know the emotion they held.

"I," she spit, "didn't try to bomb a city."

And just like that the fight in him was gone. It had barely existed in the first place. Ironwood straightened, swaying slightly on the balls of his feet. "No. You didn't. So it's as I said, go help if you want. If you can." His gaze slid to Watts. "You were one of her men. That says it all." Pietro. "You helped them reveal Salem to the world. Will she have time to destroy the other kingdoms before the grimm do it first?" Maria. "And I don't know you, but you don't earn a prize like that without seeing combat." Ironwood lifted his metal finger, tapping it against Maria's goggles. She flinched away. "Can you honestly say you haven't made mistakes?"

"You and I are nothing alike!"

"I didn't say we were."

Ironwood turned and walked away, as steady as he could manage as the world grew a little darker, despite the sunrise. Behind him Watts' voice rang out like a shot.

"So that's it then? The captain goes down with his ship? You idiot!"

He paused. "Not quite. It turns out I'm not the only idiot around these parts. Ms. Rose left the vault open." One last turn to savor their shocked expressions. "That's where I'm going. There are still plenty of airships if you'd like to leave, but just remember: they abandoned you too."

Perhaps he should have been surprised that by the time his boots hit the snow, three more footsteps were sounding behind him. Frankly, in fourteen hours time Ironwood would barely remember their conversation, let alone everything that came after it. One of them drove back to the sinking city. Someone tested the ice before they cautiously crossed it. Someone else dispatched the stray grimm foolish enough to get in their way. Ironwood saw and heard none of it. He walked with the determination of a wind-up toy, wobbling now that he'd reached the end of his string. Cool blues, a shining gold, and then beautiful, miraculous grass. Ironwood ignored the murmurs of amazement behind him, dropping directly to his knees.

When his palms hit the ground, only one was capable of feeling how soft it was.

I need to update my arm, he thought, even as he curled into a ball and passed out.

***

When he woke they were already running out of time.

For the first two days Ironwood barely spoke to the others and thus he never quite figured out why they'd stayed. Had it been hopelessness? Spite? The all consuming thought that there was nowhere else to go? That Atlas, for all its rubble and slowly rising water, wasn't any different from what the rest of Remnant would look like soon?

Why not here then?

Especially when the vault, filled with wildflowers and an endless sun, made for such an enticing retreat.

"Soil's farmable," Maria said, running some of it through her fingers. It was a statement of fact, nothing more, and the three of them stubbornly ignored the implications of it.

"There's — " Pietro coughed, self-consciously clearing his throat. "There's plenty to salvage. Machinery to pull water from the humidity in here. First aid supplies. We could section off an area for our wa — "

Watts seethed. "If you finish that thought I will — "

"What?" Maria arched a brow. "Kill him? Like you've been saying for the last day?"

Day? Ironwood blinked. How long had he been out?

"I will!"

"Like you'd be able to. Just try it, beanpole."

They argued, and they threatened, but none raised their hands to one another again, and when they finally dispersed across the kingdom to collect what they could, none of the acknowledged what it was for.

Ironwood waded through the remnants of his home and didn't think about building another. Because the idea alone was absurd.

"Don't let the door slam shut," he'd said when they’d first left, nodding to the stone slab that had appeared after Penny had first arrived. Ironwood watched the three exchange glances, unsure if he was joking.

Fuck if he knew.

***

Those four days — or five, if Ironwood counted the one he'd lost — were conducted in a strange state of frenzy. None of them were in a position to be working on such a project, but when had the world ever cared for their needs? Pietro stayed behind in the vault, cataloguing what they'd found and making lists for what was still needed. His chair, while dynamic, wasn't meant for the sort of terrain Atlas had become and his wound was still healing.

He also seemed to appreciate the privacy, frequently mourning his daughter with an honesty that made them all uncomfortable. 

Maria went off to do the Gods only knew what, disappearing for hours at a time, then coming back wet, cold, and carrying little. Though she always had information. Which parts of the city were too grimm invested to traverse, which were now completely underwater, which were too unstable as Atlas tilted like a ship, disappearing beneath the waves. It gave them all focus and, surprisingly, something like hope. Whatever else she carried was usually small, such as the seeds filched from the bio laboratories.

"Couldn't take them all," she said, critically surveying the land, "what with so many of the labels getting lost in the crash. Don't want to eat something your lot has experimented on."

"You should. If we're lucky you'll mutate into someone bearable." Watts, taking stock of the clothing they'd gathered, didn't seem to realize that Maria was flipping him off.

He went on a deep dives (sometimes literally) for salvageable tech, most of it of a practical nature, but other pieces... not. Nothing had shifted Ironwood's world view quiet like day two, walking in on Watts looming over Pietro, assuming there was another fight brewing... only to overhear them exchanging theories, the conversation filled with as many insults as legitimate claims. Still, the seeds of camaraderie were there, and were perhaps easier to grow than originally thought. After all, Watts had once been one of them and Pietro, for all his heroics, had once entered Ironwood's office with a manic gleam in his eye, rambling about giving an aura to a machine. Defense technology at its finest!

 What was it Glynda had said? Ah yes, agreeing with young Ms. Nikos about how "wrong" it all was. But desperate times, desperate measures and all that.

They'd had that discussion, of course. Soon after Ironwood awoke, talk of Amity began again, this time about whether it was possible to send another message. With enough time and effort, not to mention luck... a short one, perhaps, and only sent to an individual scroll.  But what was the point? Who would they call? When no one could — or would — answer that question, the idea was dropped.

In the days since, Ironwood had fantasized about messaging Glynda. One of the few who'd ever been a true friend, perhaps the only one left alive who might care that he was still among the living... if Ms. Rose's message hadn't killed that too. Not that it mattered. Even if Amity wasn't a hunk of metal gathering ice, Ironwood hadn't a clue what he might say to her.

Dear Glynda,

Thank you. Sorry. Good luck.

Sincerely,

General James Ironwood

P.S. If things had ended differently, I would have asked for a second dance.

How ridiculous.

So he walked the broken streets of Mantle and climbed the streets of Atlas, more and more of it disappearing every day. Their hoard grew though, born of not just military property, but personal belongings as well. It wasn't as if anyone was coming to claim them. Unless more magic was at work, both cities would be miles beneath the ice before anyone crossed the border again. Still, Ironwood would always pause before packing away what he found in the hastily abandoned houses. Bedding. Utensils. The literal shirt off someone's back. He'd changed into jeans and a thick sweater the second day, taken from a collection of civilian clothes he'd placed into a locker years ago and promptly forgot about. The uniform felt... obsolete now, no matter that his goals remained the same.

He'd encountered Maria on one of those trips, admiring a basket of yarn in some nameless Atlesian's living room. Her shoulders had tensed at his approach, but she just snorted at the sight of him.

"You knit?" he asked, unsure of what else to say.

"No."

"Crochet?"

"No."

Ironwood didn't know any other crafts that involved yarn. "Then why are you taking it?"

Maria hummed. "Just a thought. That I might, someday, try to learn." She shook a book she’d pulled from the basket: Knitting For Beginners.

A stray thought indeed. The thing they still didn't talk about. The closest they got was on the fifth night when an explosion sounded outside, massive enough to unsteady them even deep within the vault. By the time all four of them had made it out and onto one of the roofs, the sky had turned a sickly yellow, followed by black tendrils that raced, turning, back and around on each other until everything went dark. The only light came from what little electricity they had running on generators and a red aura, pulsing from the West.

From Vacuo.

Realistically, it might have meant that they'd won. It wasn't as if Ironwood had any idea what the death of an immortal witch looked like. But the night wore on and they had no idea because that unnatural, starless black never receded. In time, Pietro wandered off and returned with two bottles he'd pilfered from somewhere, cracking the tops off on the side of his chair and passing them around.

They still didn't say it aloud, though the sky and the alcohol said enough already. Ironwood kept his eyes on the watch his mother gave him, hours ticking by until sunrise was long overdue. Atlas felt even colder now and that red, seeming to inch closer, sent a different kind of chill down his spine. The grimm that still prowled below had taken off hours ago, summoned by some unheard call.

Ironwood downed the dregs of his bottle and threw it into the city.

"Come on," he said. Ordered maybe, or asked. He wasn't sure he knew the difference anymore.

Blankets. Glasses. As many non-perishables as they could find. Generators. Tool kits. The building blocks of renewable energy. Clothing. Decorations. Wood to build small, individual dwellings.

Watts hoarded laptops and a small mountain of batteries, never showing them what he was working on, intensely protective.

Maria grew obsessed with entertainment, snagging every book, game, and video until there was a veritable library piled on the grass. She kept muttering about deserving a real retirement.

Pietro built a shrine to Penny, a simple stone monument to the left of the doorway. He tended to organize their supplies there, occasionally reaching out a hand to brush the code he'd inscribed with a laser. Whatever meaning it held, Ironwood couldn't read it within the ones and zeros.

And he... he found a cat. His last day, picking his way across dwindling islands until his eyes found the small, electrical fire just out of the water's reach. The cat had wedged herself into the rubble above it, trying desperately to keep warm.

She was as black as the sky above them and Ironwood was sure, when he reached out, that she'd run, terrified of his prosthetic hands. They certainly weren't any warmer, but she weakly crawled into them nonetheless. Ironwood held her securely against his left side, where his heart and flesh were, and thought with an absurd, internal laugh that he'd at least saved one.

There was so much left to do still, but their time was gone. That evening, eating what little they had the stomach for, water began to pour from the vault's elevator. First a trickle, then a deluge, until there was a sizable waterfall to admire. Ironwood sat on the steps with his unnamed cat on his shoulder, watching inevitability creep towards him.

He could still lie though.

"There's still time," he said, addressing the three behind him. "If you head up the elevator shaft and down the west hall, you can still break the surface. Find one of the remaining airships. Fly away."

Watts scowled, avoiding his gaze. He remained leaning against the doorway though. 

Maria and Pietro exchanged glances.

"I'd carry you," Ironwood offered to Pietro. They both knew it would be a death sentence with their combined deadweight, but he'd do it anyway.

"No," he said softly. "I did all I could already."

Maria. She was harder to read with those goggles, but it wasn't peace on her face. Guilt, more likely, but that had never stopped any of them before.

"It's damn cold out here," she muttered and marched back to the grass. Pietro followed her, Watts trailing not far behind. He turned back though.

"You coming?"

Ironwood didn't answer and eventually Watts left, heading into the meadow that stretched until you lost sight of where you'd been — and then reappeared there. A tiny pocket dimension, born of a magic now lost to this world. Ironwood figured that a bit of water and ice couldn't break it.

Probably.

He watched the flood cover the floor of the vault, then lap upwards, one stair at a time. There was a part of him, a part unimaginably tired, that thought he might just sit there. Keep rooted until the water was so high it was too late to do anything. That would be easy. Fitting, even. Shouldn't he go with his kingdom?

But then the cat — his cat — dug nails into his shoulder and Watts said something that made Maria screech. Ironwood sighed.

There were still things to protect, simple as that had become.

He turned his back on Remnant, now encased in an eternal night, and walked to the three who remained, cowering in an eternal day.

Ironwood allowed them one last choice and when they all nodded, he kicked the vault door shut.

[ohmygodtheywereparabatai]

Lu Ten is Zhao; Zhao is Lu Ten

No, not in a gay way. I mean that literally.

What? Slander! The fandom cries, as I’m tied to a wooden stake and burned like an innocent woman in the Salem witch trials. Not on my good Christian Confucian(?) Minecraft Fire Nation server soldier!

Hear me out! 😩 This week broke me, but at least one good thing came out of it. I’m going to try to share my thinking process head-on, since there’s no possible way to render it in neat sections. But first:

WHOOPS: The theory is a bust if the AtLA timeline, crusher of hopes and dreams, is factored in. I realized little to none of the following matches up chronologically after I finished typing up the WHOLE thing, so... screw you, Jeong Jeong. Just sit back and enjoy it conceptually, yeah? Maybe I’ll get to crack open canon like a piñata another time. Anyways.

Or is it... UPDATE: I may have an additional explanation. Please keep reading! I saved it for the very end.

The spark was this: what if Lu Ten had never died, but was captured? Taken as a prisoner of war by the Dai Li, never to see daylight again, until he clawed his way out of their clutches and re-emerged from Ba Sing Se a deserted, cold, and detached man?

I pieced more of the story together as I thought of it from other angles, so that’s what I’ll do here. That’s right - I soldiered on like a doofus, digging around canon for feasibility.

From that spark, I remembered Zhao telling Iroh,

“I was a young lieutenant serving under General Xu in the Earth Kingdom.”

Which is apparently a phonetical playground, because aside from the Xu/Shu question, the first part of the sentence could also sound like,

“I was a young Lu Ten and serving under General Xu in the Earth Kingdom.”

Zhao clearly pursues a naval career, as his ranks ascend (backwards, but still sea-wise) from captain, to commander, to admiral of the Fire Navy. So it’s a bit of a head-scratcher to wonder how or why he served under a general, a distinctly land army title, in the Earth Kingdom near the Si Wong Desert - far from the coast, doubly far from water. Don’t throw his pheasant-squirrels quote at me just yet! A little head-scratcher goes a long way.

The Mother of Faces is singlehandedly the backbone of this theory. Her ability to alter identities and memories (keep in mind for later) is a pretty sound explanation for the Fire Nation failing to recognize their own revenant prince, chief among them his own father. And Zhao is regarded, in essence, as one of the only two Fire Nation men with decent spiritual knowledge. (You saw this coming from a mile away, but like father like son? 😉)

Another peculiarity is Zhao’s noticeable shift from suave and calculating in his first appearance to the rash, off-the-cuff hothead in... most episodes after “The Southern Air Temple”. Now pair this with Jet’s behavior after coming to the realization that something was very wrong after his soirée with the Dai Li, more or less aware his world was a tampered truth.

Panicked, angered, distrustful - a sharp change from the friendly tagalong helping the Gaang find Appa.

And speaking of sharp changes, these men side by side may barely resemble each other - hence the handy Mother of Faces card - but what if there’s a deeper study to Zhao’s sunken eyes, the hard lines around his mouth? As if he’s seen the kind of things you don’t retain all of yourself from... as if his features were once strained for prolonged periods of time, forced to hold a wide, Joo Dee PR smile?

(Be mindful of the wear and tear of trauma age!)

I should have peppered in disclaimers that I wasn’t high when I drummed this up... too late, I guess! 🤠

Drifting into speculations that hyped up this theory’s potential, consider the following:

Does this tie into the rate at which he’s promoted? Would that imply Ozai was aware of his nephew’s status, or that Lu Ten retained his charisma? This is rather important because it makes Zhao’s exact age difficult to determine, meaning he’s anywhere in the ballpark of Lu Ten’s generation to Ozai’s. Between those eyebags and those quick promotions, it’s free real estate.

Is the trauma dealt to him the reason he has an obsession with destroying one of the nations - out of vengeance? A desperate need to be remembered?

Does it offer an explanation for his immediate animosity towards Zuko, as if he thinks Iroh wasted no time replacing him?

Is it why Zhao is the only character on-screen who brews tea that Iroh doesn’t immediately reject? (Again, like father like son 😉)

Is it why he keeps knocking at Iroh’s door, trying to recruit him to serve at his general? Does he just want his frickin’ dad back? (Ow...)

Is that why Zhao listens to him at the North Pole when ordered to release the moon spirit, rather than the popular belief that Iroh scared him shitless? To be fair, could be both.

Is it why he snaps when he leans over the pond - a fairly-assumed magical pond, that is - like he’s seen his reflection in the spirit waters? His true face, as the deserted son?

Speaking of true faces... what about Noriko and the Blue Spirit? Did their encounters with the Mother of Faces coincide, or did Ursa’s come a few years after Lu Ten’s? She’s fond of theater, and the “Blue Spirit” in that context is the Water Spirit that battles the protagonist. Identifying Zuko’s mask for what it accurately was might have accelerated the search for him - was Zhao unable to disrespect it that way?

Last but not least. The introduction of Koh, the son of the Mother of Faces, in the same episode as Zhao’s last appearance. Maybe another hint Aang could have received was related to the admiral’s real identity? Canon is in its infancy here, so Roku’s failure to remember the Mother of Faces (hell, lion turtles too) when pointing Aang to a spirit “old enough to remember” is shaky grounds to theorize on. But still. It’d be very Koh-like for his mother’s efforts to slip his mind, or for him to intentionally wish Zhao dead.

One last interesting bit of canon: spirit doggos! The Mother of Faces only helps those chosen by her wolf companion, such as when Ikem found it (or it found Ikem) drinking from a pool in Forgetful Valley. Sure enough, lupine creatures also exist in Wan Shi Tong’s library: Knowledge Seekers which keep him up to date on the mortal world.

They’re not too similar in appearance, but a lightbulb should go off... ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Cousins twice-removed?

Extra Lenny face since I’m feelin’ like it: the Mother of Faces has a pretty clear plant-based structure, which the spirit library (admittedly only shown in LoK) seems to echo in its design. Maybe a leftover trace of her presence? She is a major spirit, credited with the beginnings of the world; easy to imagine the forest of Forgetful Valley itself rose in her footsteps’ wake. Plus, hardly any vine-like formations should crop up in the harsh climate of the Si Wong Desert.

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

So, ALL of that leads me to the complete narrative, a rough sketch of what became of Lu Ten as it exists in my head:

—

The prince is presumed slain at the six-hundred day siege of Ba Sing Se. His remains are never found. Iroh would almost prefer it that way, prays his ashes are carried away by the winds, and solemnly returns home.

Home is what Lu Ten dreams of for the next excruciating few years. Maybe it’s longer than he thinks, or even shorter - each moment stretched out to a thousand. It’s cold and miserable under Lake Laogai, and a city’s secret police force doesn’t take kindly to a two-year long siege. None is spared when the general’s own son is dragged into the endless maze of dark, winding corridors.

He hears his friends die. Sometimes he watches. Lu Ten always hears of it, one way or another. He can recall few days in the searing sunlight: another bumbling citizen, loyal servant to the Earth King, a guard who never marches out of rhythm.

When he crawls out into daylight, bloodied and irreparably scarred, he runs without looking back, with such aimless direction that the search for him is abandoned. He should turn up dead soon enough, and his memories are nonexistent - why bother?*

But if his years in captivity amount to anything, Lu Ten was a survivor. He races across the Earth Kingdom, keeping to the shadows, into the treacherous heat of the Si Wong - finally guided to the spirits. If his father’s journey into the spirit world in search of him had any role, the prince never finds out. He collapses after a much-needed drink, and witnesses a blurred, blue wolf carry him to refuge, where the Mother of Faces and the great owl greet him.

She tries her best to fashion a new face and mind, though the Dai Li’s scars are preserved in both: tired lines and blinding thoughts. Wan Shi Tong opens the library’s doors, pitying the years of knowledge stripped from him. The soldier leaves after recovering, repurposed from royalty into a man with no worth to his name except the scroll in his fist - Zhao.

Able to bend, and a cold shell of himself, content with that much of both. He leaves a wing of the library in flames. Prince Lu Ten had drowned in Lake Laogai, roamed the above world until another victim could take his place - the half-existence of the Shuî Guî. Now it was his turn to hunt.

In the years he struggles to rebuild, old scars resurface. General Xu’s troops find him a rambling madman, patch him up in the short time he serves on land, then ship him off to better uses in the navy. Zhao’s obscure story begins and ends with the scroll, and the man himself is repulsive, so he’s left to his devices. Deserted within a roiling mind, as dark and endless as the Dai Li’s fortress.

By the year the Firelord’s brother and son arrive at his harbor, he remembers enough to choose to take the truth with him to the grave. Zhao grows to hate their faces; when Iroh grows to hate him, too, he’s convinced it’s too late.

Fate is unkind, in the end. Instead of drowning the Water Tribe civilization, he’s dragged under the freezing current. The cycle folds in on itself, a Shuî Guî doomed to wander the Fog of Lost Souls. One day, a familiar face appears... regards him with sad, aged eyes... and turns away with a shake of his head.

“I came marching home...” He raises his voice across the fog, hoarse. “I searched, I fought, and I killed. For you!”

“... Then you are no son of mine.”

—

*I owe credit for the plot centered around one godawful Lake Laogai to the horror game I’m currently into. Outlast follows an investigative reporter as he records as much as he can of an insane asylum before making a break for it to expose to the world, so long as the asylum doesn’t swallow him up first. Truly gruesome. I put Lu Ten through the same :p

And, well, I wasn’t going to leave you hanging without tying the whole thing into the East-Asian mythos! Let me introduce the Shuî Guî, drowned ghosts that combine Zhao and Lu Ten’s fates into one symbolic shebang.

They begin as people who drowned without a proper burial, lurking around the body of water where it happened in search of a vessel. When a victim comes close enough, they’re dragged under themselves, and the spirit takes possession of their body - while the victim takes the place of the Shuî Guî. Rinse and repeat (ha).

Plugging in Lu Ten, the war prisoner who “drowns” under Lake Laogai, occupying Zhao’s form in spirit thanks to the Mother of Faces’ handiwork, there’s some great stuff to be done with it. Zhao’s ultimate fate at the hands of the ocean spirit doubles as a meaningful end to a soldier who chooses for himself, a last time. Maybe for the first time.

Don’t mind me freaking out over how many layers this adds to every Zhao interaction:

- “And General Iroh, great hero of our nation.” [Internally] ThisisforLuTenyoubigfatwhitenastysmellingfatbitchwhyyoutookmeoffthemotherfuckingschedule-

- “Do you have any ginseng tea? It’s my favorite.” Yeah, I remember, Pa. Unlike yOU

- Iroh: *flings him back twenty feet to protect Zuko* Zhao: X

- “So this is how the great Commander Zhao acts in defeat-” aT LEAST I DON’T ABANDON MY SON PA

- “Thanks again for the tea. It was delicious.” Zhao: X

- “I’ve heard rumors about your journey into the spirit world...” Too bad it wasn’t permanent, you geezer- wait you were trying to bring me back? O-oh... *sniffle*

- Zhao: But rest assured, this will be nothing like your legendary failure at Ba Sing Se. Iroh: I hope not, for your sake. Zhao: X

- [Internally, as his men are taken down at lightning-speed] OH GOD DAD’S MAD DAD’S MAD DAD DAD MAD RUN RUN RUN-

- “You’re the Blue Spirit, an enemy of the Fire Nation!” I’m just about fed up with your shit, cuz. Wait, where’d he go- AAAAAAH

- Zuko: Take my hand! Zhao: X

- ETC. TONS MORE. I can’t cover all of them in-depth 🥺

—

OKAY. NOW. THE TIMELINE.

Jeong Jeong is a little &@$;/! who couldn’t wait a few more years to desert but... whatever. I can fix the WHOOPS moment.

Lu Ten “dies” five years before the end of the Hundred Year War. Jeong Jeong deserts ten years before the end of the war. This twists the theory by having “Zhao” learn under Admiral Jeong Jeong almost eight years after the dude bailed.

So an area I planned to leave up to interpretation - whether the Mother of Faces assigned Lu Ten his new name, or for some reason, he chose “Zhao” himself - is one I’m going to snag for personal use.

Consider these three things, which I will then attempt to relate, slapping a big ol’ bandaid on this oopsie in the space-time continuum:

The tribe Jeong Jeong is seen residing with in “The Deserter” took him in after proclaiming he was a living god

Tu Shen, rabbit god of homosexuals

Sozin’s Law

🐇 Cool. Now check this:

Jeong Jeong never states his pupil’s name before Aang puts it together for himself and the audience. Lu Ten’s weakness could have easily been a lack of discipline, considering a) his father’s own tendency to joke about burning a city to the ground, b) a Fire Nation soldier’s drilled-in purpose to “spread greatness”, and c) “If only I could have helped you.”

It’s fitting that a name the prince would chose should do with war. While “Zhao” has no meaning I could find outside of a feudal state in the Warring States Period, the point stands. Warring’s in the name, maybe a chunk of AtLA history we aren’t privy to. Great! Onto the next thing: staying under the radar.

Sozin’s Law criminalizes same-sex relationships. This does not, by any means, dissuade a man like Jeong Jeong, and that’s a hill I’ll die on. I now declare AtLA’s version of Tu Shen, the Chinese deity who oversees queer affairs, to partly or wholly resemble the first deserter of the Fire Nation Army. The tribe in the northwestern Earth Kingdom are free-living gays who recognize their heavenly representative, and our buddy Chey is a very obvious simp. Tu Shen is also called the Rabbit God, which, if I had to draw two parallels off the top of my head between Jeong Jeong and the animal, would be a) fluffy white hair, and b) excellent at speeding out of sight.

Boom. Coincidental gay god of AtLA. Thank me later. Onto the last thing: Lu Ten is Hama but switch out the a’s with o’s.

He trains under Piandao just as Zuko did, followed by bending instruction under Piandao’s dear husband Jeong Jeong. The White Lotus has its connections, of course... ones Iroh might readily ping for teaching his son. When delicate, potentially incriminating matters threaten to come to light during Lu Ten’s unruly teenage years, Jeong Jeong urges them to switch to pseudonyms, resuming more anonymous instruction as the rumors lose traction. Works stupendously.

Lu Ten isn’t the first to find a safety net in using a separate identity: one among dozens accepted under Jeong Jeong’s wing, happy to continue their shadow lives like rabbits jumping to and fro out of the law’s sight! Zhao, he calls himself, proud of how it leaps off the tongue, daring as the slice of a sword. And when the Mother of Faces tells him to choose a new name, he knows exactly.

And Jeong Jeong, god of the gays, knows exactly who has returned from the dead to haunt them, knows exactly what to call that monster. Luckily, he also knows when secrets are better off as secrets. Seeing Zhao in the flesh only steels his belief that fire is destined to tear the bender apart.

Done!! Hopefully I... fixed it?

[monicashipsnickyjoe]

A Treasure Worthy of a King - Pirate AU - 3k words

Nicolo has been the terror of the seas for a solid decade. He’s plundered many ships, evaded many privateers. He’s feared by his crew and the world alike, an image he’s cultivated with carefully selected targets, few words, and several well-timed glares.

Only a handful of his most trusted know the truth. That Nicolo hesitates to take a life. That when he chooses their targets, he specifically picks the King’s vessels with fat payloads, not small merchant ships. That his portion of the earnings is regularly delivered to an orphanage in a small, seaside village.

His trusted few help him pick the targets most deserving of plunder.

So when Nicolo raids a King’s vessel he heard carries wealth only to find a foreign dignitary, a prince no less, with a handful of guards and a skeleton crew, Nicolo is confused. Moreso, when the prince does not look at him with fear, but with a type wide-eyed adoration, like Nicolo is his salvation and not an agent of death.

“We should take him for ransom,” says Nicolo’s first mate Keane, a man Nicolo doesn’t trust or like much, but who has been around long enough to know the job.

“Yes, yes,” says the prince, gold and jewels glittering, though none as bright as his eyes. “That sounds a good plan.”

Nicolo is rendered momentarily speechless by the beauty of this man – for he has much, from the ocean of tight curls on his head to his well-groomed beard to his wide shoulders poorly concealed with silk robes.

“You...” Nicolo pauses.

The prince points at himself. “Yusuf.”

Nicolo shakes his head. That’s not what he’s asking. “You wish to be kidnapped?”

Keane gives Nicolo a strange look. “What are you asking him for?”

Nicolo has never been questioned before. He glares at Keane until he lowers his head.

Yusuf, meanwhile, only brightens, even when Nicolo turns the same glower on him.

“I’m very impressed,” Yusuf says, smiling. “Very... afraid? Is that what you’re after? Please, let’s hurry this along. I would like not to be prematurely rescued.” Finally, Yusuf’s brightness begins to dim, and Nicolo is struck with a rush of regret so sudden that he’s startled.

“To the ship, then,” he says, when he’s recovered enough.

The crew starts for Yusuf, but Nicolo is there first, taking him under the arm and tugging him forward. He wants to be gentle, but forces some roughness for show. Even so, he is much kinder than any of the crew would have been.

“This man is our ransom,” Nicolo tells them. “Any harm that comes to him will be returned tenfold.”

The crew murmur their agreement. Those closest eye Yusuf’s many jewels.

“You will turn over any valuables,” Nicolo says. He is softer than he means to be, in front of his crew.

“A small price to pay.” Yusuf removes them. Keane is the first to take them from his hands.

Nicolo escorts Yusuf to his ship, staring down any who look too long. No one dares question him now.

He starts for the brig, but changes his mind after a single step. He cannot see a man like Yusuf behind bars. Until he is returned to where he should be, Yusuf will remain in the best comfort Nicolo can offer. So he takes him to the captain’s quarters instead.

With the door closed behind them, Nicolo lightens his touch. He guides Yusuf a few steps further, then pulls away entirely.

“Have I hurt you?” he asks.

“No.” Yusuf stretches out his arm. “I expected manhandling.” He’s smiling again. “Your touch is not so unpleasant.”

Nicolo’s mind is caught in a storm. It takes some time for it to clear. “You... ‘expected?’”

“Oh? Of course.” Yusuf turns toward the room, walks the short distance from the map table to the foot of the bed. “Andromache explained everything.”

“Andromache.”

“Yes.” Yusuf leans forward and tests the strength of the bed. The storm in Nicolo’s brain becomes a hurricane. “Though she did not mention how terribly handsome my rescuer would be.”

“Rescuer.”

Yusuf stands fully upright again, and glances over his shoulder to Nicolo. “Are you well, Captain? Your face is turning very red.”

Nicolo feels underwater, like he’s moving and thinking in slow-motion. “This is a pirate ship, your highness.”

Yusuf waves his hand. “Call me Yusuf.” He must not understand the dire nature of his present circumstances, to be so flippant.

“We are pirates,” Nicolo says slowly, so that even if Yusuf struggles with the language - which does not appear to be the case - he will understand. “I am a pirate. And you are being held for ransom.”

“Yes.” Yusuf claps his hands together. “It’s wonderful.” Before Nicolo can even begin to try again, to somehow explain that if Yusuf is not overly careful, he could very well be killed, Yusuf steps away from the bed. “Here I was in a dark hour of need. I pleaded with Andromache for help. She was not terribly eager at first, but when I explained...” He sidesteps the map table, and does not stop walking until he is very near Nicolo.

Nicolo stands still as a statue.

“I know you will not ransom me, Captain. Andromache made that clear.”

“It seems,” Nicolo licks his lips, watching with wonder as Yusuf tracks the movement, “that Andromache has revealed much.”

Yusuf blinks and looks again into Nicolo’s eyes.

“She did not tell you,” Yusuf says. He leans back and Nicolo exhales, unsure if in relief or disappointment.

Nicolo forces out, “No.”

“You are my savior, Captain, from a life of misery.” He steps back, stretches his arms out. “A life I have no desire of returning to.”

“You are a prince,” Nicolo says. Why would Yusuf risk his life to give up such luxury?

“Betrothed,” Yusuf says. He pauses. “To a very beautiful woman.” He drops his arms.

Nicolo still doesn’t understand. Yusuf must see it in his face, because he comes forward again, back into Nicolo’s space, stealing his breath away.

Yusuf says, a whisper, “It is not a woman I want.”

Oh. Oh.

Nicolo’s whole body ignites in fire. He’s suppressed it for so long, resigning himself to the sea and his duty to the crew and the orphanage. He cannot remember the last time he has allowed himself to consider carnal pleasures.

He has never before been so sorely tempted.

“Do you understand now, Captain?” Yusuf’s voice is a sultry promise.

Nicolo’s every nerve itches to reach out, to touch, to – no.

Regardless of intent, Yusuf is his captive. Until Nicolo can free him, he will not –

He won’t –

Yusuf tilts his head slightly, moving a hair closer.

Nicolo jerks backwards, knocking into the closed door.

“Captain?”

“Nicolo. My name is Nicolo.” He’s proud his voice only shakes a little. “You... You must stay here, until I can find some way to help you escape.”

Yusuf, watching him, begins to frown. “Escape?”

“I will find a way,” Nicolo promises and flees.

*

“We must make port,” Nicolo tells the crew. He lies, “So that we can send word of our ransom.”

He gives them the heading to a pirate-friendly port town where he knows Andromache will be.

She pulled him into this mess. She can help him out of it.

*

At dinnertime, Nicolo takes a full portion to the door of the Captain’s quarters. With his crew watching, he shouldn’t knock, though he desperately wants to. Instead, he fumbles with the door handle, giving Yusuf inside fair warning of his entering.

Yusuf does not get the warning.

He is asleep on the bed, but it is not restful. He thrashes out against the blankets, whimpering.

Nicolo drops the plate on the table and hurries toward his side. He catches a sleepy punch thrown his way, and eases Yusuf’s arm back to the bedding. Yusuf leans into him, curling toward where he’s placed his knees on the bed.

Not knowing what to do but wishing to comfort him, Nicolo reaches a hand and places his palm to Yusuf’s cheek.

Yusuf’s whimpers ease into softer hums. A moment’s calm, and then Yusuf’s eyes flutter open.

“Nicolo.”

Nicolo has not heard his name aloud since the last time he sat with Andromache in a run-down tavern, when she told him of a ship carrying gold that carried Yusuf instead. He has not heard his name aloud, like this, spoken with reverence, in as long a time as he can recall.

“You were having a nightmare,” Nicolo says.

“It was, yes,” Yusuf whispers. “But then you arrived.” He smiles and puts the sun to shame. “I dreamed you.” His blinks are slow. His eyelids heavy. Nicolo keeps his hand to his face and watches as sleep again pulls him under.

Nicolo stays, longer than he needs to, longer than he should, touching Yusuf’s cheek, then his shoulder, then his hand, guarding him from nightmares, both waking and asleep.

When he falls asleep himself, it is on the floor, his hand on the edge of the bed waiting, in case he is needed once more.

*

Though Nicolo had demanded that Yusuf stay in the Captain’s quarters for his own safety, he is not surprised to find him escaped and out among the crew. What does surprise him is both how the crew indulges him – although that smile of his is disarming – and the way he is dressed.

Gone are the silk robes. In their place, Yusuf has stolen a pair of Nicolo’s breeches and one of his loose linen shirts.

Nicolo’s mouth goes dry. When had he picked those out? Had he gone through all of Nicolo’s clothing until he found what he liked? How had he decided?

And what kind of prince had any right to muscles like those, now clearly defined beneath the near-transparent linen?

Nicolo thought all royalty pretty and useless, locked behind their walls, their cares tended to by others.

The crewman shows Yusuf how to tie a sailor’s knot, and Yusuf easily replicates it. He is a fast learner, and eager. So unlike Nicolo’s idea of a royal.

“We’ll be at port in two days’ time,” Keane says from the helm.

Nicolo, realizing he has been staring at Yusuf, looks towards his first mate instead. “Yes.” He hasn’t been listening, really.

Keane seems to notice, because he repeats, “Port. Two days.”

“Right.” Nicolo dares another glance at Yusuf, and finds him staring back.

When their eyes catch, Yusuf waves.

Nicolo only just stops himself from waving back.

He hopes Keane didn’t notice, though with Keane’s hawk eyes, he worries.

 The worries come to a head the next night, while Nicolo is standing on the deck, peering up at the stars from near the railing, when he suddenly, inexplicably, finds himself being shoved over it.

He reaches out and grabs the banister at the last moment, but his feet are dangling. The banister’s wet. It’s too dark to find him if he topples over.

Bathed in moonlight, Keane is there. He does not reach out a hand to help. Instead, he pulls out a knife.

“Why don’t you call for help, Captain?” Keane says. “Let the crew see the coward you are.” He crouches, bringing his face closer to Nicolo, though on the safe side of the railing. “I have watched you these years. You are weak.”

“If this is a mutiny,” Nicolo says through gritted teeth. His hands are slipping. He holds on with his fingernails. “Where are the rest of the crew? Why are you alone?”

Keane’s face twists with anger.

Pride swells in Nicolo, for his loyal crew. “They would not join you. They would not even listen to you. They believe as I do, that you are coward.”

Keane brings his knife closer. It flashes dangerously in the moonlight. “Big words from a man about to die.”

Nicolo thinks that he has always known it would eventually come to this. He knew Keane doubted not just his leadership but all that he stood for. Yet even knowing it, he has kept Keane on.

A pirate lived and died by the sea. And maybe, Nicolo has been too willing to test it.

Keane lifts up the knife, readying an attack.

A figure knocks into the side of him. Keane falls. The knife flies, skittering across the wooden planks of the deck. The figure, Nicolo’s savior, rights himself, and it’s Yusuf.

“Nicolo!”

Yusuf hurries to the railing, reaches over it. He begins to lift Nicolo, enough that he can get a better grip on the banister, but then Keane is there, yanking him back.

Yusuf twists in Keane’s hold and punches him. Keane stumbles back, but not for long, not long enough for Yusuf to do anything other than prepare for the next attack.

They grapple, equally matched.

With his new hold, Nicolo has leverage he didn’t before. He exerts all his strength and swings up his legs, finding footing on the edge of the deck. With it, he easily pulls himself up the banister to the top of the railing and over it to safety.

He steadies himself. His arms ache and his fingers burn, but he will help Yusuf no matter – oh.

Yusuf, Nicolo’s protector, his savior, and his captive, does not need help.

Keane is dead at his feet, neck broken.

And Yusuf stares down at the body in pity. “He was your first mate.” He’s out of breath, chest heaving. Nicolo moves to his side, as close as he can without touching.

“Yes.”

“He tried to kill you.”

“Yes.”

Yusuf leans into Nicolo, brushing their shoulders together. “When I came looking for you, and I saw...” He breathes deeply. “I feared the worst.”

“It’s not yet my time,” Nicolo says quietly. He thinks on Yusuf’s words. “You came looking for me?”

Yusuf is slow to answer. “I cannot sleep without you.”

Nicolo frowns. “I sleep on the floor.”

“Your presence is soothing.” Yusuf runs a hand down his face. He stares down at the body. “Should we leave it for the others to find? Some kind of warning?”

“No. This was a mutiny of one. I’d rather send him to the sea and be done with it.”

Together they lift the body and cast it over the side. A moment, then a splash, and Keane is forever gone.

Yusuf and Nicolo stand at the railing. Though Nicolo could stay longer, Yusuf tugs on the back of his coat.

“I would like to see you away from the ledge for the rest of the night, if you don’t mind.”

Nicolo obliges him.

*

Later, in the captain’s quarters, Yusuf washes the blood from Nicolo’s hands and tends them.

“I haven’t thanked you yet,” Nicolo says. “I owe you my life.”

Yusuf waves the words away like he saves lives every day. Perhaps he does.

“You can sleep in the bed tonight,” Yusuf says instead, when he’s finished wrapping Nicolo’s raw hands.

“The floor is comfortable enough.”

“I will convince you.”

“Not in this,” Nicolo says, a whisper. “Not tonight.”

“Not tonight?” Yusuf watches him, a spark in his eye. “Does that imply perhaps a someday?”

Nicolo gives him a small smile, but that is all he can give for now. “Ask me again when I have helped you escape.”

Confusion spreads over Yusuf’s face. “Nicolo, I do not think you understand that –”

“Yusuf, I am tired.” Too tired to argue. Too tired to think of reasons he shouldn’t lie with this man. Too tired to voice them.

Yusuf’s face holds no smile now, all dire lines and darkness. “You are trembling.”

“I am so tired.”

“Lie down,” Yusuf says. “Let me hold you. Nothing untoward, I swear to you.”

Nicolo is a miserable wretch. “You will not hate me?”

Yusuf cups Nicolo’s face with both hands. He leans forward and places a soft kiss to each of Nicolo’s eyelids. “I could never, my heart.”

Nicolo lies down on the bed, as does Yusuf behind him. Yusuf wraps him in his arms, swallows him in warmth. In comfort.

Nicolo has belonged nowhere for so long. Now he feels as if he has returned to a home he didn’t know he had.

He closes his eyes, and sleep finds him easier than it ever has before.

In the dark, as the sea rocks them like babies in a cradle, Yusuf whispers into the back of Nicolo’s neck, “Andromache told me of a lonely man, heart as big as an ocean, who stole from kings to give to children.” He presses his smile to Nicolo’s skin. “I loved you before I met you. And meeting you, I love you more.”

Nicolo hears the words, but believes them to be a dream.

*

The morning comes too quickly, and the day brings them to port.

No one mentions Keane. His duties are quietly filled by others. Only one crewman is brave enough, and mutters, “Good riddance,” to the empty bunk.

 As the crew disembarks at the port, Nicolo lingers, watching. Yusuf stands at his side. He’s still wearing Nicolo’s clothes, even though Nicolo had set out his silk robes earlier across the back of a chair.

The day grows long. Most of the crew has left. Nicolo and Yusuf linger.

Nicolo doesn’t want to say goodbye.

For Yusuf, though, he must.

“Andromache is here,” Nicolo says. “We will go to her, and... I’m certain she will find you safe passage wherever you wish to go.”

Yusuf laughs.

Nicolo, startled, looks to him.

His smile is the north star. “I think you purposefully misunderstand.”

Nicolo straightens. “What do you mean?”

“Nicolo.” Yusuf turns to him. He takes one of Nicolo’s hands in both of his. “Do you truly not know?”

Maybe he does. Or at least, suspects. But. But. “You cannot want this life, Yusuf.”

“I wanted freedom,” Yusuf says, “And I found it in your eyes.”

Those pretty words muddy Nicolo’s thoughts, and he has to think clearly. He removes his hand from Yusuf’s and backs away. “You have been on the ship a handful of days. That is not enough time to know if it suits you.”

“I came here wanting this, Nicolo. The freedom of the sea and the wind at my back.” Yusuf, following Nicolo, steps forward. “I asked Andromache to help me become a pirate. She brought me you.” Another step, closer still – dangerously close. “I thank you for trying to protect me, but I do not need protecting. Not from this ship. Not from this life. And not from you.”

“Yusuf.”

“I am more pirate than I ever was prince.” Yusuf places both hands on Nicolo’s chest. Nicolo’s heart thunders beneath them. “And if you will have me, I would also be yours.”

Nicolo swallows. “This is a terrible idea.” He’s not pulling away. Not anymore. Instead, he leans forward, brushing noses with Yusuf.

“All of the best ideas are, my heart,” Yusuf says and kisses him.

*

Nicolo sits at a table across from Andromache. Not far off, at the bar, Yusuf laughs with Quynh and Lykon, who apparently he’s met once before and already befriended. Nicolo isn’t the least surprised. He knows now, to expect the unexpected with Yusuf.

“I see you found your prize,” Andromache says, grinning into her mug.

“You said, and I’m quoting, ‘A treasure worthy of a king.’” Nicolo tries to sound accusatory but he cannot keep the smile from curling his lips. It’s so easy to smile, when he can hear Yusuf laughing. When Nicolo glances over and finds him watching.

“Was I lying?” Andromache asks.

And Nicolo knows, “He’s more.”

[wolfs-hunt1]

Wolf Kisses 2

Pairing: Stucky x Shapeshifter reader

Summary: Steve and Bucky find out the truth and end up trying to help (I can’t do summaries, I still have no idea what to write here)

Word count: 2048

Warnings: angsty,  sorry for any typo

A/N: Still not sure where I want to take this XD, but I’m enjoying writing this fic a lot, so until I feel like it isn’t over I’ll keep making some more chapters. Can’t guarantee another one for next monday, because university is about to start, but I’ll try not to take too long.

THANK YOU ALL so much for the suport you have giving this story! I love you all!!!

Tag list is OPEN

— — — — —

Part 1

Bucky buries his head further into a warm neck, inhaling deeply the foreign scent. Bucky doesn’t remember Steve ever having a mild fruity scent on him. He holds the body closer, long locks of hair getting tangled on his fingers. Ok now his sleep heavy mind knows something is wrong, Steve’s hair was short. His mind starts to wake up more, body stirring slowly until he can stand to open his eyes is the barely-there sunlight.

The sight before him made him real back a bit, hand reaching for the knife he kept hidden under his pillow. A woman was nestled in their bed, previously curling herself around bucky’s body, but once he got away, she curled into Steve’s seeking the warmth they radiated.

“Hey…” he whispers, shaking her shoulder for a few seconds. No answer at all. so he tried again, this time a bit louder “Hey, you…” this actually makes Steve stir in his sleep, arms tightening around the girl’s middle and pulling her head into the crock of his neck.

“What Buck…” he grumbles still asleep.

“Steve wake up.” Bucky sais now more forcefully making Steve open his eyes and look at the girl in his arms, alarmed when he doesn’t recognize her. With all the commotion the girl also wakes up, stretching a bit and looking blearily up at the two towering super-soldiers surrounding her. Then her eyes trail to the knife Bucky’s pointing at her and she scrambles out of the best so fast she gets her legs tangled in the sheets and falls, crawling the rest of the way until her back is flush to the window.

She’s breathing hard, hands raised in defense. She looks so tiny tucked in a ball in the corner of their room. Steve looks at the girl and then the knife and puts a hand softly on Bucky’s arm, silently telling him to put it away.

Bucky looks at her, taking in her appearance, and suddenly stops. Her leg was wrapped in bandages, the same leg the wolf had had her bandages. He looks at her eyes, questions zooming past in his head. ‘what did this mean? who is she? where is the wolf?’

“Ok, let’s calm down.” Steve tried to dissipate the electrically charged room, slowly climbing out of the bed and reaching for some sweatpants to put on. Bucky didn’t move from the spot, gaze locked on her, and making her shrink more into herself. From where he stood it looked like she was trying to melt into the glass. He could see Steve approached her softly, like one would a sacred animal, a shirt in his extended hand for her to take. She pulled the shirt down her head and hips, making sure all her body was covered in the oversized fabric. “What’s your name?” Steve tried to keep his voice soft, but even he was confused with what was happening.

“Y/N.” her voice was gruff and small like she hadn’t used it for months, and she had to clear her throat to make herself heard.

“How did you got here?” Steve asks, sitting in the corner of the bed to seem less intimidating to the poor girl.

“You… you brought me here.” her eyes are cast downwards, but she can still see Bucky’s scowl appear on his face. “I’m sorry….” she whispers.

“What do you mean we brought you here?”

“I'm… I’m a shapeshifter.” once neither of them said anything she continued, “I can turn into a wolf. ”

“Oh… you didn’t have to hide you know?” Steve said.

“Being hurt prevented me from shifting back, so I’ve been a wolf for this past week. I must have shifted back during the night…”

“So you’ve lied to us…” Bucky shoots, making you look up at him startled.

“I didn’t lie, I couldn’t even speak! I was being hunted, I ran for shelter. I didn’t ask for you guys to help me, I appreciate it though, but you can’t accuse me of lying.”

“Buck, calm down, let’s all try and get everything straightened up, without accusing anyone.” Bucky glared at him for a full minute before relenting and getting up from the bed, moving to the bathroom to get dressed.“Why don’t you join us downstairs for breakfast? We can talk better after a cup of coffee.” he offered you a kind simile with those words, and after considering it for a moment you relented and got up, leg still a bit sore.

Steve gave you some gym shorts for you to wear, despite having to tie the laces a bit better so they wouldn’t fall, and Bucky came out of the bathroom, fully clothed and a glare directed at you making you look at anywhere but him.

—

The kitchen was awfully silent, the only sounds were of the coffee pot dripping, and of the pancakes, Steve was flipping at the stove. You were awkwardly sitting at the stool behind the island counter, Bucky in front of you not saying a word, but you could see the war waging through his eyes.

The atmosphere was suffocating, and making your skin crawl with anxiety. “Look…” you started, “I know I should have said anything sooner, I’m sorry. But the fewer people that know my secret the safer I am.”

“What did you mean you were being hunted?” those are the first words Bucky has uttered in what seems like forever, and so you look at him to give him all of your attention, less he goes back to silently throw daggers at you.

“I… I haven’t seen my family in years. We were a small community of shapeshifters, just living our lives without hurting anyone until they came. Hydra. They burnt our houses to the ground. Killed anyone that tried to protect themselves and captured the rest.” your voice is cracking and so you take a deep breath to ground yourself before you continue. “I managed to run away, and I’ve been running ever since. I’ve been using that cabin whenever I need to recover from any wounds, I had no idea you were going to be there. I… I have been spotted a couple of weeks ago by a poacher. He saw me while I was out hunting, and he started to lay down traps to get me. A giant wolf’s pelt must be worth a lot.”

Steve had plated the pancakes and had put a plate in front of you while you were talking. When you finished and looked at them, he smiled and nodded his head to the place of food in front of you, encouraging you to eat something. You say a small thanks and take small bites from the buttery pancake.

“How did you managed to get stuck on a trap?” Bucky is silently taking in your words.

“After weeks of avoiding him and his traps he started to get more violent. He would hide loaded guns ready to fire with tripwires, he would burry the traps under the snow, he even tried to starve me by scaring away any prey I tried to hunt. In the end, it was the exhaustion of not having sleep in days and my hunger that made me lose focus, I stepped on a trap and panicked, I managed to break the chain and get away from there.

I reached the house to take shelter, honestly, I don’t know what I would do without you guys… I wouldn’t be able to turn back, so I would have just bled to death probably.”

“Hydra killed your family?” his voice is laced with anger and you can see the vein on his jaw thick, his metal fist is closed so tightly that if it were flesh the nails would have pierced the skin.

“They captured most of them. They wanted to use us for their own gains. Once our alpha refused to let them use us, they came back with guns and took them by force. They killed him right in front of me… They killed my father because he refused to stop protecting his pack.” you could feel the tears in your eyes spilling down your cheeks, shaky sobs being swallowed down so you wouldn’t be rendered to a blubbering mess in front of the two guys.

—

They let her stay up in their apartment, away from Tony and the experiments he had wanted to do to her wolf self. Bucky keeps his distance, he had felt like she had betrayed him, by hiding who she was, but at the same time, he understood why. She was on the run from hydra, for what she knew they could have tracked her to the cabin and took her.

They weren’t so surprised with what she was, Inhumans had been on shields radar for a long time, so having an entire population be able to turn into wolfs wasn’t such a big deal. The fact that hydra had hunted them and captured them, now that was alarming. Bucky had been silently devising an attack plan to try and find where they had been taken to after they were captured to go with a team to recover them. He knew what suffering at the hands of hydra felt like, and he didn’t want them to have to experience more of that if he could avoid it.

Steve had been talking to her all day, asking questions about her life on the run, and her wolf form, and the fact that she’s been living away neer that cabin for weeks now, with the only human contact she’s had, had been the poacher trying to kill her.

He’s startled from his thinking when he feels her hand on his shoulder, silently questioning if she could sit with him on the small sofa. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to keep apologizing.”

“No, no I do need. You two helped me without thinking twice, and I just used you both to keep me safe from the poacher. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I was scared he would just have followed me and would kill me during the night. So I went to try and sleep on the floor of the cabin’s bedroom.”

“Really? I distinctly remember you hopping on the bed and trying to steal the blankets.” he jokes prompting her to shove him lightly with her shoulder.

“It was freezing in there, and you two are human heaters. So yeah, I also took advantage of that. Besides I didn’t hear you complaining, if anything I was almost going to die if you squeezed me any tighter while you were asleep, I might be fluffy, but I’m not a teddy bear you know?” this makes Steve laugh loudly, holding his shaking sides to try and not fall from his perch on the barstool.

“He doesn’t want to admit it, but he really likes to cuddle while asleep!” he wheezes out between fleeting breaths. You look at Bucky in time to see his red cheeks before he turns his face away from the two of you, grumbling something under his breath.

“Well guys, it’s getting late, I’ll take the couch, and then tomorrow you can let Tony know that his test subject has run away, and then I can just sneak out of the tower and I won’t bother you ever again.

“NO!” Bucky says a bit to fast startling both you and Steve. “I mean, you don’t need to leave. If you stay we can help you find your family.”

“Buck’s right. We’ve been hunting down Hydra bases for a while now, and if we do find where your family has been taken we can save them.”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t do that. Don’t give me hope with something you don’t know you can do. We don’t know if they can be save let alone if they are even still alive.”

“Hey…” Steve sais, getting up from the stool and coming to where you had stood up and started pacing, running his hand in your back comfortingly. “Yes, we don’t know that. But if there’s the smallest chance that we can find them, I think we should take it.” his baby blue eyes held a strength you had long thought lost, but they were enough to ground you and give you some hope.

Part 3

Tags:  @hidden-treasures21 @jelly-fishy-babie @thedarkplume @fallenoutofrose @animegirlgeeky @salveangeli @lokilokilokilokilokiloki

[wkemeup]

Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life, Too)

summary: Bucky waits at the end of the aisle for the love of his life (heavily inspired by that scene in Crazy Rich Asians) pairing: bucky x reader warnings: a ridiculous amount of fluff  a/n: This was written for @mermaidxatxheart​​‘s 500 follower challenge! I had the song prompt of Falling in Love with You by Elvis Presley, though I was really drawing off the cover by Kina Grannis in the link in the summary. Congrats on 500(+) Jamie!! 🌸

Bucky’s hands were stuffed into his pockets, pulling at the seams of expensive threads as if the unraveling string could release a piece of tension in his chest, let him breathe a little easier, let his head feel a little less numb. Leather wingtips of his shoes were tight around his toes, the tie draped around his neck a little too snug, sweat beading at his temples. His breaths were heavy in his chest, thick like anvils on his lungs as he swayed from one foot to the other.

It smelled faintly of lavender and incense as he managed to take in a shallow breath; memories of Sunday mornings with his Ma and sister traveling into the city adorned in baggy suits and frilly dresses, a pout on his face through his teenage years. Stained glass windows to his left, marble statues to his right; colorful light filtered through the room and touched against the faces of stone, sun kissed, heaven sent.

His hands gripped to fists in his pockets and Bucky gazed out to the rows of old, wooden pews. It was filling up quickly with women dressed in beautiful gowns and men in black ties, talking quietly amongst themselves, stealing looks to the back of the room and then up to Bucky. Nervous excitement, joyful smiles he wasn’t used to be on the receiving end of.

“You alright there, man?” Steve asked to his left, nudging his shoulder teasingly. Bucky nodded quickly, maybe a little too quickly, because Steve started to chuckle under his breath. “There’s still time to run for it if you want? I can get the car started.”

“Not a chance,” Bucky replied without hesitation, his voice rough and raw like stone, unused all morning. He nodded to himself, pulling in a deep breath as he stared down at the double doors at the end of the aisle. “I’m marrying the love of my life today.”

“Yes, you are,” Steve nodded, smiling to himself as Bucky kept his gaze focused on the wooden doors. He patted Bucky gently on the shoulder. “Take in all in, buddy. You deserve it. After everything you’ve been through, to come out of all of it and find this? Love and happiness and all those things you never thought you’d see again? Who would’ve thought, huh?”

Certainly not Bucky.

But Steve nudged Bucky’s side because he believed from the very start, from the moment he’d introduced the two of you the day you moved into the tower nearly a year prior and he saw the slight part of Buckt’s lips, the rendered shock on his face as he stood frozen, staring at you as you extended your hand to him. Something had changed in him that day, like a spark igniting a flame, a drop to a desert, the cry in a first breath. 

Your hand slipped into his, a shy smile on your face as you met his eye, and Bucky didn’t know what to say. His voice was sandpaper in his throat and Steve was the one who told you his name, though Bucky was almost certain you already knew. Your eyes only flashed to the reflective panels of his left arm once upon walking up to him and even then, it had been in admiration, never fear, never disgust.

Your name was honey on his tongue and he repeated it a few times after you left, as he held his hand close to his chest where you’d touched him, like velvet and silk, and he wondered how something so tender and kind could stand to touch the flesh of a monster.

You turned over your shoulder as Steve guided you around the floor, introducing you to the team, and your eyes kept returning to Bucky from the distance, even as you met Sam and Wanda, then Tony and Natasha.

He’d met your eye from across the room and for the first time in years, he felt the corner of his lips push to his cheeks; aching in their disuse, a little worn for wear, but it made you smile even wider, crinkling up by your eyes, chewing on the edge of your lip. It warmed like the heat of a gentle fire to his chest, a relief sweeping through the tension he carried. It was your smile that started to pull him from the darkest parts of himself.

He wasn’t quite sure how it happened, how you managed to start peeling away at the wall he kept built carefully around himself, fortified under brick and stone and standing so tall he no longer could see sunlight around him.

Brick by brick, they started to disappear with the smell of coffee filtering through the kitchen as the sun rose and he’d stumble out of his room after a night of restless sleep to find you waiting at the table with two cups of freshly brewed coffee, tapping your fingers against the wood anxiously, a bounce of your knee underneath. So sweetly nervous until the moment you saw him and everything in your body seemed to relax.

He lost a brick from the walls around him as he sat down beside you each morning, first under comfortable silence, until enough mornings passed and soon, the kitchen was filled with laughter before the sky had filtered to an even blue. 

The bricks disappeared every time you laughed, every time you smiled at him from across the room when you thought he wasn’t paying attention, every time a flush would touch your skin as he’d catch you staring and you’d look away bashfully, only to return home to ocean blue and he’d smile back for you.

They disappeared as your hip pressed up close to his on the couch and you fell asleep against his shoulder on movie nights, a bowl of popcorn slipping from your fingers. They crumbled with every soft snore, every time you curled against him, finding comfort in the cool embrace of his left arm as he brushed the hairs from your eyes.

Brick by brick, you managed to dig through the cement under brittle nails and calloused hands, tearing away another piece of the protective guard he’d mounted in his decades under Hydra until suddenly, steady streams of light started to peak their way into the darkness, until the touch of it warmed his skin, stung a little in his eyes, until the shadows no longer had a home around him.

The first time you’d kissed him had been an accident.

Something so innocent, so familiar as you pulled back from the warm hold of his embrace under fuzzy blankets and movie marathons, and touched the sides of his face. Lost in the way he was watching you, caught up in the dim lighting of the kitchen, the haze of sleepiness, you’d kissed him. 

Short and gone in an instant once you realized what you’d done and you raced off to your room with frantic apologies under your breath. He tried to go after you, tell you how badly he wanted you to kiss him again like that, but there wasn’t time. He had a mission in the morning and you’d boarded yourself up behind the walls of your room.

By the time he returned a week later, the line bordering between friendship and something more was all but shattered as he stumbled off the quinjet with a limp on his right side, a nasty scar over his forehead and an exhaustion dragging him under after four days of no contact, no reassurance, and complete radio silence. 

You had raced into his arms in tears and threw yourself to his embrace, holding onto him like he was your only lifeline. He had stumbled back a bit at the impact of it, surprised, and you didn’t give him a chance to question it before your lips were on his.  

The start of it all, the tailspin into the unknown.

It all happened so quickly after that. The nervous dates with pretty red dresses and disheveled ties, the hands intertwining as you walked together for hours through Brooklyn under starlit skies, the kisses outside your bedroom, the cozy embrace on the couches.

The ‘I love you’s. The falling between sheets, bare and desperate for one another. The question that scared him more than any mission ever could. The ‘yes’ that changed his life forever.  

He fell in love with you faster than he knew how to catch himself.

It was a freefall through the heart of an open abyss. It was stepping off the ledge knowing there was nothing securing you to the surface. It was a leap of faith, an instinct of trust, a determination of love. When he fell for you, there was no fear, no panic. There was only absolute certainty.

He loved you. You loved him.

There was nothing else. No amount of time that could make his love for you more real, more acceptable to what others deemed appropriate for this level of commitment. He spent too much of his life not being able to make decisions for himself, too much of his life without the autonomy to say ‘no’ or ‘yes’, his freewill stripped from him like a piece of his soul.

So, this was his choice, every day. Every morning, every night, every hour. He chose you.

“Anyone check on Y/n yet?” Sam quipped up from beside Steve, tugging at the neck of his tie.  “We sure she didn’t make a run for it?”

“Sam,” Steve warned, but Bucky started to laugh, feeling the tension slip away.

“I’m just saying,” Sam shrugged with that teasing grin of his, “I’m pretty sure we were all shocked she agreed to a lifetime with this nutjob. I wouldn’t blame the girl for jumping ship.”

“She’s coming,” Bucky replied evenly, a soft smile on his face as he kept his eyes on the back doors. “She’ll be here.”

There was no doubt, not a single trace of it running through his bloodstream. The tension faded from his shoulders and he realized with a quick look in Sam’s direction, that he’d done it on purpose, reminded Bucky exactly why he was standing where he was to begin with, reminded him of the unbreakable trust he had in you.

A moment of peace, of ease, and then—

The soft strumming of a guitar began to filter through the church, high up into the arches as a hush fell over the crowd. Bucky’s stomach fell, like at the highest peak of a free fall, and he straightened his back, tried to fix his already perfectly straightened tie, hands shaking just a little. The guests all turned to the doors as wooden archways slowly parted and Bucky exhaled a shaky breath.

“You’ve got this,” Steve whispered beside him. “Best day of your life, right?”

Bucky nodded, turning to find Steve smiling at him, Sam giving him a short thumbs up with that cheeky grin of his. His brothers, his family. He exhaled again, this time more even, like a weight of release on his chest, and turned to the parted doors.

A gentle voice carried over the hushed whispers of the crowd, light and breathy, heavenly, as Peter took his first step into the church.

Wise men say only fools rush in But I can't help falling in love with you

Awkward smile as he tried to make eye contact with every phone in the crowd, a slight flush of pink in his cheeks as he walked a little too quickly down the aisle. He wore a tie that matched the color of the flowers pinned to Bucky’s suit jacket and he paused for a moment by Tony and Pepper’s aisle as she begged him for a picture.

Shall I stay? Would it be a sin? If I can't help falling in love with you

Wanda stepped out into the open doors. Long, flowing brunette hair over her shoulders, braided in a crown from her face, she carried light pink roses and white dahlias in her hands. Dressed in a beautiful shade that reminded Bucky of cherry blossoms, she gave a soft glance to the crowd before she took her place beside Peter leading up to the alter.

Like a river flows surely to the sea Darling, so it goes some things are meant to be

Then, Natasha. Lethal and cunning, dressed in soft pinks and a subtle smile on plump lips, an enigma within herself. She looked up to the woman sitting on the edge of a stool at the corner of the room, the one singing the beautiful song that had Bucky’s heart stammering so fast in his chest, he wasn’t quite sure how he was still on his feet.

She began to make her way down the aisle, a subtle glance to Steve from the corner of her eye before she found her place beside Wanda, leaving him to cough back a blush rising on his cheeks.

Then, a silence came over the crowd, the music lingering up into the highest peaks of the church as Bucky held his breath. A soft echo of the guitar nestling into his chest and falling into a pristine silence, Bucky watched as the crowd stood from their pews, turning to the back door, his heart pounding like thunder, loud enough that even the furthest row could hear it.

You stepped out into the opening and everything just... stopped. Time dissolving around him, the gasps of the crowd numb to his ears, and you paused under elaborate archways, framing you like a portrait to be admired amongst masterpieces. Dressed in a gown that touched your skin, floated along your curves, your body, the way his hands had; with a carefulness, a tenderness, unlike he’d ever seen.

Then, you smiled at him; something soft, subtle, filled with every rush of emotion swimming in his own chest. Stunning. Magical. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life.

A calmness swept over him, the nervous stuttering of his heart falling back into a gentle rhythm, his breaths even and full in his lungs. This was where he was meant to be.

You took your first step into the aisle.

So take my hand

Tears welled in Bucky’s eyes, blurry as he tried to take in as much of this moment as he could. You chewed on the edge of rouge stained lips, disregarding the room full of people, of family and friends, as you kept your focus on Bucky in every step. He was the one you always ran to, his arms you sought out in a crowded room, his watchful smile to calm your nerves, and he was waiting for you. He was always there waiting for you.

Take my whole life, too

In every step, he saw the days he spent curled up on the couch beside you, the nights pressed against you under sweat damped sheets from the demons in his sleep. He saw the dates at the sub shop in Queens and the coffee joint in Brooklyn. He saw the trust he put in you, the instant devotion, the internal instinct to give every piece of himself to you. He saw the free fall.

He saw the bricks you dismantled from the walls around his heart, the way you so carefully nurtured the most vulnerable pieces of him to something stronger, something protected and adored until he believed it himself.

For I can't help falling in love with you

You were within reach now and he extended a hand to you. Your fingers slipped into his palm, warm and soft and everything that every grounded him to this earth by a tether, and he guided you up the stairs to the alter beside him.

He let out a heavy breath, smiling through the tears in his eyes as he chuckled quietly, still unable to process how quickly you’d fallen into his life, how easily you turned him upside down and brought forth the pieces of himself he’d lost over the years.

Your hand touched the side of his face, gently wiping away his tears with a smile that must have ached from how constant it was, how all-encompassing and infectious, full of unbridled joy and love. This was where he was supposed to be, where everything in his life led to – this moment – where you mouthed ‘I love you’ because you couldn’t stand to hold it back another second.

He kissed the palm of your hand, an intimate gesture shared between you witnessed by friends and family in the crowd, and he whispered, “I love you, too.”

His home. His sweet girl who reminded him who he was under years of fortified walls caging him from sunlight. His whole heart.

A new start. A new life.

For I can't help falling in love with you

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[timelordthirteen]

Desperate Souls 4/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit

Summary: A broke and heartbroken Belle French comes to an agreement with Mr. Gold to do a little modeling, just for him, in exchange for the money she desperately needs, but it isn’t long before they both realize they’ve made a deal they didn’t understand. Based on this prompt.

Chapter Summary: The second meeting goes unexpectedly, once again, as Gold reveals more than he intends.

Notes: Thank you so much for all the comments on this fic. I honestly thought it wouldn't be that well received as this Gold is sort of hard to like in places. I'm really enjoying writing this darker version of him, even if it's hard at times to get into his headspace. Enjoy the first of many Skin Deep references, and a slight tick up towards the ultimate rating of this fic. ;) This is the nightie Belle is wearing. Also omg this is unbeta'd and a hot mess, sorry.

[AO3]

If Belle thought that seeing Mr. Gold in the week leading up to her first evening at his house was awkward, then the week after it was excruciating.

All she could think every time she so much as saw him walking by on the street was he’s seen me in my underwear! It made for several days of fierce blushes and unfinished lunches. Her mind kept replaying the moment when she’d turned around to face him again, and he’d let the softest, quietest lovely slip out. She still hadn’t figured out if he’d even meant to say it out loud. It was hard to believe that seeing her in a glorified nightgown had rendered Gold that speechless, especially given how well known he was for having a sharp tongue. She’d witnessed him giving Keith Nottingham a dressing down last summer, right outside the mechanics shop where Keith worked. Even though Keith was well over six feet tall and clearly worked out, Gold made him seem tiny, almost insignificant.

She grinned at the memory.

Keith was a jerk in every sense of the word, and Gold verbally tearing him a new asshole was the least that he deserved. But that was the kind of presence Gold had in the town; the mayor, the sheriff, the district attorney, they all acquiesced to him. Rumors said he had dirt on everyone, that nothing happened within thirty miles of the town line that he didn’t know about. She wondered sometimes whether that was part of why he’d made this deal with her, so that he would know something about her as well, so that he could have that control.

The thought was not comforting, but it was confusing. In theory, she had as much on Gold as he did on her in this situation. In fact, her position would seem far more sympathetic, if embarrassing, and if anyone did find out - god fucking forbid - she highly doubted they would take Gold’s side. It wasn’t the same as whatever he knew about Albert Spencer or Regina Mills, that made them go white as a ghost whenever Gold hinted at it under his breath.

So what the hell was his motivation?

Belle sighed, and regarded herself in the mirror. She’d left the library right on time, and decided that tonight she wouldn’t shower before going to Gold’s. It was a waste of time if every Thursday evening she was going to come home feeling the need to do it again. Instead she sat down to touch up her makeup and hair out of some odd desire to look as nice as possible. It was another one of the things that confused her. She should have said the hell with it, and not cared if her hair needed a good brushing, or if her lipstick had worn off. Yet she did. She cared how she looked, and for as much as Gold was paying her, she figured he might care too.

Last night she’d even put polish on her toenails, a light, shimmery pink, and gave herself a mini pedicure. If she was going to be barefoot again, then that was part of the package too. She’d look as pretty as she could, head to toe - literally, and that way if Gold let anything else slip out, then perhaps he might have reason to mean it.

Belle arrived at Mr. Gold’s house perfectly on time.

Her knock sounded at exactly one minute till seven, she’d checked her phone as she came up the front sidewalk to make sure, and the door opened right as the grandfather clock in the living room chimed the top of the hour.

“Miss French.” Gold’s mouth curved as he gave her a brief, appraising look before stepping back to allow her inside. “Right on time tonight.”

The first thing that she noticed was the bold, pink dress shirt beneath his pinstripe suit. She had noticed a while ago that he preferred a splash of color in his wardrobe, which was usually done through a striking tie or pocket square, but everyone once in a while there was something unexpected; last week it had been his checkered shirt, this week it was a brilliant pink. There was an eccentricity to his style that she appreciated. He appeared very reserved in his manner and dress, yet these little touches reflected something else entirely, something that kept people guessing.

Once again she caught a hint of something from the kitchen, tomatoes and garlic and something spicy. Spaghetti sauce, she assumed, and she made a happy noise, inhaling the mouthwatering scent as Gold once again took her coat and hung it up.

“Well, now I’m even hungrier,” she said. “Does it always smell delicious in here?”

He frowned. “You haven’t eaten?”

Bell shrugged. “Didn’t want to eat and then try on clothes, you know?”

He let out a gumbling hum and motioned for her to go ahead of him. “I assume you know where things are?”

She nodded and stopped by the door to the powder room. “Yup.”

“I need to finish cleaning up,” he said, moving past her and into the short hallway to the kitchen. “Will be just a moment.”

As soon as he turned his back, she opened the bathroom door and stepped inside. Her stomach was a mess, unable to decide between hunger pangs and the same vaguely nauseous feeling as last week. She set her purse in the same place on the set of shelves set beside the sink, and slipped off her shoes. She was more than halfway undressed, trousers off and blouse completely unbuttoned, before she thought to look at what Gold had put out for her, and stopped.

The nightie hung on the same padded hanger on the back of the door, looking delicate and pretty and oddly foreboding. It was a light, rosy pink and made of a stretchy cotton blend that was more practical than it was sexy, as was the little robe that went with it, but what her eyes were fixed on was the plunging neckline covered in lace. She swallowed and turned away, letting her blouse fall over her shoulders to catch at her wrists. The chemise from last week was the most unrevealing and basic thing she had, she’d known that, but knowing what else there was to be worn and seeing it hanging in front of her were two different things.

Reaching back, she unhooked her bra and then drew it down before hanging it over one of the posts framing the shelves along with her blouse. Turning back to the door, she took the nightie off the hanger and blanched when she saw the panties beneath it, dangling from one of those metal clips made to hold skirts or pants in place. Her eyes closed and she took a slow breath.

A beat later, she slipped the nightie over her head.

The skirt of it fell just to the tops of her thighs, barely covering her in the front and back, much shorter than what she’d worn last week which was as long as some of her dresses. This was undeniably sexual, meant to tease, and suddenly she was glad there was matching underwear to put on beneath it. She shoved her navy blue pair down and then took them off to lay folded on her trousers. The sensation was strange, so she quickly pulled on the matching panties, and then faced herself in the mirror.

The nightie clipped in the back like a bra, just under where the straps criss-crossed, and it took her a moment to adjust everything to where it needed to be. The cups were soft and lined, giving her breasts a little more coverage than the black silk did, for which she was grateful, although the deep dip in the front showed off just how much cleavage she didn’t have. The panties were the same soft cotton blend as the rest of it, with matching lace at the waist that stretched without digging into anything.

On the whole, now that she had it all on, it didn’t feel so bad. She had a sundress with the same sort of straps and clasp in the back, and aside from the length of the skirt it wasn’t that different. All in all it was actually comfortable enough to sleep in during the summer, she thought, which was sort of why she’d bought it in the first place. It made her wonder if Gold was going in some kind of order, working his way up to what he thought was the most risque and scandalous.

The robe was still on the hanger and she eyed it for a few seconds, trying to decide if she should put it on or not. It was part of what she’d purchased, and Gold had put it out with the nightie, but donning another layer meant she’d probably have to take it off. It was going to be a bit difficult to model the nightie if it was covered up with something else, but given how chilled she’d been last time, she thought she could get away with wearing it at least for a few minutes.

Sighing, she tied the sash of the robe at her waist and then eased open the door to peek into the hallway. Gold was still in the kitchen, if the clang of a pot being set in the sink was anything to go by, so she stepped out and hurried into the study. The doors were closed again, the fire roaring even bigger than last time, and she started to smile. It seemed he might have noticed that she was cold and made accommodations. It was strangely thoughtful, much as his invite to have dinner was, and she struggled to know what to make of all of it.

There was another noise from the kitchen, so she closed the doors quietly, and gave the room a more thorough going over. She’d been so nervous last time that all she’d noticed was the general layout of the room. Assuming she had a few minutes until Gold joined her, she took a leisurely stroll around the space, her eyes scanning all the shelves and walls filled with pieces from Gold’s various collections.

The china cabinet opposite Gold’s chair was lit up this time with two small lights mounted above the top shelf. Belle came to stand in front of it, attracted by the light glinting unusually off of something inside. Her eyes went wide when she saw each shelf was full. Two vases sat on the bottom with an ornate oil lamp between them, dishes painted with landscape scenes, a silver tray beside an array of delicate crystal figurines, and on the top shelf, just at her eye level was the strangest tea set she’d ever seen.

Thin white porcelain had been adorned with flowers, painted in such great detail and outlined in such a way that they looked three dimensional, as though they had been plucked out of a garden. They looked so delicate that the petals might fall free if they were touched, but each cup and saucer as well as the pot and the tray it sat on looked as if they had been broken into a hundred pieces and glued back together with liquid gold.

“Kintsugi.”

Gold’s voice startled Belle, and she backed away from the cabinet as if she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

“What?”

His lips curved as he took a leisurely step towards her. “Kintsugi,” he repeated. “That’s what they call it.”

She looked from him to the tea set and back again, until he was standing next to her. “Kint - kintsu-gi?”

He nodded. “It means golden repair in Japanese, the art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer and gold dust.”

Her eyes widened. “Gold dust? Like actual gold?” He gave another nod, and she shook her head, shifting her gaze back to the cabinet, following one of the lines of gold as it trailed from the rim of a cup down through a red rose and over to meet another line that encircled the handle. “Sounds expensive.”

“But beautiful,” added Gold.

Their eyes met in the mirrored back of the cabinet, and Belle held her breath until he looked away and went on to explain how he came to find the set. It had been packed in newspaper in a cardboard box, set inside a bigger box marked FREE at an estate sale in Vermont. Most of the pieces were already broken or chipped in some way, but there were a few books he was interested in at the very bottom so he bought the entire lot. Months later, he came across the box again in one of the upstairs bedrooms, and had the idea to try his hand at repairing it in this way.

“So, you made this?” she asked, unable to suppress the surprise and wonder in her voice.

“Aye,” he said. His voice was low and very close to her ear, and she gripped the knot of the robe tightly. “I fixed all the bits that were already broken, filled in missing pieces with things I had laying around, and smoothed all the jagged edges with extra lacquer.”

Belle shook her head slowly. She couldn’t imagine the patience and care it must have taken to create something so unique and beautiful, particularly when it was incomplete. It was - pleasing, wonderful even, and once again she was struck by the strange dichotomy that was Storybrooke’s Mr. Gold.

“Is it - I mean can you actually, um, use it? Once it’s like this?”

He nodded, smiling crookedly. “The lacquer is made from the sap of a very specific tree, and the gold is dusted over it while it’s still wet and sealed inside, and once it’s all done and hardened, it’s perfectly safe to drink from. I’ve personally used that cup there.”

He pointed to the very cup Belle had been admiring, the one with the fine line splitting the red rose in two, and she smiled. “You made so much beauty out of something so broken.”

“Even chipped cups have some use, don’t they?”

His question surprised her, and she looked over to find him watching her, his expression as unreadable as ever. “I think,” she said, “that in this case the best teacup is chipped.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and abruptly, he turned and crossed the room to the same chair he’d taken before. Belle blew out a slow breath, her mind spinning and struggling to wrap itself around the sudden shift from their conversation to the purpose of her being here. It was as if her reply had struck a nerve, but she wasn’t sure how.

She heard the creak of the leather as he sat, and after a long moment, she turned away from the china cabinet and its precious contents, and walked to the end of the ottoman. She licked her lips as her hands went to the knot of her robe, and lifted her eyes to his. The end of the sash pulled free easily, the pressure on her waist releasing as the two sides of the robe slid open. She swore she heard his breath hitch, the slight little hiccup and inhale of air, but he otherwise remained completely still as she shrugged her shoulders, sending the robe shimmying down her arms.

It landed on the ottoman behind her with a muted wisp, and she took another step forward. The edge of the nightie brushed her thighs, reminding her of how short it was, and she felt a heat that wasn’t from the fire creep up her neck. She bit her lip as her hands came up to her stomach and then dropped to her sides, unsure of what to do with them.

Gold meanwhile was just staring dazedly at her. His head lolled slightly to one side and then straightened, as one might when observing the way the light illuminated a work of fine art. The thought was absurd, and she took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling against the lace.

“Mr. Gold?” she asked softly. “Would you - would you like a drink?”

The question brought him out of the odd trance he’d been in, and he shifted in his seat before meeting her eyes. “Yes, a scotch please, Miss French.”

She turned and made her way around the end of the ottoman, crossing between it and the fireplace, feeling his eyes on her all the way to the bar. She was so grateful to be out of the heat for a minute that even the cold floor felt nice on her feet. For some reason the room was much warmer tonight than it had been last night, and she thought maybe she should say something about finding a happy medium.

Drink in hand, she walked back to stand closer to his chair, and held it out for him. He lifted his hand from where it was resting to take the glass by the bottom, keeping a sliver of a distance between where her fingers were around the rim and his. In doing so, he caught the hem of the nightie, and when he pulled the glass away and raised it to his lips, the hem went with it. It lifted slightly, just enough to feel a light flutter of air against her legs when it settled back into place. She stepped back immediately, conscious of the fact that it may have been enough for him to glimpse the matching panties underneath.

A shiver washed over her despite the flushing of her face, and she crossed her arms over her middle, her upper arms pushing her breasts together. Gold’s eyes dipped down, his tongue flicking out over his bottom lip, just before he touched the glass to his mouth. She caught herself pressing her thighs together unconsciously as he sipped and swallowed, and took another step back until a blast of warmth from the fire made her stop.

“Thank you,” Gold said simply.

His expression was blank, as if nothing had occurred between them at all, and she knew that she was once again dismissed. Once again the abrupt change in his demeanor unsettled her, but she couldn’t give voice to any of the questions in her head. Instead, she gave him a short nod, and moved to leave, pausing to snatch up the robe before she all but ran from the study.

The bathroom was like an odd little oasis when Belle returned to it. She sighed at the cool air wrapping around her, calming her heated skin, and leaned back against the closed door, breathing slowly. The kintsugi, the conversation, the way he looked at her, she could make no sense of it. Whatever this was about for him, she couldn’t keep letting it affect her. She had to think of this weird arrangement as a job, nothing more. It was something she was doing for money - a lot of money, mind - but a paycheck all the same.

She blew out a breath and changed back into her clothes, deciding to leave the lingerie on the hanger again. If he wanted her to keep the items, then he could say so. She was tired of guessing his reasons and desires for any of this.

Gold was waiting for her when she opened the powder room door. He was standing with his cane, leaning a bit to the side as if he had to put most of his weight on it to keep himself upright, and holding a glass storage container with a plastic lid. She frowned at it as she lifted her purse strap onto her shoulder, and then looked up at him.

“For you,” he said, holding the container out for her to take.

Her eyes darted down to the offering as she reached for it hesitantly. “Okay...?”

“It’s lasagna. That’s - that’s what I made for dinner. I thought since you hadn’t eaten...” He shrugged.

“Oh.” Belle took the container from his hand and stared down at the lid. She could see a large square of something inside, with hints of red and creamy white. The scent of food still lingered in the air, and her stomach rumbled loudly.

Gold let out a soft, short laugh, and shook his head. “It’s still warm, sort of, but I recommend putting the container in the oven and letting it come up to 350. That should heat it through.” He folded his hands over the handle of his cane, and then added, “With the lid off, of course.”

“Of course,” she repeated. Confused as to why he was giving her food, but pleased she wouldn’t have to make anything when she got home, she lifted her eyes to him. “Um, thanks.”

“No matter.”

He followed her to the door, holding her coat for her once more, and then bid her good night.

The walk home was comfortably cool, but smelling of fresh lasagna the entire way.

By the time Belle reached the door of her apartment, she was starving and had determined that this time the vague feeling of nauseous indigestion was from lack of food rather than anything that had transpired with Gold. He had been a gentleman about nearly everything, except for whatever those accidental brushes had been, and he cooked like he should have his own restaurant. The small touches were clearly accidental, and the odd sensation that came over this evening was easily ignored. If he did it again, she might consider saying something or changing her tactic of fetching his drink, but for now it was certainly more tolerable than half of the dates she’d had.

Garrett would have had his hand up her skirt in minutes, which was a thought that made her entire body cringe now that their relationship has ended so spectacularly.

As strange as it might seem, she was more intrigued by Gold than disturbed or repulsed. The story of the tea set was charming, and the fact that the person who could remake some useless, broken bits into something so pretty was the same as the person who offered her a deal to parade around his study in lingerie, left her head spinning. She wanted to know how that was possible, and thought that perhaps over the next few weeks she might find out.

He seemed perfectly willing to talk to her, revealing small clues here and there, but once he realized he had, he tried to close up again. She supposed some of that was part of how he maintained his enigmatic personality within the town, yet there was also the possibility that no one had ever bothered to take an interest in him before. Maybe he had no idea how to deal with that, maybe he had some of the same anxieties about social situations as she did, though in her case it had somehow turned into a peculiar ability to make friends easily. In his case it kept people at arm's length, much the same as his prim, fitted suits and colorful shirts portrayed a baffling combination.

She put the container of lasagna, sans lid, in the oven as instructed, and left it to warm up while she took a shower. This evening she didn’t feel dirty or uncomfortable, it was just the end of a long day and she was more than ready for a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. The lasagna was, as expected, fantastic. The cheese wasn’t too thick or stringy, and the mozzarella had been mixed with something else that gave it a sharper, more aged flavor. In place of plain ground beef he’d used some kind of sausage that was just spicy enough to leave a lingering heat behind, but not too much that it burned, and the notes of fennel blended well the spice. He had been heavy on the fresh garlic and basil as well, which were probably her favorite parts. She was prone to using a bit too much of them herself, and she smiled as she shoved the last forkful in her mouth.

She contemplated asking him to add dinner to the deal, but that would make the whole arrangement feel like something it wasn’t. They weren’t dating, they weren’t friends; it was just a weird business transaction, needs and wants.

She needed money, and he was providing. Though what Gold wanted from any of it would likely remain a mystery.

Gold leaned back in his chair as he savored the last bit of his second glass of scotch.

Belle had been less nervous this time, perhaps because he’d spoken to her about the tea set. He hadn’t intended to do so, but the way she was looking at it was - indescribable, like the way she might look at a painting or sculpture by one of the old masters, with a kind of curious awe. What she’d said about the chipped cup was incidental, he knew it was not some kind of metaphor or anything, even if restoring the set had been far more personal for him than he’d let on. She seemed quite pleased with his story, and he wondered idly what she might say if he put it up for sale in his shop. Would she want to buy it? Would she use the money he’d paid her to have it?

If he closed his eyes, he knew he would be able to recall the moment perfectly, the soft flutter of the rosy fabric as it fell from her arms, exposing more beneath it. The brief brush of those fingers against her, the hint of the lacy panties hiding under the skirt, the same precious pink as the rest of it, made him shiver. He didn’t think she’d noticed, or if she had maybe she had assumed it was an accident. It was, partially, but instead of pulling away when he’d realized what he’d done, he’d continued, waiting to see if she would move first. She hadn’t; he didn’t know what that meant.

The nightie had a teasing, innocent look to it, but it bared more than it covered. He’d gotten an eyeful of her skin, so creamy and soft looking, supple if it were pressed, and flushed the prettiest pink in the warmth of the room. He wondered how else he might make her blush like that, and shifted in his seat, uncrossing his legs as his own skin prickled with heat. He raised his hand, touching the fingertips that had touched her so briefly to his lips as his other hand moved to his waist, adjusting the pressure of his trousers and belt.

She had looked so beautiful tonight. Truthfully, she always did, but there was something about having her here, in his sanctuary, that made so much keener. A tingling throb twitched between his legs, and he gave in and pressed his palm to the front of his trousers, running the heel of it up and down his rapidly hardening cock. He couldn’t touch her again like that, couldn’t cross that line, no matter how much the image of her bare thighs tormented him.

Sighing, he forced his hand back to the arm of the chair and breathed slowly until his body calmed. As much as he wanted to take himself in hand and call to mind one of any number of fantasies, that was another line he couldn’t let himself cross. He was the monster they all said he was, in every way but that.

After a few minutes, Gold pushed to his feet, ignoring the lingering flush that crept up his neck and the ache low in his belly as he headed upstairs for another chilling shower.

( This is kintsugi. It's one of my favorite things and someday I too will have a tea set like in this fic. )