#I LITERALLY JUST FINISHED WATCHING THIS ONE

[emphistic]

Boyfriend!Sukuna's up to no good, you can just feel it. After being with Sukuna for years since high school, it's safe to say your very reliable, very credible "Boyfriend is Being Bad" senses are tingling. And they're tingling worse than ever.

It's utterly ridiculous. You've been sitting on the couch for hours, and have already completely finished a season of your favorite show. Yuuji's whining about having his brother tuck him into bed, and you have run out of coffee. It's past evening, and Sukuna is literally nowhere to be found.

"When's Brother coming home?" mumbled Yuuji for the umpteenth time. He was curled up on your lap, pressing his chubby cheeks to your sweater, and yawning like he worked a 9-5 and paid the bills.

"In a little bit, Yuu, just be patient and wait, 'mkay?"

"Hmph!" The boy crossed his arms over his chest and gave quite the intimidating pout. "I be patient! And still no 'Kuna! Does he not love us anymore—?"

There was the screeching of tires pulling up to the house, the sound of someone running full speed to the door, and keys jingling with desperation, all before the door was opened, slammed closed, and lo and behold: Sukuna—in all his glory. (He looked like shit.)

"What the hell—" You cleared your throat, cautious of what to say in front of someone as young as Yuuji. "Where have you been?"

Sukuna was panting, drenched in sweat, and his hair was a mess. "I'm . . . I was . . . I was getting a cat for Yuuji and you; y'know, because you two were nagging me about it all week after we watched the Lion King?"

Despite his brother's current disheveled state, Yuuji wasted no time in scurrying off your lap, running as fast as his little legs could carry him, and jumping onto his brother's leg and attaching himself there like a monkey or something. "Yay! Brother! Brother home!"

You eyed Sukuna warily, fully taking in his appearance. "So, where's the cat? And, last time I checked, you don't have to run ten miles in order to purchase one; you look like you just did a whole work out."

"If you count running from the police as a work out, then, yeah. . ."

"The police? Do they run a special kind of pet store or something?"

"Not exactly," Sukuna winced, as the sound of sirens blaring began. "So, just making sure, you love me, right?"

". . ."

"Ah, I may or may not have tried to pick up a tiger from the local zoo, and turns out, that is not very legal."

"You're . . . joking."

"The tiger, uh, jumped out of the window while I was on my way home. . . And I'm pretty sure the police are looking for it and me, but don't worry, I've been in run-ins with the law before. They've got nothing on me, babe—"

"You're trying to tell me that your concern is the police? WHEN THERE'S A TIGER ROAMING THE STREETS? OF OUR NEIGHBORHOOD?"

"Hey, there's a good part to this." Sukuna raised his hands in defense. "I made Christmas come early, y'know. You two have been begging for a pet."

"A PET! NOT A WILD CAT THAT YOU STOLE!"

[lucius-morningstar]

I said I'd share this again. For a different reason. Cause I got an amusing idea. -------

Lucius: She said it wasn't sexual. Just leave it alone. Angel: Uh huh but I know one way to make you second guess everything. Lucius: Oh yeah what? Angel: If this wasn't sexual, why was she in that outfit, she could have literally stayed in her outfit or wore shorts. Why is she in a gimp suit. Lucius: That doesn't-... Hold on. *walks out* Husk: You're going to cause an argument. Angel: Yeup.. Wanna go watch Husk: ..I got nothin better to do. * Vaggie: Alright Charlie just about done. Lucius: VAGGIE! Vaggie: *Jumps* Geez Lucius fuck I could have hurt her! Lucius: Fuck sorry, but I have a question. Vaggie: What now? Lucius: Why is- Charlie: Hey Luci. Lucius: Hey Charlie, so I need confirmation on something. Vaggie: For the last time this isn't sexual. Lucius: Uh yeah.. but I still have a question. Vaggie: *Sighs* What? Lucius: If this isn't sexual.. Why is she wearing the gimp suit with it. Vaggie: ... Lucius: Vaggie.. Why is she wearing that in the harness. If it's not sexual. Vaggie: .... Lucius: Charlie please have an understandable explanation behind this.. Charlie: .... Lucius: Why is she in the suit.. More importantly why does the suit fit her perfectly?! --- Angel: Holy fuck why didn't I think to add that. Husk: Shh.. ---- Vaggie: ... Lucius: Vaggie.. Answer me Vaggie.. VAG- Charlie: I custom ordered it okay!? Lucius: What?! Charlie: It was a surprise for Vaggie, Happy now! Lucius: NO! No I am not happy now, I am horrified! Charlie: This is why I tell you not to pry into my love life. You only have yourself to blame! Lucius: .... Charlie: Lucius? Vaggie: I think you broke him babe. Charlie: Lucius you okay? Lucius: No-...NO I am not okay. Y-You finish her hooves I-I gotta lie down and kill some spiders. One in particular. *He quickly turns and leaves.* Vaggie: Well that was embarrassing. Charlie: Sorry- Vaggie: No I'm sorry he had to find out at all, but I had nothing to combat with that. Charlie: Yeah.. He'll be fine. He'll take his aggression out on something else. Or Someone else. Vaggie: Wonder who the poor soul will be. ---- Lucius: Angel Dust you get your ass back here now! Husk: Better ru- Angel: Already gone!

So, a server I'm on kind of went off the rails when someone asked how Charlie gets her hooves trimmed.... I was inspired. *cough*

Thank you @texanredrose for Charlie's delightful outfit suggestion, and @kambiteydragon for the grade A brainworms, and also to everyone else on the server who participated in this hilarity.

[delulupunk]

How the batboys react to you only speaking in meme references:

Dick Grayson

This is the Robin who used to unironically use turns of phrase while busting crime lords with Batman, so of course he’s going to match your energy. If you say “What the fuck Richard?” He’s just going to reply something even sillier.

���They are my crocs.” He does this in the most deadpan tone and these two memes aren’t even related to one another.

He loves it though and finds the funny way you react to situations similar to his demeanour so you bounce of each other very well. It leads to the pair of you having meme wars- you try and outdo each other in how many memes you can reference.

“Bethany I made BiScUiTs!”

“Look at all those chickens!”

“So no head?”

The pair of you now have inside meme jokes that you say to each other, that earn you weird looks from everyone else when you say them to each other. Mainly because the combinations barely make any sense. However it brings you two closer and sometimes helps break the ice after an argument.

“It’s Wednesday my dudes…”

…

“AHHHHH!”

Jason Todd

Jason isn’t much of a social media person anymore. He tells everyone he finds it jarring and that it’s like peer pressure on steroids. He only uses Pinterest for book recommendations. So you can only reference memes that went viral before his death, at the beginning of your relationship otherwise he just ignores you.

When he does recognise a meme he’ll either roll his eyes or give you an annoyed, yet affectionate smile. Over time though as he notices you making more relevant meme references with your friends, he finds himself getting jealous. Jason wants to experience that with you.

So he pushes aside all his reservations with social media and watches as many meme videos as he can. Eventually he tries incorporating them into your conversations, albeit sheepishly as he’s unsure of himself.

“Brother Eugh?” He’ll state in a reluctant tone and you’ll just laugh and say it right back.

Tim Drake

Tim is far too focused on being a detective to watch memes, instead the way he relaxes is by doing something that still stimulates his brain in a way, so he’s a fan of puzzles.

“You look like the polite cat sometimes.” You told this to him once absentmindedly and he looked at you like you’d grown two heads. He immediately researched it and saw some similarities. You continued the meme reference when you bought him a puzzle of the polite cat for his birthday. It was safe to say he wasn’t that impressed. However he finished it in record time.

Whenever you quote any memes though he gives you a factual answer, “Roadworks mean that construction workers are fixing the road.” In retaliation you begin sending him all the memes you reference and then one day he just starts saying them. At first you’re shocked and he doesn’t do it often, but he’ll have a smug smile on his face every time.

Damian Wayne

Due to Damian’s harsh upbringing from the league of assassins he isn’t well versed in meme culture.

“What is aura? How have I lost -10,000? What was my starting amount?” He takes your meme references too literally, but when you offer to show him some and explain them he accepts. He’ll scoff and tell you he was only doing it to humour you, but in reality he wanted to regain some of his childhood and he felt this would be a good way to do it.

This bitch empty… yeet!

“She could have hit an innocent bystander with that.”

“I think she did Damian.” You play the video back a million times just to see whether or not she had.

He doesn’t ever reference memes back to you or say them in the first instance. Despite this he learns when you’re most likely to quote them and which one it would be. If you choose not to he’ll raise an eyebrow and ask you why you hadn’t. He wants to make sure you haven’t stopped because of him, he likes it he’s just not sure how exactly to show it.

When you do quote memes to him, he’ll have the ghost of a smile on his face. You’ll only see it if you look closely.

[strnilolover]

NNN - matt sturniolo - period help

You and Matt were laying in his bed together, limbs tangled with one another as your eyes were focused on the movie you were watching. Here and there, matt would make some remark, causing you to rebutted against it — and occasionally your laughs mingling with one another as you joked about the movie.

“No — no, she definitely has feelings for that kid. I mean she literally acts so dumb in front of him and not around anyone else.” you argued, propping yourself up onto one arm as you spoke to matt.

He shrugged, “i don’t know — i don’t see how, i mean she acts dumb around other people too. how can you rule this out to her liking him?” he asked, his hand coming up to poke at your temple. You just rolled your eyes, “I have a feeling.” you retorted back.

He hummed, taking his eyes away from you to train back onto his tv, your own doing the same as you settled back into his side. After a while, you felt the urge to pee — having drank all that water and sodas not long ago.

So you carefully shifted, trying to shimmy your way out of matt’s grasp. But, when you shifted to slide off the bed, you felt the unmistakable feeling of warmth between your legs — and your body froze. Your eyes went wide, looking down to where your body sat on matt’s bed, seeing the stain of red under you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the embarrassment seep into you. ‘Fuck — fuck’

You shifted uncomfortably, hoping that matt wouldn’t notice how ridge your body went. But to no surprise — matt always being attentive of you — you heard his voice behind you, soft and concerned.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” he asked, his hand coming out to rest against your shoulder, rubbing small circles. You swallowed, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

You nodded slowly, opening and closing your mouth a few times before looking over your shoulder at him. “I just — uh —“ you stammered, your gaze falling to your lap and the bed again. Matt furrowed his brows, moving on the bed to sit beside you. His gaze now looking down to where yours was at, and his face softened.

“Oh baby,” he whispered, his hand now resting on your lower back. “Are you okay?” he asked, tilting his head to look at yours better. You looked at him, face red with embarrassment. “mhm…you — you aren’t grossed out?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. You wanted the world to open and swallow you whole.

He shook his head, his body now moving to stand as he moved in front of you — holding his hand out. “It’s a natural part of you, why would i be grossed out by something you can’t control?” he said, and you head tilted back to look at him before putting your hand into his.

He helped pull you up, the gross feeling still clinging to your skin. “Do you need me to run you a shower baby?” he asked, and you nodded. “yes please.”

He hummed, letting your hand go and walking over to his dresser. He pulled out a hoodie of his and a pair of sweatpants, also grabbing a pair of your underwear you seem to have left here. He walked past you, going out the bedroom door and into his bathroom to start the shower for you — making sure it was hot enough.

When he was done, he came back into the room, you body still planted where he left you. Holding out his hand again for you to take, he tugged you toward the bathroom. “Do you need anything else while you’re in the shower? snacks, heating pack?” he asked softly, letting you step into the bathroom as he began to turn away.

“Uh…some of those rice cakes with peanut butter and a heating pack please.” you muttered, and he smiled, walking away toward the kitchen as you closed the bathroom door.

When you were finished with your shower, getting dressed into the clothes matt picked out for you and using a pad (or tampon) from the pack you kept here just in case — you wandered out of the bathroom.

You set the towels in the washing machine before pivoting and walking into matt’s room. The sheets on the bed were already changed and the things you requested were already there waiting for you. You smiled softly, walking over to the bed. You didn’t hear matt’s footsteps behind you, his arms wrapping around you.

You jumped slightly, a giggle then following. “There’s my pretty girl.” he mumbled into your neck, pressing a few light kisses there. You couldn’t help but smile more, letting your head tip back to rest on his shoulder. Matt pressed one last pec to your neck before pulling away, “I got everything you requested and-“ he paused, bringing something around in front of you. “- i figured you might want this guy.” he held mr.wrinkleton up in front of you, swaying him back and fourth.

A big grin spread across your face as your hands reached to grab the stuffed pug, wiggling out of matt’s grip to turn around. “You’re the best, did you know that?” you said, pressing a light kiss to his jaw. He chuckled, his hand coming up to rub the small of your back once more. “I mean, i’d do anything to make you comfortable — i hope you know that.” he admitted, and you nodded in understanding.

“So — want to get back into bed now?” he asked, already detaching himself and going to his bed. You gave him a look that already spoke for itself, walking over to the bed and climbing in under the covers.

Once you were situated, you turned your head to matt, holding his stuffed pug close to your chest. “I do want one more thing though.” you said, and matt’s eye brow raised slightly. “Yeah? what’s that?”

You smiled, scooting closer to him and swinging a leg over his slowly. “Lots and lots of cuddles.”

© strnilolover

[cosmicalily]

"to be loved is to be remembered" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist, and outline here

procedural memory | kim seungmin x fem!reader

procedural memory: a type of implicit memory that is categorised as the unconscious guide to the processes and tasks performed on a daily basis.

author's note: this might be one of my favourite seungmin fics i've ever written. and maybe i'm biased because he is my bias and i love strawberry matcha, but i think sometimes it's okay to be self indulgent. enjoy!

There were many things that Seungmin would do without realising, as if he was on autopilot. Actions that were ingrained into his daily routine, little activities that made up his day without his awareness. The way he made his bed, the double knot he always tied on his shoelaces, the route he took to the coffee shop where he worked. He loved his routine; he loved simplicity and consistency.

At work, he thought even less about his actions. He was a quick learner, and had mastered the art of perfect coffee early on. He heard the words ‘latte’ or ‘flat white’ and somehow the completed drink would appear in front of him thirty seconds later.

“Do you do iced strawberry matchas?” a voice asked, snapping Seungmin out of his coffee-scented daze. He looked at the shot he’d started running for a flat white and then at you, cheeks pink from the cold and eyes sparkling. A soft blue scarf was wrapped around your neck, covering your chin, and you wore a cosy navy cable knit sweater, just a little too big at the sleeves.

Seungmin thought intently. “We don’t,” he said truthfully, drumming his fingers on the benchtop. “But give me a second. I’ll try and make something for you.”

You beamed in excitement. “Thank you!”

“It’s no problem,” Seungmin gave a half smile back, digging around for the matcha powder. “Although, I have to say, who orders an iced drink in the middle of winter?”

Your cheeks flushed a little pinker and you rolled your eyes. “Shut up, it’s business for you, isn’t it? And I’ll tip, obviously, because it’s a custom order. They just don’t taste as good warm. I tried it once, and it was awful.”

“Was it?” Seungmin paused, tipping the ice cubes from your cup back into the tray and placing it into the freezer. “I’m going to try and change your mind. Out of confidence as a good barista, but also out of concern for your health, because you’re literally going to freeze as soon as you step outside with ice in your system.”

“And if I don’t like it?”

“It’s on the house.”

“Deal,” you agreed, leaning against the counter and watching as he poured the frothed strawberry milk, creating a little bear design. He leaned to grab a lid, but you knocked his hand away. “It’ll cover the art you did,” you protested, and he shook his head in amusement.

You breathed in the soft, sweet scent and took a sip, thinking hard. Seungmin watched intently, his attention distracted from the three coffee orders he had lined up to complete next. You smiled, and his face softened. “Good?” he asked.

“It’s shit,” you deadpanned, then burst out laughing. “It’s amazing! How much do I owe you for it?”

“Nothing,” Seungmin replied, eyes shining.

You opened your mouth to protest, but he gave you a warning look. “Do you do this often, then?” you asked, taking another long sip of your drink.

“What do you mean?”

“Save girls with silly drink orders from hypothermia.”

“Sure, it’s my favourite pastime,” Seungmin replied seriously, though his eyes twinkled mischievously. “No, not ever before. You’re the first, Strawberry.”

Your smile widened at the nickname. “Even if you’re lying, I feel special. Thank you…” you paused.

“Seungmin,” he finished, handing over a latte to a man behind you.

“Thank you, Seungmin. I’ll be back, I promise!”

He nodded. “I know you will. See you around, Miss Matcha.”

You snorted and walked towards the door, spinning around and blowing him a quick kiss. He winked and you burst into a fit of laughter, and once you were properly out of sight, he let a full smile creep across his face.

By your third visit to the coffee shop, he didn’t even need a prompt to make your order. By the fifth, your drink would be sitting, ready for you, extra hot. Even though you no longer had a reason to wait, you always stayed to talk to him, and he was thankful you did.

Soon, Seungmin became unconsciously aware of your routine, of your timing, of your daily scarf rotation. Once winter ended, he caved and made you your first iced strawberry matcha, which you declared better than any other iced drink you’d ever consumed. He still refused to let you pay, but he was always accepting of your newfound habit of leaning across the counter and giving him a quick kiss before you left for the morning. Initially on the cheek, but by mid spring, on the lips. Your kisses tasted of your mauve lipstick, cinnamon, and of course, strawberry matcha.

After a year of dating, you moved into his apartment. Seungmin, a lover of routine and consistency, found himself mesmerised by your sporadic actions and in the moment decisions. It didn’t frustrate him, the way he worried it would. Your presence was a constant, something dependable that he centred his new, irregular routine around, filled with evening walks and beach day trips. He learnt your habits, and soon, your actions were as familiar to him as his own. He would still make his bed in the morning, and you'd help him, finishing the job off with the two jellycat puppies you'd bought for your six month anniversary. He would tie a double knot in his shoelaces, and wait for you to slip on your ballet flats. Whilst you always had your signature drink at his shop, he knew you loved chamomile before bed, and there was always a mug of it by your bedside after you'd gotten out of the shower.

And of course, you did the same for him, but in your own way. You'd lay on top of him, playing with his hair for hours, explaining every single thing you adored about him. You cooked him dinner, and you'd sit on the counter beside him as he did the dishes. It was routine. You were each other's routines.

He kept working at the coffee shop, but now as a manager, although he always insisted on making your drink himself, and you would visit him, sometimes bringing your laptop and glasses with you to set up in a corner and work, other times bringing whatever book you were currently engrossed in.

“Hi baby,” you smiled up at him, stretching your arms and dog-earing your page.

“You know I hate when you do that,” he groaned, sitting beside you on the bench. Nevertheless, he pressed a kiss against your cheek and you giggled.

“I know, but like, it shows the love I have for my books. The ones that have crumpled pages and tea stains and frayed edges are the ones I read the most.”

Seungmin shook his head. “I’m just teasing. I love you and your broken books.”

“They aren’t broken-” you protested, but he cupped your face in his hands and silenced you with a soft kiss.

“I love you,” he repeated, eyes glossed over.

“I love you too,” you gazed back at him. Your book fell off your lap, but you didn’t move to grab it. The strawberry matcha Seungmin had brought over was probably cooling, but you didn’t care. It was moments like this where everything felt like muscle memory, where nothing felt new or uncomfortable. He was familiar.

He grabbed your hand, entwining your fingers in his. You gently stroked his thumb, then whined when he let go of your hand to reach in his pocket. “What are you doing?” you asked, then you paused.

He’d slotted a ring on your finger.

“You can say no,” he said, looking you directly in the eye. "You can take it off. But it feels right for me. I saw it in the window the other day and I didn’t even think, I just bought it. Which is crazy, because you know I overthink and overplan everything.”

“I know, you’re a dork,” you smiled, but your eyes were glassy. “Why the fuck would I say no? Of course I’ll marry you.”

Seungmin breathed out and pulled you in a tight embrace. He felt warm, he smelled like coffee, and the skin of his neck was soft against your cheek. “I’m glad, because I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

“I’m only doing it for the strawberry matcha, of course,” you quipped, chuckling.

“I’m only doing it out of pity,” he added.

“Dickhead.”

“Asshole.”

You leaned against him, his arms around your waist. He kissed your cheek, your forehead, your shoulder, and you rubbed his back. A buzz went off in his back pocket, a reminder that his break was over.

“So,” he broke the hug, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your drink’s probably cold. So I guess, as a good barista, I probably have to make you a new one.”

“I’m gonna make out with you for hours tonight, Kim Seungmin,” you declared. “You’re my dream boy.” You blew him a kiss as he stood up, taking your drink with him, and he winked in return.

You watched his reflection on the steel coffee machine, and saw him smile.

[sandwitchstories]

Kiss It Fix It

Hello, Hello! Here is the next installment in my series of drabbles, headcannons and one shots about Dad!Sukuna!

Dad!Sukuna Series on my AO3 - Here! (Dad!Sukuna)

If you prefer to read on AO3 click here !

Author's Note: For anyone new to my Dad!Sukuna Series, Mouse is Sukuna's currently 2 year old daughter with reader.

Summary: While fleeing from naptime Mouse sustains an injury.

WC: 1000+

CW: Reader is referred to as Mama but not described, toddler dad Sukuna, girl dad!sukuna, true form Sukuna (4 arms), it's pretty much just plain Dilf Sukuna fluff and crack, it is SFW but 2 swear words are said (well technically one but it's said twice)

Sukuna was sitting atop his throne, staring out into the vacancy of the room he was in. Here he was the ultimate law. Here was where he made pathetic humans tremble and crawl. He made them beg, never being even the slightest bit benevolent. Nah. He was fully malevolent, just like his shrine.

He rested his head on his palm and closed his eyes. He let out a slow breath. He was glad these tedious meetings were over. These curses and sorcerers were all so pathetic. Their squabbling and scheming… Very few of them had strong enough convictions to actually stand and fight against opposition. 

It was all a waste of his time and utterly bored him. Sukuna was not a fan of being bored. Maybe it was time for a little… walk about. Go stretch his legs, find some fresh… meat. Uraume was saying the supply of human flesh was getting low. He did need it to survive and the hunt would help him blow off some steam, especially if he played with his food first. 

Just as he finished that thought the door to his throne room began to open slowly. He lifted his head and arched his eyebrow, wondering just who would have the audacity to enter his throne room without permission. 

“Papa?”

He should have figured. “What do you want, Mouse?”

She finished shoving the heavy door open enough she could squeeze in. He watched as she made her way across the room and up to his throne of bones. With expert ease she made her way up the stairs to stand at his feet.

“Papa, up. Please and thank you,” she said, stretching her arms up.

“You know you are not supposed to be in here,” he narrowed his eyes on her, unmoving.

“But I need Papa…” she pouted.

“Why do you need me? You have your mother. Hell, you have Uraume somewhere around here too,” he scoffed.

Mouse rested one hand on his knee and then lifted the other to show him a pretty deep cut on the palm of her tiny little hand. “Need Papa to kiss it, fix it.”

He used one hand to pick her up by the back of her clothing and set her on his lap, keeping that hand behind her to keep her stable. Another hand cupped the back of her head, thumb rubbing in a gentle pattern. He used a third hand to hold hers and take a look.

“How the hell did you do that?” he muttered, using his RCT to heal her hand. “There you go. It’s fixed.”

“No, it’s not,” she shook her head glancing at her palm and then at him expectantly.

“What the hell do you mean it’s not fixed?”

“Papa didn’t finish,” she said, moving the hand to hold it in front of his face as if she were presenting evidence. “Seeeeee.”

“Mouse, I see nothing. Literally nothing. It’s been healed.”

“But…”

“But what?”

“But… papa didn’t kiss it fix it…” she pouted up at him.

Kiss it fix it… He was so grateful you had taught your daughter that a kiss healed wounds and had somehow convinced him to play along. He let out a sigh and moved her hand to his mouth “Muah. There. Happy?”

“Yes. Please and thank you, Papa,” she said with a smile before moving to lean into him.

He gave in instantly, wrapping arms around her and holding her impossibly small frame in his arms. Careful like she was made of glass. “Now what do you want, Mouse?”

“Just Papa,” she said softly, a sleepy note to her voice. 

He smiled down at her gently, “Fine. You may stay.”

A short time later you came into the throne room full of concern, slightly frantic and looking for Mouse. You had found broken glass and were concerned about her well being while trying to locate her. All you had done was go to the bathroom and the little convict had once again made an escape and left destruction in her wake. But this time there had been blood.

You let out a sigh of relief when you saw her in his arms. You knew without a shadow of a doubt that if she had any injuries, Sukuna would have used RCT to heal them. When it came to Mouse, he talked tough but he was a damn good Papa.

Your heart swelled with love as you took in the scene. You couldn’t stop the small smile that spread across your face. You touched your fingertips to your mouth to stifle the happy chuckle you let slip. Sukuna was sound asleep on his big scary throne of bones with Mouse, in her little pink outfit with her little pink pigtails, equally sound asleep in his arms. 

You were about to turn back out of the room when Sukuna opened one of his eyes and focused it on you. Seeing it was you, he blinked awake. He carefully stood and descended his throne to come to you with Mouse still sound asleep, cradled in his arms. 

You were confused as he grabbed your hand and started walking. “Sukuna, where are we going?”

“Our room of course.”

“Why?” you asked.

“Because it is nap time, quite obviously.”

“You two looked comfortable where you were,” you commented. He napped in that thing all the damn time and it would not have been the first time Mouse joined him.

“We were,” he said, using one hand to push open your bedroom door, gesturing for you to enter first before closing the door softly behind him. 

“Then why relocate and risk waking her?” you asked as you stood next to him and watched him very carefully lay her down on the bed before he turned towards you. 

“For one very simple fact,” he said, pulling you close and tilting your head up to press several gentle kisses to your lips. “You don’t like sleeping on my throne.”

“I don't,” you agreed.

“Then isn’t it obvious?” he chuckled.

“Papa? Mama?” Mouse stirred from the bed, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

“We’re right here, little one,” you said with reassurance, crawling onto the over sized bed to reach your daughter’s side. 

You laid down on your side and pulled her closer to you. You were about to turn to speak to Sukuna when you felt him lay down behind you and wrap his arm around you both, his large hand resting on Mouse’s back on top of your own. He kissed the back of your head before nuzzling his nose against your hair.“It’s nap time, precious one. Go the fuck to sleep.”

[vigilskeep]

there are so many things in veilguard that have made me go "wait what??? okay i guess i have to totally rethink the character i'm roleplaying now" that it's literally impossible to guess what thing you're referring to as The Thing That Happened. obviously extremely curious to hear what it is once you've detangled it

it’s kind of like that but it’s also less that and more... okay i should probably just say it, i’m being weird and unhelpful and i need to write it out anyway so i can think

MASSIVE SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT for a companion quest, do NOT say i didn’t warn you. also please don’t respond to this if you know more than me i am in distress but i still don’t want spoilers

so i just finished lucanis’ “a murder of crows” quest. and lucanis. first talon. for some reason. (this is the writing choice i’m ??? on. also i’m ??? on lucanis’ whole storyline, frankly. the writing was. well. like i said, we’re not unpicking that right now, i don’t want to get into it at this point, not the conversation i’m having.)

lifelong trauma of being in the crows and fighting to get someone in a talon’s position and keep them there -> the thing that gave sol all their diseases and made them, to be frank, fairly suicidal

viago: ultimately can handle it without them, especially with teia’s backing.

lucanis: CANNOT handle it without them. holy fuck. for like twelve hundred different reasons, unthinkable, completely laughable, that he can handle this. who is going to protect him. the only reason this could be better at keeping sol mentally stable than watching viago’s back is that they will never feel purposeless or need to go looking for an adrenaline rush, because forget crows, an ambitious blackbird could eat that man alive. he can’t scheme. he can’t even SCHEME and the very fact that he trusts sol DE RIVA demonstrates this. sol is a crow! from another house! does he have no memory at all of the fact that his own parents died in crow infighting? sol could have been playing him this whole time, it wouldn’t have even been hard, and if they were that kind of person, then right now the first talon’s house would have just fallen directly in their hands like a gift from the maker, and they can’t even say a part of themself they can’t shut off isn’t thinking about it that way! how is sol supposed to keep someone like that alive?

you see what it’s like trying to sleep while sol is having this discussion in my mind.

ahem. anyway. pathways for sol’s life assuming they indeed make it through the game:

becoming lucanis’ guard dog the way they were for viago, which (even if they could mentally handle that, which they can’t. or can they??) means switching house loyalties which would surely destroy them eventually -> bad

somehow trying to persuade lucanis to give this up, as if that wouldn’t be throwing house dellamorte completely to the dogs, which at least sol can’t imagine any crow is capable of, let alone someone so dedicated to clinging to what remains of his family that he couldn’t even kill a traitor -> bad

going ahead and leaving the crows, but sol now has to leave BOTH viago and lucanis behind and also lucanis is going to die in there because they left him to do this alone -> bad

solution: sol is back on their original “if a blighted dragon eats me by the end of this, i don’t have to experience consequences” train

and maybe they’re right and i should not worry about this because i’m painfully aware it’s VERY bold to start deciding what happens after the game at this point, when they might still get trapped in the fade or turned into paste or something. and admittedly they did know and dread the possibilities from the first moment they felt something for lucanis, which was why they so wanted it to be anyone else, because anyone else in that lighthouse could have given them a different world, and he is the one who regardless of his best or worst intentions can only tie them tighter to a burning building. and SURE, i see the solas/mythal breakup parallels of sol still leaving, i’m looking at them, that doesn’t mean i have to LIKE them

he hasn’t even kissed them. they’re doing all of this unkissed. lucanis dellamorte when i get you

again please absolutely do not respond to any of this with even the vaguest of hints if you know more about the rest of the game than me 🙏 it’s probably best if no-one responds to this at all lmao i am just thinking out loud. you can reply with a “that’s rough buddy”. for sol

[cher-rei]

Hey babe

Your such a good writer please more lamine yamal fics im acc begging there literally none🙏🙏🙏🙏😪

the sitter— lamine yamal [ l.y ]

met you at the right time. this is what it feels like– feels like [gracie abrams]

pairing: lamine yamal x fem!reader

summary: a rushed call from lamine's mother to babysit kenye turns into more than just a regular afternoon

genre(s): toothrotting fluff (have your dentist on standby)

[w.c: 2.8k] masterlist

notes: I wrote this instead of watching the real sociedad match to cope with the fact that we're losing. I got a bit carried away with this one but I hope you like it <33

as you stepped into the familiar house, not even having to ring the doorbell you were greeted with the smell of fresh baked cookies and comfort. you shut the door behind you and easily walked through the familiar hallway.

when she saw you, lamine's mother's shoulders relaxed a heavy amount along with the breath of relief she let out. “my saviour,” she said with a smile and pulled you into a tight hug, her gratitude evident. “I'm so sorry for calling on short notice but I have an emergency— ow!”

she bit her tongue in frustration and looked down to see the toy car that she stepped on, her head spinning at her son's carelessness. “never have kids, you’ll regret it eventually,” she said half-joking and hurriedly led you to the living room where kenye was sitting on the floor, a toy car in his hand while he watched tv.

she didn't even have to call out to him, the second he saw you he was up and in your arms with a toothy grin. “hey, buddy. didn't expect to see me today did you?”

the older woman watched with a smile as you interacted with her son, the moment being cut off by her ringtone. she didn't even bother to look at it and instead grabbed her purse and made a beeline for the front door, yelling out instructions and goodbye's as if you hadn't been doing this for a year already.

“and thank you, sweetheart! I owe you! kenye, behave!”

the door slammed shut, leaving you to the 5 year old's energetic grasp. you quickly settled into your usual routine, skipping the snack part because he had his breakfast already since it was only after 10 am.

you took your usual seat on the carpet with him because he was usually full of energy this early and jittery. so to get it out of his system, you played games with him— built some lego, played with his toys and so on.

an hour had passed and you found yourself trying to make his yogurt seem edible. it was never an issue to get him to eat, all it took was one “hereeee comes the airplane” and he was more than compliant.

“there you go,” you said with a smile and lifted the final spoonful of yogurt to his lips, the boy clapping alone happily when it was finished. “you took that like a champ.”

that didn't last long however and he was starting to grow antsy again, his suffocated whines piercing your ears. it was obvious that he was sick of the house and needed to get out, so without another thought you cleaned him up and took him out to the backyard.

it was any kid's dream back there. a playhouse, jungle gym with a slide, a ball pit and his personal favourite— the mini football net that was more of a self indulgent addition from his older brother.

you'd known lamine for over 3 years now seeing that you attend the same high school but it was a cute coincidence that his mother picked you for the babysitting job. the job wasn't even needed, you were just bored and needed something to do on weekends, there wasn't even a proper answer for how she found you.

as you and kenye played in the sun-drenched backyard, laughter and joy radiated from your every move. the mini football net, a testament to lamine’s passion for the sport, stood like a sentinel awaiting kenye's energetic kicks. your eyes sparkled with delight as you cheered him on.

the air vibrated with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass, infusing your playtime with an idyllic charm. kenye's giggles echoed throughout the yard, mingling with the chirping of the birds.

meanwhile inside the house, lamine stirred from his sleep, rubbing the remnants of sleep as he descended the stairs to look for his mother. he called for her a good few times but she didn't reply, so naturally he searched the kitchen and her bedroom only to realise that the house was awfully quiet.

she would of said something if she had something planned today, and the tv was still on so someone was definitely home. then he entered the living room, his feet padding on the tiled floor as his eyes adjusted to the light from outside.

with a yawn, he neared the sliding door to check the backyard, but just as he was about to open it his hand froze on the handle. his mind blanked, his immediate reaction to seeing you play with kenye being to hide behind the curtain.

his thoughts were reeling, not expecting you to come over today. in panic, he took one last peep outside which only made his pounding heart thump even louder at the sight of you passing the ball to his brother so effortlessly.

run. that's what he did when he got the clearance, not wasting a second to rush back upstairs and grab his phone and hit the facetime button in the group chat. after 3 rings, hector and pau were on the line with him— their confused faces synced as they watched the boy lock himself in his bathroom and start pacing.

“what happened to ‘hello'?” hector said, judgement evident in his tone but lamine didn't have time to fight his snarky comments.

he propped his phone up against the mirror and rushed to get his toothbrush, his palms sweating against the toothpaste tube.

“bro, are you going to tell us what's going on or is this some type of ‘get ready with me’ gimmick?” pau spoke up finally and put another spoonful of cereal his mouth, quickly getting distracted by the cover on the box and commenting on it.

“she's here. she's not supposed to be here today so I don't know why!” lamine muffled out through his mouth full of toothpaste but his friends got the gist of it. perks of knowing each other for nearly their entire lives.

hector couldn't suppress his laughter, his smile on the screen teasing lamine. “this is even funnier because it's actually never that deep.”

pau joined in on the laughter. “imagine asking why your brother's babysitter is over to babysit,” he snorted. “it's been a year, you're insane.”

lamine finished rinsing his mouth, double checking to see if there was anything in his teeth before splashing cold water on his face. “does it look like i just woke up?” he asked and touched up his hair. “is it giving ‘I just woke up and look this good’ or ‘I freaked out and had a panic attack in my bathroom’?”

his friends went silent, their jaws on the floor at the amount of overthinking that he was doing. he's liked you since he could remember. at first it was simple attraction, and then came the longing to know you more personally, and when he did that's when everything went to shit.

you were beautiful, that's for sure but you had this natural charm that he couldn't get enough of. you made an effort to talk to him, to help him with anything that he needed and your selflessness was barely the tip of the iceberg. family was the most important thing to him, and the fact that his family loved you and treated you as their own had him on his knees.

“it's giving, ‘I can't talk to girls I'm actually interested in'” hector deadpanned and pau was quick to follow.

“I got a better one,” he said in between his laughter. “It's giving, ‘professional winger by night, but professional wreck by day.”

the bathroom echoed with pau and hector’s non-stop laughter, both boys having rolled onto their sides by now while lamine stood with his head in his hands to try and calm himself down.

worst wingmen of the year, he liked to call them. the only advice he got was to breathe and not trip over his own feet. it was pathetic of him to let his attraction towards a girl make him this… messed up? but what was a teenage boy to do?

he put on his game face and made his way downstairs again, a smile tugging at his lips when he saw that you were watching kenye as he played in the ballpit.

when you turned around you saw him there, your heart skipping a beat as he opened the door with a warming smile. it was your turn to take a deep breath. “hey, I didn't know that you were home today,” you greeted cheerfully, you confidence oozing.

“yeah, we got the day off so I took the liberty to sleep in,” he answered a took a seat beside you on the grass to greet his brother who immediately threw one of the plastic balls at him.

laughter tickled at your throat as you watched lamine playfully throw them back at him but kenye took it personally and began hurling them at him. “we're going to have to put a warning sign on him or something,” you joked in between laughter and lamine scoffed.

“the real threat is his ability to kick a ball,” the footballer said with this lips pursed.

you playfully rolled your eyes at his comment. “oh, please, you're just mad because he already has better dribbling skills than you.”

lamine's face was contorted with mock offence, and he leant back on his hands to look at you. “are you talking about the same guy who won the kopa trophy less than 2 weeks ago.”

you couldn't shake off how laid back he looked in that moment. the way he was looking at you with such ease and playfulness made your head spin. “yes, yes I am.” you answered confidently to which he put a hand over his heart.

“you wound me,” he joked. “I'm going to start making you nurse me back to health.”

funny. he was joking. right?

kenye, thrilled by the attention hurled another ball at lamine to which his older brother caught and tossed it back at him with a gloat. “nice try, but we already have the backyard champion sitting next to me right now.”

you smile faltered for a moment. “that's only because you let me win.”

lameye's eyes twinkled as he took notice of your slightly flushed cheeks and he thought that maybe he was doing something right. “you literally crushed me.”

you shook your head at his retort, ready to counter his argument as you put your hands in the air, and swiftly as if it were second nature lamine gently took them into his own to stop you from talking further. “consider my ego bruised, you're just too good,” he joked with a shrug, his hands still holding yours.

it was for a moment that you stopped breathing, unable to function properly until you realised that kenye fell asleep in the ball pit. his light snores took the attention off from your banter and onto his peaceful figure that lamine effortlessly picked up and carried to his room.

when he came downstairs again, the house had gone quiet while you cleaned up kenye’s mess that he eventually helped with. “oh wow, okay mr house husband,” you teased and tossed one of the toys at him, his smile not wavering as he continued to help you in comfortable silence.

after lunch the two of you found yourselves in the backyard again, chatting as per normal while lamine kicked the ball at his feet. he ended up stopping mid sentence to propose an idea that you weren't too eager about. a rematch at what cost? your embarrassment?

unfortunately for you, he was persuasive as hell.

“what do I get if I win?” he shrugged at your question with a knowing smile.

“anything you want, amor.”

you nearly choked on air at the term of endearment that came from literally nowhere. he didn't seem fazed by saying it though so you were almost certain that you heard him wrong and pushed it to the back of your mind and focused on the little tournament in front of you.

the sun was high, the barcelona heat was warm on your skin as you watched lamine ready the ball. the game wasn't supposed to carry on for as long as it did, but both yours and his passionate calls for cheating and distractions played a huge role in the 40 minute rematch.

“okay, this is the last round I swear,” you said with a tired huff which he was more than happy with. the ball was at your feet for a split second before you felt lamine's hands on your waist, holding you close to his chest as he sneakily took the ball and shot it into the back of the net with ease.

you jaw dropped at the utter foulness of the round. “you cheater!” you said in shock and turned to look at him, but he was too busy relishing in his glory to care. he let go of you with a proud laugh and picked the ball up again, giving it one last kick.

“I didn't cheat,” he said through a cheeky smile and took a few steps towards you. “it's a contact sport, so it's fair.”

you rolled your eyes jokingly at his counter, still in disbelief that he'd go that far. but you weren't a spoilt sport so you congratulated him on his win, fair or not and he humbly thanked you.

you turned back with a smile and began heading inside but his hands were on your waist again, the familiar tingle setting your body on fire as he turned you to look at him, the smile on his face making your heart race.

“I'll be taking my prize, thank you,” he said with a boyish grin and let his lips gently brush your cheek, a gentle, fleeting kiss that had your knees weak for a split second.

he craned his neck to look down at you, a blushing mess and he couldn't help but coo even thought he was internally jumping off buildings. “aw, don't get shy on me now.”

you quirked your brow at what you took as a challenge, mild irritation clear in your eyes that were fluttered shut seconds later when your lips met his for what was supposed to be a quick peck.

keywords: supposed to be.

the feeling of your lips on his sent a surge of electricity through his body, and he couldn't waste the opportunity. he dropped the football that was underneath his arm and pulled you in, one hand resting on your cheek and the other on your waist as he relished the taste.

the long-awaited kiss finally came and it was everything that he hoped for and more. the way you melted into him, sent a warmth through his chest that had his head spinning and hoping that you'd never let go.

when you eventually pulled away to catch your breath, your lips tugged up into an amused smile at his lovestruck look and flushed cheeks. “isn't that a better prize?” you joked, your hands still loosely wrapped around his neck.

“I want a rematch, now,” he said immediately after, and pulled you back into the yard, his eagerness getting the best of him because he was not going down like this— “if I win then you have to marry me.”

“what?!”

[cry-stars]

Komaeda and Dementia: Part 1 of 5: Introduction and Overview of FTD

Hi everyone!

I’m an aspiring Komaedologist with an interest in dementia. I often see people doubting Komaeda’s stated diagnosis of frontotemporal dementia, since it presents differently in him than in the common portrayal of dementia in the media. While his portrayal may not be completely accurate, there is a lot of truth to it, and there are many symptoms visible in-game. I wanted to share a few posts about dementia symptoms that we do see canonically in Komaeda’s portrayals in SDR2 and DR:AE, and share some information regarding his specific diagnosis as opposed to Alzheimers, for example.

I work with people living with dementia as a recreation worker. This means that I see them living their daily lives, and know about difficulties they might have with recreational or day to day activities. There are a lot of observations that I might make that can’t be backed up scientifically yet, but do make sense in a practical way. Everyone with dementia is different, and since I work with seniors for the most part, some observations won’t transfer onto Komaeda. However, I’ll do my best to back up whatever I can with sources.

This post is just for fun and to give people ideas. It means a lot to me to see a fascinating and endearing character like Komaeda portrayed with dementia, since it is a sad and terminal disease, and I usually see it end badly in my job, so I hope to give people ideas on how to portray it, or just to notice things in a different way they might not have before!

My main sources for this post and the following ones include “Dementia Diaries,” which is a really cool project where people with dementia talk about their experiences, National Institute on Aging, Alzheimer’s Association, Alzheimer’s Society, and my own work experience. I plan on doing more posts about specific symptoms that we see in Komaeda later, but I would be happy to hear from other people who have dementia knowledge, or to answer any questions that I can.

For the most part, I'm only going to be talking about SDR2 and a little bit of DR:AE. I haven't finished watching the anime yet and have not read any of the manga. If anyone has ideas from any of those sources, I would love to hear about them!

Overview of FTD: Which Variant does Komaeda Have?

There are two major forms of frontotemporal dementia. The first, which Komaeda likely has, is the behavioural variant (BvFTD), which is also the most likely for young people to develop. This variant of FTD mainly affects behaviour, empathy, judgement, and planning.

Komaeda is less likely to have the other variant of FTD, primary progressive aphasia. This form of FTD mainly affects language skills, including speech and comprehension.

Komaeda doesn’t seem to have very much trouble with understanding the concrete content of what people say to him, but he does occasionally seem to have trouble fully comprehending hidden meanings behind statements (for example, taking statements literally rather than as sarcastic). To me though, this is less connected to him not being able to understand the words or content of statements, and more not picking up on the emotions hidden in the statements (which I’ll address more in the behavior post). He does seem to have some trouble with word-finding in the Japanese version of the game, but again, it doesn't inhibit his ability to express himself given enough time to speak.

Another thing to note about FTD is that, in its early stages, it mainly affects behaviour and language processing, as stated above, rather than memory. In later stages, memory does start to be affected as well, but it’s different from Alzheimers (probably the most well-known form of dementia) in that memory loss isn’t the main symptom.

FTD’s prognosis is about 6-8 years. Komaeda states in his fifth free time event that his life expectancy is between half a year and one year. However, he is also referring to his lymphoma diagnosis, meaning he expected to die from a combination of both illnesses within that time frame. In SDR2, Komaeda is probably in the early to middle stages of FTD, since he was diagnosed right before entering Hope’s Peak, and was a Remnant of Despair for some time without treatment, so while we can see evidence of memory issues (which I will address in another post), it’s something he’s able to cope with and isn’t a debilitating symptom yet.

One more observation: while dementia as a whole is usually seen in elderly people, Komaeda’s specific frontotemporal dementia diagnosis has an earlier age of onset, usually between ages 40-65, and is rarely seen in elderly people. Even though being diagnosed in high school seems unlikely, it is not impossible. According to Alzheimer Society Canada, early-onset or young-onset dementia (between ages 18 and 65) accounts for 2-8% of all dementia cases.

Thank you for reading! I plan on making five posts total. The other post topics will be Outward Behaviour, Judgement/Thought Processes, Other Symptoms, and Writing Ideas.

[loki-cees-all]

Ch. 5 - Turn Against {Against All Odds - TVA!Loki x Female Reader Longfic}

Previous Chapter / AO3 Link / Against All Odds Masterlist / Next Chapter

Pairing : TVA!Loki x Female Reader

Summary : Loki attempts to sneak out of your flat before you awaken.

W/c : 8.8k words

Content / Warnings : Fluff, angst, and a touch of smut. 

Author's Note : Apologies this chapter took me so long to finish! After 6 months of working on it, it blew up to a length of 14k words and I ended up having to divide it into two chapters just to make the editing process more manageable. So congrats, this fic is now a grand total of 20 chapters! Yay!

Also, just fyi - I basically wrote the whole thing (so, Chapters 5 and 6 together) while watching Infinity War and Endgame on repeat, if that gives you any insight as to my mental state, or the amount of angst these chapters have. So, uh…good luck!! <3 

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ──  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅  ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

Date : June 27th, 1977 [Sacred Timeline]

A pair of ethereal beings slumbered peacefully in your bed. 

Twisted among the silken sheets, your angelic form was snuggled against the chest of Loki’s duplicate - a leg hooked around one of his, an arm draped across his torso. Your fingers twitched in your sleep, your lungs slowly inhaled and exhaled in sync with that of his seidr. The only thing you had on was a quiet, serene expression - one that meant you were blissfully unaware of the trickery that had already befallen you, or of the cruel disappearing act that was yet to come. 

The true Loki approached your bed with incredible precision, moving cautiously so as to not disturb the exquisite goddess or her beauty sleep. His gaze roamed lazily over your every curve, your every spasm and pulse, every inch of skin peeking out from beneath the sheets. The polish on your toes was cherry-red, the freckles on your back replicated the stars of the night sky, and the air from your lungs was sweet, intoxicating, mellifluous.  

The entire scene was breathtaking, but that wasn’t what was suffocating him. 

As he paused by your side, you stirred a little in your sleep - muscles tensing, breath hitching. Your face twitched lightly, brushing your cheek against the duplicate’s skin, and he responded in kind by holding you closer, squeezing you tighter, soothing and comforting you under the true Loki’s direction. And it worked; you relaxed in that false embrace, reassured by the solace of his presence enough to resume the slow, deep breathes in, and then back out. 

This time, it was Loki’s turn for his breath to hitch. How was this possible? Why did you find serenity with him? What did you see in him that he could never see himself?

His eyes flicked to the mimic in bed with you. It matched his appearance in every single way, from the dark curls spread across the pillow to the tips of his fingers now tracing light circles along your arm. Its scent was the same, its voice would have been identical if you had needed to hear it. He could have switched places with it in less than a second, just to have you in his own arms once more, and you never would have known the difference.  

Because the duplicate was him: a literal, physical manifestation of his deceit, cradling you tenderly while you slept. While the real one searched your apartment for the evidence of an addiction you clearly hadn’t developed yet. While he neglected his responsibilities back at the TVA, because he was too preoccupied with a future problem that he might cause to fully focus on the massive problem he’d definitely helped to cause at the end of time. 

As usual, his attentions were divided. Lately it seemed as though any attempt to solve a problem would just create two more in its place. And forever the masochist, Loki was drifting hopelessly between the past, present, and future; stuck between a rock and a hard place, while being unable to fully focus on either. 

He was trapped inside a personal Hel of his very own making. 

It wasn’t fair that he hadn’t found you until after he’d broken the timelines. Without judgment or sound reason, you gazed upon him like the sun looked down at the clouds, parting the storms of his heart and warming the oceans of his mind, stilling the thoughts that swirled in nervous energy, and regret, and prayers that he could somehow be different for the both of you. That he didn’t have to choose between you or the TVA. 

That he could somehow be with you, without being Loki. 

He couldn’t help but wonder: if you’d been born on Asgard, would you still feel the same way about him? If you had grown up together, if you knew all of his secrets and heartbreaks and betrayals, would you have still slept this peacefully in his arms? Would you still look at him like he was somehow everything you’d ever wanted?

Perhaps in another timeline you did, and if he could manage to save the TVA after all, then maybe afterwards he should go searching for it. 

Outside your flat, the sun was just starting to crest over the horizon. Its rays drifted in through the bay windows of your bedroom to bring on a beautiful, new day. But Loki needed to leave before you woke up. Actually saying goodbye wasn’t an option - because he couldn’t lie, but he couldn’t tell the truth either, and he certainly couldn’t predict the future. 

In fact, no one knew what was going to happen now that the timelines were free, but he couldn’t shake the ominous feeling that somehow this would only end with his self-sacrifice; dying was the only sure way Loki knew how to redeem himself, and even if you never knew about it, he would have happily done it for you. 

But even in the off chance that their efforts with the Loom were successful and he didn’t have to sacrifice himself - the next problem on the TVA’s To Do List was to deal with the variants of He Who Remains and their potential for waging multiversal war. And after that, there would inevitably be a thousand other problems for him to deal with, each one with more dire consequences than the last, and Loki would never be able to stop. 

He’d never be able to take a moment to breathe, to exist, to just love you. 

Loki wasn’t sure if he was in love with you now, but the appeal of letting himself feel something good was too much to ignore; in truth, he was only safe to feel it because he knew it was going to obliterate him later on, and it was why he couldn’t deny himself one last touch. 

Kneeling beside the bed, the arm of his duplicate lifted slowly from your body. And as if it had been rehearsed, the true Loki brought his fingertips to brush through your hair, gently massaging your scalp. As if he were doing it mindlessly in his sleep, instead of doing it fully conscious while his heart shattered into a million pieces. 

And he didn’t know if he was even capable of loving you. Loki had spent centuries hurting and longing for what he couldn’t have, bitter and resentful to what he had too much of, and disillusioned over everything else in between. At no point in his long life had his experiences ever been what anyone might call normal, especially not to a mere and simple human, and he’d long since forgotten what it was like to just be, let alone to have something he actually wanted to hold on to. 

When Loki was younger, he believed love to be a calculated decision that required delicate measurement of the pros and cons. Which option would benefit Asgard the most as the spouse of its disinclined and least favorite prince? Who would be the most trustworthy to safeguard an outcast’s heart? 

Back then, the obvious choice would have been whomever could simply tolerate him while maintaining an innocuous distance. It never would have been real, just like this couldn’t ever be. 

As his fingers began another pass through your hair, he wondered what sort of tragedy had happened in your younger years to make you cling so tightly to such a broken thing like him. Had you loved, and then lost? Had you failed someone in the way he was about to fail you? Had you repeatedly cracked open your soul, only to have no one even notice? 

Whatever it was, whatever atrocity had made you look at him like that, Loki both cherished and cursed it. He wanted to fix it, he wanted to make it worse. He wanted to see it, he wanted to taste it. To nurture it, to smother it, to let it rise and then push it back down. He wanted to be the cause of it, and then to be its cure. 

His eyes filled with tears - big, wet, silent, pathetic ones. The tears of a child no longer allowed to keep the only thing that had ever brought him any kind of solace. His chest tightened, and he could feel the tears bleeding down his cheeks, painting sharp lines of misery and staining his skin red for anyone who dared to look closely enough. 

This was so absurd, his reactions and feelings were so unbelievably foolish, because you were just a human. You didn’t really know him, and he didn’t really know you. Your perspective, by design, was so much more limited than his. What could you possibly ever have in common with him? Or him with you?

Whatever was waiting in your future - perhaps he was just overthinking it. Maybe the addiction had nothing to do with him at all. Maybe he was just projecting, maybe your feelings for him were nothing but casual ones, maybe you’d be able to completely forget about him as soon as he walked out the door. You’d be better off without him anyway. 

That thought brought him some comfort, while quietly slitting his throat. 

He swallowed hard, and tried to get a grip on himself. What was it that he was supposed to say on Svartalfheim, about Thor falling in love with the mortal Jane Foster? 

It’s nothing. It’s a heartbeat. You’ll never be ready. 

Loki’s biggest problem had always been never knowing when to walk away - and if he didn’t do it now, then it might someday be completely out of his control. Your path might lead you down a branched timeline, one that another rogue TVA agent could destroy. The Loom’s explosion could take out everyone and everything. Loki himself could accidentally get you killed, or worse - you could finally see him for what he really was, and decide to walk away from him instead. 

The only woman whose love you’ve prized will be snatched from you. 

Letting out a restrained breath, he dragged his hand across his face to wipe away the tears, while the other’s gentle touch remained in your hair. This was going to be tricky; once he left your bedroom, Loki was going to have to carefully withdraw the duplicate from your bed - slowly, cruelly, and without waking you up. He brushed his thumb along your cheekbone one last time, and just as he was debating on whether to kiss you goodbye, you startled yourself awake with a sharp gasp. 

Loki panicked, and quickly switched places with the duplicate. His kneeling form beside the bed disappeared before you could fully open your eyes. His muscles tightened, and with a gasp of his own, and he pretended to just be waking up alongside you. 

“Are you alright, darling?” he murmured breathlessly, nudging your temple with his nose and praying that you couldn’t feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest. 

“Huh? Oh…” Your eyelids fluttered quickly, attempting to blink away the sleep from your eyes. When you finally recognized him next to you, only then did your breathing slow. “No, I’m fine…”

He struggled to not let out a massive sigh of relief at that. Your grogginess had mercifully prevented notice of the two Lokis that had momentarily been in your presence, and he shuddered to think of what your reaction may have been had you seen it. 

“Bad dream?” he asked softly, his fingers resuming their bittersweet caresses against your scalp. 

Again, you had found solace within his touch. Your muscles relaxed as you sank back into his embrace, and his followed suit, finding just as much consolation in giving it as you did in receiving it. He couldn’t believe how little effort it took to bring you comfort, and in contrast, he could believe how little it took for him to offer it. 

“Do you ever dream you’re falling so hard that your body thinks it’s actually falling…?”

Of course, his consultation was different. Unable to slip out quietly like he’d planned, he was now staring at the daunting task of actually saying goodbye - and possibly lying to your beautiful face in the process. Once again, hesitation had cost him dearly, and he wondered if he was ever going to be able to make a timely decision ever again.

“Of course. All the time, really…” 

But truthfully, a part of him was extremely grateful for the chance to be in bed with you again. He adored the sensation of your warm skin against his, just as alluring and soft as it had been the night before. Stirring up all the same desires, making him ache for an encore performance. As his fingers drifted through your hair, the scent of gardenias stimulated the memories of his first kiss between the rows of Midgardian flora his mother had grown in her garden. 

During the few times he’d had lovers in the past, mornings were always his favorite; the lazy kisses, bodies moving on autopilot but not without purpose or reason. It meant that the night before wasn’t a mistake. It was intentional, it was deliberate, it was worth repeating. He was actually wanted, and the idea of bringing on the new, terrible day with a subdued brisance of ecstasy was -  

Loki scolded himself for letting his mind wander from this devastating predicament. His fingers drifted through your hair once more, brushing and massaging in the hope of keeping you from noticing the confliction on his face. Should he just promise to come back, even though he didn’t know if it was possible? Should he tell you it was goodbye forever instead, and then never return even on the off chance that he could? 

You let out a peaceful hum as his fingers trailed down to your neck, pressing gently into the muscles and tendons to relieve any knots they found. Every part of you practically melted underneath his touch, and you snuggled into him deeper, unable to get enough. Your leg wrapped around his again, your lips brushed against the bare skin of his chest, and your gentle fingertips trailed along the lines of his abdomen. 

“I was afraid you’d be gone by the time I woke up…” 

His lips curved into a sad smile. Every murmured word was like another chain of iron locked around his ankles. Loki was used to ruining everything, and he knew he still might, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger just yet. Being of genuine use was a pleasure he was rarely afforded any more, even though it was all he really wanted. 

When he had purpose, he had a place to belong. 

“I’m still here, darling…” Loki had to stop himself from continuing, from promising to never leave, from cursing the TVA and all that was waiting for him back there. He was never one to subscribe to the ideology of “what will be, will be” before, but that option was looking better and better with each passing moment. 

You shifted on the bed, working your lips up his chest, kissing over his heart and up to his collarbone. “And I am so very grateful that you are…” you hummed against his neck. 

Unable to resist the effects of desire as it flooded his veins, Loki let out a deep groan. He tilted his head back to allow you better access to his flesh, your lips soft and warm as you tasted his skin. Why couldn’t he just stay here forever? Where pleasure was given and received so freely, and without expectation? 

Once you were properly kissing his neck, his hands acted of their own accord, latching on to your ass and pulling you up to straddle him completely. You must have enjoyed that, because you gasped softly and eagerly pressed your hips to his, rolling and dragging yourself against his quickly hardening cock. 

Your tongue swiped at his skin while you kissed and sucked on his neck, and your fingers tangled in his hair. The exhales from his nose were heavy, his moans were urgent, shameless. His muscles tightened and stretched underneath you, and he started to forget he’d ever heard of the Time Variance Authority before. Loki gripped your ass harder, encouraging your every movement. 

“Are you sure you’ve got no other place to be?” you murmured breathlessly, grinding yourself just a little harder against him, clearly wanting this just as much as he did.  

His cock twitched hungrily, his fingers dug their need into your skin. Loki would gladly trade the next millennia or two in happy exchange to keep such a beautifully eager woman writhing against him. He groaned out a sound reminiscent of the word “no” before cupping your jaw and angling your mouth to his. 

Deeply passionate kisses consumed you both, and your arms locked around his neck. You passed heated moans back and forth, and Loki could feel how much you wanted this as you coated his cock in arousal. He began adjusting your hips to allow him entry when you murmured one last question against his lips. 

“So you’re not married? No wife or kids to get back home to?” 

Loki froze, and then burst into laughter. His entire body shook as his head tilted back with eyes closed, eyebrows raised, completely flabbergasted by the idea. Married? With children?! Who could be foolish enough to do such a thing with him?

When he managed to compose himself enough to open his eyes, the forlorn expression on your face sobered him completely. Concern had pulled your eyebrows to the heavens, and your lips had parted with childlike embarrassment to both your question, and his unexpected reaction to it. He forced himself to stop laughing, to position his brow into sincerity as he caressed your cheeks with both hands. 

“Darling, darling, darling…what could have possibly possessed you to ask such a thing?” he murmured cautiously, dragging his thumbs along your cheekbones. His eyes desperately searched yours, trying to see what it was that troubled you.

“Well, it’s just that…You know, I just don’t - ” you sighed, then paused to chew on the inside of your cheek. 

Loki’s heart ached as you stammered along while carefully avoiding his gaze. It would have been adorable, if it hadn’t been so heartbreaking. 

Of course, Loki had a sinking feeling about what you were really after, but he didn’t know how to explain himself. The only other experience he could possibly derive guidance from had happened to his brother, but even that wasn’t the same; Jane Foster had always understood Thor to be a mythological being of the cosmos from the very beginning. 

As usual, his brother hadn’t needed to lie about who he was or where he was from; Thor had never once needed to endure the humiliation of trying to explain himself. And as usual, Loki found himself envious of the blind confidence that flashed like lightning through every fiber of Thor’s being. It wasn’t fair that he’d never had to prepare for situations like this. 

Situations like this, where Loki definitely should have known better. 

Because it wasn’t like their father had ever provided instructions on how to break the news of their otherworldly existences to their mortal lovers; in fact, Odin had explicitly forbidden the idea altogether. And as he watched the gears whirling in your mind, as they tried to put the right words in the correct order, or maybe they were trying to spool up enough energy to just blurt it out - Loki wished that he had listened to his father. 

He wished that none of this had ever happened. He wished that he’d never been kidnapped by the TVA, he wished that he’d never met Brad Wolfe. He wished that he’d never decided to get back at him by seducing his date to the movie premiere. He wished the duplicate Tony Stark had never dropped the Tesseract, and he wished that he’d never picked it up at all.

Loki wished he could wake up tomorrow in the dungeons of Asgard. He wished he could experience, first-hand, the deaths of his mother, and then his father. He wished he could personally hammer that final nail into the coffin of his brother’s trust. He wished it could be his neck that Thanos had snapped. 

Because even if everything worked out perfectly - even if you somehow accepted his truth, something no one else had ever managed to do, even if he managed to save the TVA and all the timelines, even if he was able to stop HWR and prevent multiversal war - in 50 years time, you would still be gone. 

If he was lucky, he’d be able to watch your hair fade to gray. He would be able to count the smile lines as they grew along your cheeks, and he’d be there for every single frown, every single moment of joy. Every spot of luck, every inconvenience, every tragedy, every victory. But then he’d also have to watch it all turn to ash, and he’d have to continue on alone after you were gone. 

Seeing the ones he loved come and go, watching them pass him by while he was powerless to stop it, was a burden he was simply unwilling to bear. 

Loki’s attention was drawn to your lips as they started moving. The sound of your voice was muffled in his ears, and your eyes darted back and forth between staring off into the distance and making brief, heartbreaking contact with his. He could tell you were stammering and struggling to make sense of your thoughts, but he was too busy picturing your casket to even really listen. 

“I just - I just don’t know anything about you, Loki!” 

The exclamation was made out in defiance of yourself. It was only then that your gaze became totally affixed to his - watching, waiting, hoping for some kind of answer from the stranger in your bed. 

Loki matched your anticipatedly heartsick expression with one of his own. His brows slanted upwards while his eyes grew immense with regret and remorse; for someone whose many monikers included the God of Lies, he was truthfully finding himself completely out of his depth with you. His throat tightened, sealing off his lungs from the air in your bedroom, but he somehow managed a meager smile. 

“I’m afraid there’s not much to know about me, darling,” Loki replied, hoping to assuage some imaginary guilt you may have been harboring. He prayed this was all you really needed to hear, anyway. “But I can assure you, wholeheartedly, that I do not have a spouse, nor any children, that I’m hiding from you…”

You stared at him closely while he spoke, as if you were looking for any twitch or vellication that might have betrayed his answer. Once none could be found, your eyes narrowed in careful dissection of what appeared to be the truth. Loki’s heart fluttered with twinges of nervous energy and pure admiration for the only mortal he’d ever felt drawn to; he just hoped you were aware of how intelligent you were, and how much it both terrified, and impressed, him. 

After another moment or two, your demeanor shifted once more, altering your calculating gaze into something much more friendly and open-minded. You smiled sweetly while bending your elbow against a pillow and propping your head against your palm. The fingertips of your other hand moved to trace light, swirling patterns against his bare chest, and Loki was sure that this time you could feel his breath hitch inside his lungs. 

“Can you tell me what you do for a living then?” you murmured softly, clearly attempting a different tactic to pull his precious details out into the open. 

But Loki could still see right through your methods. He was, unfortunately, quite used to being interrogated for both the things he had and had not actually done; when you’re known to the Nine Realms as the God of Mischief, everyone practically falls over themselves trying to be the one to finally catch you in the act of malfeasance, just to prove to everyone else how clever and ingenuitive they were. 

And as much as it hurt to constantly be on the receiving end of such distrust and misfortune, it had also fortified and strengthened Loki’s adaptability and perseverance. But the one thing he hadn’t ever counted on was that someday he’d find himself in the bed of the most beautiful and extraordinary lover he’d ever known, who was asking him for the kind of truth he simply had no way to provide. 

“It’s…complicated,” Loki answered with a patient sigh. He brought his fingertips to caress the back of your hand as it traced over his skin. The contact was so very soothing to him, and he hoped it would, at the very least, be a distraction for you. 

But it didn’t work. Instead, your gaze burned hotter into his. “If there’s not much to know about you, then how complicated could it really be?” 

Loki chuckled as he dragged his knuckles up the length of your forearm. “Oh, you’d be surprised…” 

“Well, thankfully I love those. So I’m all ears.” You shifted closer on the bed, hooking one of your bare legs around his, flexing your foot to brush slowly along the inside of his calf. The smile on your lips was patiently, and infuriatingly, insistent. 

Loki’s breath hitched yet again. His blood chilled underneath the weight of someone paying such close and affectionate attention to him; he simply didn’t know what to do with it. He never had. 

Almost with a mind of their own, his eyes shifted down to his fingertips as they resumed tracing up the length of your arm. Despite everything, Loki couldn’t bring himself to stop touching you, even though he knew it was just further trapping him within a time loop of lingering and longing. 

And you didn’t recoil when he touched you; that would never, ever cease to surprise, or alarm, him. Thus, a game of tug of war ensued deep within his heart - a hand of cold, gnarled fingers pulling it towards outright vitriol, and a kind, loving hand attempting to guide it towards acceptance. But both destinations were terrifying in their own ways, and neither hand was able to make any significant progress. 

Loki cleared his throat, his eyes avoiding direct contact with yours while you waited for his reply. His thoughts raced by at a trillion miles an hour. They collided and smashed together behind his signature furrowed brow and measured persona, fracturing and blending into an unrecognizable mess - one that was completely uncharacteristic, uncomfortable and unforgivable to the God of Mischief. Selecting a single and coherent idea was going to be next to impossible, and he absolutely loathed feeling this out of control over his own mind. 

“Why do you need to know so badly?”

It was the only thing he could manage to say, and he immediately regretted it. The way your face fell rivaled the destruction of many great civilizations the Nine Realms had known and lost over the past millennia. Your eyes widened like the Bifrost’s beam as it opened upon the cold, barren wasteland of Jotunheim. 

Your breath hitched like the innocent citizens of New York when the Chitauri Army descended from the Heavens. Your formerly warm skin turned colder than Thor’s expression when the last flames of hope that Loki might still turn things around died on his features. 

But Loki knew that to be an impossible endeavor, if your anguish was to be any sort of indication. He’d never be able to turn things around, not really. He was very well accustomed to judgment, and of condemnation - to conviction without trial, and to criticism without consideration. They were the necessary bedfellows that came with his title. 

And they were comfortable, familiar. They allowed him to stand defiant in the face of total and complete reckoning, and they also saved him from the problem of trying, and inevitably failing, to be better than anyone could ever hope for him to be. 

But the look on your face right now was something else entirely. Your eyebrows arched upwards, recreating the highest precipice of the Asgardian palace - a home that wasn’t ever really his, one that was built with shimmering gold and the most rubious of blood. Along with the emerald of your sheets, those were the only colors he really knew how to paint with. 

It was honestly shocking how much your expression truly rattled him; he felt like a child again, cowering behind his mother’s skirts because he hadn’t yet figured out how to talk his way out of whatever trouble he’d found himself in. Except this time, there was no Frigga to do the talking for him. There were no skirts, or titles, or utter defiance for him to hide behind - it was just you, and him, laid bare and mute underneath the silk sheets of your bed. 

Loki was sure that he’d ruined everything…again. What he didn’t know, however, was why your reaction was one of hurt. He had seen the spark dim in your eyes and he could feel you recoiling even as your mouth opened and closed, in slow-motion and without sound, as you attempted to answer his slightly cruel, albeit fair, question. 

Why did you need to know so badly? Why was he starting to fear that this may be more than a passing dalliance to you? Why did that warm his heart with feelings of worthiness, while simultaneously cracking it under the weight of all that responsibility? 

So maybe it would be better to let that question fester into an open wound of resentment, instead of trying to reassure, or deflect, or explain. Despite being all too aware of his own shortcomings, Loki had no idea how to broach the subject himself; that was something that was always done for him. He’d never had to suffer the drought of no one to remind him of his repeated failings before, and thus, never really learned how to bring them up on his own. Where would he even start explaining?

Not to mention, this might make leaving easier. He could just stand up and get dressed, taking the time to actually button and buckle and fasten the Midgardian ensemble he’d conjured just for you, while he repeated the question and made you feel like a fool for wanting to know him better. Didn’t you know he was just using you? That this wasn’t ever going to be serious and that it was just for the game, for the chase, for the sex? 

Loki knew how to be cruel. It was the only thing he was better at than being a massive, colossal force of chaos and destruction - and he’d learned it from the very best. Callosity was like breathing to him; he didn’t feel alive unless he was driving a dagger into someone else’s heart. And then afterwards mocking them so they couldn’t see that he was bleeding even more than they were. 

That was easy. It was familiar, it was safe. 

It was home. It was his home. 

Finally accepting the inevitable, Loki let out a heavy sigh. He couldn’t carry on with this imposture any longer, it was too risky. You could find out what he really was, or you could simply not believe his explanation at all. 

Loki raked a nervous hand through his dark and tangled curls as he straightened his back away from your headboard. He swallowed hard, steeling his expression into something far more neutral than how he felt, and then he forced himself to finally use his favorite dagger of betrayal once more. 

“Listen, darling…I - ” 

A sharp, piercing ring suddenly echoed across the flat, and behind it, followed a penetrative silence. Its air was tense, suffocating the rest of his sentence and making it perish on his tongue. The sound of metal striking metal in that brief and frenzied rhythm was unexpected, but the Asgardian still was able to recognize the source of the noise as an innocent and harmless doorbell. He remained unreactive, his curious gaze fixed solely on you.

Your response, however, was different; you’d practically jumped out of your skin, clearly not expecting your own doorbell to ring at such an imperative moment. Your heart beat a rapid cadence inside your chest, and there was just a tiny bit of air lodged in your throat. 

But other than a vigorous heartbeat and your lungs heaving for more oxygen, you didn’t move. You said nothing, you did nothing - you just stared at him like it was his fault the doorbell had rung. 

Sensing your need for a push, Loki reached forward, gently brushing his fingers along the sensitive skin of your inner wrist. “Darling, were you expecting additional visitors?”

Your pupils dilated at the sound of his voice, and your eyelids blinked once, twice, three times as you processed his latest question. Your brow raised and then furrowed as you glanced at the clock on the nightstand, your eyes desperately trying to decipher the lines and numbers and what they meant when illuminated together. 

Loki wasn’t sure if you were still exhausted from the very late night you’d spent with him, or if his first question had rattled you that much. But the look on your face was honestly so adorable that he almost forgot that he’d been only seconds away from saying goodbye forever. 

“Darling?” he murmured again just before the doorbell rang again, this time in a short series of three bursts to indicate the visitor’s urgency. 

And this time, it suddenly clicked in your mind that it was your responsibility to actually answer the door. You quickly mumbled excuses as you popped upright, swinging your legs over the edge of your bed and practically gliding across the bedroom to throw something on. 

Once again, desire roared to life in his veins, and he was unable to stop himself from admiring your naked form as you moved. As your muscles and tendons and ligaments all stretched and contracted with such supernal purpose, as your delicate hands reached for the silken, phthalo green fabric draped across the bench at the foot of your bed. Practiced fingers worked quickly to push both arms through the robe’s sleeves and situate the collar around your neck as you continued heading for the door. 

Each movement was stunning and comforting, and Loki watched as though he were in the presence of a divinity so healing it could easily cure him of everything that had ever aggrieved, bruised or lacerated him. Watching you quite literally took his breath away; never before had the God of Mischief been so entranced, so mesmerized, so captivated by the simple act of getting dressed. 

He didn’t even mind when you pulled the panels closed around your waist, obfuscating the curves and swells of your thighs and hips and torso. Because he’d already memorized your form; it was etched so profoundly into his mind that he wasn’t sure how deep it actually went. 

And without even trying to, you answered every question he’d ever had. It made him want to ask even more questions, like why was the sky blue? How many stars could you count before you finally lost track? Would you object to ignoring the doorbell and having breakfast in bed with him instead?

Loki barely registered another triplicate of harsh doorbell rings, but he was aware of you disappearing through the door frame with an exasperated shout to the mystery caller. 

“Yes, yes! I’m coming, I’m coming…” 

Your bedroom was noticeably colder after you left; your bed, freezing. Loki swallowed hard, his lonely gaze falling upon the heap of his wrinkled suit, pulled off in a hurry the evening before and discarded carelessly on the floor. Somewhere in the pockets of his trousers lay the TemPad, ready to transport him back to the TVA and all its problems - both the ones he’d already caused, and the future problems still waiting to be revealed. 

Loki pulled the sheets away and swung his legs over the edge of your bed. His head hung low, shoulders dropped and tendrils of the darkest night hanging in his eyes, blending into his perception of what you’d left behind. Down the hallway, he could hear you speaking to the visitor through the flat’s intercommunication system, blissfully unaware of the plight distressing the God you’d just spent the night with.

How did his life turn into this? All he’d wanted was a chance to breathe, to let his muscles finally relax. To possibly let his body finally heal after all the horrors he’d endured so far. But instead, he found himself locked in the sham of a fascist organization, and the only way to escape it was to dismantle it from the inside. That, in turn, somehow and inexplicably, had led him to all of this. It had brought him right here to you. 

This room, and him inside of it, was now a barren, withering moon; a lifeless satellite, drifting aimlessly in the dark without its shining star to tether itself to. His sun was so far away now, unlocking the front door to her universe and happily greeting her unexpected visitor. He could feel the warmth of your light by the smile in your voice, in the way you laughed in excitement from whatever the visitor had to say. The sound was so alluring, beckoning him closer like the call of the most tempting siren. 

Weary muscles groaned as Loki pushed himself up to standing. He desperately didn’t want to go, but time was running out; any moment now you’d return to the bedroom, and he’d have to say goodbye face-to-face. That was a scene he knew he did not have the strength to withstand, not after everything else he’d already lost. He’d much rather just run away again. 

His feet shuffled forward, and Loki reluctantly retrieved his trousers from the floor. They were heavier than they should have been, what with the tremendous weight of the multiverse conveniently stored inside the compact and portable device hidden in his pocket. It was too much responsibility; how much easier this would all be if he could just forsake it and stay here instead. 

Stalling, Loki chose to ignore the option of spellwork to get dressed. He thought about intentionally smashing the TemPad to destroy it entirely, and take away the option of leaving altogether - but instead he slipped one foot through the trouser leg. 

Out in the kitchen, you were saying farewell to your visitor. Loki was dying to know who it was, and why they dropped by. He wondered if he could ever manage to blend into your life; could he charm your friends? Your parents? Could he actually handle having a job, and paying taxes, and pretending to go to the doctor once a year for a check-up? 

It couldn’t be worse than spending his youth trying to prove himself a worthy son to a father who would never see him as such. But could he stand manually getting dressed every morning? Could he really go that long without his seidr?

Loki slipped the other foot through its trouser leg. He thought about X-5, and how eager he was to return to this timeline, to this life. Was it a life with you he wanted, or did he just want to be loved after spending so much time in a place that had never once valued the individual experience? 

The front door to your flat was closed, and then locked. His trousers now buttoned and zipped, Loki picked up his white shirt and pushed his arms through the sleeves. He thought about Mobius and his incredible self-restraint, how he was somehow easily managing to ignore the potentials of his own timeline. 

What if it’s something good? Do you think I wanna have that rattling around in here? 

It was as admirable as much as it was infuriating. If Mobius ever knew what he was considering, if Mobius ever discovered that Loki wasn’t giving his complete and undivided attention to the more pressing issue of the Temporal Loom, then he would be so impressively furious. He’d be so disappointed, he’d call Loki expedient and selfish and narcissistic. 

But didn’t Loki deserve something good for a change? He’d once had just about anything one could hope for, even with a disdainful shadow hanging over his shoulder. How much more would he have to lose before his selfishness was to be labeled justified, understandable, warranted? 

A long life of clinging to discarded scraps had made him selfish. But it wasn’t sickness, it was necessity. 

Of course he’d rather stay with you. Here, he was valued and appreciated. He was allowed to feel good, and dare he say it - wanted, even. Something he’d never once experienced in over a thousand years of tortured existence. Who wouldn’t be clinging to a liferaft while drowning in a vast ocean of nothingness? 

In the kitchen, the faucet was running, and the sound of cabinets opening and then closing echoed down the hallway. You were starting your day with or without him, it seemed. But that was to be expected, thanks to his earlier, thoughtless question, and it was a feeling he should have become used to by now. As Loki caught his reflection in the mirror above your bureau, he knew that wasn’t the case. 

Only a few weeks had passed since he’d escaped from the clutches of Thanos and the Black Order, and this was the first time he’d gazed upon himself since the S.H.I.E.L.D. research facility. He was slimmer than he remembered. But instead of that gauntness sharpening his features as one would expect, Loki saw himself fading away within the hunger of yearning. His Godly features were dulling before his very own eyes, seeming to drift away into abstraction while he got dressed in a mortal suit and tie. 

Yet again, Loki was pretending to be something he wasn’t. That was all he’d ever done, instead of determining what it was that he wanted or forging his own path forward. He’d either do his best at what was expected of him, or he’d intentionally do the complete opposite of it, just to punish them for never asking what he wanted for himself. 

The irony was he’d never be able to answer that question. He simply didn’t know what he wanted. Even now, the TVA and all its people were both on the verge of total annihilation, and here he was wishing he could just crawl back into bed with a human. No matter which option he chose, the guilt of not picking the other might very well eat him away from the inside.  

But what if he didn’t have to choose between those two paths at all?

For the first time in his life, Loki could truly create his own destiny. There was no one pulling the strings anymore, no pre-fabricated tragedy for him to obediently succumb to. He could button up his shirt as fast or as slowly as he wanted, he could snake his feet into his socks and shoes, or forgo them entirely. He could join you in the kitchen, slip his arms around your waist, and he could promise to return soon. 

He could mean that promise, and it was possible that he could fulfill it too. 

Moving hastily, Loki finished getting dressed. He tucked the dress shirt into his trousers and he retrieved his tie from the floor, slipping its middle into his pocket and leaving the ends to dangle down the length of his thigh. He picked up his jacket from the floor, folded it neatly over his arm, and then he began his approach into the hallway with his chin held higher than it’d been in a very long time.

He could do this, he could make this work. He could have his Key Lime pie, and he could eat it too. 

Successfully ignoring the horned candelabrum on the narrow bookshelf, he instead admired your displayed photographs as he moved down the hallway. Your smile was so joyous and bright in all of them, but especially in the ones where you made goofy faces with your friends. When you dressed up for holidays with your family. While standing in front of that treasured crepe myrtle in the backyard of your childhood home, the one that clearly meant so very much to you. 

There was nothing in your past that indicated a miserable future, only the deep-seated roots of pleasant memories. Loki hoped that would be enough to keep you safe until he fixed the Loom, but he felt optimistic about his chances as he approached the kitchen; he was going to keep you from falling into the clutches of addiction, and he was going to save the Temporal Loom at the same time. There was no one around to decide that he wasn’t allowed to any longer. 

If there was only one true thing in the entirety of the multiverse, it was that he despised being told that he couldn’t do something. 

And afterwards, he would go to the Æsir to request a spell. If necessary, he’d return to Asgard to search their libraries, and he’d go to New York and interrogate the so-called Sorcerer Supreme. He’d tear apart the entirety of the Nine Realms if he had to - all in search of a way to allow you to live as long as he would, just so he’d never have to figure out how to say goodbye. 

After rounding the hallway’s corner, he found you were standing in front of the kitchen stove, carefully measuring out spoonfuls of dark brown granules and methodically pouring them into a tall, silver pot. Your eyes were bleary, your movements sluggish but not without purpose. But in that early morning light, while wearing nothing but a silk robe, Loki found you entirely and completely magnificent. 

“Would you like some coffee before you go?” 

Your question was soft and polite. There was an air of distance to it that Loki simply couldn’t blame you for, but it also wasn't anything he couldn’t fix. He flashed his best, most impeccable smile as he laid his suit jacket over a barstool and seated himself on the other. 

“Yes, that would be lovely, my dear, thank you.” 

On the other side of the counter, you tried to hide the shy smile that crept across your lips, but it was impossible for him to miss. He grinned in return, thinking how lucky he might be to someday get to see that smile every morning.

Shifting his attention, Loki watched closely as you quietly assembled the rest of the contraption before placing it on the range. He may have been slightly out of touch when it came to Midgardian habits, but he did understand coffee to be of great and immeasurable importance to humans. He’d even grown fond of it himself, after several expeditions in his youth to visit each of the Nine Realms. 

And he could tell this intricate procedure of yours was dutifully performed every single morning, regardless of how late you’d been up the night before. That it granted you comfort, and just the smallest bit of control amidst the rampant chaos of the world. So he watched carefully, intending to memorize the steps so that someday he could be able to perform this task for you instead. 

“Who was at the door earlier?” he asked softly, eager to avoid a return to the previous, more unpleasant conversation you’d almost had before. The one that no longer mattered. “Was it another gentleman caller hoping to have coffee with you?”  

You laughed and shook your head while removing a match from the cardboard box. “No. It was just the doorman, if you must know…” 

“Doormen still drink coffee, do they not?” Loki teased, his eyes sparkling and his shoulders shrugging innocently. 

You struck the match along the textured side of the matchbox. The tip ignited flawlessly, momentarily erupting into a wild, bulbous flame before settling into a controlled burn. 

“I mean, if I was your doorman, I’d certainly be up here to have coffee with you every morning…”

“Oh, would you now?” you murmured with a smile, shifting over to the stovetop and carefully adjusting the burner’s dial. You brought the lit match just close enough to ignite the burner, and then blew it out. “Something tells me you wouldn’t be a very good doorman if you were only focused on opening and closing my door…” 

This time it was Loki’s turn to laugh. He shifted on the barstool, his long legs splayed wild and leaning closer to you with his elbows on the counter. “Yes, I suppose I’d probably be dismissed pretty quickly, wouldn’t I?” 

“Mmhmm. And then you’d have to go to doorman remedial classes to restore your honor,” you grinned playfully while turning on the faucet to run cool water over the extinguished match, just to be certain that it was out completely. “That would be so humiliating, wouldn’t it?” 

“Yes, and we can’t have that, can we?” Loki replied, tilting his head curiously. He found your behaviors to be quite intriguing; every action had a specific purpose, a unique rhythm to them. Every item had a designated place, a proper condition that it needed to exist as. You were clearly a meticulously neat person, and he thought it was terribly endearing. 

After tossing the thoroughly drenched match into the trash bin, you then pulled a folded cloth out of an overhead cupboard, let it soak under the running water, and then shut the faucet off. 

“So, tell me. What is it that exemplary doormen do while they’re on the job? Perhaps I just need a lesson or two…” 

Your arm swung in wide circles over the countertop, collecting any spilled coffee grounds with the damp cloth and guiding them into the sink. 

“Oh, he was just bringing up the script that was dropped off while I was out last night.” You nodded towards a neat stack of correspondence beside him on the counter. At the very bottom was a large, cream-colored packet with the words “PERSONAL and CONFIDENTIAL” stamped in red ink at each corner. 

“Well, that was very thoughtful of him.” 

You nodded in agreement. “Apparently he was very excited when he arrived at work this morning and saw it. He just couldn’t wait to bring it up here.”

“I see. And this doorman - is he a strapping young lad?” Loki grinned. It was hard to say if he just wanted to make you smile again, or if he was actually trying to suss out any potential competition for your affections. “A dashing gentleman, eager to impress a beautiful woman such as yourself?” 

The countertops now wiped clean, you made an amused and befuddled face as you began to rinse out the washcloth in the sink. “Oh, my God, no! He’s my father’s age, I’ve known him since I was a child.” 

Loki’s smile shifted into warmth, his heart full with the reassurance that there were so many people out there who loved and cared about you. He wondered if you knew how lucky you were, and what his life might have looked like if he had been afforded the same luxury. 

But as it was, everything seemed to be like it should. The vessel on the range was steadily heating up, thanks to the light blue flames licking up its sides from underneath. Your kitchen was spotless, he had a beautiful companion at his side, and for once, Loki wasn’t being hunted by an enemy hellbent on either killing him or ruining his life again. 

“I went to school with his daughter, and she’s still my best friend. So he thinks of me as like a second daughter,” you continued, wringing out the excess water from the cloth and draping it neatly over the faucet’s neck. 

“And what about this script made your second father so excited?” Loki asked, trying not to think about the fact that he’d once had two fathers himself, until he’d murdered his biological one. “Is it for a role you hope to get, or for a role you already have?”

You shifted to open another cupboard behind you. Inside, neat and organized stacks of matching dishware of the crispest white awaited your selection. You pulled out two sets of mugs and a saucer for each before turning back towards him. “Oh, it’s for - ” 

An unexpected, and loud, electronic chirp interrupted your answer. 

You both froze in place, but for very different reasons - your eyebrows raised, and your eyes darted around the flat as though you weren’t sure that you had actually heard the startling noise or not. You certainly had no idea what had caused it, and it showed in your expression. 

Loki froze because he knew the sound had come from the TemPad hidden inside his pocket. 

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ──  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅  ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

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[zhuoyichenpretty]

Ep 22-23 Commentary

Ha...I was inexplicably nervous for eps 22-23 and it looks like I was right to be (-: What a rollercoaster. Spoilers below!

I've just come out of ep 23 and uh????? holy shit????? ZYC????

Ok ok but to backtrack, let's do my comments semi-chronologically:

Ep 22:

A carry-over from ep 21 that I have to mention—heck yeah PSJ give WZY hell. She doesn't have all that many lines but she sure knows how to make them count. Also seeing PSJ and WX get screen time just the two of them makes my brain go "yay <3"

Back to ep 22, loved the fake-out sundial ayeee that was a nice Chekhov's gun that also brings the real sundial back into relevance for later. Also me eating up the PSJ and ZYC crumb of an interaction has brought to my attention how starved I am of their screen time together.

This whole ep was a great lament towards the feared inevitable. Every sad downcast look from ZYC, every complicated glance WX gives him. A wonderful, terrible crossroads for these characters. I love that for ZYC especially, it's such an incredible mess of emotion coming to a head. Bad enough that he's come to care about the demon who killed his family and ruined his life, bad enough that he's sworn a blood oath he regrets and tied himself to punishing someone he no longer finds culpable, bad enough that ZYZ's life or death depends solely on his choice and ZYZ is constantly practically begging for death when ZYC wants him to live. How much immensely worse it makes the whole situation that WX is literally ZYZ's soulmate. And obviously the whole team has only grown more and more attached to ZYZ, too. ZYC's personal turmoil aside, how heavy must that responsibility and guilt be? For the finishing blow that only he can deliver to also deeply threaten every other person he cares about? Everyone understands in the abstract what must happen and why, but just like seeing ZYZ lose control firsthand, the gulf between understanding and experiencing is so unimaginably wide. If he kills ZYZ, can there really be no resentment from his friends? From WX?

Also it seems ZYC only wears cloaks so that he can give them to other people lmao

Ah fuck, the farewell drinks. I didn't even factor in how ZYC might not survive the encounter (''': The drama truly was like hm can we possibly give ZYC a worse day than that night his whole fam died? Maybe give him a bunch of new family members and also the blade and the fate and the sole responsibility to potentially irrevocably scar said family members with? And he might die in the process too? (-: haha maybe? (((-:

Oh. Oh. Addendum. I forgot this til I saw it mentioned in another post—ZYC recounting his oath as he watched WX smile when they discussed reviving the tree...I could feel him weighing those words against his own life, against ZYZ's life, against WX's happiness. One way out of this impossible situation is indeed to doom himself. I'm in pieces.

Damn if WX isn't dedicated heart and soul, going into the sundial like that. I'm sad no one could keep her company for those 300 years but also I guess that's kind of an impossible ask (and maybe not survivable for the other non-goddess mortals? I'm admittedly very unclear on sundial time loophole logistics). It would have been nice to see someone offer though, even just to be turned down.

Ooh I like the soul needle fake-out, given this show's penchant for retroactive "actually we had a plan all along" moments. A good subversion of the narrative's own style.

Also I saved this for the end because it doesn't really fit the linearity of my comments but what the fuuuuuuuck oh my god I absolutely flipped out at this scene:

I am at once rabidly intrigued and at the same time not sure if I'll be satisfied with whatever payoff will come for this so I don't want to overindulge in theorizing and setting my own expectations too high. Maybe this is just a fevered hallucination, maybe it means nothing (I hope it means something). But damn!!! What a gorgeous man crazy scene.

In conclusion, ep 22 had some good stuff for me. Plot development and reflection and tension enough that I may have been satisfied with just that one episode. But they gave us two, so onward to ep 23 comments!

Ep 23:

I like how many solid reasons the team has to suspect ZYC being possessed. Even though I withheld judgment during my watch given how quickly the show usually confirms that kind of stuff with a possession mark, just simply casting that doubt made the whole build up that much more intense.

ZYC slowly walking down the corridor with the whole grounds lit a somber and haunting gold—*chef's kiss*

ZYC's monologue to a catatonic ZYZ is so important to me. The closest we'll get to his internal monologue about this whole situation. The kinds of things said when we think there's no conscious listener.

Okay so, having finished this episode and looking back, Li Lun's hands coming up from behind ZYC was not to denote possession (at least in this episode), potentially is a visual from ZYZ's POV, and seems related to the above screencap. I am so, so curious. Once again, I'm stopping myself from further speculation because I want to be surprised but ahhhhhhhhh

PSJ shooting at Ao Yin is so gorgeous. Her action scenes seriously never disappoint—the creativity of her fight choreos!! Also very cool that the whole team is getting to take part in the action, not just the two male leads.

Bai Jiu possession was not on my bingo card but I sure do love that we literally saw the possession take place and I still didn't connect the dots. Good shitttt. Also oh no ): ZYC was telling the truth about the soul needle, he was just tricked ):

Seriously from the Ao Yin case to getting PSJ released to reviving the Divine Wood to getting tricked by possessed!Bai Jiu to making pear soup to fighting ZYZ to fighting Li Lun—when will ZYC get a single goddamn vacation day holy shit.

Also when will WX tear up that contract so ZYZ can stop having a mild heart attack every time he wants to kiss her ): &I love that they saved the 300-year montage for this moment. While their ship doesn't give me brainrot personally, who could be unmoved by that incredible and undisclosed sacrifice? That's soulmatism.

Okay, I'd seen clips of them filming the ZYC and Li Lun fight but damn I did not expect it'd be happening right now!! Right after already taking damage from ZYZ? And my god is Li Lun brutal. The two actors did such an impressive job on this entire fight, what with Li Lun's ease and ZYC's suffering. I really appreciated the extensive hand-to-hand combat after Li Lun literally obliterated ZYC's sword. (Also though, given the origin of that sword, I kept hoping for a flashback to ZYC's brother once it broke, but alas, no dice.) Anyway, the show does not play around about ZYC whump it seems. I was very very shook by that throat punch; that shit legitimately looked like it hurt.

Honestly, I had a hard time with the extended ZYZ and Li Lun conversation at the very end because oh my god someone please heal ZYC lmao. But of course, that's the end of the episode~~

Y'all...check on your local ZYC stans because I was not okay after all that (': I need a heaping dose of comfort after all that hurt, but as always I'm cautious of hoping for much from canon itself. So yeah! Ep 23 was solid, but I would probably be in better shape if today's release just ended on ep 22 ((':

Time to go wait for the cast's Hi6 episode to drop so I can heal my battered heart ;-;

[demigod-shenanigans]

Psssst. Can I maybe get something about Jaspn going to the movies for the first time? Either on a date with Leo or as a friend thing with all three of them?

Making it lost trio for now because in my head Leo and Jason always take forever to get their shit together and Jason having to wait that long for his first movie theater experience would be kind of sad. I may or may not sprinkle some valgrace in there tho 😌

I just know they spent literally forever trying to decide on a movie. Leo kept trying to push some movie from a franchise that he’s fixated on and requires a whole universe worth of knowledge to really enjoy insisting that it’s not that complicated and he can totally explain the lore of a bazillion shows and movies and/or make Jason watch all of those so he can still enjoy it (think Marvel or Star Wars or something). Piper vetoes that and suggests a horror movie (her main motivation on this is Jason and Leo are both cowards and she wants them to hold hands about it, and also she doesn’t really get how they’re scared of fictional monsters when they’ve literally faced worse, but whatever, lmao)

Jason kind of wants to see a romcom but he knows they’ll both tease the shit out of him for that so he doesn’t say it.

In the end he just picks something based on a title that sounds okay.

Piper gets chips and ice tea, Leo gets a huge bucket of popcorn that’s larger than his head and a soda. Jason gets a large water and asks cautiously if he can try popcorn without sugar or salt. Piper and Leo promptly say they’re both unfriending him. In the end he just grabs trail mix and Leo heaves this deep sigh and him and Piper spend the movie pestering Jason to try their snacks. Jason doesn’t dislike their choices necessarily but says he’ll stick to trail mix (Heroes of Juno Jason and his snack tendencies are canon to me now I’m sorry) and they’re both affronted.

The movie they see turns out to be a heist movie. They mostly have a good time but Jason does ask “isn’t that illegal” at least three times during the beginning until Piper kicks him in the leg and Leo tells him “don’t make me shut you up” (Leo blushes furiously because he meant, like, shut him up with tape or a hand over the mouth, not make out with him, but it definitely comes out like he meant making out and neither of them is able to look at the other for the rest of the movie)

Jason gets very attached to all of the characters and is extremely upset when one of them is captured. He also definitely doesn’t get that this is setting up a sequel and Piper and Leo have to comfort him about it for at least half an hour

Leo somehow finishes the whole bucket of popcorn before the movie is over and Piper and Jason just stare at him because what the fuck how

This becomes a semi-regular thing for them whenever they have the time. They take turns picking movies so everyone gets what they want eventually.

[lemotmo]

I’m honestly really worried right now with how nasty this has all gotten so fast.

I feel so bad for Oliver. His entire storyline he’s waited years to tell has now completely been hijacked from start to finish thanks to Lou and his cult.

The disgusting things being said about Oliver. About Ryan. The show itself. All with Lou liking and engaging with them playing up the poor me card with them.

Like they are literally demanding Oliver be written off the show as punishment and any future Buck scenes they already filmed scrubbed out. I saw a few say deport Ryan back to Mexico and then write Eddie off by sending him to Texas permanently and send Buck with him. Some saying Lou should have been kept on and Oliver let go.

Like it’s all insane. And none of them deserve it because they didn’t do anything wrong. No one misled or promised or lied. They have been open and transparent about BT from the start. Tim literally said at the very beginning this was an entry level relationship. No wedding bells.

I’m also getting worried the network is going to pull the plug on buddie because even if it’s not us doing it, they might not wanna deal with the insane blowback these people are causing and will cause when buddie happens.

Don't worry Nonny. Like I said before, Oliver will be fine. Ryan will be fine.

Oliver has disabled comments on his post on Instagram because he knew exactly what was coming. They are both probably avoiding social media right now, but I'm also certain they'll be back as soon as the worst is over.

The show never made any promises about BT. On the contrary, they made it very clear, since day one, that Tommy was there to be a plot device. Eddie was all over the BT narrative in both seasons. In season 8 BT were still in the same place they ended in season 7. There was no growth whatsoever. Also, there was no buildup at all for them. Tommy just existed next to Buck in episode 5, but there wasn't one single sign of physical affection. Even in episode 6 there was only a cheek kiss. It reminded me of Eddie kissing Ana when he returned home after the shooting. A single cheek kiss. We all know how that relationship ended.

I wouldn't worry too much about the network. It seems bad right now, because they are all being loud and obnoxious, but the BT fandom is actually quite small compared to the Buddie fandom and the general 911 fandom. Their voices will be drowned out by all the positivity in the end. These BT stans will stop watching the show, but it won't even make a dent in the ratings. There's only a few hundred of them.

I checked Instagram and I've already seen so many positive comments, saying it was one of the best episodes of season 8, praising all the actors and crew for their hard work.

So don't worry. ABC knows exactly what Buddie could mean for the show. It would most definitely increase the popularity. Bi Buck already brought in a lot of people (some of them who have already left us again since Thursday evening), but a lot of them are here for the bi representation and they are here to stay.

So imagine how crazy things would get if Eddie would turn out to be not so straight after all and very much in love with his best friend? And Buck finally figuring out who he really wants?

The episodes leading up to them finally getting together would draw in so many new people who heard that those two 'gay firefighters from 911' are finally getting together after 7 loooong seasons.

ABC doesn't care about a few hundred people throwing a tantrum under a social media post. They do care for ratings and making a profit. That's it.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Tell you one thing though: After what he has done? Lou will never ever work on anything for ABC again, which means that we won't ever see him back on 911 and that's a beautiful thing. 😏😆

[solar4seekstron]

Ending 4: B-127

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Optimus Prime Ending, Megatrons Ending, Elita Ones Ending, Bonus+ Deadlocks Ending

Tf1!B-127 x Cybertronian!GN!Reader

Y/N was working on their battle skills early in the morning as they practice some skills with their swords.

Realizing before they can turn them on to become lasers and not so training is a bit easier. They contnue some cambat moves they saw in a book they found a couple days ago. Wanting a good work out before the start of the day. Just as they finish a big move landing flawlessly they then are a bit startled by a voice.

”Wow! That. Was. Awsome!! You think I can do something like that with my knife hands? I mean not exactly but I think I can make it work I mean how can I not I did just fight in a literal mini war. Or! Or. I do the same move but with my own little spice! Like a spin or a sick back flip or a cart wheel. Or! A spinning cart wheel!!! Wonder how much muscle power that’ll take. I mean I’m a small bot but I- “

He then looks at them. Y/N has stood up and put their swords back looking down at B as they then turned their helm curious if he’ll continue.

He then sighs and put his knife hands away after taking them out for a moment after getting excited.

“Uh sorry. Just got excited and I uh-“

”B. Those are great ideas. Would you like to work together to make at least one ida possible?” They walk up to him as he looked up at them. B would nod and they will go to one of the doors.

”I’ll get us some energon and we can get started. We deserve a day off so might as well try to get stronger-“ Their cervo touching the handle.

“Y-y/N wait. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“Hm?”

”I-I well I don’t really know how to say this. I know we didn’t get to know eachother that well when joining Ori-Optimus and…Megatron for the Matrix alongside with Elita. But getting to know you for the time after everything. Oh jeez I’m actually at a lost for words..Uh Y/N for the time I have known you-….Well you’re the only one who laughs at my jokes a-and well I just was wondering you know putting together all the time-“

“B….” Y/N has walked up to him and picked him up by the waist and is holding him up as they looked at him with a smile

”B I will love to be your Conjunx Endura. And I can’t wait to see what the future holds for the both of us. Just by watching you fight and the determination you have along with how much you care about others! Hell! How can I not want to be with you. Some one incredible and who can make me laugh!”

They say as they spin around still holding him with their hands. B chuckling as he looked down at them. Being held up high by them

”Well- that was super easy.”

He chuckles and then puts his hands on their shoulders. The two then closing the gap as they close their eyes and kiss. Bs arms wrapped around Y/N as their arms wrapped around his waist. Y/N would then put their hand on the back of his head as the two kiss for a moment longer. Both with wider smiles as the two kiss. Excited for their new found path.

The spark in both of their chests soon glowing between them as the seconds pass.

Sorry that this one isn’t as long as the others but man I enjoyed this so much. I love writing for B and this defiantly was a ton of fun for our best yellow boy. I hope you all enjoyed this and enjoy the other endings!

[hopefulidiocy]

yoo can i request a helaena x male reader where she is still married to aegon. she is appointed a queensguard and she falls in love with him as he’s truly the only one who accepts her for who she is and he reciprocates but he can’t act upon it due to his sworn oaths + she’s literally the princess / future queen. throw some angst + forbidden lovers trope + sunshine x grumpy in there as well!

thanks for reading （╹◡╹）♡

His Queen

Queen!Helaena x Queensguard!MaleOCReader :)

Warnings: offensive language, angst, fluff, poor grammar.

I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE HOTD CHARACTERS

A/N some of the timeline is muddled up so please just bear with. I hope this is good enough!

~

Every day is the same Helaena dresses her children, she over watches their lessons and she embroiders clothing, blankets, just about anything for her family; but they do not admire it. She will always make elaborate stitchings and look after her insects because they take her away from the world she has been thrown into.

She does not need her family’s attention, she is happy all by herself in her chambers with her children as they play and laugh; those are the moments she cherishes more than seeing her mother and grandsire, in fact her entire family.

Her ladies followed her as she escorted her son to the library, his little ponytail swayed as he held onto her fingers with his innocent fist, all morning he had been talking her ear off and at first it was sweet but she became overwhelmed at all the information he was throwing at her. Being so young herself, she didn’t believe being a mother was her thing and this morning proved that. She swallowed the large lump in her throat as her husband, and brother, approached them with a smile; but the smile wasn’t towards her, it was never towards her and she was used to it by now.

“Jaehaerys!” He opened his arms and their son flew into them, he picked him up and twirled him around. “My heir!” He announced to his hand, who looked on with a grimace. Otto had always made Helaena uncomfortable, as did most of her family, even her mother wasn’t a source of comfort anymore. Just behind Aegon was Aemond, who walked with a spider like stealth; if you looked away from him, he would attack and it set everyone on edge. He never broke a smile as he watched his nephew laugh at his father making faces at him, all three of them were still children. Made to grow up quick.

“I’m taking him.” Aegon spoke to Helaena with no softness, no gentle tone or touch, just a statement and she was meant to accept it. She nodded, watching as they ran towards the Council Chamber together.

“Sister.” Aemond acknowledged and walked straight past her without a response. She cleared her throat, pressing down on her chest to stop the rising bile escaping and to stop her heart from burning.

~

Later on in the day, Helaena was sat by her window seat in her chambers, watching the world go by when Aegon stormed in with Ser Criston Cole. Cole wrinkled his nose at the caged insects that sat by her feet, he was lucky he didn’t see them scattering across her feet because that was usually her way of relaxing. But today she simply couldn’t. She turned her head, just to focus in on Aegon who was looking at her ladies in waiting; all of them uncomfortable and trying to busy themselves with anything that wasn’t his predatory glare.

“My Queen.” He laid on the affection thickly. She smiled falsely to let him continue. “I have a gift for you.”

“Where is Jaehaerys?” She asked calmly, scouting the entourage around her brother and not seeing her little boy.

“In his lessons.” He shrugged.

“He was meant to be finished by now.” She rested her back against the wooden panel, rolling her head back to the window.

“He started late.” He shrugged, his gaze turning back to her ladies. Helaena didn’t respond, instead watching Otto climb into his saddle and ride off into the distance.

“Ooookay.” He scoffed. “As i said, i have a gift for you.”

“You can leave it at the door, Aegon.” She responded quietly. A bustle of footsteps then came, a hand clasped her elbow and dragged to her feet, she stumbled slightly before standing straighter.

“Don’t be so ungrateful. I have a gift.” He spat through his teeth and all Helaena could do was smile. “Step forward, Ser Prito.” Helaena watched as a man she didn’t recognise walk towards her, his hair sandy and his jaw strong. Stronger than most of the men here, initially her breath was taken away but she swallowed her gasp down and looked into his dark, chestnut eyes as he bowed to the ground. She watched as he raised his head, his eyelashes long and curled, his hand reaching out for hers. Hesitantly, she gave him it and hitched her breath as he kissed it softly.

“Ser Prito Caesar, at your service, my Queen.” His voice was soothing, it was naturally at a lower point than any voice she had heard in the Red Keep.

“I have appointed you a Queens Guard.” Aegon slapped her on the back like he would one of his close pals. She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded as Prito rose to his full height, head and shoulders above everybody else. “I must get on, acquaint yourselves.” He left with his entourage and Ser Prito stood tall in front of the Queen. She ringed her hands, trembling as she didn’t know how to command him or what to do with him. So both of them just stood looking at each other.

“My Queen.” Lady Crystal approached her, her closest maid but even then she wouldn’t call her a friend. “Command him to stand outside your chambers, that’s what they do.” Helaena cleared her throat.

“Stand outside my rooms.” It came out more blunt than she meant too, but he grunted in acceptance and left to stand guard. She watched as he seemed to float out of the room, disappearing behind the door.

~

Two days later at night, Helaena held her children’s hands as she led them towards their nursery. Both of them were talking, more babbling, to each other and she simply turned off from it as her head began to swim with the metal-like footsteps behind her from Ser Prito. Dayna welcomed them into the nursery, Helaena kneeled down to strip her children’s clothing and into their nightgowns. As she was at their height, she noticed how alike they are to her and her heart knocked; whenever this happened she would feel this surge of love that she hoped to hold onto for the rest of her life. She caressed their faces, smiling very slightly as they watched her in silence.

“Goodnight, children.” She whispered, planting a soft kiss on their heads as Dayna tucked them into bed. She watched on as they settled in, their hands clasped in prayer.

Once she was outside the door, the cold air of the corridors was blowing and made her skin prickled; Ser Prito silently behind her as she gazed over the grey stone and the silence that filled her ears. She relished in this, letting her mind turn off and closing her eyes. She breathed in and out measurably.

“Helaena?” Alicent questioned softly, her heeled shoes stepping towards her. Helaena opened her eyes to see the concerned look on her mother’s face, she was always worried even though Helaena felt fine most days due to being used to these emotions. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, mother.” Alicent’s eyes drifted from her daughter to her Queens Guard. “Who is this?”

“My Guard.” She responded shortly, before moving away and towards her chambers, leaving her mother in the wake of her awkward small talk.

Lightning candles and incense, Helaena settled on the pillowed floor she made for herself and let her roaches scuttle over her fingers, she smiled as they roamed over her. Their black, sleek backs shining in the moonlight. She looked for their feed but couldn’t find it so she moved from her knees to her feet, her cockroaches still on her hands with the sudden movement of her body. Slowly, she opened her door to Ser Prito still outside her door. With the movement, he instantly turned, watching her intently.

“My Queen.” He bowed low again.

“Um, hello.” She said awkwardly, shuffling on her bare feet. “Could you fetch me some sweet meats?” She asked, leaning her head on the door she had open enough to see him. For a moment he looked perplexed.

“I am not meant to leave you, my Queen.” He said. “Could you ask one of your maids?” She shook her head.

“No, they are abed. I will come with you.” She shut the door and placed her cockroaches in their cages, slipping on her silk slippers and walking out of her chambers.

“My Queen, no one knows who could be lurking in the darkness. It might be dangerous for you.” He said carefully, his eyes on hers, making her breathing deeper and perhaps a small blush rising.

“We will be quick.” She shrugged and started walking in front of him towards the kitchens of the Red Keep, usually someone was always awake down there.

“My Queen, aren’t you cold?” He asked, keeping up with her.

“No.” She responded shortly and opened the doors to the kitchens, all the maids stood instantly for her and she had always hated it because she felt lower than them. She requested for sweet meats and was brought a plate of honey covered beef, a curtsey and a muttered goodnight.

“Goodnight, Ser Prito.” She didn’t look at him and hastily walked back to her chambers.

~

In the morning, Helaena was strolling through the courtyard with her children, they were running in front and playing with each other as her mind wandered towards the weather and how it’s slightly changing.

“Fire is coming.” She whispered, playing with her pendant at her neck.

“My Queen?” Ser Prito thought she was speaking to him, he craned his neck forward to hear her properly.

“Fire is coming.” She repeated, her chest tightening.

“There is no fire, My Queen.” He didn’t understand. No one did. So she kept quiet as the fire rose in her head.

Aegon entered her chambers later that afternoon to spend time with his children, mainly his son, as she stitched a fire in a wood into her blanket she was making for her window seat. She watched as the oranges and yellows brushed against her hand, creating another image of a dragon in her head, forging a new path of darkness that was all too familiar.

“Ser Prito!” Aegon shouted, the door opened and the handsome guard appeared, bowing low. “Has my wife shown you her collection?” He was mocking her, Helaena tried to hide her humiliation in her embroidery.

“No, Your Majesty.” Aegon laughed and clapped his hands.

“Come, let me show you.” He stood and stormed over to the cages with a confidence stride, he was set on humiliating her. Aegon opened the cages, bending at the hips to properly look at them, he laughed at the spiders who were hiding in the corner, probably asleep but he took it as them hiding from him so he laughed hard. Helaena’s skin prickled as Prito joined him, bending at the hips also.

“What are these?” He asked.

“An insect collection.” Aegon laughed. “Isn’t that right, My Queen? Your insects tell you things.” He mocked and Helaena couldn’t find it within herself to speak or look at him so continued on. “Respond to your King! These insects tell you things, correct?” He shouted, slamming on the table and instinctively she covered her ears.

“Yes.” She whispered, her voice trembling and he laughed manically.

“The Queen is a mystery to us all!” He announced, laughing. “Why won’t the insects talk to me?” He mocked.

“I think it is nice. A pet companion for a human is important except in Her Majesty’s case her companionship is with insects.” Ser Prito said, confidently. Then, Helaena looked up and slowly turned her head towards him, he was watching her with a smile and a muscle twitched in her cheek; she felt some warmth envelope her skin before looking down at her embroidery again.

~

A ball was Helaena’s worst nightmare, all those people dancing and having a good time getting drunk was overwhelming. Watching her husband flirt with women in front of her and making her look a fool was also something of a discomfort despite not having any romantic inclinations for him at all. She sat on a chair next to the Iron Throne, significantly smaller than her husband’s and watched with an elegant stillness as Aegon drank cups after cups of beer. Aemond was stalking the outskirts of the hall, his hands daintily on his sword as he scanned the women around who flew flirtatious looks at him. He always looked away in disgust and never gave anyone a second glance. Helaena turned up her nose at the wine being offered to her by her mother.

“Helaena, have some fun. You deserve it.” She pleaded, placing the glass of wine on her side table.

“I can’t.” She responded quietly, gripping the edges of her seat.

“Why not?” Alicent slumped in her body.

“Because of the fire.” She said, as if it was obvious.

“You must stop this behaviour. There is no fire, the Keep is heavily guarded. You need to get out of your head, daughter.” She tapped the side of Helaena’s temple, she swatted her away.

“Leave me alone.” Alicent stepped back and sighed, watching her daughter with perplexity and stormed off into the crowd. Helaena looked down at the wine glass, watching the red liquid slosh from side to side as the beat of feet made the floor shake; Aegon stalked towards a pretty lady and began dancing with her, Helaena shuffled uncomfortably on her throne.

“You can have it, Ser Prito.” She offered him the glass.

“I mustn’t, My Queen. I cannot drink on the job.” He responded, giving her a slight smile. Helaena nodded and set the glass back on her table.

“You are very good, aren’t you?” She questioned quietly. He couldn’t hear her so stood a little closer, bending down so her mouth was at his ear. “You’re very good at this job.” He laughed.

“I do try, My Queen.” He smiled and continued standing still behind her.

Helaena sighed into her plush throne as she watched the merriment in front of her, she was a complete stranger to the court unless she was beside her husband. She didn’t mind usually but he was definitely hard to see everyone have fun without her, her stomach started growling but if she wanted food; she would have to walk to the food table at the end of the hall.

“I want to go.” She stood up, patting her skirts and walking to through the back door so no one sees her leave, Ser Prito close behind as always.

“Sleep well, My Queen.” He said, taking position outside her door. She smiled and entered her chambers, taking her skirts off almost instantly. She could breathe finally once her corset was off and she felt comforted at the sight of her insects, she let out the spiders and had them running over her hands. Getting close and watching them, her stomach churned even further than earlier and she noticed the hunger that was rippling through her body.

Outside the door, Ser Prito was resting his eyes at the sound of the distant music and laughter. Balls weren’t really his scene either, after what happened at his sister’s birthday ball - dubbed the Dark Birthday - he swore to never have fun at them again. His eyes snapped open when his Queen opened the door, her innocent blue eyes peering up at him as she surveyed him.

“Are you hungry, Ser Prito?” She asked.

“A little, My Queen.” He replied. She nodded and started walking hastily towards the kitchens where they had been before. He watched as she floated throughout the hallways with the grace of a dove. In the Stormlands, word of Helaena being weird and mentally unstable made people wonder whether she was fit for the throne beside the king. In Prito’s opinion, she was a bit odd but he would describe it as eccentric and interesting; he enjoyed her interests and the way she spoke a bit awkwardly and struggled with nerves, just as any small folk.

He watched as Helaena’s soft importance to the kitchen staff made them look at her differently to how they look at other royals, they didn’t look at her with pity but with pride and respect. Helaena earned her respect by the servants instead of demanding it like the King and Prince Aemond. She was given a basket of fruit, meat and some desserts and it bounced on his hips as she speedily made her way back to her chambers.

“Come in, Ser Prito. We can eat together.” She said, holding the door open for him.

“I’m not sure if that’s wise, my Queen.” He said, even though his mouth was salivating at the food.

“I’m the Queen and i want you to eat supper with me.” She beckoned him in with her hand and he entered behind her. “I hope you don’t mind insects.” He shook his head for no.

Together they sat on the floor, surrounded by cushions and blankets, picking at a bowl of berries. Helaena nipped at a strawberry as she watched with interest at her Guard who carefully picked out the best looking strawberry.

“Where are you from?” She asked, swallowing the strawberry.

“The Stormlands, My Queen.” He responded, leaning back on his hands.

“Please don’t call me that. In private Helaena is just fine. I hate being called Queen.” She blushed, reaching for a slice of chicken. “I was happier before I was Queen.” She commented. Prito felt a knock in the heart at that.

“How come?” He questioned, cocking his head. Helaena looked at him, noticing soft beige freckles that scattered over his nose and his bottom lip fuller than the top. She noticed he wrinkled his nose whilst waiting for her to answer.

“Because I was able to live how I liked. My chambers were full of my insects, they lived free but now they are caged. Like me.” She looked over at the cages, sighing and leaning back like Prito.

“You are Queen. Free to do whatever.” He shrugged, looking at her kind face.

“No, I am not. That is a misconception.” She said sternly, swallowing her chicken slice. “I wish for the days my sister Rhaenyra was still here. Peaceful times with her around.” She looked off into the distance, her mind going back to her sister.

“I’m sorry to hear you feel trapped, Helaena.” Her name slipped off his tongue like sugar, so sweet and gentle and when it came to her ears. She breathed in its gentle aroma and sighed, smiling.

“With you around, I feel slightly more grounded. It’s nice to have someone on my side, even if you aren’t. I’m sure you think I’m mad, most of the realm does.” She sighed, shaking her hands on her nightgown.

“I don’t think you’re mad.” He said sternly. “You are not mad, if people don’t understand you then that’s their issue, isn’t it?” He smiled, hoping to get one out of her and he did. She smiled somewhat widely.

“I appreciate that, Ser Prito. Thank you.” She blushed and looked away.

“Can I ask about your insects?” He asked, nodding his chin towards them.

“Yes.” Her eyes were wide. No one had asked this before. No one cared.

“Why do you have them?”

“They don’t judge me. I look after them, I feed them and let them roam around. They do talk to me, they tell me how they feel and what might happen in the future.” She said, seeming to go into a daze.

“Which ones are your favourite?”

“That’s like asking my favourite child.” She laughed. “I do like the cockroaches. They just relax there. They don’t attack like the spiders.” She giggled and then looked at him under her blonde eyelashes, suddenly shy. “Do you want to see them?” She was testing the waters and she would definitely understand if he said no and wanted to have distance between them. But to her surprise he said yes and was instantly on his feet, ready to see them. She smiled, ready to get onto her feet when his open palm came out in front of her for her to take to stand with his help. When her fingers met his palm, he clasped them, not hard but enough for there to be some pressure. They kept their eyes on each other as she rose from her position, his hand still around hers when she was standing, both of them simply gazing at each other; exploring each other with their eyes. His brown eyes, so warm and full of curiosity compared to her ice blue eyes, so worrisome but bright at the same time. It was such a contrast. It was beautiful. She sucked in the air and removed her hand, beckoning him over to her cages. He bent as he watched the insects inspect each other or sleep, resting whilst two large humans look into their lives.

“It’s fascinating.” He whispered.

“Is it really?” She asked, her hands clasped together.

“Yes. I’ve never seen anyone as interested in insects as you. It’s admirable.” He stood up straight to face her and both of them went back to gazing at each other, Helaena’s chest started moving up and down faster as her heart perked towards her ribcage. Instinctively, they stepped towards each other. A breeze brought a piece of her hair in her eyes, she didn’t seem to notice it though and Prito reached, gently placing the hair behind her ear. This knocked Helaena out of her trance, stepping back with an awkward cough.

“I’m getting tired, I should probably sleep.” She said, not looking at him. He bowed low and exited, sweat pouring from his hairline at how close he got to breaking his oath.

~

After a near kiss, Helaena sat up in her bed the next morning pondering over what had happened last night; confusion was unsettling and it made her think hard about why it had even happened in the first place. If anyone was to find out, not that there’s anything to find out, he would be executed for breaking the oath he swore to the crown. She could even be punished for it.

She must be ready for taking her son to his lessons, she was dressed by her maids, her hair wrapped up in a veil and a dainty tiara placed on top of her head — Jaehaerys took his mothers hand and they walked, with the prickling sensation of her guard behind her. Jaehaerys sauntered off with his tutor, babbling to her and uncaring about his mother. She turned to Prito and breathed in deeply.

“Thank you for coming last night. For spending time with me. Not many people do that anymore.” She smiled meekly.

“My pleasure, My Queen.” He sent her a gentle wink, understanding to call her by title in public and she blushed, turning away from him.

Later that night, she stalked the length of her chambers wondering why she felt her heart pick up speed whenever she saw her guard and it wasn’t a way to live with being so nervous around him when she sees him all the time. Prito was thinking the same thing and wondering what would happen right now if he just walked into her chambers, what would she do? If he chanced it, he could put his place in jeopardy. Just as he was thinking about this, the door opened to reveal Helaena. Her innocent, doe-like eyes looked up at him and then she left, leaving the door open for him to walk inside. So he did.

“Last night-“

“I know, Helaena. I’ve been thinking about it too.” He said, breathing deeply. She nodded, looking away and trying to calm her hasty breathing. He stepped forward, taking her cheek in his thumb and index finger. “I can’t break my oath, Helaena.”

“I know.” She whispered, looking at his lips and then up to his eyes. A spark ignited between the two of them, a bolt of lightning from the space in their feet and shooting straight up to the ceiling. He caressed her chin with his thumb, looking at her lips and wishing to kiss them. But he couldn’t. It would be too difficult.

“I want you to be happy. With your insects. Your children.” Not your husband. Helaena closed her eyes, sighing into him and then stepping on her tiptoes.

“Just once, Prito. It doesn’t have to be more than that.” She admitted then that she wanted it too. Prito looked to her lips, slightly pursed and wanting; skipping his eyes back to hers, he sighed into the tension into the room, finding some kind of comfort in it. Helaena ached to lean forward, just to find his lips for a mere second; that’s all she wanted. He kept still though, he wouldn’t give into it, not yet and he couldn’t.

“I can’t.” He said at last, letting go of her and stepping back; his heart aching to go back into that position with her but an oath was made the moment he entered the Keep. She nodded, thinning her lips and smacking them together as she looked towards the window where the moon was rising high, knowing her husband was in bed with another woman and her mother with her own Guard. She waited to hear the door close with Prito gone and she threw herself on the bed, thinking about what could’ve happened that night.

~

Helaena curled her legs up to her chest, her back pressed hard against the wooden panel on her window seat; her children playing with their toys by her, finding solis in their mothers’ silence. She was meant to be seeing something but couldn’t find the concentration so opted for watching outside the window. She watched as Aegon and Otto pulled themselves up onto their saddles, chatting animatedly about something unknown to her and there was some kind of ache as she was left out once again from everything. Maybe if she could stop being so weird, so odd, people would accept her and would approach her; maybe if she was a better mother, people would tell her how proud she must be, people would tell her how much her children look like her. If she could be different, maybe her Guard would be more comfortable around her and to kiss her and to hold her; something she longed for her entire life… for someone just to see her. But it didn’t happen and it likely wouldn’t.

“Helaena.” Aemond’s gravelly voice came from the doorway. She looked over to see her brother standing as still as can be in the doorway, she kicked her feet onto the floor and walked towards him.

“Brother.” She said, clasping her hands at her stomach.

“Leave us.” He commanded everyone in the room. The servants halted, waiting for approval from the Queen. “Now.” He ordered even harder, Helaena gave a quick nod and they gathered their things to leave. Prito narrowed his eyes when the servants came billowing out with the two children in tow. They waited outside with him, quiet and silent as the doors were shut on Aemond and Helaena.

“What is it, brother?” She asked, her voice quiet because she had some kind of idea.

“The Pretender is forging an army against us, as you are aware.” His eye watched her carefully, she didn’t know that. “I need you to be ready with Dreamfyre. Remind her of her duties and ride her into battle when it is time.” Helaena’s breath hitched, she brought her hand to her sternum and began rubbing it gently, her heart pattering against her ribcage.

“No.” She said, her breathing becoming laboured. “I don’t want to.”

“It doesn’t matter if you want to or not. You have to, to protect your people.” Aemond was becoming impatient, he began shuffling on his feet when Helaena had to look away from him to try calm her breathing.

“I don’t want to, Aemond. You won’t force me.” She couldn’t face him. Aemond scoffed, grabbing her wrist harshly and instinctively she tried to pull away, something cracking there and making her whine as he attempted to pull her towards the door. “Let go of me, Aemond.” She managed to squeeze out, braking her heels into the ground to stop herself from moving.

“You need to do this. You know you have to. It is your duty!” He turned away from her to open the door but she pulled away hard enough for him to stumble back.

“My duty has already been completed. I have provided an Heir! Let me go!” His hand gripped harder, making her veins close in and the blood stopped flowing to her fingers, she whined again and attempted to twist out of his grip but they were already halfway out of the room. Aemond ignored the servants watching on with wide eyes. “Aemond! Let me go!” She pulled him back, he stumbled over his feet before smacking her arm harshly.

“Let go of the Queen.” Prito came in a flash once he understood what was happening, his hand gripped on Aemond strongly, his eyes fierce. Aemond laughed in his face, rolling his eye and continued to pull her. Helaena began to cry, tears streaming down her face with pure humiliation and anxiety. This was happening in front of her personal maids. “You are manhandling the Queen!” He shouted, readying his sword with his free hand as his other was occupied with stopping Aemond from pulling his Queen any further.

“Are you fucking her?” Aemond teased, flashing his teeth. Helaena watched as Prito’s grip tightened, his fingers sticking into the large vein in Aemond’s wrist leaving his letting go with a hiss. Once Aemond had let go, Prito stepped between them with his sword almost drawn.

“Must I remind you, you manhandled your Gentle Queen.” He shouted. Helaena’s breathing became hard and laboured, gripping the pendant at her neck, trying to gulp for some air but not finding anything.

“She is my sister.”

“She is your Queen.” Prito responded quickly, shooting it back at him before Aemond scoffed.

“I don’t fucking care. You must know out of everyone that the Seven Kingdoms is under threat by The Pretender.” He said, almost spitting it out. Helaena lungs began to spasm, the breathing harder to get in and to get out.

“She is your Queen!” Prito bellowed. “You respect, Our Queen! I don’t care who you are and I’m sure the King would agree.” He drew his sword then, ready for a fight. Ready to fight for his Queen. Aemond laughed, backed away and turned; taking the loss. Seeing the back of him, Helaena buckled to the ground, her lungs no longer filling up with any air, nothing was entering her and she started to panic. She leaned forward, her palms flat on the ground, trying to grip and find something to be able to breathe but she couldn’t find it. Tears streamed in fat blobs as her servants looked onto the scene without knowing what to do or how to comfort their Queen.

Prito’s skin was on fire as he watched the slimy Prince disappear, he turned to find Helaena on the floor, hyperventilating. He kneeled down instantly, reaching for her elbows, trying to ground her himself because she wasn’t making it work. His blood was boiling, he couldn’t hear anything apart from his own rush and her sobs as she begged for oxygen.

“Leave the Queen.” He ordered, scooping her up in his arms. Her legs draped over his arms and her arms loosely hooked around his neck, her head tucked into her chest as she gagged on her own sobs. “Leave the Queen!” He bellowed, moving into her chambers and closing the door behind them. Quickly, he brought her to the bed. Settling her there, kneeling beside and holding her hands against his chest, for her to feel his own heartbeat. She sobbed, wept, as he held his hands there; he watched on, helplessly, but trying all the same. “Come back, Helaena.” His voice was like honey, sticking to her mind and bringing her breathing to a controlled pace. She sniffed and finally, her lungs expanded. He tucked her hair behind her ears as she let go of him, his heart beating hard against his chest as he kept his hands on her cheeks; caressing them softly with his thumbs.

“You’re safe with me.” He whispered, bringing her forehead to his lips and breaking that oath by pressing them onto her, beaded with sweat she relaxed into his embrace. They stayed in that position for a moment, enjoying the electricity and warmth mixture; Helaena was the first to pull away and finally look at him. She was a mess, her cheeks red and tear marked as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

“I’m safe with you.” She repeated, whispering. He nodded, taking her hands in his and kissing her delicate fingers.

“You are safe with me.” They gazed at each other but this time was charged with a different energy than before, both of them simultaneously leaned forward, their lips ready and quivering as they met in the middle. They relaxed into each other, Helaena’s arms draping over his shoulders as she pushed into the kiss and he pulled her closer with his strong arms at her waist, bringing her closer than he had before; both of them becoming one as they felt their hearts fall into the same pace. She sighed into him and he brought her to a different world with one simple kiss, she felt the stresses of being Queen melt away as she leaned her entire body weight onto him and she knew he could handle it. The kiss was magic, it was power and it was beautiful. He broke every oath he made for the woman who would forever be his Queen, no matter what. But right now it didn’t matter, all she was, was his Helaena. The only one other than family to call her by name not by title and he would cherish that for the rest of his life.

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

just finished watching under the red hood and oh boy i have some thoughts.

warning: spoilers for utrh the movie obviously, a very long and not particularly coherent rant, i have not read the comic yet because i heard jason gets treated even worse in it but i’ll probably get around to it soon

first of all, i didn’t realize how violent it was, especially considering it’s a kids show. not only that but how callously jason just kills people. like i was aware but i kind of assumed that he did it when it was necessary. but sometimes he kills people when he could just incapacitate them. i think it adds another layer of complexity to his character, like i see why he’s an anti-hero bordering on villain to some people and not just a misunderstood hero.

not that i don’t stand by his points about killing the joker, but i do understand why bruce wasn’t exactly eager to welcome him back with open arms (i still think he could be a better father though).

ON THE SUBJECT OF BRUCE AS A FATHER. it physically pains me to hear him never acknowledge jason as his son. jason’s always his soldier, his partner, his fault. thank god jason never heard the shit bruce said because i would rage if i were him. you can’t call somebody your partner if you don’t see them as your equal. and how could jason be his equal? he was a child. at best he is his son. at worst he is his ward. either way, no child wants to hear that they’re a mistake. not their death, not the way they were raised or trained. just their whole existence. like thanks bruce, you really know how to make amends with your children.

and on that topic, there’s this theme of like oh was jason always destined to be a criminal? like was there truly nothing bruce could’ve done to stop him? it literally broke my heart when jason said maybe he was always the monster under the mask, like to hear him give up on himself like that made me want to cry. i hate this idea of this life being his fate. especially since bruce was like oh yeah he was stealing my car tires, he was raised to be a criminal and all that. i don’t think the writers meant it in that way but for a billionaire who also breaks the law to say that a child who grew up poor was always meant to be a criminal rubs me the wrong way. like i don’t think he has the moral high ground to say some of the things he says because jason did make a point when he talked about how joker has killed way too many people for batman to let him go.

anyways, do i think murder is wrong and what jason did was reprehensible? yes, although the becoming crime lord thing to control it in gotham was very smart. but is it so bad that he couldn’t have just come home? gotten therapy and had a semi normal life again? gotten to kill the joker as a little treat? no. he was like, what, 18 or 19 during the movie? and also traumatized and in desperate need of therapy? i’m not excusing his actions but when you grow up fighting these violent criminals and also being tortured and killed by one, it certainly blurs the lines. so i understand, and i think there is still redemption for him.

and the real villain of the story is the gotham criminal justice system for never doing anything about crime alley or keeping people like the joker from breaking out of arkham every week.