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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years ago

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Slumbering Hearts (Alcina Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language/brief nudity Warnings: None Summary: In a wicked twist of fate, you find out your soulmate is none other than your employer, Lady Dimitrescu. To your misery, she (at first) seems equally displeased, her heart already belonging to another. But in time, the two of you find yourselves wondering... could the universe be right, after all? Soulmate AU in which every person has a unique "soul mark", which they share with their soulmate. Notes: Reader is gender neutral, but at some points will be described as leaning towards being feminine (due to personal interpretation of Alcina's character). Additionally, Lady D will eventually be referred to by her first name, so don't worry if you feel weird about her being called by her full title all the time, it's just for this chap, when the reader isn't familiar with her. Lastly, this contains a bit of one sided Alcina/Miranda, which serves as a plot point, but is (clearly) not the primary ship.

1: In The Shadow Of Giants

Three months, two weeks, and one day. That’s how long you’ve been at this accursed castle, serving cruel mistresses, having been plucked from your peaceful life in the village. Anger stains your every thought, slowly festering inside your chest. There is no cure, at least not without a fatal price, but there are mild remedies. ‘Tis not long before the other servants learn to give you the more physically demanding chores. Nothing numbs your mind quite the same way that chopping firewood does, though you often settle for hard scrubbing age-old tile. Every day ends with your muscles crying from the effort of it all. Every day… except today. Another servant, from the night shift, has been wounded severely, and her job was deemed too important to be foregone.

And, as such, she has been replaced. By you. For once, you turn in early, long before your clothes can become stained with sweat. Yet you aren’t happy, not when you know that this change will ruin your sleep for weeks to come. Even worse, it’ll be impossible to avoid your ‘employers’, whereas working the day shift meant almost never seeing them. So far, you have only seen them on four or five occasions. Hell, you’ve only met two of them, being Cassandra and Bela. Based on what others told you, the other two weren’t much (if at all) better. As you try your best to get some rest, only a single ‘positive’ thought runs through your head: Well, worst comes to worst, I’ll get killed, then I won’t have to worry about anything anymore.

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“Remember: No talking unless you’re asked a question. The Mistress has had a rough morning, and this is her best chance at relaxing,” Juniper explains, for what seems like the eighth time since the two of you met. There’s a nervous energy around her, which does little to ease your own anxieties. If you heard correctly, she’s only been at the castle for a couple weeks, having previously worked for Mother Miranda. You’re not sure what would have caused the transfer, considering most who were ‘fired’ ended up dead. Something told you that it had to do with antsy nature. “Oh, and don’t leave unless dismissed, even once your part is done. We all need to be ready, in case Mistress- I mean, Lady Dimitrescu needs something. Sorry, I’m still getting used to how things work here.”

“As long as you don’t slip up in front of her and get us both killed, I don’t really care,” you replied, giving Juniper a level stare. Clearly unsure how to respond, she pauses for a moment, mouth opening then closing without a sound. Once she’s seemingly composed herself, you give a short nod and push open the door to the bathroom. Two other servants are already inside, and they flinch at your arrival, briefly mistaking you for their boss. “I can hardly believe they made me change shifts for this,” you add, under your breath, rolling your eyes. What was so important about making sure a few candles stayed lit? During bathtime? Maybe it was something you had to be a giant, vampiric noblewoman to understand. Regardless of your annoyance, you quickly get to work, striking the first of a couple matches. It’s a rather dull task. To think you would have preferred heavy labor to this.

Before long, the last flame springs to life, and Juniper dims the lights, allowing the candles to become the focus. At least one is scented, though you cannot place the specific kind. Less than a minute after the last one is lit, the door once again swings open, revealing your most elusive employer. She’s… more than you anticipated. In every conceivable way, truthfully. Taller, more graceful (even as she has to duck through the entrance), and, as much as you hate to think so, far, far more beautiful. If not for the warm lighting of the room, you would have worried about someone seeing your blush. Certainly I am not the first to react this way, you think, as you bow alongside the others.

“Yes, yes, get on with it,” Lady Dimitrescu says, with a sharp frown. Then she moves closer to the tub, which you imagine could fit half a dozen ‘normal’ people, and holds out her arms to her side. For a moment you’re confused, but you instinctively mimic the motions of the other maidens. Together the four of you reach for her robe, gently taking hold of it while she steps into the bath, before hanging it onto a nearby hook. A second later your entire world is turned upside down. You’re freezing in place, eyes wide, as the bare back of Lady Dimitrescu reveals itself to you. Yet this is not an instance of poorly veiled lust. No, it is equal parts horror and repulsion, for you find yourself staring at a distinctive soul marking.

One that matches your own.

Beside you, Juniper watches you with concern, silently urging you to stay silent. Neither of the other two servants seem to react, other than by taking a small step backwards. Unable to speak, let alone form coherent thoughts, all you can do is point a trembling finger towards the soul mark. It’s right in between Lady Dimitrescu’s shoulder blades. Once upon a time, you had marveled at the design, smiling every time you saw it in the mirror. Now, it might as well be the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen. Based on her expression, Juniper seems to agree, although for different reasons. As your hand drops back to your side, you try to compose yourself enough to focus on the task before you. Instead, someone breaks the quiet, boldly, daring to think that they would be rewarded for it.

“My Lady,” a servant says, stepping forward, shooting you a waywards glance. Instantly she has your employer’s attention, though that comes with the metallic sssssslk of her claws extending. There’s an unspoken threat that demands respect. None comes, however, just the frenzied words of a panicked maiden. “I know who your soulmate is, my Lady. I thought that perhaps you’d-”

“A name. Give me… a name,” Lady Dimitrescu interjects, claws still out and impatiently tapping on the tile floor. Tense, you start to step forward, wanting desperately to silence the treacherous maiden. But her tongue is faster than your fist, and soon enough your name is echoing through the room. “Oh? The one right behind me, hmm? Dreadfully convenient, really. Step forward, dear, and let me see the proof. Assuming it exists.” All eyes other than hers are on you, now. With a deep breath, you begrudgingly step in front of Lady Dimitrescu, trying not to even briefly glance at her chest (or worse, lower). One of her hands shifts, a long claw tilting your chin up. “Well?”

“Forgive the placement,” you mutter, awkwardly grabbing your shirt collar, tugging it down to reveal your soul mark, planted neatly on the center of your chest. If Lady Dimitrescu’s gaze wanders, it does so too quickly to be noticed, though she does make a low humming noise at the sight. Feeling much like a piece of meat on display at the butcher’s, you scowl deeply. Soon enough, but not as soon as you’d like, the claw under your chin retracts, and you once more cover up your soul mark. You can’t bring yourself to look your soulmate in the eyes.

“Hmm. Not what I expected. Not at all,” she muses, more to herself than to you, softly. Behind her, Juniper is sending you a sympathetic expression. All you can do, as Lady Dimitrescu judges you, is glare at the origin of this revelation. What did she think to gain by speaking up? Hadn’t she heard the same rumors that you had? Didn’t she know that your employer already loved another, even if that affection was unrequited? There was, simply put, no chance that you were the preferable option. Not when there was no race against neither time nor death. At best, you could be a distraction. Something to keep her mind off of the person she’d rather be with. “Go clean up, get some sustenance if you must, then go to my quarters. We will discuss this further there- after I am done here.”

With that said, she waves you off, letting you relax for the first time in several minutes. After giving a short bow, you immediately move to leave. On your way, you intentionally bump shoulders with the maiden who spoke up, sending her a glare, then give Juniper a nod of acknowledgement. Nervous wreck or not, she was the only person you ‘knew�� on the night shift. Not that such a thing would even matter soon. To think that we’ve been soulmates this whole time, you think, living in the same castle for months, never seeing each other. I wish things could have stayed that way. At least you’d have some time to process your developing situation. Though you doubted you’d have enough time.

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In an unusual change of pace, Alcina dismisses the rest of her servants, long before her bath is done. They exchange glances before scattering to the winds. A heavy sigh leaves her lips, and she sinks lower into the tub. Of course I have a soulmate, she thinks, bitterly. I knew this. Knew that it wasn’t her, and yet still, I find myself surprised. Disappointed, even. How had an already rough evening gotten even worse? More than that, what was she supposed to do about it? There was a part of her that wanted to kill her soulmate. She figured that, with them out of the way, the universe might finally understand who she was meant to be with. After all, it wasn’t uncommon for ‘widows’ to be given a new match, and those were generally other ‘widows’. Considering that Alcina knew for a fact that Mother Miranda’s soulmate had long since died, she did not think that her hopes were beyond possibility.

But there was another part of her, quieter, that dared to be more realistic. If the universe said that this human, this tiny thing, was her soulmate… would it not make sense to at least try? What harm could it do, when her current love had been unrequited for so long? Was this not the end to several decades of loneliness? Damn it, she thinks, gripping the edge of the bathtub until her knuckles turned white. There was no denying it, now that a single drop of rational thought had corrupted her mind. Fuck it all, I hardly have a choice. Or anything to lose, for that matter. With her decision made, she rises to her feet, emotionally ready to face the unknown.

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“Ah, so you do follow directions, after all. I half expected to learn that you had attempted to flee, or perhaps had a gruesome run in with one of my daughters,” Lady Dimitrescu chimes, as she ducks into her room. Inside, standing at attention, you await. All of your earlier nervousness returns, though this time it is tinged with your natural rage. Of all the monsters in the world, this was the one you were expected to love. It mattered not how tall she was, or how sharp her nails could be, or how fierce her loyalty to Mother Miranda. To you, it mattered that you had no choice in being here, that only a handful of servants had come to the castle willingly. It mattered that a single mistake could mean a cruel death. So you did not greet your soulmate with a smile, or excitement, rather with a forced bow and blank expression. Better to be dead than to fake true love. “Come now, do at least pretend that you are excited, for my sake. I have been waiting a century for this, after all.”

“Perhaps the universe found it difficult to find someone who could love you,” you say, the words tumbling out of your mouth, instant regret boiling up inside of you. What you expect is a swift death. What you get? A deep sigh, a scowl, a look of frustration. Still fearing your possible demise, you are quick to keep speaking. “Or maybe the universe heard me talk once, and struggled to find someone to tolerate me. Countless possibilities, a galaxy full of mysteries… and here we are. Forgive me for being crass, my Lady. I would blame it on my schedule change, but something tells me you would see right through that lie, yes?” Not like that was much better, you think, wondering how the hell you were going to survive this.

“You’re quite the character, aren’t you?... Do try not to make me regret this, I’d rather not kill my soulmate. Now, sit down, it’s about time for a proper introduction,” Lady Dimitrescu commands. Then she��s sitting on the edge of her bed, gently patting the spot next to her. Joining her is just about the last thing you want to do right now… but you obey nonetheless. Still, you angle yourself away from her ever so slightly, hoping the subtle body language would help you distance yourself from her. There’s something in her expression that tells you she knows exactly what you’re trying to do. “I am Lady Dimitrescu, though you already know that. You may call me Alcina… for now. Behave, or that is one of many privileges I will not hesitate to take from you. Understood?”

It takes all of your willpower to avoid rolling your eyes, but you manage, instead giving a short nod. This’ll be interesting, for sure.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #love this lady<3

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thetomorrowshow · 3 years ago

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a drape dragged across the moon

DEADCEMBER DAY 17 - Dark Night

got a couple more of these in me besties!! this one focuses on the red army :)

fandom: 3rd Life SMP

cw: death, blood

Martyn runs his finger down the axe, tracing the words carved into the handle. Red Winter is Coming, it reads, and he can’t help but shiver.

Ren is gone.

It’s not the first time he’s had to remind himself. Ren’s legitimately dead, died in the desert from a lucky arrow shot by Scar just after the explosion. Martyn had fallen to his knees, screamed, grieved for just a moment. Then he’d staggered to his feet and attacked.

He didn’t kill anyone. Skizz got Jimmy, Impulse got Grian, but he got no one. In fact, he was killed—chasing down Scar, swearing revenge, he was ambushed by Smajor and Grian, and the three of them together took him down.

Now he is Yellow, and it is midnight at Blackheart Altar.

He needs a Green here, a Green to swing the axe, and that is why BigB stands in the wheat field, watching nervously. The rest of the Red Army is near—a shadow perched on the wall, eyes poking out of the secret passage—but to Martyn, only three exist. BigB, himself, and the Red King.

He’s not crying. He hasn’t cried at all, not even when Ren died. He’s just been silent, apart from that dreadful scream just after his king had fallen.

The Red King whispers in his ear, hasn’t stopped since he cradled Ren’s head in his lap as his king took his last, gasping breaths. He can hear other sounds; it doesn’t obstruct his hearing at all, just makes the hairs on his arms raise and his face twitch as he tries to shake the voice away. He supposes he’ll just have to get used to it.

It’s dark tonight, the new moon plunging the world into inky blackness. Even the stars are somehow obscured. The candles on the altar flicker, as if the darkness is so dense it will put them out too. He needs those, though. He needs to be able to see for this ritual.

The Red Army is lost without its king. Martyn has been chosen, from the beginning, to replace Ren in case of emergency. And to replace Ren, he must be Red.

He looks up from the axe. It’s the original—it had fallen into enemy hands for a time, but Impulse had risked his life to go in undercover and steal it back. He feels a burst of sudden anger as he thinks of those filthy hippies with their hands on such a sacred object. They need to be taught a lesson.

Ren’s crown is already atop his head. It’s a little large, and far heavier than he expected, but he assumes the Red King will make up for that. Everything is set to go.

The only part of this ritual that brings him doubt is BigB. By swinging the axe through Martyn’s neck, he will be sealing himself as the next Red King should Martyn fall. He doesn’t know if BigB has it in him. More importantly, he doesn’t know if he wants to consign BigB to that fate. But BigB had volunteered himself to the act, offered his own hands to the furthering of Dogwarts. If that didn’t take guts, nothing did.

Martyn takes a deep breath, then holds the axe out in front of him. BigB hurries forward. The night goes deathly still, more so than it already had been—those members of the Red Army watching must have frozen.

BigB’s eyes meet his, green seeing yellow, and he raises his eyebrows in an uncertain question. Martyn licks his lips anxiously, then transfers the weight of the axe to his Hand.

“It’s easy,” he murmurs, close enough to his companion that there’s no way anyone observing would hear his words. BigB huffs. “All you have to do is swing the axe up and then down. On my neck.”

That gets a smile from the man, who whispers haltingly, “Do I need to say anything? Do anything else?”

“No. You might feel a little funny when it happens, but that’s just the Red King passing through your hands. Honestly, you’re lucky I’m here to explain this to you. I was clueless when I did it.”

BigB nods. His hands grip the axe a bit tighter, and he swings it experimentally. Martyn hops back, his heart squeezing in panic, a dry chuckle spilling from his lips.

“Whoa, not quite yet, yeah?”

BigB lets the axe fall, the tip of it just touching the altar. Martyn shudders as a thrum runs through the ground and up his legs. It inexplicably reminds him of another part of the ritual.

“After I respawn,” he explains quietly, “I’m going to come back here and offer myself up to you. It’s technically your choice to kill me and take the crown, or to put the axe down and help me to my feet. You’re gonna want to do the second one, okay?”

Again, BigB nods. He looks nervous, his nose twitching and breathing fast, and Martyn doesn’t blame him. Blackheart Altar at midnight is terrifying.

“You ready?”

BigB takes a deep breath. “I think I am,” he says, offering a shaky grin. Martyn claps him on the back, then moves to the center of the altar and drops to his knees. He can do this. He has to. It’s what the Red Army needs, what the spirit of the Red King pushes him to do. His will be done.

The night is still dark. The only light within the walls comes from the flickering candles around the altar. He stares into the cracks of the structure, dried blood long washed away by the rain. Soon his blood will seep into those cracks, seal the magic that will release the Red King. He can’t say he’s excited, but he does feel some sense of grim satisfaction. They think the Red King has perished? Think again, fools.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? Like, I can wait—”

“Do it, Hand.”

“But—”

“Now!”

Searing pain through his neck, then blackness darker than the night.

When Martyn sits up, the heavy weight still rests on his head. Something trickles into his eye—blood, dripping from the crown he now bears. He stands on shaky newborn legs, catching a flash of red in the mirror across the room. His eyes. He stares into his own eyes, gleaming, framed by blood.

Oh, how he wants to kill.

In his pocket are sunglasses. Skizz had removed them from Ren’s body when they carried him back to Dogwarts, laying his body in the tomb prepared specially for cases such as this. Martyn slides them on, grins wolfishly at his reflection.

When he speaks, he speaks with the brogue of the Red King.

“The Red King has risen!”

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kylos · 4 years ago

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i was asked to make some fic recs of stuff i’ve been reading since tros dropped but since tumblr has a glitch where i can’t add a “read more” cut in asks, i decided to make it a separate post because i have a LOT. all of them are rated E except for like, three lmao and they’re mostly modern au ones with some fix-its thrown in. i’ll put two of my favorites outside of a cut and the rest after it.

(won’t you let me) walk you home from school by somethingdifferent modern au. ongoing. ben and rey are co-workers at a private school. rey as a elementary school art teacher is SO CUTE. her and ben have a slow burn enemies to lovers situation going on and god, what can i say about this fic. one of THE BEST reylo fics i’ve ever read. incredibly in character. you know those fics that are so enthralling that they draw you in and you realize like 3 hours later that you’ve read the whole thing? this fic is one of those stories. it reels you in. and REY. i hate fics that are like, “she’s so plain and mousy and ordinary and lanky” like, NO. i love that this author characterizes her as the vibrant, sweet, radiant person she is. and ben’s deadpan humor in this is amazing. he’s got it so bad for rey but he’s such a self-sabotaging goof. just, god. i can’t stress enough how amazing of a fic this is. a must read. and if you love what we do in the shadows, read somethingdifferent’s cracky wwdits x reylo crossover oneshot - it’s hilarious

a place to go by delia-pavorum (literaryminded) modern au. bit of a slow burn. ben and rey are strangers and accidentally both end up at luke’s cabin during xmas vacation because luke, a fellow teacher at rey’s school lends it to her for the holiday and a certain grumpy tol nephew of his happens to drop by thinking it’s vacant. they get snowed in. [in bill hader’s stefan voice] this fic has everything: bed sharing, an enemies-to lovers dynamic, slow dancing to frank sinatra, snark, british!rey and ben finding her accent adorable, ben reading jane austen to a sick rey, smut, and fluff. another one of the best reylo fics i’ve ever read in the past 5 years i’ve been a shipper. it’s so well written and it made me cry with how moved i was by it. i stayed up all night reading all 8 chapters it was that good.

the man, the stallion, and the wind by voicedimplosives modern au. i love this fic so, so, so much. rey picks up a hitchhiking ben and they have to hang out in her trailer while the winter storm calms down. so fluffy and smutty i love it so much. their characterizations are perfect. definitely a fic that i’m gonna come back to read over and over again.

between two lives by neonheartbeat modern au. rey’s a model and her car breaks down in the middle of nowhere and she stays with mechanic ben solo while her car gets worked on. SUCH a good fic. the build up to their relationship is *chefs kiss* and the smuttttt. amazing. and i was not prepared for all the feels.

carve your name upon my heart by TourmalineGreen modern au and 3 chapters. one of the most unique fics i’ve ever read. it actually got me really emotional and i like, hardly ever cry reading fics. rey’s an artist that creates a sculpture (ben) that comes to life. such a beautiful fic, i absolutely adore it.

big dick problems by TourmalineGreen modern au. rey and ben are co-workers at a book store and ben being a kind of aloof person, rey thinks he hates her (she’s wrong ofc asdklfjsd). anyway one day at work she sees that he was browsing the r/bigdickproblems subreddit on his phone aaaand i won’t say more. seriously, go read this. it’s SUCH a good fic, ben & rey are so in character and it’s a good plot.. it’s one of those fics that i’m definitely gonna come back to re-read a bunch of times.

rebel side of heaven by jeeno2 modern au. ben and rey are friends, but i guess they’re more so acquaintances in the same friend group. ben’s a virgin and rey offers to teach him about sex but unbeknownst to her, ben’s got a massive crush on her 😏

tattooed heart by KyloTrashForever modern au. one of the best modern au fics i’ve ever read. i stayed up all night reading it, it was soooo good. just. the smut, the fluff. i can’t recommend it enough. the description: “ Rey Johnson has found herself down on her luck lately. A week long vacation to Hawaii for her best friend’s destination wedding should be just the thing she needs, only her day has been hell. Hell, her year has been hell. When the hot bartender with that fucking mouth makes her an enticing proposition, she finds herself unable to refuse. Besides, it isn’t as if she’ll ever see him again...”

sealed to me by glittergothh canonverse and takes place after tlj. this could serve as a tros fix it tbh because it’s like it’s own movie. i love the plot and ben & rey are so in character. the knights of ren actually play an integral part in this. love the finn/ben interactions.

love like ghosts by Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard canonverse. my favorite tros fix-it fic so far. features the world between worlds, ezra, ahsoka, and anakin. rey goes back in time to save ben. and the scene where rey visits ben on mustafar 👀🔥 LORD. i LOVE this so much and it was just what i needed to read after the train wreck that was tros.

I've Got You, Babe by crossingwinter modern au. oneshot. a REALLY cute t-rated fic about ben taking care of rey after she gets the flu :’)

charcoal and petals by Hormonal_Trashbag modern au. a really sweet tattoo artist/flower shop worker fic that i really enjoyed! i’m a sucker for this trope because of abigeyedowl’s gorgeous tattoo-artist!ben and florist!rey art tbh

9 Pints by tigbit modern au. ben’s a vampire. oh my god this fic is amazing. it’s still ongoing but some of the best smut i’ve EVER read. a bit of a slow burn but man. it’s so good.

miles from where you are by Mooncactus modern au. i hardly EVER read anything under M but this has to be one of THE best reylo fics i’ve ever read. their characterizations, the slow burn, oh my god. it’s SO good and funny and fluffy. enemies to lovers perfection. the description: “After an argument over Star Wars fandom with a "gatekeeping, entitled monster" with the cryptic username of KyloRen, Rey finds herself stuck in a series of unavoidable video calls.”

saving mr. wanks by LovesBitca8 modern au. oneshot. rey catches ben in the act of uh, wanking off in the men’s restroom lmfaooo. it’s rare when a fic actually makes me like cry of laughter and this fic was hilarious. and the SMUT oh my god. so good.

auld lang syne by KyloTrashForever modern au. oneshot. ben and rey are roommates. ben keeps getting text messages from an unknown number with uh, explicit pictures and he eventually accuses rey of sending them to him ASLKDFJSD. i won’t say more because i don’t wanna spoil it but i love this fic sm.

bliss, balance and birth by crossingwinter canonverse. oneshot. ben teaches their daughter how to read. this is SO cute and just what i needed to read after tros.

gorgeous by Ever-so-reylo (Ever_So_Reylo) modern au. ben and rey are co-workers and they end up having to go on a company retreat. enemies to lovers perfection

caught in the headlights by jeeno2 modern au. twoshot. ��Rey Johnson forgets to wear a bra to work. Fortunately, nobody notices. (Except for Ben Solo.)” 😏

transference by fear_of_being_bitten modern au. ongoing. rey is ben’s psychologist so this is definitely a taboo fic but GOD the tension between them is like no other fic i’ve read. ben’s an asshole with this air of bravado about him because he’s trying to cover up his insecurities and rey is having none of his shit no matter how much he tries to push her buttons. it’s so well written and another one of the best reylo fics i’ve read. i’m so eager for each update to the fic. here’s an excerpt:

“So you enjoy controlling powerful women,” Rey repeats, making her voice sound uninterested. She takes notes, although it’s unlikely she’ll forget a word of what he’s saying. It gives her an excuse to look away from him.

“I do. But it’s not the taking of the control that I like. I’m big enough that I can take whatever I want.”

me when i read that:

aaaand that’s it for now. i’m still continuing to read fic like every day since i got laid off (thanks covid lmao) so feel free to hit me up in a few weeks or months or whatever and i’ll share more of my fave fics <3

#reylo #fic recs #*

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realityhelixcreates · 3 years ago

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Lasabrjotr Chapter 80: The Littlest Seidkona

Chapters: 80/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: pg

Relationships: Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki (Marvel),Thor(Marvel)

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Party Time

Summary: It's the final ceremony of Buridag-the Seidkona initiation-and all eyes are on you.

You woke up in Loki's arms, right where you had collapsed, Ulfrun, the junior healer looking over you.

“There.” she said. “It is as I told you, she was simply overwhelmed. There was a great deal of power moving during the ceremony, and she is still but mortal...”

“Yeah, that's me.” you grumbled. “Reaching above my station again.”

Ulfrun jerked back like she'd been burned. Loki chuckled.

“Yes, I think she will be all right. The Princess in Courtesy is in the habit of getting back up after she falls, never fear.”

Princess in Courtesy. That was what you were now. A princess without a kingdom, or people of your own, but you had the title...and for your purposes, that was all you needed.

“Will you have her come by for a checkup this evening? I'm certain Bjarkhilde will want to look her over.”

“I think I can do that.” You said, and she jerked back again. “I know, it's pretty weird, isn't it? But this'll make things easier in the long run, won't it? Except for the people who like talking trash at me, it's gonna suck for them, but I don't really feel bad for them.”

“I think we will be fine Ulfrun, thank you for your help.” Loki said.

“So. The ritual has brought you an inheritance.” Loki said, after the junior healer had hurried away. He kissed your cheeks and forehead, mumbling in affection. “So you will understand me now when I say that when I am drowning, you are my air, that I wish to wash my hair in your perfume, that when you look at me, an arrow pierces my heart, fixes it within my breast, pins it to my soul. Like a hapless bird, your gaze knocks me from the sky, to fall into your gentle, blossoming hands.”

Warmth flowed all the way to the tips of your ears.

“Stop, you're gonna make me faint again.” you murmured.

“Later then,” he said, amused. “When you are already laying down, perhaps.”

Thor poked his head around the back of the dais.

“The smoke is clearing.” he announced. “Is she all right?”

“Yeah, I'm good.” you said, Loki helping you to your feet. You had completed the ritual, now it was time to be presented to the people.

Out of the thinning smoke, and into the courtyard the three of you appeared, Heimdall keeping his vigil from atop the high dais. No one would dare make a move against you while he watched.

“The ceremony is complete!” Thor announced in his booming voice. “The paths of fate have been cleared for the Princess in Courtesy. May she pass down them in peace, for as long as her life has been interwoven with ours!”

The cheering was loud and enthusiastic, and seemed genuine. Your finger didn't hurt at all anymore, likely due to lying in Loki's arms for those few minutes while Ulfrun looked over you.

You stood and let them cheer as much as they wanted, then followed the princes back out of sight behind the dais when the crowds enthusiasm began to wane. You unwound the bandage from your finger to show a very pleased Loki that the tiny cut had nearly disappeared. It was nice to see how happy that made him, to remember how willing-even eager-he had been from the start to share that healing bond with you. You had never found out if that had cost him in pain or energy, just that it was very clear that he was more than ready to give.

“So you have gained something.” Thor mentioned on their way to drop you off with the other Seidkonas. “That will come in very handy. Save you decades of study.”

“So you didn't know it was going to happen either?” you asked. He shook his golden head.

“I've never actually seen one of these ceremonies performed. The last one I know of was for my mother, and that, of course, was before I was even born.”

“They must have had one for me,” Loki mused. “In secret. Hidden away in shame from prying eyes.”

Thor's warm smile withdrew into contemplation, as all three of you tried to envision it: A tiny, possibly blue infant, held over the bowl and crying, like a human baby getting their first check in with a doctor, a blade held against one minuscule hand or squirming foot...

It was an uncomfortable image, but it made sense to get it done as early as possible, if they were to pass Loki off as their son.

“So this is probably normal. Just another way to pass on the magic of Allspeak. We'll just see how well it works out for me.”

******

The second part of your day was to be taken up by another, much longer and more complex ritual, that had to be done partially in secret. Thor and Loki escorted you, followed by many people, to one of the popup apartment complexes that now housed to majority of Asgard, until more permanent housing could be built. This one housed the thirteen remaining Seidkonas of Asgard, and had been transformed by them into a ritual house. With some small pomp, the princes transferred you into their care, but beyond their doors, it became a strict 'no boys allowed' club.

This was because, as soon as the door closed, you were led into the next room and stripped down, a bundle of incense being wafted around your body. Once naked, you were plunked down into a metal tub filled with a redolent herbal tea, which the others scooped up in bathing bowls and poured over your head, as if making a kind of Seidkona soup.

The entire dwelling was dimly lit with only candles, and the other Seidkonas were mostly silent in their work, speaking only to give you quiet instructions, or chant ceremonial blessings from the Norns.

Newly cleansed, you entered a different room, this time converted into a kind of sauna. In the pitch dark you sat and sweated, swaddled in thick clouds of suffocating steam from more herbal tea, ladled constantly over the hot stones.

Whether from the heat, the herbs, or the incense, you didn't know, but you began to feel odd. The magic within you felt as though it was swelling, throbbing with a heartbeat different than your own. The passage of time became meaningless, but eventually you began to see a light. Soft, blue, and ephemeral, you couldn't focus on it's source, as it dimmed down into nothing every time you tried to concentrate on it. But it pulsed like the heartbeat of your magic.

The Seidkonas who had joined you in the sauna began singing one word, one tone over and over. Your heart and your magic began to attune to it, thumping along in time, like your little Seidkona drum. The word felt natural, it slotted into your mind, filling a tiny, empty hole. The last syllable of the chant you had been practicing for weeks now. The very last piece of the magical puzzle, that you were not yet meant to utter.

You heard the beating of drums outside, muffled by the door, which cracked open and let in a blast of air. You knew it was warm, but it felt cool on your heated skin, disintegrated the clouds of herbal vapor, and sharpened your heat-fuzzed mind to a razor point. You exited the sauna like an infant; brand new and surrounded by sensation. The air was cool, the candles were bright, and the tub of pure water they dumped over you was like shards of ice.

While some of the women dried and helped you dress yourself, others continued the drum beat that had started while you were in the sauna. Seidkona drums were made of wood now, but their drumstick was shaped like a bone, and the little drums were rounded like skulls, and they may have been these things, long, long ago.

You sat among them, and were given a chunk of bread to eat, and a light, sweet fruit juice to drink. The flavor and texture was more clear than ever before, the sensation of relieving hunger and thirst practically palpable. The drumming continued while your hair dried and and you devoured the snack.

It wasn't just the steam or the heat-whatever herbal concoction you had bathed in and breathed in was effecting you. Your senses felt wider, like you were experiencing sensations on a deeper level. Maybe you always felt things this much, but simply hadn't noticed before.

Somehow you knew when to stand up. You and all the other Seidkonas got to your feet at the same time, some kind of unknown but compelling signal alerting you. As one, you all filed to the door.

Your instructor, the eldest of the Seidkonas stepped up beside you, as the others gathered their cloaks and drums.

“You are different than us.” she said. “The magic runs through you just the same, so you should know in advance: at the initiation, something new is always revealed. Some power, some knowledge previously unknown or lost. I know you've read about it with Saga, and you must understand that there is the probability that it will also happen to you. But you must also know that it's possible that it will not happen. Because you are different than us, and though the magic flows through you just the same, the rest of you might not be able to handle such a revelation. Never have the Norns allowed one of us to be harmed by this initiatory experience. They care about those who act in their stead, and will not force you through something you cannot handle. However, if they decide that you can handle it, human or not, they will push you to your very limit. Be ready for either outcome, for once it is started, there is no going back.”

The ancient Seidkona provided you your little rounded drum, and the parade began; a double line of esteemed sorceresses, wrapped in dark blue cloaks. You followed behind, cloakless, beating your drum in time with the others, a call to the masses that the initiate was coming, the ritual was beginning.

You followed your escort into the same courtyard from earlier in the day. In the time you had been squirreled away for cleansing, the whole area had been transformed. The tall dais was gone, another set of seating had taken its place. There were special seats for the most important guests, and new fencing had been erected, leading to clearly defined separation of Asgardian and human spectators. The entire courtyard had been swept clean of all snow and slush, all debris had been removed and sapphire blue decorations depicting your mark in silver had been put up. New torches had been planted and lit, and large braziers had been placed within the circle-one for each Seidkona, and an extra one in the center for you. They were each filled with a bundle to burn, a little tuft of incense herbs poking out of the top.

The drum beat continued as people filled the seats, as Thor and Loki took their special places, mere spectators in your grand show. The Seidkonas fanned out from their lines and each stood in front of a brazier. The drums only stopped once you had reached the brazier in the center. Each sorceress lit their own fire in their own way. Some were able to use magic, others used burning rods, lit from the torches. You had decided some weeks ago not to use a rod, but to use your magic to teleport burning material into your brazier.

And it worked! You were able to teleport fire! Your bundle burned...for all of a few moments, before the flames shrunk and went out.

Damn. You tried it again. Once more, the fire popped into being within your brazier. And once again, dwindled and disappeared. And again, with the same results. Why wasn't it working?

You heard muttering in the crowd, and you could pick out a few conspicuous questions being asked.

“Is that supposed to happen?”

“Is this a bad omen?”

“Does this mean she's not supposed to be doing this?”

“Did she fail?”

Frustrated, you stalked over to a torch, uprooted it, and used it to light your brazier. This time, the damn thing stayed lit. You scoured the gathered people with a glare, as if daring them to say anything more.

To your eternal annoyance, you spotted Todd among the human seating, his eyes narrowed in the expression he always got when you'd done something he hadn't expected or given you permission to do. Thankfully, you were much too far away to hear the veiled insults and negging that always followed that expression, but your memory helpfully provided several old examples, and they echoed around in your head until you forced them to cease. You swore, if he ever brought this up to you, you were going to teleport him into the middle of the river. If he was properly apologetic, you might even pull him out of the mud before he sank in forever.

Maybe.

“Practical.” Loki said in a stage whisper that carried out over the crowd. “Even mages must know how to solve problems without resorting to magic.” The crowd fell silent once again. Positioned right in front of you, the old Seidkona's wrinkled lips twisted into a wry smirk. She then lifted her drumstick into the air, and the dance began. The dance was supposedly simple: three steps and a quarter turn, four times, ending in a full spin, and then starting again, all in a circle around the burning brazier. Simultaneously, the drum beat, and the chant song kept time. You thumped your little drum, chanting along as you'd practiced. It would only get more challenging, you knew, and as soon as the chant had reached its end, it started over, this time faster. Your performance, how long and fast you could go before declaring the secret last word and bringing it all to an end, was supposed to determine how powerful a Seidkona you would be. In reality, your status was already confirmed, and everyone knew that expectations had to be different for a human, but you were still determined to give the best showing that you were physically capable of. And so you sped up. And sped up. And sped up, continuing until the world became a blur, and dizziness threatened to overtake you. Blue light sparkled at the edges of your vision, having escaped your dreams, now following you into trance states, when you were between awake and asleep. And faster. And faster. Though you were breathless, the chant song filled your ears, the drum beat mimicking your racing heart, until finally, lest you fall over into the fire, you stopped, threw your drumstick hand into the air, and shouted the last word at the top of your voice. Something appeared in your hands, forcing you to drop the drum and stick. You flung it high into the air. Both Loki and Thor cried out in surprise.

You felt the mark on your hand spark into life, runes searing up your arm, neck, and face. The power buzzed through you, like a swarm of bees in your blood, and for the first time, you could make out words in the thrum of magic. You finally knew what it wanted from you.

You were meant to break the lock. Learn us Learn us Learn us.

“Show me.” you commanded. And then the universe opened up before you.

#lasabrjotr #loki x reader #loki (marvel)

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melancholydreadfuldream · 4 years ago

Text

intoxicate me now, with your lovin' now

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: 11th Doctor x Reader

Summary: You hated the Doctor since you were kid. But how did it ended up with you married to John, the Doctor's human version? When the truth is revealed, how will you and the Doctor cope?

Warning: ooc, angst, plot holes, dark!doctor, mention of child-abuse, mention of sex, obsessive behavior, mention of miscarriage, torture, death, etc. You have been warned.

More warning: English is not my first language so beware of the headache you will receive upon reading this.

You stood by the window. It was raining heavily and thundering. Your hand absentmindedly play with the locket of your necklace as you stared outside. Your memories of that dreadful day returned.

Six years old you was screaming as you were ripped from your mother's embrace. Your mother cried and begged for mercy but none was given. You started crying too as you saw someone slapped your mother harshly as a bunch of rough men hit and kicked on your father. You bit the wrist of the person who held you from your parents which enraged the person as he turned his anger on you as well. He grabbed you from your hair and slapped you good.

You didn't stop screaming as your parents were dragged away from you into a room and then after all the scream and yelling, six shots were heard from within the room and with that the screams stopped. You never saw your parents again. You were told they were executed by the people for their crime against the nation.

They mentioned how grateful they are for the Doctor's interference, for liberating the people from the likes of your evil parents. You remembered meeting the man called the Doctor. He was a funny man with big ears. He played with you for a bit when he noticed how lonely you were before when he came to your family mansion as esteemed guest. He was nice to you.

But now you found out he was the reason you lost your parents. You felt betrayed. As days passed and things got worst for you, your hatred of the alien being called the Doctor nurtured even more, especially when you heard in passing how the people celebrate his name. You learnt the Doctor was already gone though in his blue box. He left after he made sure the downfall of your parents who he deemed not worthy to be placed in high authority for the people and left them in the mercy of very angry mobs, uncaring of the fate of you.

You were suffering under the mercy of those people who have no pity for the daughter of the tyrant who had made their life miserable. You were beaten and made to work hard as a slave. You often cried and some of them would laughed at your tears, mocking your weakness. You wondered if they hate you so much, why didn't they just kill you along with your parents?

John watched you from the doorway. He coughed up a bit to catch your attention.

You shook the painful memories out of mind as you turned and gave him a small smile.

He wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you close to him. "Are you alright?"

"Just remembering some bad memories?"

He look concerned. "About him again?"

You nodded mutely.

He kissed your forehead. "Someday the Doctor will pay for what he did to you, (yn), I promise." He said. "I hated seeing you in solemn mood like this."

You forced a smile. "Sorry. I can't help it. Thunderstorm always made me think of that night."

"Don't apologize for that." He said.

Your hand went to the locket on your necklace. You opened it and there was a damaged picture of your parents. "I was six years old when I last saw them...my parents. I don't even remember what they look like anymore. This locket is the only thing I have left of them." You said.

"I'm so sorry." John said as he rubbed your back gently.

7777

John is your boyfriend. It was a recent thing. You worked together for two years now as the soldier for the church of Silence. You first met him when you were assigned to be his caretaker. You were told he was wounded in action and lost his memories. The church told him to take it easy and get some rest.

You weren't pleased to be a babysitter of some strange man but he eventually grew on you, especially since you found out you would have to work under his leadership. You never even heard of John before and yet the church acted as if he was some decorated warrior. You had no idea how he passed the test to be a soldier in the first place. John, at first, looked awkward with his leadership and everyone seemed to look down on him.

John, despite being a soldier, didn't seem to like to use weapon all that much but he made up for it by being intelligence enough to warrant a position as a leader of some battalion. He led some very successful missions which earned him his team's respect including yours. Still, he was reprimanded by Colonel Manton to try to get used to use weapon as sometime the enemies can't be reasoned or tricked.

The first time he actually used a gun turned out to save your life. You were taken hostage. He plead them to let you go but there were no reasoning with them. You told him to leave you behind but he refused. That was the first time you saw something cold and calculating in him as usually he was full of mercy. You blinked as he shot dead your host and bit of his blood got onto your face.

John dropped his gun like a hot potato as the dark look on his face slowly vanished. He quickly checked you for injuries. "Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?"

You could only stared at him in disbelief as he looked so different just now. You wondered if that was the real John.

Madam Kovarian and Colonel Manton look pleased with themselves as you and John gave your mission report to them face to face.

7777

John proposed to you when you both were taken hostage during a mission gone wrong. It was special mission, sanctioned by Madam Kovarian herself, something about a secret chamber in some alien ship with some complicated puzzle. John, predictably, excited to solve it at first until they were ambushed by some enemy faction.

The enemy also wanted whatever behind the chamber and started trapping John's men one by one under some deathly trap. If he chooses wrong, the person currently trapped will die a painful death. Unfortunately, John was unable to solve it in times.

Believing he need a better incentive, they trapped you into position. You had no idea how they know who you are to John but they did. John became frantic when your life is on the line. You tried to be brave but you were honestly scared especially when the saw within the trap started going near your forehead. Your face is full of tears and sweats. You didn't want to die here. You haven't even gotten a revenge on the Doctor yet. You refused to die here.

"Calm down, John, It is okay, you can do it, I trust you." You said softly to him.

John flinched as grabbed his own hair as he wrecked his brain to solve it.

It was a close call but he did solve it. You were so relieved when the trap freed you from its deadly clutch. You fell on John's arms in relief as you hold on each other. It was then he blurted out the proposal.

You laughed hysterically at him but you must be out of your mind when you actually accepted.

"How touching..." The enemy leader mocked the both of you before raising his gun to shoot the both of you.

It was then Colonel Manton and his army stormed the chamber so you and John were 'saved' once again.

7777

It was creepy but Madam Kovarian actually congratulate you and John on your marriage. Her eyes twinkled suspiciously. "I hope the both of you have a happy marriage always and forever." she said.

You told John she made you felt uncomfortable and he admitted the same. You felt like there is some running joke and you and John were out of loop.

Despite everything though, you and John have a happy and peaceful honeymoon. Madam Kovarian gave you and John some house in a military base. She said it was John's reward for solving the puzzle on the chamber. You were told in passing that the chamber contain a valuable alien weapon that the church could harness for a better weapon for the army.

John looked torn when told of it. He still dislike weapon after all this time.

7777

John were called by Colonel Manton. Apparently the scientists of the church were unable to figure out the weapon. You were wondering why they kept calling John for it as if they believed him some alien expert.

John were also confused by his sudden of alien knowledge in the presence of Madam Kovarian and Colonel Manton. He felt uneasy every time as if he was losing himself.

John came home to you tired and weary. "I think we should left the army..." He whispered to you as he hugged you close.

You were confused with his words.

"They...forced me to figure out the weapon. At first, I couldn't figure it out and when I did, I realized that weapon is too dangerous to be used so I pretend not to know...but they...they threaten to transfer you to another unit, to that unit..."

Your eyes widened. The unit he mentioned was the headless monk. You unconsciously touched your neck. You didn't want to lose your head, you are still attached to it after all. You couldn't believe that they had threaten John with your life. But, despite the revelation that apparently they thought of you expandable (of course it was a given you were merely a foot soldier within the church after all unlike John), you still don't want to leave the church as you believe they are the only one in position to destroy the Doctor. You heard they had a weapon against the Doctor but you never saw it.

"I hated that they think you are expandable. You are not."

You smiled at him fondly. "Only to you..." you whispered gratefully. You pulled him down to you and kissed him.

He smiled toward the kiss. "Always...my sweet wife." he whispered back to you.

7777

You thought it was weird when Madam Kovarian suddenly gave you too much attention. She showed a great interest in your marriage to John. She played it as if your union with John is sacred. It was then she brought up about your parents.

"I know what the Doctor did to you when you were a mere child."

You frowned. You were aware the church know your background. It was the reason of your recruitment in the first place. The church is the reason why you weren't still a street rat. They took you in, gave you education and training. You were grateful for the church.

Madam Kovarian informed you the church has started a move against the Doctor.

Your eyes widened in excitement as you wish to know more.

She smiled chillingly at you. "I think you have what it takes to join the special division I created against the Doctor. But John must not know of it. I can tell he is very protective of you and joining this division is a very dangerous task."

You nodded in agreement. "I won't tell him anything."

"Good girl."

7777

The special division mentioned by Kovarian has files on the Doctor. It was there you learned more about that enemy of yours. He is a Time Lord. He can regenerated and has so far eleventh faces. But apparently, the files only have pictures of the Doctor up to his tenth incarnation.

Your body trembled in fury as you recognized the ninth incarnation as the man who visited your parents that night. Your hands were shaking as you stared at the cold eyes of the Ninth Doctor picture. You found out the Doctor had made many enemies and had caused a lot of chaos wherever he go. He has companion to serve and aid him in his chaos-making. You glared at the list of the many names of his known companion. Some of them are still alive but some are either dead or lost in another dimension or some void. You found out about the blue box called Tardis, his time-travel ship.

You got home to John distracted. He was concerned for you but you refused to tell him anything, instead you pulled him close and made love to him in order to stop him from asking questions.

Afterwards, John gazed lovingly at you, caressing your hair gently as he whispered his love to you. You smiled as you cupped one of his cheeks.

7777

John went on a mission and has gone missing. You were frantic and demanded a rescue operation to save him. Colonel Manton told you that he was kidnapped by someone outside the mission.

It was then you found out something fishy. Madam Kovarian and Colonel Manton look concerned over John's fate. They were worried the companion had got to him.

Your eyes widened. "What could the Doctor and his companion want from John?"

They seemingly had forgotten that you were still in their presence. They mentioned Jack Harkness and you remembered the name was on the list of the Doctor's companion.

Madam Kovarian and the colonel exchanged a grave look before turning to you.

"There is something you should know. It's time."

You felt like throwing up.

They told you that John is the Doctor.

"But John is human with one heart. The Doctor had two hearts!" You yelled.

"We had a device that rewrite his entire biology, turning him into a human and trapping his time lord consciousness somewhere else." The colonel replied. "We thought we could throw the companion off his scent by putting him in plain sight. Obviously, they figured it out though it does take him three years..."

Your entire core was shaken. You had given your body and heart to your very enemy unknowingly. "How could you let me married him? You know I hate the Doctor!!"

"...which put you in the best position to hurt him back. This is good, (yn)." Madam Kovarian said.

Now you realized the running joke that you were out of the loop of.

"Did you plot everything to make John and I ended up together?"

From the sickening smile on her face, you realized that both you and John has been manipulated.

You felt sick as tears filled your eyes. You desperately tried to hold back your tears. "I love him."

"And now you know the truth. Stop loving him." Madam Kovarian said carelessly as if there is an off switch for emotion within people. "Or will you forgive the Doctor's transgression to you?"

You didn't reply instead you left.

7777

You were at the home you shared at John. You saw the pictures you took with him and you throw it all away on the floor in your confused rage. You made a mess of everything that reminded you of John which is pretty much everything. You took off your wedding ring and throw it to the fireplace, watching the ring burn within the fire as you cried your heart out.

You didn't know how long you were laying on the floor as you were numb now.

It was then you received a phone call...from John.

"(yn)..."

"John..." You whispered weakly. "Where were you?"

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, (yn)."

"Where are you, John?"

He told you to meet him in some place and to come alone. He said he need to come clean with you about something he recently discovered.

You swallowed painfully as you realized the companion must have told him his real identity. You agreed to meet him. You changed your clothes and picked up your gun and hid it on your person.

7777

When he saw you, John look relieved as he made his way to hug you. You reluctantly hugged him back. He was not alone. There were three other people with him, Jack, Amy and Rory. They were the Doctor's companion. You recognized them from the pictures of companion on the Doctor File.

"John..." You whispered to him.

Jack confirmed that you did come alone so they believe you are not a threat.

John was ambushed by Jack and when he came to, Jack, Amy and Rory were there. They told him something horrible that he is actually someone called the Doctor. His eyes widened in horror when they tell him that. He didn't want to believe them because he didn't remember being the Doctor. He is just a human.

But they have picture of himself as the Doctor and they also showed him a distress video of the Doctor telling the companion and presumably himself as he realized he was about to be brainwashed by Kovarian. The overwhelming evidence is too much for him. His heart goes to you, his beloved wife, who has a grudge against the Doctor. His heart hurts at the thought maybe you knew that he is the Doctor and has played him along but when he remembered how much you hated the Doctor, he doubted that you would be willingly sleep with the man who is responsible for your parents' demise much less married him.

Jack had argued maybe you did it just so you could hurt him back. John couldn't accept it and he wanted to see you again against their wishes.

Amy had told him that he...the Doctor has a wife, River Song. But he had no idea who even she is. The only person he love is you. He can't imagine marrying someone else.

John insisted of meeting you and refused to go anywhere with them unless you are with him too.

John gazed at you with profound sorrow. "Oh, (yn), something terrible has happened. I..."

"I know. They just told me." You whispered brokenly.

John's eyes widened in panic and fear at your reaction.

"You shouldn't have contacted me..." You said as tears filled your eyes.

John took a few step back from you when you raised a gun at him. He looked heartbroken.

Jack quickly pulled his gun toward you.

John made a move to shield you from Jack much to your surprise. "Don't you dare..." He glared at Jack.

Jack look annoyed.

Amy was held back by Rory from approaching John. "Doctor!" she yelled at John.

Both you and John flinched at the name. You and him kept staring at each other eyes.

You slowly put down your gun with a broken expression. You can't hurt him, not when he is still John. "Go. They are about to come for you." You said.

Jack's eyes widened as he made to grab John and pull him away from you.

John reluctantly left you but his eyes never left you as he was dragged away from you.

You broke eyes contact as you bend your knees to the ground, defeated.

7777

Madam Kovarian is displeased with you. "I'm so disappointed with you, (yn) (ln)."

You were forced on your knees on the floor, your hands were bound. There were tears on your cheeks. "He is John." You whispered hoarsely.

"John is not real."

"I know. But he is not yet the Doctor. I wanted to hurt him when he has become the Doctor." You said.

Madam Kovarian look intrigued. She smiled evilly.

7777

Madam Kovarian transferred you to the Demon Run base where you will be trained further.

The base got attacked by River Song who is trying to get to the orb containing the Doctor's time lord consciousness.

You got in her way and she shot you but not fatally. She said John asked her not to hurt you.

"So, you have decided to side with Madam Kovarian. Too bad. John really cares for you. He is still in love with you." River said softly. "I am so jealous seeing the man with my husband's face talk about another woman so lovingly."

You cursed yourself when you faltered at the mention of John and the woman, the Doctor's true wife, smiled predatory at you.

"Regardless his feeling for you, if you make a move against the Doctor, I will kill you." River threatened you with a chilling smile. She grabbed the orbs and left, shooting dead everyone else that gets in her way out.

You watched her leave in hollow. You clutched your injured arm. You smiled bitterly. John will be gone soon and in his place, the Doctor... You could finally get your revenge. You didn't know how to go about it but you are prepared to die to achieve your goal.

7777

The Doctor is torn. He still has lingering feeling for a certain (yn) (ln). He remembered everything he experienced as John and how much he loves you.

The Doctor is angry at the church for using his human version for their own sake. He remembered every missions. He remembered that they made him kill. He remembered how pleased Madam Kovarian and the colonel were for making the human Doctor do everything the real Doctor is against with. The killing, the weapons...

He stood in front of the console. His eyes filled with rage as he wished to unleash the oncoming storm on the church.

The only thing stopping him is you. His hearts goes for you. He felt guilty remembering what you told John of your parents and of how the Doctor had left the child you to rot.

He also remembered killing men for your sake, to ensure your safety. He remembered how the colonel use you to threaten John. He is worried for your safety within the church. He feared the church would deemed you useless and kill you. His hearts ached at the thought of losing you.

The Doctor has no idea how to fix you. Can you even forgive him? All he wanted right now is to keep you by his side, to keep you safe and to cherish you. He had married you and he could feel the vow he uttered as John weighed heavily on his hearts and mind.

He watched River who was there on the Tardis with him currently, his wife, his true wife. She had saved him yet again. She brought his time lord consciousness back, freeing the Doctor from the clutch of the Silence. He owed her everything. And yet, here he is, hearts torn by another woman. How is that fair for her? He still loves River so so much but he also loves you too.

7777

"(yn)."

"Don't you dare utter my name." You glared at the Doctor as you pointed your gun at him.

You finally meet the Doctor in person. He has been secretly stalking you as you throw yourself into dangerous mission after mission for the church while waiting for your chance for revenge which Madam Kovarian had assured you that you will have it. You didn't expect that the Doctor would come to you himself much less to save you from danger.

Instead of being grateful, you pulled a gun on him. But much to your frustration, the Doctor is able to disable you and your gun. He pinned you against the wall as he begged you to listen to him. You were so furious and refused to listen as you struggled against him.

"I hate you! I wish you just go and die already! I will never forgive you!" You screamed at him. You hated yourself for losing your cool, for being weak against the Doctor.

The Doctor recoiled from you. His expression looked hurt. He released you immediately and left after making sure you are no longer in danger.

7777

Madam Kovarian thought the Doctors' obsession with you is an advantage. She wanted to set a trap for him through you.

You agreed to it carelessly. "He will come if I am in danger." You confirmed. The Doctor did somehow knew when you are in danger. You have no idea how. "Do it. If there is a slightest chance of killing him, take my life with him if you have to!"

7777

You have no idea that you were pregnant with John's child. You lost the unborn baby after nearly died within the trap set for the Doctor. You woke up on the Tardis med-bay.

John, no, the Doctor looked upset with you, believing that you risked your life and his unborn child's life in negligent. But when he saw your pale face upon finding out you have miscarriage, he realized you really had no idea. But he had to wonder if you know, would you even keep the baby?

You felt a grief of losing the baby but part of you is relieved, baby complicated matters, especially one that half-conceived by your enemy.

For someone that has just suffered medical emergencies, you felt fine. The Doctor must have give you some wonderful drug.

You demanded him to let you go, refusing to be under his care or owe a debt to him.

"Are you going to run back to the church? To Madam Kovarian?" He spatted angrily at you. "They don't care about you. You are expandable to them."

"So what? It isn't your problem!"

"It is my problem! You are mine!" The Doctor roared.

You were shocked. You glared at him in disgust. "I am not yours!"

"Perhaps I should make you mine." The Doctor said darkly. "...since it seemed you don't care about your life."

You froze under his gaze. Fear filled your heart at the thought being kept prisoner by the Doctor. "Don't you dare."

"You wanted to kill me? Then do better. Live better. If you continues being incautious toward your own life, I will be forced to ensure that you will not be a threat to yourself."

"Why do you care whether I live or not?!"

"You know why..." The Doctor whispered brokenly.

You were speechless. Madam Kovarian is right. You seemed to have a pull with the Doctor. Can you even use this to your advantage? Can you ruin him?

"Do not think you can play mind games with me, (yn). Don't ever, ever think you are capable of that." He said suddenly with a dark look. "I care about you. I still loves you but if you try anything against me, you will lose and trust me, I always win."

You recoiled from him with a flinch. "I hate you."

"So you have said."

"I will never stop hating you for what you did."

"I know."

"Stop trying to help me then."

"I can't." He said desperately. "You were seared in my hearts. I can't just let you go. I go where you go even though I know it was a trap."

You hitched a breath at his confession. He knew it was a trap and he still come for you? How stupid can he be?

You didn't realize he had gotten so close to you. He cupped your face and kissed you. You relented into the kiss before you snapped out of your stupor. You pushed him away and slapped him. You sobbed as you turned to left the med-bay. You have no idea where you are within his Tardis but anywhere is better than being in the same room as him.

You somehow ended up in some sort of storage room. You wished you could find your way out but you predictably got lost. You sat on the floor on the storage room, feeling unwell.

In your dizziness, you noticed an old crib inside the storage room and the sound of baby cooing from it. You frowned as you made your way to the crib. Of course, there is no baby in it. You chuckled, wondering if you have lost your mind too. You did let your enemy kissed you.

You walked out of the room and suddenly feeling like everything is spinning. Despite trying to walk slowly near the wall, you ended up losing your balance and blacked out.

You distinctly felt someone caught you before you hit the floor. It was him. He look so concerned for you.

7777

You woke up in a hospital. They had just finished with miscarriage procedure. You had no recollection how you ended up in the hospital as the last thing you remembered was running away from the Doctor after he kissed you.

You noticed something on the side table. It was a picture, a picture of your parents. You know it was from him, the Doctor, some twisted gift from him, you thought. Was it a taunt? Or was it a genuine gift for he knew that you have no clear picture of your deceased parents? You held the picture in your arms as you cried.

7777

You wanted revenge. That is still something that you wanted, right? You were torn. You can't deny that you still have feeling for him. But you also recognized his truth that you have nothing, no advantage to win against him.

You didn't come back to the church. You felt like you need a break. You need to sort out your thoughts. You wondered if you could let go of your grudge against the Doctor. But, even if you do, you refused to stay in his presence. That man is still a source of your grief after all.

After the hospital allowed you to leave, you quickly used your vortex manipulator to leave so you can be on the run...from the Doctor and the church.

Later, you found out the Doctor had faked your death so the church won't even be searching for you.

7777

You tried to live a normal life. You tried to adjust to society again. You made sure to live in isolation as not to attract any attention.

The Doctor and John still plagued your mind from time to time. You love John, not the Doctor. You love John, not him, never him. You have to stop loving John because he is not real. John is not real.

Despite being careful to cover your track while hiding, the Doctor somehow found you again.

You were furious with him for not leaving you alone, for keep making stupid puppy eyes toward you. "I hate you. Do you hear me? I don't wish to see you ever again."

"I know...but I just can't stay away from you." He said. "I don't want to... (yn), I just want to keep you safe."

"I don't need or want your protection." You said coldly.

He looked miserable as he stared at you with those damn puppy eyes.

You growled as you pulled him close and kissed him hard. He was eager for you as he can't stop touching you.

You were harsh with him and he takes it all willingly. You must have lost your mind for doing this. You hated the man in front of you and yet here you are using his body for sex and he allowed it. In fact he seemed to yearn for you. He was gentle with you in contrast of your harshness.

Once the deed is done, you felt disgusted at yourself as you recoiled from him. You dressed yourself as fast as you can before using your vortex manipulator to leave. It was a good thing you packed the essential in a bag for you need to run again.

The Doctor watched you leave without words. His eyes looked sad.

7777

Of course, you could never outrun the Doctor. You wondered if he has done something to you, if he has put a tracking chip on your body or if he did something to your vortex manipulator. How did he always able to find you no matter where you go?

After a while, your unexpected meeting with him which always started with arguments will often ended with hate sex at least on your part. Each time afterward, you will hated yourself more and despised him for making you weak. And then you will run. It will took him a while but he always find you. And the cycle is repeated.

7777

The Doctor has been acting unlike himself ever since meeting you. He was convinced that John's love for you was strong that it still latched on the Doctors' hearts and mind.

He knew you hated him. He knew he should stay away from you. But somehow he always find his way to you. He knew you were using him for meaningless sex and he knew what he did to you, making you hated yourself more. But he was addicted to you as he was sure you felt the same of him. He knew he was not good for you and vice versa. And yet he can't bring himself to stop yearning for you.

He felt bad for River on the account of his feeling for you.

River shook her head sadly. She had investigated your background so she knew your reasoning for hating the Doctor. Knowing the Doctor well, River knew her husband would blame himself, would be riddled with guilt. And what a guilt he must have feel toward you.

"Go to her then, Doctor. Do what you need to do. Ease your guilt. Love her if you must. Make her yours for however long you can have her. I will always be here for you."

River has longer lifespan than most human due to her time lord genetic unlike you who are only human. She know the Doctor would only have a few years with you, maybe less, considering how toxic their relationship is. By the end of that, she know the Doctor would come back to her. She is not insecure of the Doctor's feeling for her. She is his true wife after all.

"But, Doctor, you have to be careful with her. You can't let your guard down around her. She can't be trusted." River warned him.

Having gotten his wife's consent, the Doctor pursued any semblance of relationship with you.

7777

Madam Kovarian had found out that you are alive and that you have become a fuck-buddy of the Doctor.

You cringed at her insults.

The church has captured you and you were under their mercy.

"It seemed the Doctor still has soft spot for you. Good." Madam Kovarian smiled chillingly at you. "But he really does gets under your skin, does he not? You have become pathetic under his influence. Where is that fierce hatred for the Doctor? What would your parents think of you if they see you now?"

You couldn't reply. You were ashamed. Tears filled your eyes.

You were bound to some medical chair. Some weird headpiece were forced on you.

"Wipe her." Madam Kovarian instructed her scientists. "Made sure you only left the hatred."

Your eyes widened in confusion and fear.

"Don't worry, dearie, I'm only doing you a favour, to get rid of that pesky feeling you felt for John and thus the Doctor. After all, you will only need your hatred for him." She said in sickening sweetness. "After this, you can focused more on getting your sweet revenge against the Doctor. It would be easy to plot against him with some wriggle room since he has such fondness for you. He wouldn't dream to hurt you which make you the best weapon against him."

You didn't know what to think of her plan. You did realized she really is doing you a favour by getting rid your unwanted feeling for the Doctor. But...do you still want to hurt him?

It is no longer matter as they started the wiping process and it was painful. You screamed and screamed and screamed for what felt like hours.

When the torture finally is over, you woke up no longer feeling anything but hatred for the being called the Doctor.

7777

The Doctor had found out that you were taken by the church. He knew coming to the location of where you are supposed to be would ended up being another trap.

You smiled a chillingly sweet smile at the Doctor after you fired the shot at his stomach after he 'rescued' you.

The Doctor stared at you in disbelief. He clutched his injury with one hand, face turning pale.

Madam Kovarian and her faithful colonel stood by your side with a pleased smile on her face.

"What have you done to her?" The Doctor asked Madam Kovarian.

"I fixed her. Got rid of that pesky feeling that has been holding her back from fulfilling her desire to kill you." She said proudly.

You glanced at the Doctor with disdain at the reminder that you were married to him and had sleep with him.

While Madam Kovarian bragged about being able to trick the Doctor again, the base were suddenly under attacks. The smile slide off her face.

The Doctor chuckled. "You really don't think that I came alone, do you?"

They could hear exchanged rapid fire shots from the distant.

"A-ah, that would be my River coming to the rescue." He said with a grin. "She insisted to come with me."

Madam Kovarian stared at him flatly. "You brought your wife to rescue your mistress?"

You glared at the woman for implying that you were the mistress.

"well, what can I say? She knew you would be here, Madam Kovarian, and she so loves to ruin your day." The Doctor cheerfully said.

You frowned, noticing that he was no longer in pain from his injury. It was then you realized the Doctor is actually a hard hologram which meant he fakes the injury.

Madam Kovarian is quick to set escape with her minion upon realizing. But you remained there, staring at the Doctor hatefully.

The Doctor stared at you solemnly before the hologram blip out of existence, leaving you on your own in the middle of destruction of the base.

You started to make your way out but you couldn't figure out the way to safety. You wondered if you will die here.

Then you saw it the blue box. The Doctor standing just outside the Tardis, raising his hand to you, offering salvation.

"Come with me, (yn)!"

But you took one look at him and only uttered one word. "No." You stubbornly refused to be saved by him. You would rather save yourself. And if you can't, you would rather be dead rather than take his hands.

You took a few step back away from him much to his displeasure and somewhat heartbroken look. He opened his mouth to say something but you turned and ran from him.

7777

You were able to escape. It was a close call but you did it. You were covered with dust from head to toes. Your hair is a mess and you were very dehydrated but you survived with a few injuries.

But, waiting for you is River Song. She glanced at you grimly.

"You shot him. Even if it was just a hologram, you shot him. He is weak for you and I know you will take advantage of that. I can't let that happen." She said as she raised her gun and shot you on the chest.

River knew the Doctor is willing to risk himself for you and next time he might not be lucky especially now that you no longer have feeling for the Doctor. She won't let him risk his life, not for you.

You gasped in pain as you stared at her in disbelief.

"I did warned you that if you made a move against him, I will kill you." She said with a shrug and a cold smile.

You fell on your knees, clutching your injuries.

River turned around to leave, knowing the deed is done. You are as good as dead. The Doctor will be safe...from you.

You laid on the ground amidst the ruin of the base as slowly the pain is gone and you welcomed the darkness.

A/N: Okay, no one probably care to know this but I have the song 'toxic' cover by Rumer Willis on my mind and on a loop on my playlist while writing this.

Originally this was supposed to be a 10th doctor x reader, an alternate version of my other fic 'shattered and hollow' but I ended up writing for 11th doctor instead because River is in it and she belongs to 11th doctor so...

#11th doctor x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #doctor who x reader #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who imagine #river song imagine #shiefenwrites

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inessencedevided · 5 years ago

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The Untamed, episode 45 - watching notes

I'm at this stage of fandom rn where it's really hard to concentrate on anything else 😅

Every song I listen to gets dissected for how it relates to wangxian

I need to concentrate on my thesis but instead I'm pondering how the untamed raises questions about collectivism vs individualism and how my western perception of that might differ greatly from a native chinese person or even the author's intention

Can't I just write my thesis about THAT?

Alas, I digress ...

Back to our regular programming :D

Last time one Sophie watches the untamed wwx went all Sherlock on us and used his formidable skills of deduction to expose Backpfeifengesicht's plan of killing everyone and blaming it on wwx

I've heard from several people that the next few episodes are their favourites, so no high expectations at all :D

Nobody wipes the blood on their chins away. Might be about the aesthetic

I adore detective-duo-wangxian so much!! Especially because wwx does 99% of the talking but then lwj will chime in with a single word and it's 100% devastating :D

If anyone knows any well written case-fics for these two, please, I need recs! (For after the show)

Backpfeifengesicht makes good one point and that is that jgy already is at the top of the cultivation world. So what does he gain from all this?

Or is it simply that he's afraid of wwx because he's a rebel and might act against him? (Don't answer that. I wanna find out through the show ;))

Wwx just casually revealed that he's been to cloud recess and that he handles went to the restricted section forbidden chamber. What will you do about, Lan Qiren? Huh? 😂

Oooh! Backpfeifengesicht is the ghosted faced man! I thought it was Jiggy himself!!! 😱

That makes way more sense though!

Lan Sizhui! Jin Ling! Oh you brave boys! 😭

Someone hold me 😭

But why does he not take zidian now? He's done so before!

"You little fool!" Is "I love you" in Jiang-Cheng-speak :D

"We're done for! What can we do??" - wwx *strips*

Sorry

Bahahaha 😂😂😂

I just burst out laughing waaay to loudly for the fact that I've got people sleeping in the room next to mine

But look at Lan Qiren when he sees wwx strop to reveal anat is probably his nephew's undershirt 😂😂😂

He's probably questioning every decision that's let him to this point :D

This is completely inconsequential,but I couldn't keep quiet about it anymore because I every time he makes this motion, it always sends a shiver down my spine!!! Notice that wwx (or rather Xiao Zhan) is one of these people whose fingers bend in the opposite direction??? I know it's just a normal thing some people can do, but I can't watch it!! It makes my fingers hurt just looking at it 🙈🙈🙈

Is he turning himself into a demon lure flag?? 😱

Lan Jingyi 🥺🥺🥺

Also does wwx now just transfer his self-sacrificing tendencies to lwj?

Nothing is as hot as these two together in a fight scene

Jiang Cheng doesn't want to leave them behind. He does care! :') he just never unlearned how to unravel his love from his anger

Sizhui running up to greet his dads :')

Look at them! I'm soft guys 💔

He called him Yuan!! 😭😭😭

So this is it. Any doubts I ever had about Sizhui's identity are gone

Will he finally recognize him??

Why don't you say anything lwj? This one time, I beg you!!

Sect Leader Yao still at his gossip shit even 16 years later 🙄

Lam sizhyi is seasick! Why is this so cute! 😭

Oh Wen Ning!! He recognized A-Yuan? Right?

I want to hug Lan Sizhui for his openness and kindness towards everyone he meets, no matter their status or what other people say about them! (Wen Ning now or who he thought was Mo Xuanyu the supposed mad-man) and I wanna hug lan Wangji right after for raising him to be like this :')

Oh Wen Ning! 😭

That's how I'd look at Sizhui, too, if I met him - poor unadulterated wonder :')

And just think about what that means for Wen Ning! He's not the last of the Wens! All their fight wasn't for nothing. This child, their legacy, survived 😭😭😭

"Can I call you A-Yuan" "Of Course." God I'm gonna burst into tears 😭

I'm actually bursting into tears!!

Isn't this the dream of anyone who has ever lost someone? :')

"He's like a brother and father to me" :')

And he raised him from when he was 4 or 5? So ... A-Yuan was about 2 when the Wens died? Right? Then 5 would fit with lwj's 3 year isolation

Ob god, it's the butterfly-toy!!! 😭😭😭

Wen Nings smiling through his tears! I can't! 😭💔And he's got the one from the market!

Aww, wax isn't wearing the white undergarment anymore. Too bad

Oh poor Jin Ling ...

So much grieve that he could probably never process. There so many lost kids in this story, hurt by things they had no control over 😔

I mean, I get it. That's the person who killed his parents (without being in control, but he doesnt know that) and everyone is just talking to him as if it's normal and that didn't happen. But he can't forget,but he doesnt really understand either and he has no outlet. Of course he'd just ... crash 😥

And who would have thought I'd ever try at a flashback of Jin Zixuan's death :(

For once, it'd be nice if the adults actually acted like the parent figures they're supposed to be and explain things to their children 🤦‍♀️

I'm so thankful though, that no one even thinks of scolding him for crying. Jismg Cheng only asked who it was that made him cry (and looks like he'll kick their ass). Generally, thus show has a very healthy attitude towards tears. Most characters cry when they are faced with tragedy, regardless of gender. Men being allowed to have appropriate reactions to grieve (instead of a single men tear or just punching things) is really nice to see

Oh Yao dude whose courtesy name I can't remember, shut up!

Thanks Ouyang Zizhen! You get me

I live for these children standing up to their elders

Meanwhile Nie Huaisang is just on the sidelines, enjoying the show :D never change!

The Lotus Pier theme song alone is making me cry rn 😢

Why can't wen Ning come in?

Oh Sizhui!

He many times do you want to make me cry happy tears today?? :')

Little turnip-baby ❤

But why doesn't lwj say anything ??? 😭

Lan Wangji raised A-Yuan smong a bunch of rabbits??? 😭

Now he's a turnip baby with a taste for carrots, how cute is that? :')

Holy shit, wwx and lwj are really joined at the hip these days of lwj won't enter the hall if wwx isn't allowed to :D

Lwj 😑 "no misbehaviour"

Someone. Knows. Their. Husband.

Okay sorry, but as painful as these cuts must have been and yes, while you do see scars on this prostitute's face, they in no way warrant these horrified gasps as of they had all seen a monster 🙄

Xue yang. Fancy seeing you here in this not at all disturbing sub-plot 😬

Okay that's creepy. That's really creepy

Shouldn't Jin Guangyao have a bit more compassion for these women?

On the other hand, he was born to menacingly stand behind a curtain 🤷‍♀️

W. T. F. ????

Jin Guangshan??? o___O

That's the most skin we've ever seen on this show and it's in a scene like THIS? 😬

THIS IS HOW JIN GUANGSHAN DIED? 😱😱😱

How?

How can you die from sex?

And then jgy made them keep going?

UGH

These poor women :/

So there's someone who set her free on purpose, right?

Bicao has really interesting eyes!

Oh wait, took me some time to catch up. This is about Quin Su and why she killed herself, right?

WHAT??

They were siblings o_O

They just went full game of thrones on this ...

Hey Jin Guangshan, screw you for raping that woman

Wait, is that why jgy had him die like THAT?

I'm so confused about how that happened btw

But why would Jin Guangyao merry quin su anyway? Was this some kind of political marriage that he couldn't call off?

This episode answered some of my questions but raised about a dozen more 😅

@sweetlittlevampire @fandom-glazed @elenirlachlagos @allhailthedramallama @luckymoony @kyrrahbird @i-love-him-on-purpose

5 episodes to go. I'm both happy because I can't wait to brows the untamed tag without looking for spoilers and extremely sad 🥺

Right now I'm planning to watch one episode each day until friday and then watch the last two on Saturday, hopefully quite early, so I can spend the rest of the day crying my eyes out over it, without having to worry about such trivial things as being a functioning adult or a responsible student 😅

#the untamed #sophie watches the untamed #wei wuxian #wwx #lan wangji #lwj #wangxian #jiang cheng #jin ling #lan sizhui #wen ning #a-yuan #(I'm so happy i can put this tag here again 😊)#jin guangshan #jin guangyao #ouyang zizhen #the untamed liveblog

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lalahbug · 4 years ago

Text

Healing - Levi x Reader

Fandom: Attack on Titan Word Count: 1813

My Masterlist

Warnings/disclaim: general Modern/Office-like AU. Mentions of depression, in case anyone is triggered/sensitive to this topic

Author’s Note: Originally posted on DeviantArt, under the same username, on 12/03/2016. Revamped/edited in 2020.

___ is a blank for your name/oc/whatever you prefer Written in 3rd person

Line/header is to separate paragraphs to indicate time skips, as Tumblr hates my formatting.

Story under cut

Petra was picking papers off of ___’s desk, getting ready to fax them to her.

“Morning, Levi.”

“Morning Petra, where is ___?”

“She called off, but will work from home starting tomorrow.” Levi knitted his eyebrows together. “I know, she’s never called off. I don’t know what happened, though. She said she’d likely be gone all week and would like the form to start working from home. So if you have anything you need her to do, you can give me the paperwork so I can fax it to her.”

“We were supposed to have accounts meeting tomorrow,” Levi grumbled.

“I can give her a call, to see when she can reschedule.” Levi nodded before leaving Petra to her work.

Levi sighed as he signed papers, that ___ should be looking over. Petra, his assistant, had let him know about how ___ would like to work from home from now on. He could barely process the thoughts of it and why she didn’t want to come in anymore. It was an option that the company had, but she had never shown interest in it. What was with this sudden change, she didn’t even talk to him about it. Petra knocked at his door, he told her to enter.

“Sir, ___ sent back all of her numbers and let you know everything about the accounts through email. She also wanted me to tell you. ‘The best accountant in your office isn’t going to leave, but I need to be alone for a bit. I apologize for any inconvenience.’ That’s all she had said, but it seems like she got her work done faster than usual. So I think this may be a good thing.” Petra smiled at Levi.

“Get me her contact information.” She gave him a confused look. “I’m going to visit her on my way home. I need to know why she wants to change everything and I have some papers I need her to sign.”

“Yes, sir.” Petra came back in a few moments with the information he requested. “I also wrote where her spare key is, in case she can’t hear you at the door.”

“Why do you know where it is?”

“I’ve had to go pick up some things from her when she had scheduled days off. She’s in her backyard a lot, so she doesn’t hear the door.” Levi clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Is there anything else that you may need Mr. Ackerman?” His assistant smiled at him.

“Do you have any idea why she’s doing this?”

“No, sir. Last we talked about anything personal; her family was healthy and her fiance was looking into a house for them.”

“I didn’t know she was engaged.”

“Oh yeah. She’s been with him for about 5 years.”

“Oh,” Levi said with a bit of pain in his voice.

“Sir, don’t feel bad! I know you flirted with her a lot, but I thought you knew she was taken. And you were just teasing her. Like you did in high school with a couple of girls.”

“It makes sense why she always declined me.” Levi sighed and looked down at the papers on his desk.

“She always said that she loved your persistence and confidence. That if she wasn’t taken, she would take up your offers for dates. Sir, I still think you should go check on her.”

“You do?” Petra smiled and nodded.

Levi pulled up to ___’s house, with his briefcase in hand, he went to knock on her door. After a few moments of silence, he knocked again. He sighed and moved the potted plant on her porch, removing a brick from the house, which was hollowed out with the spare key inside. He quickly unlocked the door and put the key back. Walking inside, he was a bit impressed by how she had styled home and more importantly how clean everything was.

“Ms. ___?” Levi called out, which was answered with a bark and a husky came bounding around the corner to growl at him. “Hey, you must be Tobi.” He kneeled slightly and held out his hand for the dog to sniff him. Tobi seemed to approve as he turned to walk away from Levi, Levi followed him.

Tobi led Levi to the backyard, once ___ was in sight, Tobi ran over to the edge of the pool and started whining at ___. She was floating on her back in her bikini, which made Levi blush a bit. He had never seen her outside of suits or jeans.

“Tobi! Shush, baby.” The dog whined louder. “I’ll drag you into the pool, don’t make me do it.” She giggled, Tobi yelped at her. “That’s it!” She laughed while fixing her into a standing position but froze when she saw Levi. Her face went aflame as if some tossed red paint on her face.

“Mr. Ackerman!” She swam up to the edge of the pool, quickly walked over to her patio, and wrapped her towel around herself. Levi eyed her body the whole time, enjoying the view as she did so.

“Hello, Ms. ___. I need you to sign some papers, mainly some new accounts, and the form for you to start doing work from home.” Levi made his normal blank stare.

“Oh, of course! Let me guide you to my office and I’ll change.” Levi gave her a curt nod and she walked back into the house, Tobi walking beside her the whole time. Almost to her office, Levi noticed a room, empty and messy, catching his attention, because of the mess inside.

“What happened there?” ___ paused for a moment before walking over and closing the door.

“Please ignore that room.” Levi decided to ask after he got the signatures. She opened her office door. “Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll be a few moments.” Tobi followed after her as she left. Levi placed his briefcase on her desk and looked over to an accent piece that had pictures on it, noticing one face down. Curious, he walked over picking up the picture, to see ___ in a cute sundress and a guy hugging her from behind. It was very endearing but it only hurt his heart. ___ took the photo out of his hand.

“Please do not touch my photos.” She placed it back down, making sure it was face down.

“Why is that one picture face down?” Levi raised an eyebrow at her as she walked over to her desk and sat down.

“Sir, you wanted me to sign papers. I do not want to share my personal life with you.” ___ stated coldly, it wasn’t the first time she told him this. This time was different, though, her eyes were sad. “Please sit, so we may get the papers done.”

Levi walked over and opened his briefcase, handing her a folder. “These are our new accounts, I need them put into the accounting system.” She nodded before placing the folder in a basket. “Then this is the paper form we need to fill out for your transfer technically.”

She took the paper from him, started filling it out, signing it at the bottom. Levi was looking over her shoulder, correcting her on the date.

“Sir, we’ve talked about this about 23 times. Personal space and not looking over my shoulder. I don’t like it.”

“Well, you put down the wrong date so it’s a good thing I am. Also, you didn’t fill out the reason for the transfer.” He noticed she tensed up before writing, ‘personal/family issues.’

“You need to sign this too.” She handed him her pen, he touched her hand and leaned over her to sign it. “Is there anything else?”

“How do you want to go about doing our meetings from now on?” He eyed her, she was clearly still wearing her bikini but had a t-shirt and jeans over it.

“We can email for the weekly meetings and we can do Skype or something for the monthly meetings.” She shrugged. “Do you have a better solution?” She turned in her chair to face him.

“Yeah, just show up to the fucking office for work.”

“I could probably come in for meetings.”

“What the fuck is going on with you?”

“Sir, I don’t want to let you into my personal life. Work and personal need to be separate.”

Levi placed his hands on her chair, trapping her there. “___.” He stared into her eyes as she blushed from him saying her first name. “You are an important asset to me. I want to know why my main accountant is staying at home.”

“Because I’m depressed, I have been all this time. Now, I can’t function and pretend anymore. I want to be in this, I want to learn how to climb out and I can’t make myself get out my bed let alone go into the office. But I can do my work from my bed.”

“What made everything go south so badly?”

___ teared up. “My fiance found someone else and left me. I’m alone now. I’ve never been alone with my depression and now it’s swallowing me.” A few tears leaking down her face, her bottom lip trembled a bit as she tried to hold back.

Levi sighed and gave her a small look, placing a hand on her cheek wiping away her tears.

“It’s his loss, my gain.” Levi kissed her forehead. “Let me heal you.” Levi kissed her gently, she only looked at him, with dismal (e/c) eyes. He glanced at her lips, then to her eyes, he kissed her once more. “I’ve loved you for years. And he’s a fucking fool if he won’t appreciate you, I will.” More of her tears started to escape. “You’re beautiful, even when crying.”

___ gulped for a moment, before finally giving in, letting all of the tears go. She reached up, wrapping her arms around Levi’s neck, trying to muffle her cries into his neck. Levi bent down more to pick her up, carrying her to the couch in her office. As he sat down, he placed her on his lap, before wrapping his arms around her tightly.

“I’ll heal you with the love that I have harbored for years.” ___ rests her head on his shoulder, clinging to him. He couldn’t help but smirk. “I never thought I would be able to hold you, it feels amazing to be here for you.” He kissed her forehead. “Take your time loving me. For now, I want to be your support. Even if you never say that you love me. I want you to be happy, your happiness means everything to me.”

___ closed her eyes. “I still want to stay home.”

“I’ll bring your work every day that you stay at home.” She nodded. “At least you’re mine now.”

“I never agreed to that.”

“You will, one day.”

#attack on titan #aot #aot fic #levi x reader #levi/reader #levi ackerman #fanfic #fanficition #lalahbug #lalah writes #reader insert #xreader #self insert

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solynaceawrites · 4 years ago

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Wires [7]: Gebunden

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M Fandom: Devil May Cry Relationships: Dante/Original Female Character(s), Implied Nero/Kyrie, Implied Vergil/Original Female Character(s), Implied Lady/Trish, Dante/Lirael Thorne, Dante/Lir Characters: Dante, Morrison, Nero, Original Female Character(s), Lirael Thorne, Lir Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Violence, Gore, Dark, Horror, Supernatural Elements, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Serial Killers, Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut Summary: In Red Grave City, a serial killer stalks the streets. Lirael Thorne, recently transferred from Fortuna and looking for an escape from her past, winds up on his trail. Hunting him with her veteran partner, Dante Redgrave, they try to piece together the wires that bind the three of them together. In a race to catch him before he leaves more victims in his wake, the things thought buried will come to the surface, tearing lives and comfort apart.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

“There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.” —Jane Austen

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The diner Dante takes her to is the standard cop hangout. Every city has at least one, with an interior that hasn’t been updated since the 1950s, a cook who knows everyone by name, and food and coffee that are remarkably good considering the otherwise outdated, somewhat grungy appearance the place has. Sitting in one of the corner booths that overlooks the busy street outside, Lir picks at her omelette, only half-interested in it and the crisp hashbrowns accompanying it. Some sort of jazz plays from a jukebox by the door, soft enough that conversations can be held easily yet loud enough that eavesdropping would be difficult. It reminds her of Sunday afternoons when her father was alive, how he and her mother would dance on the worn living room rug to Frank Sinatra or Billie Holiday or Duke Ellington, but that leads her back to her dream the night before, which is quite effective at dampening her already non-existent appetite.

In a lull while the record switches, Dante sets down his fork and reaches for his coffee, studying her over the rim. “Hate to say it, but you look like hell. Rough night?”

“Something like that,” she replies. When he opens his mouth, she shakes her head. “I don’t want to get into it. Just bad dreams, nothing more than that.”

He gives an idle shrug. “Suit yourself. You gonna eat that?”

With a grimace, she pushes her plate over to him, and he swaps it for his own empty one before setting in on the omelette, which he slathers with ketchup. It makes her wince, but to each their own is what she tries to tell herself, taking a sip from her own coffee. Both of them have been beating around the bush since he picked her up—Miller, her behavior yesterday—and she decides to put an end to it. “How much shit am I in?”

Dante chews thoughtfully for a moment before swallowing. “With Morrison? No more than you should be. Job’s safe, and he’s not looking to put any marks on your record. Apparently the D.A. said that, even without the confession, there’s enough evidence to nail Miller.” He pauses, then gives her a grin. “Honestly, I think Morrison’s glad someone ripped into that sorry sack of shit.”

“You think?” She tries to picture the gruff Chief being pleased about anything and finds that she can’t.

“Sure. Hell, he did himself when he was a detective, from what I heard.” He chuckles. “Might not seem like it now, but he used to be pretty wild, back in the day. Didn’t really settle until he started climbing the ranks, and that’s probably only because you can’t let those higher-up pricks get under your skin.”

She supposes that it makes sense. Relaxing, Lir leans back in her seat, watching as he devours the rest of their breakfast at a speed that leaves her surprised he doesn’t choke on it. “Thanks.”

“Huh?”

“For sticking up for me. I appreciate it.”

He looks a bit embarrassed as he rubs the tip of his nose. “Ah, no thanks needed. We’re partners, right? Gotta look out for each other. Besides, I wanted to throttle the guy myself. Your tongue-lashing just beat me to it.” She smiles, but the expression fades when he asks, “You do that in Fortuna?”

“No,” she says shortly.

Dante gives her a curious look. “You know, I never did ask what led you to comin’ here.” At her frown, he adds, “Don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’m just askin’.”

Lir mulls over the best way to answer, trying to figure out the short version of her life. “My dad was a cop. Never really made it higher than a beat cop, but he liked his job and what he did. It got him killed eventually.”

“Shit, Lir, I’m sorry.”

She waves it off. “Guess that’s what drove me to join the force, too. Thought I could make a difference, you know?” He nods. “Anyway, Fortuna was nice. But there was a lot of whispering about how a woman made detective, a lot of insinuations, a lot of . . . I dunno. It’s a pretty old-school place. Women raise families, men work. I wanted to get out before I wound up dead-locked with people I couldn’t stand.”

“Why Red Grave?”

“My father was here a long time ago. We moved to Fortuna when I was . . . I must have been around six, I think.” Lir toys with her coffee mug. “Other than that, I don’t have a real reason other than I liked the look of it the most.” Looking up at him, she asks, “What about you?”

“Me? Been here my whole life, born and raised.” He smiles, but it seems a little haunted, a little bitter. “My ol’ man was a real piece of shit. Joined the force to stop people like him.”

She opens her mouth to ask him how awful his father was. Wife beater? Drunk? Absent? Then she realizes that it’s, quite frankly, not her place, particularly as he’d done her the courtesy of not prying into her past, and she swallows the questions, feeling them burning in the back of her throat. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs.

Like her, he waves it off. “Doesn’t matter now. ‘Bout the only thing I got from him was my good looks, anyway.” Lir huffs a laugh without meaning to, and he winks at her before sobering up. “Anyway, Miller might be taken care of, but we’re still at a dead-end on Marsons. Got any ideas?”

“Did we get anything from the DMV?”

“No, and it’s not lookin’ like we will. You know about their feud with the police?” She shakes her head. “Ah, well. Lotta immigrants go there to get a license or permit or anythin’ that helps ‘em out, especially the ones who didn’t go through legal channels. DMV wanted law enforcement to agree not to send info to the feds, our city’s commissioner wouldn’t agree, now we’re stuck.”

Lir swears loudly enough that a nearby table gives her disgruntled glares. “Perfect. Guess we need to set up a tip line.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.” She slumps down. It’s a necessary step to take, and Lir knows that it is, but tip lines are the bane of almost all investigations. Once they’re open, everyone calls in, some with information that’s actually relevant, some who just want to nose around, some who want their fifteen seconds of fame, others with nothing more to offer than a conspiracy theory or a completely fabricated story that winds up wasting precious time and resources. Add in the sheer manpower needed to run them, and they move from being a hassle to a nuisance. “Guess I’ll bring it up to Morrison when we go in.”

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Having to wear a suit ranks fairly high on Lir’s list of uncomfortable experiences. Even tailored well—which hers is, something that had cost her a pretty penny due to her short stature—it is stiff, itchy, and the tie at her throat feels choking. Her only solace is that Dante looks equally put out, though she’s got a suspicion that it has more to do with the cameras, as she’s never seen him in casual clothes. At the podium is Morrison, telling the city that there is a killer, that caution must be exercised in all things, and that they are opening up a tip line for anyone who might have seen something or knows someone who has. Lir had insisted that they not ask for people who saw the perpetrator; it’s too hard, she had argued, for someone to view their neighbor as a potential murderer. But a witness? They could spin that story all day, and they were more likely to get relevant information from it.

“In short,” Morrison says, “we have found ourselves, in the wake of this tragedy, seeking any information that will aid us. Please call the number at the bottom of your screens if you think that you know something, no matter how big or small it might be.” He takes a deep breath. “We’ll take your questions now.”

A reporter at the front sticks up his hand. “Does this have any relation to the Devil’s Knight case?”

Dante tenses, and Lir looks at him curiously as Morrison replies, “We’ve found nothing to lead us to believe so, no.”

“But wasn’t there religious paraphernalia found with the victim?” the reporter persists.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that.” When the reporter opens his mouth again, Morrison smiles thinly. “The Devil’s Knight case, as you called it, occurred twenty years ago, and the perpetrator of those crimes died while incarcerated. We can’t rule out a copycat, if that’s what you’re implying, but we’ve found no evidence to support that theory.”

A woman lifts her arm. “I have a question for Detective Thorne.” Lir blinks, but steps up to the podium when Morrison beckons her forward, a dull wariness throbbing behind her temples. “Detective, witnesses saw you chasing a man across Fifth Street and Broad Avenue. Is he a suspect in this case?”

Lir clears her throat. “It’s possible, yes.”

“Are any efforts being made to find him?”

“As Chief Morrison explained, we—”

“Because it seems to me,” the woman continues, “as though the Red Grave police have no leads, no evidence, no suspects, and no hope of finding Sophie Marsons’ killer before he strikes again.”

Anger throbs behind her temples, yet Lir does her best to keep her face and voice neutral. “The perpetrator in this crime was meticulous, but it doesn’t mean he’s infallible. Someone out there knows him, or has seen him, or can help us build a better picture of Marsons’ life. That’s why we’re asking for your help.”

(“Make it personal,” Morrison says, lighting a cigar. “They’ll single you out, Thorne, because you’re a woman. When they do, you keep the focus on Marsons. You plead for information. Make them want to help.”)

Lir takes a deep breath. “What happened to Sophie was a tragedy,” she declares. “It was senseless, it was violent, it was deplorable. She was, from what little we know of her, a bright, friendly young woman with her entire life ahead of her, someone who liked frozen margaritas with salt on the rim, who was interested in law. And all of that was brutally taken away.” Morrison touches her elbow, a sign to close her statement. “We . . . No, I want to catch the one who did this. I don’t want to see another victim. So, please, if you knew Sophie, if you saw her that night, call us. Or come in to speak with us. Thank you.”

She steps away, ignoring the clamoring of the press as she returns to her original spot next to Dante. As Morrison brings the press conference to a close, Dante leans closer to murmur, “Good speech.”

“Thanks,” she mutters back.

By the time the press has dispersed and she’s been allowed to change back into more comfortable clothing, the phones in the precinct are ringing off the hook. Dante spots her coming out of the locker room and grimaces, one pressed to his ear. Simmons is fumbling reassurances to someone on a different line. Everywhere, cops are speaking, passing notes, scrawling hurriedly to catch whatever information they can before moving on to the next tip. Lir takes in the chaos and the undercurrent of tension in the air, and then she heads to her desk, on which the phone rings shrilly. She answers, cradling the headset against her shoulder as she hunts for a pad of paper and a pen. “Detective Thorne.”

“Did you enjoy the spotlight, Detective?”

The voice, distorted as it is by some sort of device, sends a shiver down her spine. Her heart pounds in her chest as she stares blankly into a drawer, the bitter taste of fear coating her throat. She doesn’t know how, but she knows without a shadow of a doubt that this is their killer, that he, like so many others, now wants to make himself known. She grabs blindly and tosses what turns out to be a pack of staples at Dante, who startles and glares at her, only for his eyes to widen when she gestures to the phone and mouths wordlessly, it’s him.

“You seemed . . . uncomfortable,” the man on the other end of the line continues. “Quite unlike your father. He loved the spotlight.”

Dante rushes into Morrison’s office, and the two emerge after a quick conversation, Morrison gesturing for everyone else to stop talking. An eerie silence descends over the precinct as Lir asks, “My father?”

Morrison presses the speaker button, and that garbled voice fills the room. “Yes,” he replies. “I knew him, though, perhaps, not as well as you.” There’s a pause, and then a grisly noise: wet and visceral, it sounds not unlike a butcher carving meat from a bone, and there’s a hopeless sort of despair in her that she sees on Dante’s face, along with fury, because it is the sound of another victim being claimed. “Tick tock, Detective,” the man intones, and then the line clicks and the phone goes dead in her hand.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Morrison sends her home with an escort that remains parked on the curb outside of her apartment. Having someone babysit her is irritating at best and infuriating at worst—Dante is also equally at risk, but no one is batting an eye over his safety—but Lir understands the need for it. The killer had called her, had mentioned knowing her father, and her face had just been broadcast on live television. So, the idea that he might choose to come after her next isn't entirely unfounded. Still, as she opens the curtains and peers out, watching one of the officers lean on the door of his cruiser and smoke, she wishes that she had some true peace.

Yet she doesn't want to be alone, either.

Moving to her sofa, she grabs her phone from a cushion and scrolls through her scarce contact list. Joan's number sits comfortable below Dante's and above Morrison's, and Lir dials it, listening to the beeping and waiting for an answer. It comes just before the call would have gone to voicemail. "Hello?"

"Hi. Joan?" Lir clears her throat. "This is Detective Thorne."

There's a pause. Then, "I remember you! You came in asking about Sophie. Sorry, sugar, as pretty as your face is, I've seen a lot since then. What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if your offer for company still stands?" She winces as the words leave her mouth. They're too stilted, too formal, and she's too out of practice for this.

To her relief, Joan's reply this time is immediate. "Of course! Are you comin' to the bar?"

"No, I, uh . . ." She glances at the window. "I'm under surveillance right now. Because of the press conference. But I can give you my address?"

"Sure. Just let me find a pen."

Lir waits for the go ahead to rattle it off, along with instructions for which buzzer to press and what to say to the officers if they try to stop her. With that done, she calls the officers next, letting them know she has a guest coming over and what Joan looks like, agreeing when they tell her they'll still have to check her I.D. and frisk her as a precaution. Then there is nothing else to do but wait.

She tidies up her apartment, washing her few dishes and sweeping and making the bed, and she finds two bottles of wine and the meat and cheese tray the department had given her as a house-warming present a few days ago. Lir has just gotten the cellophane off when her buzzer goes off, and she hurries to let Joan inside.

The bartender arrives dressed like a knock-out, which is strange considering how casual her clothes are. From her dark turtle-neck sweater to her lightly distressed jeans, they imply comfort, but on her they look better than they ever would on the runway. Lir stumbles over her greeting as Joan hangs up her coat, and her nerves don't lessen until Joan leans over and gives her a kiss on the cheek. "I'm glad you called," she says, smiling warmly. "I was starting to think you never would."

"I'm sorry. Between work and unpacking . . ." Lir starts to say, but Joan merely shakes her head, so she changes the topic. "I have wine. Why don't you settle in and I'll get us glasses? Do you prefer red or white?"

"White, please." Joan sits on the couch while Lir heads to the kitchen, looking around curiously. "Gotta say, this is the first apartment I've been in that belongs to a detective. It's nice."

"Thanks."

Lir locates the corkscrew hiding in one of the drawers and carries the bottle of moscato and two glasses to Joan. She takes one, holding it out as Lir fills it, and while Lir prepares her own, she says, "I saw the conference. The press are some miserable bastards, huh?"

"I suppose so," Lir agrees.

"And to bring up the Devil’s Knight case," Joan continues. "It's like they want the whole city on edge. Probably do, now that I think about it. How else will they sell papers?"

"What was that case, anyway?"

Joan gives her a look of pure surprise. "You mean you don't know?"

"I mean, I've heard of it, I think, but . . ."

"Well." Joan takes a long drink of her wine. "Where to begin? You have to understand, I was a kid when it all went down, so you'll have to find the file to know more, but there was this guy who thought he was the modern day Jack the Ripper. Went around murdering women, leaving them in alleys like trash. Usually there'd be some sort of . . . Bible verse or somethin' similar with the bodies when they were found."

"That's horrible," Lir murmurs.

Joan nods her agreement. "It was. Women didn't go anywhere alone, 'cause he wasn't picky, other than them all being blondes. I think. Anyway, eventually he got caught and went to jail, where I guess he died. It's sort of become this . . . trademark of Red Grave, I guess. Not on any tours, but people still talk, and there's a vigil held every year for the victims."

"What was his name?" Lir leans forward, propping her head on the back of the couch. "The guy."

"I dunno. He had surviving family, so the name was kept outta the papers, even during the trial. Kids, I think."

"Mm." Lir closes her eyes, her brows pinched. Something about this feels familiar, but she can't put her finger on why. Had someone said something to her during her academy days? Or had she simply read about it at some point and tucked it away with all of the other things she doesn't need?

A hand on her thigh breaks her from her thoughts, and she blinks her eyes open to see Joan leaning towards her, her lips curled in a little smile. "But I say enough about murderers. Let's talk about us."

"Us?" Lir asks.

Then Joan kisses her, her mouth warm and tasting wine-sweet, and Lir lets thoughts of the case slip from her mind.

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc dante #dante #dante sparda #dmc oc #lirael thorne #lir #dmc fanfic #dmc fanfiction #writing #story #myfic #wires

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snowdice · 5 years ago

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You I’ll Come Back For (Part 3)[Dice Roll 5]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton/Virgil, Logan/Deceit/Roman (more background)

Characters:

Main: Patton, Virgil

Appear: Roman, Logan, Deceit, Remus

Summary: They’d met in a jail cell, you see, but unlike now Patton had not been anywhere near trapped, not that Virgil had been aware of that fact. He’d just seen his sweet little cell mate who’d clearly not done anything to deserve being on that side of the bars. Virgil had said “What did you do to get stuck in this joint?” and Patton had started crying. It had taken zero lies and five hours for Patton to coax out the information he’d needed. He’d thought when he’d pranced up to the bars and told Roman he was ready to leave that the absolutely astonished expression which was quickly slipping into fury would be the last thing he’d ever see of the man whose crimes numbered enough to keep him in prison for the rest of his life.

He’d escaped during his transfer to federal prison.

Universe: Cops and Criminals AU

Genre: Crime

Notes: Murder mentioned, gun mentioned.

This is part of my Roll the Dice Event which is where I do random ships, universe, and genres for the Sanders Sides fandom. For more details see this post. I posted a few days ago my results from this dice roll here.

Part 1 Part 2

It had been about a month since the kiss that very much, very definitely should absolutely not have happened, and god was Patton having a hard time not thinking about it.

It was quite the moral dilemma wasn’t it? Virgil was a convicted felon on the run from the law and Patton was a police officer trying to catch him. Yet, he’d forgotten that in the moment. He’d forgotten what type of person Virgil was and everything he’d done. It made Patton feel guilty. He could barely even meet his boss, Logan’s eyes.

And yet, he couldn’t help but think about the man’s lips on his or how gentle his hand had been in Patton’s hair. The low tone of his voice when he’d uttered the words “you I am coming back for,” haunted his dreams and definitely not the nightmare kind.

However, right now was not the time to be thinking about dark, dangerous eyes that softened inexplicably on Patton or the contrast of the feeling of warm lips on his to the cool handcuffs on his wrists. He was at work, mostly alone at the moment since everyone was either out getting lunch or on their way to go get lunch. Patton was supposed to be filling out a report, not daydreaming. He frowned at it. He really didn’t like paperwork.

He looked up from the paperwork, happy to completely forget its existence, when a man marched into the office as if he owned the place. He was wearing a business suit with a yellow tie and had a scar across half his face. He also looked like he not only could kill a man, but was planning on doing so forthwith.

“Um, excuse me sir,” Patton said in his most sweetly placating voice. “Can I help you.”

“No.”

“Uh, I’m sorry sir, but this is a police station,” Patton said, keeping a smile on his face. “If you-”

“Dee!” Roman’s jovial voice said. He all but bolted across the office with his arms open as though to hug the grumpy man. ‘Dee’ put up a hand to stop him.

“This is not a social call. Where is Berry?”

Roman blinked. “We’re using last names today?” he asked. “Must be serious.”

“Roman,” the man warned.

“Chill,” Roman instructed and that was not the tone Patton would have used to attempt to calm the irritated man, but Dee didn’t immediately snap Roman’s neck so that was good, “we just went out for lunch and he went to park the car. He’ll be right behind me. Everything okay?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “No.”

Roman put a hand on his shoulder, but then his thumb wandered, tracing softly across his collarbone. Patton raised an eyebrow. “Can I help?” he asked in a soothing tone.

The man batted his hand away. “Don’t do that.”

Roman’s frown almost edged on a pout. “Why not?”

“Because you are about to be so mad at me,” Dee spat.

Roman’s brow crinkled. “Why would I ever be mad at you, dear?” he asked fluttering his eyelashes.

“Stop it,” Dee complained, his face softening just a bit despite the harshness to his words, “stop that. If you actually want to be useful, find Patton Heart and have him wait outside of Logan’s office for us.”

“Um, I’m Patton actually,” Patton interjected with a little wave.

His eyes flicked up and down Patton. “Of course, you are.”

It was then that Logan entered the room, stripping off his coat as he went. He paused when he saw Dee with a slight frown. “Dee, what are you doing here?” Logan asked.

“I need to speak with you. In your office. Now.”

Logan bristled and crossed his arms. “I don’t appreciate your tone.”

“Yeah, well you’re not going to appreciate what I have to say either,” Dee replied and then swept past him.

Logan gave Roman a questioning look. Roman just shrugged and Logan turned on his heels to follow Dee into his office with clipped footsteps.

“Um Roman,” Patton said when the door snapped shut behind them, “Who was that?”

“That was Dee,” Roman said, staring at the door in confusion. They could see the two men talking through the window in the door but couldn’t hear them. “He’s our husband.”

“He’s your other husband?” Patton asked. He knew of course about the illusive third man who was always out of town or busy, but the way they’d always talked about him made him seem… not that. “He seems…” Patton said.

“He’s not usually that grumpy,” Roman said and then paused in thought. “Okay, maybe he sort of is, but he has to spend most of time with my brother so it’s understandable. He’s definitely usually not that short with Logan or I though, so I don’t know what’s going on.”

It was then that the voices behind the door picked up a bit. First it was Logan’s voice, still just a bit too low to hear anything but the angry tone. Then…

“If you think that just because we’re married, I have to tell you everything I do at work, you are sorely mistaken!” Dee screamed.

“No! But you do have to tell me if it impacts my life!”

“Well dinner tonight’s gonna be fun…” Roman mumbled under his breath.

They continued to argue for a few more minutes; Patton and Roman could hear just bits of screaming every so often but nothing to give them a clue about what on Earth was going on.

Eventually Dee strutted out of the office, still clearly fuming, Logan hot on his heels. He didn’t even spare them a glance as he walked down the hallway.

Logan pressed his lips together, staring at his back with narrowed eyes before saying, “you two come too,” and taking off after him. Patton shared a glance with Roman before they followed after them.

They walked down the hall to some meeting room Patton had never been in before. Both Roman and Patton got to the open door at the same time and looked in. Dee was standing calmly with his arms crossed, leaning against the far wall and Logan was glaring at him from a few feet away. Yet neither of them is what took either Patton or Roman’s attention. No, their attention was taken by the man standing by the window. He wore a dark black hoody and his hair was slightly mussed probably from him wearing the hood. His hands were stuck casually in the hoody pocket and he gave Patton an awkward half smile.

“Hey,” Virgil said. Roman was immediately reaching for his gun. “Calm down Romano, I work for your husband.”

Roman rounded on Dee immediately. “He what?!”

“Yeah, yeah I know I’m sleeping on the couch,” Dee grumbled.

“On the porch more like,” Logan hissed.

“…Yep.”

“Thanks Dee,” Virgil said without looking at him.

“What can I say?” he grumbled, glancing at Logan, “I’m a romantic.” Logan responded with an even more intense glare in his direction.

Patton looked at Virgil and tapped his lips with a curious head tilt. Virgil immediately shook his head fervently. Patton nodded.

“And what exactly was that?” Logan asked suspiciously looking between them.

“Nothing,” they both said together.

Dee scoffed rolled his eyes. “He’s an undercover cop,” Dee told Patton. “Have fun with whatever that is. I’m going to go find a good divorce attorney.” He pushed off the wall he was leaning against and strode out of the room.

“Oh, you’re not getting out of this that easily,” Logan called after him. He turned back to Patton. “I am aware of Dee’s career so I can confirm this information.”

“You’re a cop?” Patton asked Virgil.

“I am,” he said.

“You’re not a murderer or torturer or drug dealer or anything else you were convicted for.”

“Nope,” he replied. “It was all a cover.”

“Well,” he laughed. “I’m not as bad of a judge of character as I thought then.”

“Again,” Logan said suspiciously, “what exactly are you talking about?”

“Come on, Lo,” Roman said. “Let’s make sure our husband knows he doesn’t actually need an attorney.” Logan mumbled something about ‘Last Will and Testament’ under his breath, but Roman just rolled his eyes and pulled him from the room.

Patton looked back at Virgil. “So, this is what you meant about coming back for me?” he asked.

“Yeah it is.”

“Oh,” he replied, biting his lips. He thought for a moment and then laughed. “Goodness, I got in your way a lot, didn’t I?”

“You were an actual thorn in my side,” Virgil confirmed with a chuckle.

“Sorry.”

“Eh don’t be. It’s just ‘cause you’re a good cop.”

“And you’re a good undercover cop,” Patton complimented rolling up onto his toes with his hands clasped behind his back. “It never even crossed my mind.”

He blushed and goodness that was adorable. Who knew he was adorable? “Yeah except for, you know, all of the arrests.”

“There were a lot of arrests,” Patton laughed.

“So. Many. Arrests,” Virgil replied. They smiled at each other. “Anyway.” He shuffled a bit awkwardly. “Your boss is busy either murdering or having makeup sex with my boss. So… do you want to get out of here?”

Patton grinned. “Sure,” he replied. Virgil offered his arm and Patton took it.

Thanks for reading!

If you were intrigued by the dynamic of Roman, Deceit, and Logan, I do have a fic set in this universe about how Roman met both Deceit and Logan called Mistaken Identities.

#sanders sides #patton sanders #virgil sanders #moxiety #roloceit #roman sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #roll the dice #roll the dice 5 #adriana writes #murder mentioned #guns mentioned #you i'll come back for #cops and not robbers au

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haqita-kimoji · 4 years ago

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Darts of Pleasure - Chapter 1 - First Impressions

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Original Character (Sophie Poulain)

Genre: Romance, light fluff

Warnings: Manga spoilers, s4 spoilers, don’t read when you’re not updated with the latest anime episode

Word count: 1.2k words

a/n: Last time I wrote a fanfic was on 31-Dec-2018! I haven’t written in sooo long but getting myself into the AOT fandom and joining the Levi supremacy has inspired me somehow. I feel my writing is amateur-ish at best hence any feedback is very much welcomed. Posted on wattpad and AO3 as well.

Chapter 1: First Impressions

Sophie Poulain had just turned twenty when her native village was conquered by the Marleyan army. Due to the ongoing war, Marley had a policy where each family must contribute a family member to the military and as she was an only child, she begrudgingly ended up in the Marley Navy. Though her hand-on-hand combat skills were far from perfect, it was her charisma and sniping skills that resulted in her being courted by Yelena to join the Anti-Marleyan Volunteers. While hesitant, Sophie figured it was the only option for her to contribute in stopping the war, keeping a slim chance of going back home to her family and also to meet the infamous Eldians of the Paradis Island.

It had been almost three months since her naval ship had been declared gone whilst in actuality they had been cooperating closely with the Paradis people, sharing their technological advancement and working together closely yet it was evident the distrust level was still there. Initially, Sophie had reservations about the Eldians of Paradis, but it was in her nature to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. She still remembered when Eren Yeager in his titan form picked up their naval ship, Yelena shooting the officer, their introduction to the Survey Corps members, and also when she first met Humanity's Strongest Soldier.

Their leader Zeke Yeager had mentioned about him, Levi Ackerman, and Sophie found him to be intriguing. The first time he met Levi was when he made a poor attempt of hiding the blade he was holding behind Niccolo when both Hange and him forced Niccolo to cooperate and perform a skit but alas, Niccolo was no snitch. Sophie noticed his dark raven hair styled in an undercut, piercing grey eyes with noticeable dark circles, deep voice, and a mysterious aura.

For Levi, he vividly remembered his first encounter with Sophie. The petite soldier stood next to both Yelena and Onyankopon, she looked anxious in their first group meeting together in the tent. Under the moonlight, he could see little more than her silhouette, especially her eyes--- fierce brown emeralds, the kind of eyes that pulled you in.

The next time they met was when as a welcoming gesture for their new alliance, the Anti-Marleyan Volunteers proposed for the Survey Corps to taste their local cuisine, and coincidentally both Sophie and Niccolo were equally amazing chefs. During the planned special lunch event, Hange, Levi, and the rest of his squad gathered at the make-shift kitchen near the beach with both Sophie and Niccolo serving them their local cuisine which mostly consisted of seafood. When the whole commotion unfolded in which Sasha ended up crying in joy at the taste of the Lobster Thermidor dish, both Jean and Connie following through stuffing their face with the dishes, Levi found himself distracted with the hot afternoon sunlight beaming on Sophie's face, a peachy glow due to the beach waves outside.

Being in her presence that day, the area seemed full of sweet sticky liquid, honey nearly light as air as Levi steadied himself to breathe. Time slowed down, and in his ear, he felt the ringing of the cosmic into a vacuum space. Every second felt eternal as he basked in the beauty that is Sophie when for no apparent reason, she turned her gaze to meet his. He could not understand the emotions he felt, all he could focus on was her dark brown eyes, her pulpy peach lips, her lustrous raven hair teased into a messy bun, her cheek with its candy-pink translucent hue, and her curly lashes framing her dark brown irises as it lifted him on a sea wave just as it hit the nearby rocks and he felt suspended. For the eternity that Sophie Poulain looked at him, Levi gazed back nervously and felt desires he thought were long gone since his hormonal teenage years.

They didn't exchange a single word that afternoon, even as Sophie timidly presented to him the dish she specially cooked for him and Hange, a signature Steak, Mashed Potatoes & Asparagus dish. They nodded politely to each other to counter their lack of verbal exchange. Levi didn't know the first step in pursuing her because the emotion of lust was foreign to him. Navigating through life with the loss of his mother and later his close friends, Farlan and Isabel, to be abandoned by Kenny, he swore to never become emotionally attached to anyone. He figured the lesser people he let in, the less it would hurt if he lost them. But little by little, from Hange and his squad members who got along well with both Sophie and Niccolo, Levi managed to learn of her quirks and personality, though he had to be discreet in his questions in order to avoid provoking any further inquiries.

In good faith, Hange proposed that the Anti-Marleyan Volunteers should eat with the other Paradis soldiers in the mess hall. It was an attempt by Hange to humanize the Anti-Marleyan volunteers, to portray them in a different light despite of the sudden new revelation of life and civilization outside the walls to the other Paradis military members. She had hoped this would facilitate the bonding between the soldiers and foster knowledge transfer amongst them. In the weeks that followed, Levi looked forward to eat at the mess halls hoping for a glimpse of Sophie to appear, the most naked person with clothes on he had ever seen. Even in a pair of sensible military shoes, she pranced around as though she was walking barefoot on a sunny hill, and the fitted white button-up blouse and fitted slacks she wore only increased her charm in Levi's eyes. In her signature black slacks her thighs rubbed together, pulsating, and there was always one messy detail that would drive him crazy: a wine stain on her sleeves, an untucked shirttail, her bangs drenched in sweat tucked messily behind her ears. When she smiled, her mouth would show too many teeth but at night he found himself dreamed of being bitten by each one.

For Levi, apart from the occasional meetings with Yelena and Onyankopon, the mess halls would be the place where he'd hope to bump into her and strike a conversation but the opportunity never came. Instead, Levi would merely gaze discreetly towards her general direction, and he'd notice small friendly gestures exchanged between both Sophie and Niccolo and it would upset him. Levi would notice how she would nudge her elbow to Niccolo's ribs with her lower lip bit as she hit the punch line of her joke, the cute pout she'd flash to him with her eyebrows wriggling to tease him, her high-pitched laugh followed by her signature incessant slap on his arms when they exchanged jokes only they would know and understand, and it filled Levi with immense jealousy.

Levi did not understand how she had bewitched him, nor why having bumped awkwardly into each other multiple times at the mess halls she acted as if he was invisible. In his desperate moods, Levi would ask the mirror in his bathroom why the only girl he was crazy about was the only girl not crazy about him.

#levi ackerman #levi x oc #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi #attack on titan fanfiction

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kaiunkaiku · 5 years ago

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Sickdays 6, May 18th: Cold

Fandom: Promare

Summary: "He wakes up freezing, the cold ache deep in his bones, and even though his skin feels hot where it’s touching Galo’s bare arm under the blanket he’s still so goddamn cold everywhere else it barely registers."

Warnings: Self-harm, heavy angst, implied depression, grief, burns

Ao3

Cold.

Empty.

That's what he's been ever since the Promare left. Ever since the fire burning inside him went out.

Some days he feels like he can't breathe with all the cold inside him. It's like his lungs have been frozen solid, like the Freeze Force put another one of their bullets right between his ribs and now the ice is spreading over lung tissue and expanding to his heart, and from there through his veins to his limbs, up his throat to his jaw and eventually his brain. Not burning feels a lot like dying.

Freezing like this feels like he’s already dead.

Some days he’s… okay. Not really good, except when he’s really doing something, or curled up in Galo’s arms, but okay. Like his body is starting to remember how to be without the fire. His head is catching up, recalling things from his childhood day by day. Before he was burning.

He’s not okay today, very much not so. He wakes up freezing, the cold ache deep in his bones, and even though his skin feels hot where it’s touching Galo’s bare arm under the blanket he’s still so goddamn cold everywhere else it barely registers. His first instinct is to reach for the fire inside him – it takes him just a bit too long to remember that it’s no longer there, and by the time he realizes that it’s already too late; he’s come face to face with a gaping hole of nothing in his chest, and he wants to scream. He almost does.

His eyes burn. He doesn’t care. He buries his face in the pillow, inches a bit closer to Galo, and allows the tears to soak quietly into the vibrant yellow of his pillowcase.

He’s still not okay when he wakes up some time later. Galo is no longer next to him, but the bedroom door is ajar and the smell of breakfast is still somewhat inviting, even with the ice in his veins. He gathers an extra blanket around himself and stands up.

Galo is wearing a frilly apron, over nothing but boxer shorts. He’s kind of dancing around in the kitchen, and humming as he goes, and Lio finds a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite how he’s otherwise feeling. Galo’s got a spatula in his hand, and there are eggs on the pan. He does this clumsy half-pirouette and stumbles a bit, before his eyes land on Lio at the doorway.

“Lio!” he exclaims, face brightening impossibly much as he transfers the eggs onto a plate, and the warmth that blossoms in Lio’s chest at that is almost shocking. It’s brief, barely dipping his toes into warm water and hurrying away, but it is there, gone as fast as it came but different from cold anyway. It’s good.

It’s not enough to make his day good, though, and that must show on his face, because Galo stops moving like he’s hit a wall, eyes widening, and Lio figures he probably looks like hell. Galo’s expression is quickly morphing into panicked concern. The smile Lio tries to offer feels like a cracked mask.

“Lio,” Galo repeats, voice lower, more careful. He takes a tentative step towards Lio, puts the spatula down, and takes another step. Lio doesn’t move from the doorway. Galo walks up to him, eyes earnest and worried, and Lio can’t look at them anymore, so he turns his gaze to the floor. It’s cold under his feet in spite of the thick socks he’s wearing.

Galo reaches a hand out and sets it to the back of Lio’s head, pulling them close, and Lio lets his head rest on Galo’s chest. He suppresses a shiver, but Galo must feel it anyway; he holds him just a little bit tighter.

“I’m gonna go grab you a hoodie, okay?” Galo murmurs above Lio’s head, and Lio nods numbly. He appreciates that Galo doesn’t ask anymore, because Lio can’t really find it in himself to explain the emptiness the flames left; although Galo has suffered his own losses in life and can relate to the hollow pit inside him, he cannot truly understand. Lio has tried to talk it out with him once, when the first of these kinds of days hit and he could do little more than shiver in bed and blink back tears, and Galo hasn’t asked since. Sometimes he’ll ask if there’s anything he can do to help, but the what’s wrong gets skipped over, now.

“There’s some breakfast,” Galo says as he removes his arms from around Lio slowly and points towards the counter. “There should be clean utensils in the drawer, the stove is still hot so be careful, I think we’re out of orange juice? I haven’t made coffee yet,” he rambles as he walks backwards to the direction of the bedroom.

Lio stands still for a moment, missing Galo’s warmth around him. It’s not a replacement for the Promare, but it’s still something. Comforting. Breakfast is also going to be warm and comforting, he decides, and walks around the table to grab the eggs and some toast.

The warmth from the stove stops him on his tracks as he walks past it, the air softly pulsating with the barely dissolving heat. Lio turns to look at it. It’s almost inviting. There’s still a faint, red glow around one of the hotplates, and it’s, it’s, it’s…

It’s burning. And it’s drawing him in like a moth to a flame. The metaphor isn’t even far off. Lio watches in a trance as he reaches a hand towards that glow; feels a momentary chill as the blanket around his shoulders drops to the ground.

He tries to stop himself. There’s a rational part of his brain that’s screeching for him to stop, to take his hand back. Screeching that he’s going to hurt himself, that he doesn’t have his flames anymore, but another part, a part that’s been drowning since he stopped burning wails back exactly, I don’t have my flames anymore, I need this heat more than I need air and it’s that voice that screams louder, so he watches in fascinated horror as his hand comes to hover over the hotplate. This close he can already feel the skin of his palm starting to blister.

Just one more centimeter, maybe. Just one more centimeter and then he’ll be burning again, he’ll be burning again, like he used to, warm and powerful and unrestrained and not so goddamn empty, please–

He doesn’t scream. His fingertips graze the smooth surface just enough for there to be a sharp hiss at the contact, but before he can do more there are arms around him, a large hand grabbing his wrist and pulling him away, back coming in contact with strong chest, and it all happens so fast it leaves him dizzy. It’s like getting slammed back into his own body, and he’s barely comprehending that as Galo shoves his hand into the sink and yanks the faucet open, turns it so it’s freezing cold, and Lio doesn’t scream at that either.

But he does whimper, the broken sound falling through his lips without his permission. Galo keeps muttering “I’m sorry” over and over again even as he forces Lio to keep his hand under the icy stream. Lio tries to fight it, he really does, but Galo is firm and solid around him as Lio struggles to get away from the cold.

“I’m sorry, Lio, I’m so sorry, I know, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, shh, just breathe, I’m right here, I’m so sorry about this, just a bit more…”

Lio realizes he’s crying. He’s fairly sure Galo is, too.

Galo holds him tight as he shivers, keeps muttering reassurances and apologies and sweet nothings to distract him. Lio doesn’t calm down until Galo shuts the water off and starts gently drying his hand, never letting go of him, hands so careful on his skin. It makes something inside Lio ache, not necessarily in a bad way but ache nonetheless. Another shiver travels up his spine. Galo holds him tighter.

The silence stretches between them. Lio finds himself tensing up, feels the stiffness creeping into his shoulders as he waits for the inevitable question from Galo, but Galo says nothing; he just rubs his thumbs on Lio’s shoulders, silent and steady. Lio doesn’t risk taking a look at his face, too afraid to find him looking angry, or disappointed, or pitying, or…

Or sad.

Galo probably looks sad.

“Do you wanna go back to bed?” Galo asks quietly, disturbing the silence that’s settled over them. “I’ll stay with you, okay?”

Staying in bed all day doesn’t sound good. It sounds like a waste of time. It sounds like being useless.

Staying in Galo’s arms sounds good. It sounds like safety. It sounds like being warm.

Lio nods hesitantly.

Galo bundles him up in a hoodie he’s practically drowning in and starts to steer him towards the bedroom, breakfast forgotten. He’s almost painfully gentle, like he’s afraid Lio might break apart with any sudden movement. Lio doesn’t fault him for that – he doesn’t think it’s entirely wrong.

It’s warm in Galo’s arms, once he finally settles into bed and Galo wraps himself around him like an octopus. Galo has been a living furnace ever since Lio met him, and especially after Lio stopped burning. I’ll burn for the both of us, then, Galo has told him, before. My burning soul will burn for the both of us until you get yours back.

Lio is grateful for so many things. He could start listing them – he’s tried to list them, in fact. But despite the cold that plagues him in days like this, there are just too many items to write down. He could spend days pointing out things about just Galo he’s grateful for, not to mention everything else (Meis, Gueira, Aina and Lucia, Kray’s imprisonment, the Burnish, that he’s alive, that the Burnish hate crimes are finally slowing down, Remi, Varys, Ignis, even Heris sometimes). It’s easy to forget when his very bones feel frozen, but in Galo’s arms, it’s just a bit easier to remember.

“Hey, firebug,” Galo whispers, mouth somewhere to the left of where Lio’s hair is parted. The nickname tugs at the corner of Lio’s mouth. “What are you thinking?” There’s a hint of concern in his tone, absolutely warranted in light of what just happened, but a soft smile is playing on his lips, Lio can feel it.

Thank you, he means to answer, but what comes out is “I’m sorry” before he can stop it. Lio bites his lip and presses his head a little harder to Galo’s chest. Swallows.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “For… this.” A vague gesture with his burnt hand and a waver in his voice. “I don’t know what… what happened.” Talking is easier when he doesn’t have to look at Galo, but it’s still not easy . Galo runs a finger down his spine over the hoodie. “I just… I don’t know,” he tries and fails again.

“You don’t have to,” Galo hums. “We’ll figure it out.”

“We’ll… we’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out,” Lio repeats. Holds his breath to see if he really believes the words.

“Tomorrow,” Galo says, and that’s what it takes to convince Lio. Tomorrow. It doesn’t have to be now. Tomorrow is good.

Right now he can just be warm.

#sickdays 6 #fanfiction #promare #galolio #angst fic #my writing #whump #whump fic

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botanicalbarnes · 5 years ago

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The Colors of You

Prompt/box filled: Colors (2) Soulmate AU for @sorryimacrapwriter , and First Date for @goodthingshappenbingo

Fandom: Marvel

pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: The Snap, a little angsty, fluff

word count: 2600-ish

Summary: Every time you see your soulmate’s favorite color (the exact shade), you see a glimpse of their life.

A/N: Thank you so much to @tessasangeltom for being awesome and helping me! Also thanks for letting me turn this in late @sorryimacrapwriter!

Masterlist

It all started when you were 8. Some of your classmates had started having the glimpses into their soulmates lives too so it wasn’t the biggest surprise. The first time was strange though. It felt like suddenly you weren’t in your own body, you were in theirs instead. It was like you were someone else just looking on, unable to do anything but watch. Even though it doesn't last long, It excites you even now.

You love being able to peek into your soulmates life, into their memories, knowing with each time you get closer to the day you meet them. It happens every time you see their favorite color. It has to be the exact shade. And you don’t get another look from the same thing, until you see another object of the same color. For you, sometimes it comes from a jewel, a ring band, someone's dress, sometimes a sweater.

But, despite everything, despite the excitement and the feeling that comes with it, there’s something you don’t understand. Something… different. He, whoever he is, isn’t like anyone you’ve known of. Sometimes, the scenery alone was astounding and unlike anything you’d ever seen but only imagined.

Enormous rooms with walls covered in gold, and hosting so many people dressed so beautifully. Vast gardens filled with gorgeous flowers extending in every direction. Blue skies as a backdrop for grand cities during the day. During the night, star formations and nebulas decorated the sky with their splendor. Though, not everything was beautiful and good.

A desolate place of ice and loneliness. You swear you could feel the chill in the air and the feeling of being so lost. Creatures tall and blue, with red eyes and patterns on their skin. Then, New York. Your home, in chaos. It’s a day you’ll never forget. And he was in the middle of it. But with only 10 seconds, you failed to see how or who he is.

As his tastes became more defined, his favorite color changed over time, which was to be expected. The first, was silver. You remember sitting in your mother’s favorite restaurant for her birthday, when your father gave her a small and long box. Upon opening it, a lovely silver bracelet with little red gems along the side. From your seat beside her, you could see it clearly, and suddenly, you weren’t at the table anymore.

Suddenly you were running through the streets and market, laughing and having fun making mischief. The little blond boy your soulmate was chasing looked back with a smile and sped off weaving through the people. With a flash and a green glow, you caught up with him and both collapsed into a fit of giggles.

And, just like that, it was over.

That’s how it happens every time, and often enough that you’re used to it by now.

The next color was a burgundy shade between red and purple. The color of wine. A dinner party comes to mind. Your family had just moved to a house closer to the city since your mother, a surgeon, was promoted and transferred. Your new ‘home’ was filled with your parent’s new coworkers, neighbors, even a couple of their kids. “They can keep you company,” Your mother had said, “You’ll see, you’ll have tons of friends in no time. This way you can make a couple from the neighborhood.”

That, turned out to be complete bullshit. Instead of making fast friends like your mother was sure you would, you sat close to the corners observing and in retrospect, sulking. You had been forced to leave everything you knew: your home, your friends, and some family. The other kids just huddled together across the room and whispered about god knows what… probably the weird new girl.

The bitter taste of the evening turned around completely once the wine was poured. It was an odd thing for a little girl to look forward to in an evening out or with company; especially since you weren’t even close to being able to drink. Everyone understood your desire once your parents explained with a smile.

You always try to notice the surroundings and people around first.

A training hall, weapons and equipment along a wall. A man, with long hair and beard, an eye-patch, and dressed in gold fabrics. By now, you know he’s your soulmate’s father. And the boy, who you now know to be his brother, dressed to train and fight or at least learn too.

You could tell that your soulmate wasn’t really in the room; he had to be peering in from a cracked door or around a corner.

“My son,” The man said, “It is time you learn how to harness complete control your power. You shall be known throughout the realms as a god of greatness. You will need to be an expert warrior, prepared for battle and, when the time comes, ruling all of Asgard.”

By then, you’d grown used to the confusion of everyone’s speech and the strange yet marvelous sights, creatures, and people. You never told anyone any specifics because you knew they’d dub you insane or something like that. It was like your little special secret.

You heard the soft sound of a held back whimper come from your soulmate and then nothing but a blur from the tears he shed as he ran.

You always felt sad to see what it was like for him, to feel like the second best or the second choice. You couldn’t understand why he was treated like that by his father, but you knew all he deserved was love. And that’s exactly what you had always planned on giving him.

The dinner and mingling dragged on too long for your liking. But finally, it was late enough for everyone to leave. One of your new neighbors, retrieved her burgundy bag from her seat.

Your soulmate was sat somewhere away from prying eyes, sniffling. A beautiful (to say the least) woman, his mother, was draped in an elegant yet simple gown. She approached him with kind and compassionate eyes, softly stroking his back and head when she reached him. “You know son, i think it’s time I shared my gifts with you. I’ll train you in my magic.” With a quick turn of his head, you saw the smile growing on her face. You felt the excitement and happiness grow in him. Then he threw his arms around her in a tight hug.

It brought a smile to your face. It always warms your heart to see his mothers love. You love how kind and lovely she is. That night, you went to bed with a small smile on your face.

Burgundy turned to gold, and your glimpses showed you your soulmate training with his mother and learning to fight and prepare for battle.

After that, Gold then turned to an electric blue, and it finally settled into green later. Most of what you saw became battles, banquets, walks through gardens, reading on the balcony and looking out to the heavenly city and horizon, and general being alone.

That morning, everything was fine. The weird events from two days ago pushed to the back of your mind. You did some reading, went for a jog, even met up with your best friend for a lunch. You dropped off some groceries at your apartment and felt like going for a walk to your favorite bookshop.

You were almost there. You could see the chalkboard sign from where you were. The door opened and out came a woman wearing an emerald green knit sweater.

‘Who and Where’ you thought to yourself.

A… tree? Thor? Green girl? Weird dude? Raccoon? Antenna Chick? What the fuck? Regular looking guy?

“I have to get to earth,” Came the voice of your soulmate, “I’ll be more help there. And I need to try to find… her.” Could that be you?

“Alright, It’s settled. Good luck br-”...

The disorientation and confusion set in rather quickly. Some businesses open and thriving just moments ago for you, were now closed and run down or renovated to be completely new businesses. Around you, everyone looked around in either amazement, confusion, some even started crying.

Then and there you turned around and ran home. You stopped short when you saw the date. 5 years? Wha-how?

You were just about to turn the doorknob to your apartment when it occurred to you that, if it really had been 5 years, your best friend Camille might not have any of your stuff, she might not even live here anymore. You raised your fist to knock on the door, bouncing on your heels anxiously. The door flew open and you stared straight into your best friends eyes, she looked so different. She stumbled and stuttered, tears starting to spill from her eyes. “Y-Y/N? It can’t be. How?” She flung herself into your arms and hid her face into your shoulder. Once she removed herself from your embrace, she ushered you inside quickly. “Do you know what happened? What do you remember?” You opened your mouth to answer when she gasped, “Wait. I kept a bunch of your stuff. I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of things.”

You followed her to your old room, surprised to see that not much had changed. It was more empty and clean, small things moved around or removed. She went to the nearly empty closet and took out a few boxes, placing them on the bed. “Since I never really needed a roommate in the first place, I just didn’t. I know you must be really confused, and honestly so am i, so I’ll make dinner and stuff and you can wrap your head around everything. Oh, and here’s my phone, you should call your family.” You took the phone from her hand and fell onto your bed with a huff. You didn’t know what to think. Or do for that matter.

You spent the rest of your afternoon reading every article you could about what happened as to make sense of it all.

The next day you went to see your family, all extremely happy to see you. The need to keep busy and active sent you job hunting, exploring, and a hundred other meaningless tasks for the next few days.

You made your way back to the apartment from clothes shopping since you found yourself in need of more than 6 shirts, 4 pants, 3 dresses, a bra, and 2 pairs of underwear. You turned the corner and ran straight into someone’s chest. You were just about apologize when you looked up. A gasp left your lips and you felt a chilled warmth spread through your body with a shiver and goosebumps.

It was him. You knew it, you felt a strong pull towards him that you couldn’t resist and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his ones. “It’s you.” He whispered. His lips spread into a smile. “I never thought I’d find you.” You couldn’t help the breathless laugh that escaped you when he pulled you into his arms.

Of course you knew you he was when you saw him. He was Loki Laufeyson, brother of Thor, prince of Asgard, and your soulmate. You’d see him on the news and on magazine covers. When you read all about the snap, thanos, and the 5 years you were gone, you’d also read about him. How Thanos had been the one that made him lead an attack on New York, and how he was now working with the avengers. Now, with him here in front of you, you knew you forgave him for anything that he’d done, and maybe even for anything he could do.

You had this feeling of being whole and complete, your heart swelled with such love and warmth like you’d never felt before. “Hi.” You said with a smile you couldn’t help if you tried. “I can’t believe it.”

“Me neither. I-i thought I’d never meet you.” He looked down at the bags in your hands, “Let me help you with these. If you’re on your way to your home, maybe we can drop these off and get something to eat and just… talk? I feel like there’s a lot we should talk about.” You nodded and smiled, the need to be close to him was overwhelming but nice at the same time.

The cafe down the street from your building was cozy and warm. Cait, the waitress, took your orders and brought your drinks before walking away with a grin. “So, I read you’re working with the Avengers now.” You began.

“Yes. I came to earth to help fight Thanos and just stayed… after everything. That’s actually how I found you.” He waited to see your reaction before continuing. “I tried to gather all the glimpses of you that gave any indication of where you were. I gathered Earth, of course, and then New York but not much else. Then yesterday I saw you running through the streets to your apartment. Probably right after you came back. I saw this place, the street signs, your building. I figured you were going home so I decided to try and find you. I didn’t think I would…” He looked down at his lap and rubbed his neck awkwardly. “Sorry. That sounds weird and bad. I just-well i-i needed to find you.”

You reached for his hand across the table. “Hey. You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m glad you did it, I’m really happy that you found me.” Fond smiles decorated your face.

“So tell me about yourself, i want to get to know you.” So you did. You told him everything he wanted to know, and he did the same. The time flew by quickly but you didn’t notice or care at all; you felt so comfortable around him, he felt like home. You talked late into the night, laughing and sipping tea on your couch. Camille was staying with her soulmate tonight.

It was almost three a.m when he got a text asking if he was ok. That’s when you realized what time it was. “It’s really late,” he laughed, “I should get going.” You could tell, even though he had to go, he was hesitant and didn’t want to. You didn’t want him to go either. But you walked him to the door anyway. He said he would call you the next day (he did). “I had a great time getting to know you. This was an amazing first date… I really like you Y/N.” Your heart beat rapidly in your chest and blush spread from your neck to your cheeks. You looked at your feet to hide it, but he cupped your chin and tilted your head to look up at him. “You are absolutely incredible, I can’t believe you’re meant for me.”

He leaned forward slowly and you met him halfway, eyes fluttering shut. Your hands found his neck, you parted briefly before you pulled him against you again.

When you opened your eyes after you stopped, you saw his happy expression and bit your lip with a giggle. You dropped your arms and bid him goodnight and watched him walk to the elevator before you walk back in, closed the door, and lean your back against it. You let out the laugh you’d been holding back, sighed, and thought about how happy you were.

***

Like/Reblog if you liked it! Feedback is always welcome!

#cwsoulmatechallenge #goodthingshappenbingo #loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki angst #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x female reader #loki fic #soulmate au #loki soulmate au #first date

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dorminchu · 4 years ago

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The Hired Gun

Fandom: James Bond Genre: Suspense Rating: T Warnings: Non-explicit violence/nudity in the context of torture. Characters: Lyutsifer Safin, Mathis, Vesper Lynd, James Bond 007, Le Chiffre Summary: "2006: In the basement of the summer villa, Le Chiffre's execution falls to an enigma."

The mission, for Safin, was simple enough. He’d made a reservation at the Royale-les-Eatix alongside the rest of the socialites but not participated in the game of baccarat. He had merely observed on the sidelines and waited for the night to wear on, speaking only when it was required of him. Shortly before Lynd was kidnapped he got the orders from one of White’s associates—an informant by the name of Mathis—and two hours later he was making the trip on-foot.

The message from Mr. White went something like this: “Le Chiffre's luck has run through. If Quantum is to recover from this, he must be eliminated—we will deal with the rest accordingly. Do not concern yourself with Lynd or 007—it is best for them to remain unaware of our greater involvement.”

⁂

It was still half-an-hour before sunrise when he reached his destination. The car used to transport Agent 007 and Vesper Lynd was parked. There were two men stationed at the gated entrance to the French-style summer villa. Possibly more around the perimeter, but the single car and the impromptu departure from the Royale would suggest this was a hurried getaway, with less time to take defensive measures.

The villa was immaculately kept, which would require a lot of time as well as funds to invest. Ordinarily it was closed to the public—but around these parts, and especially concerning a man of Le Chiffre’s character, it was unwise to kick up any dust about the matter. Evidently for tonight there had been an exception. Coming from the Royale No 12 was dressed formally, in a dark grey suit and dress pants to match. The only difference was the black mask that obscured his face, and the silenced gun at his hip.

He eliminated the first man with a single shot to the chest, puncturing his lung. The second man did not hesitate to give him the information—"Le Chiffre? He is waiting for the money, with the girl”—before he was summarily dealt with.

He went into the villa, down into the basement. The smell of stale sweat and cigarettes permeated the room. The lighting was poor. There were two more men waiting for him; two silenced shots and they crumpled, choking on their own blood. The woman, Lynd, heard all of this happen and sat erect, silent. She was in a chair, facing the corner of the wall, with her wrists and ankles bound. She had been stripped, her dark hair hung loose around her face. She turned her head to keep him in her periperhals. No 12 glanced at the door opposite them and back to her.

He approached until he could see the whites of her eyes. Her lashes fluttered. A trickle of dry blood stained the corner of her mouth, her lower lip split, but she seemed otherwise unharmed. The look she was giving him seemed to say, I know you’re going to finish the job. Go ahead, shoot me. I’m only live bait.

He asked: "Le Chiffre is in there?" His voice was slightly muffled under the mask. Lynd lowered her head, perhaps anticipating a clean shot to the sternum.

He turned and went into the next room, opening the door slowly. In the middle of the room were two men. The first was tightly secured at the ankles and wrists against an upturned chair; on his back, naked as the woman. From a quick assessment of his build and height No 12 could discern this was Agent 007. The second, Le Chiffre, who was sitting in a chair opposite Agent 007, raised his hackles. In one hand he held onto a carpet-beater. The other hand resting on his lap now shifted towards the table at his hip and a particularly sharp-looking knife.

"Drop it," said No 12. Le Chiffre relented. His lame eye was oozing red. He did not wipe his face. He kept his hands very still in his lap, clenched to fists.

"No 12," he breathed out. There was an air of finality to the scene.

"If you know why I am here," said No 12, "then you know what I am about to ask of you."

Agent 007 was twisting about on the floor, trying to get a good look at what was happening. No 12 ignored him. Le Chiffre's face became a twisted mask of consternation. “You—you tell him, I'll get the money—” he stopped talking and his eyes lowered a fraction to the gun trained on him, at breast-height. Then he looked No 12 in the eyes, sweat beading his brow. The thin mouth trembled but no sound left him.

No 12 shot him in the chest. Le Chiffre tried to cry out but could not. A second shot to the head did the rest and he crumpled slowly under his own dead weight to meet the dirty floor. No 12 paused, assessing the lone survivor.

“You are fortunate enough to have been spared twice today. My orders do not concern you or the woman. But if our paths should intersect again, it will not be by chance, or mistake.”

007 was barely conscious. No 12 went and stood over him. “Should you try and pursue the matter beyond this, we will find you first.” The door to the adjoining room opened. Lynd staggered over to where 007 was and No 12 went back up the stairs and out into the clean, balmy summer air. Twilight spilled a pinkish hue over the road from which he’d come. In a few hours he would tell Mr. White the job was through.

This idea came to me after seeing No Time to Die's promotional material with Safin in the mask in conjuction with the novel Casino Royale. If you don't know, in that continuity, Le Chiffre is not killed by Mr. White at all, but a masked hitman from SMERSH. Vesper's fate plays out with a slight variation as well. (I kinda like the book's ending more, I won't lie). I'm not sure if Purvis and Wade knew about this SMERSH character but I'd like to think this is an homage. If not, I'll do it myself! With this fic! :D

In real life, SMERSH (Russian: СМЕРШ) was an umbrella organization for three independent counter-intelligence agencies in the Red Army formed in late 1942 or even earlier, but officially announced only on 14 April 1943. The organisation was officially in existence until 4 May 1946, when its duties were transferred back to the MGB. The head of the agency throughout its existence was Viktor Abakumov, who rose to become Minister of State Security in the postwar years.

The fictionalized SMERSH is portrayed as a massive counterintelligence organisation which continues operating into later decades. In this it more greatly resembles the real-life KGB. Fleming's SMERSH aims its operatives abroad for the subversion of the West, with the additional goal of killing Western spies, particularly James Bond of SIS. SMERSH's headquarters are variously stated to be in Leningrad or in Moscow, Soviet Union. The name is a portmanteau of two Russian words: "SMERt' SHpionam" [Смерть Шпионам, Směrť Špionam], meaning "Death to Spies".

Here is some information from the novel proper about the fictionalized variant. And for comparison, here is the scene with Le Chiffre in the movie, and here is how Ian Fleming handled it. I have simply mashed the two continuities together for my own scheming ends.

#casino royale #no time to die #lyutsifer safin #vesper lynd #james bond #le chiffre #character study #fanfic #fanfiction #ian fleming #headcanon #mashing together continuities for my own amusement

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jentrevellan · 5 years ago

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Believe Again: Chapter 4

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition

Relationships: Cullen Rutherford x Female Trevelyan

Tags: slow burn, slow build, slow romance, mage/templar dynamics, family drama, templars, mages, enemies to friends to lovers, angst, lyrium withdrawal, crisis of faith, loss of faith, The Chantry, sexual tension, innuendo

MASTERPOST:

A/N: Tags to be updated. Chapters posted on the 1st Thursday of the month.

<-PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER->

CHAPTER FOUR - Cullen

Knight-Captain Cullen, Please convey my thanks and gratitude to Knight-Commander Meredith for agreeing to my transfer back to the Ostwick Circle. I appreciate the situation is somewhat delicate in Kirkwall at the moment, but the work I do with the influence of my family for the Order is of better use in my home city.

I pray the tensions ease in the Gallows, although now I have returned to Ostwick I have had a chance to reflect and so I simply must say this: I implore you, Knight-Captain, to consider if your morals are worth forsaking for the Knight-Commander’s ethics and methods. Remember our vows.

Should you find yourself in Ostwick, don’t be a stranger.

May the Maker guide you, Lieutenant Evie Trevelyan, Ostwick Circle - A crumpled letter found in Knight-Captain Cullen’s personal journal

He couldn’t help but watch her.

Even when she wasn’t around, he was always peering over his shoulder, sometimes to just see a glimpse of her: and it was starting to drive him mad.

That evening, before he had retired to his tent, he had felt a strange compulsion to walk down to the edge of the lake. He had skipped dinner, as a migraine was threatening to appear, and the thought of making polite conversation with soldiers and strangers in the bustle of the Chantry was enough to make him feel nauseous. Instead, he had decided to perhaps do some training on a straw dummy, or maybe sharpen his blade - anything to keep his hands busy and his thoughts distracted.

But his feet had taken him to the quiet edge of the lake, the waters glistened with an eerie green glow, which made it hard to forget the Breach above his head. So, as he had done many times as a child, he crouched down and examined the stones on the shoreline, looking for the sleekest of pebbles. He ran this thumb over a couple before selecting a handful which appeared to be narrow in width but heavy enough to carry a small weight.

Straightening up, he tossed a stone in the air and deftly caught it to test the weight. He switched stones and continued the same routine with his selection. Finally, he leaned back, positioned his feet apart in the perfect stance to skim. He drew his arm back and flicked and-

Thunk.

It didn’t even skim once. Well, it has been a long time, he admitted with a wry smile. Cullen continued to fail miserably until his seventh stone (not that he was counting) successfully skimmed the water not once but three times. He felt his chest puff with an odd sense of pride. He held another pebble ready, with the aim to beat his new record, but something in the distance caught his eye and he paused.

On the other side of the lake, a lone figure was stood staring up at the Breach. Alarmed, Cullen saw their fists clenched with fire, and he dropped his stones with a clatter and reached for his sword at his hip. A piercing chill cut through him as the figure screamed, in what appeared to be rage. He started moving towards them but hesitated when the person dropped to their knees and was… sobbing?

Cullen felt unease seep through him as he watched, and was unsure how to proceed, as it was clear he was witnessing something very private. Perhaps this person was a family member of someone who had perished at the conclave, or maybe they had come to join the Inquisition-

His trail of thought stopped abruptly as the person started to walk towards him, their head down, and it hit him that he knew who it now was. The clothes she wore and the green flicker of light on her left hand made it unmistakably the Herald. Cullen went to sheathe his sword but paused when she finally looked up at him and stopped in her tracks, their eyes meeting. Something tugged in his gut as he looked over her - grey eyes misty and red rimmed from crying, her hair falling in loose out of its braid and her lips…

Maker, why am I looking at her lips? He scolded himself, but found he couldn't look away, particularly as he noticed that they were slightly puckered and rather red. He wondered if they were as soft as they looked.

Cullen cleared his throat and reassessed: she was a mage who had been off on her own, plus she was the Herald and also a noble as well, apparently. Even one of those reasons warranted why she should not have been on her own and yet, as he opened his mouth to berate her as such with an anger he wasn’t sure was directed at her or himself for thinking such alarming thoughts; his words died on his tongue as she closed the distance between them and gently placed a gloved hand on his arm.

At first he thought she had cast a spell on him, as heat bloomed on his arm beneath her touch, and it appeared to spread all over him. But as he looked down at her and her expressionless face, he realised that there was truly no motive here. No argument, no teasing, just a gentle gesture and the air thick between them. He should’ve been angry but he found he couldn’t muster to even be annoyed when she was looking at him so steadily and was transfixed in response to her touch.

All too soon, she pulled her hand away and left him standing there. What are you doing, man? He scolded himself. You’re acting like you’re wet behind the ears with an infatuation from a woman’s touch!

But his thoughts sobered when he realised that she had touched the arm that was still gripping his half-sheathed sword. He sighed and ran a hand down his face. She probably just thought I was being my usual templar self, he thought. And was she wrong?

As he looked up at the Breach, he wondered what caused her to be so -

Sister Cecelia.

Of course. The Herald had lost her young sister, of whom he had been fortunate enough to meet before… well before she died. He tried to recall that morning but the memory was vague already - it had only been a week or so since the explosion and yet it felt like a year.

Guilt plagued Cullen as he turned towards Haven and watched the Herald enter the village gates and disappear behind the walls. She is mourning, he thought. Of course she is. And yet no one had given her the time of day to even acknowledge that fact. Him, like everyone else, had forgotten that here was a person whose life had changed considerably, but still grieved and felt emotion like everyone else.

Cullen exhaled deeply, his breath misting before him in the cold night air. The revelations of the Herald being a noble - Lady Trevelyan - were just -

A chill went through him. Trevelyan. He knew that name from somewhere… it sounded familiar, even though he knew next to nothing about Marcher nobility.

“Another sister,” he muttered… surely it couldn’t have been an old comrade, Lieutenant Evie Trevelyan? That would be too much of a coincidence. He made a mental note to ask the Lady Herald in the morning. But for now, he walked back to his tent, filled a small cup of ale and climbed into the narrow cot and read some reports by candlelight. He was quite confident that he had put all Trevelyans out of his mind, as he settled in for the night.

His dreams had other ideas, and as he slipped into the Fade, all he could see was Elsie Trevelyan’s face.

The next morning, Cullen awoke an hour or so before dawn in the bitter cold. He grit his teeth, willing his body to move from the warm cocoon of his blankets, as it was the perfect time to train. He allowed himself a moment’s more peace before forcing his body out of the cot, and quickly pulled on a shirt and breeches - the chill making his hairs stand on end and his teeth involuntarily chatter. It was something he did as part of his routine almost daily, for most of his life. Does that still make me a Templar? He thought, recalling the Herald’s words about how she was still a mage, despite the end of the Circles. He had dismissed and left the Order, but so much of his life, his routine, his habits and attitudes had hardly changed, even in these exceptional circumstances.

Grimacing at such deep thoughts when it was far too early in the morning, Cullen stomped outside of his tent after strapping on his belt and hanging his sword on his hip. He peered up at the sky, noting that he had plenty of time to practice before everyone else awoke and began their day. Soon enough he was taking himself through his regular drills and the morning cold was all but forgotten with a healthy sweat on his brown and dampening his shirt. He continued to push his body, his mind blank, almost in a meditative state as he forced himself to try and feel as strong as he could and prove to himself that he was just as good a warrior without the lyrium: that he was worthy and still good at what he did.

As he hit a straw dummy for the final time, he halted, panting and rested the palms of his hands on his knees, catching his breath. It had been an enjoyable torture and he was never easy on himself, but he always felt infinitely better, even with his muscles screaming and his lungs gulping for air like a drowning man. He picked up his swords and inspected the blade idly as he continued to slow his heart rate, the orange glow of the rising sun bouncing off the blade.

“Damn demons,” he muttered to himself, running a finger down one edge. To his agitation, the blade was already blunted from fighting so many demons after the explosion. As he sheathed his sword, he made a mental note to visit Harritt later that day. He returned to his tent and washed himself from the pitcher of water on his night stand, rinsing off the sweat. He rubbed a towel through his hair and dressed in his armour before heading out into the village that was barely waking up.

Scouts through the night would have left reports for him in the War Room, and he liked to look at those before he did anything else; just in case there were any urgent developments overnight. Besides, the Lady Herald along with Seeker Cassandra were due to leave in a few short hours, so he wanted to make sure all final preparations had been made. Not that I particularly want to see her, he told himself firmly.

However, as he skimmed the reports in the empty Warm Room, he found his mind wandering again. He had begun to realise that he had seen Lady Trevelyan at a very vulnerable and private moment which was none of his - nor anyone’s - business. And yet he couldn’t explain why he felt like he wanted it to be part of his business. He wanted to know her as a person and not some noble figurehead, even if she was a mage.

His thoughts once again turned to her younger sister, Cecelia. She had reminded him of his sister Rosalie who was around the same age. Not that Cullen knew much about his siblings anymore, save what they occasionally wrote to him about in their unanswered letters to him. Branson and Rosalie had given up trying to write to him after his silence in return and appeared to have taken the hint. They had been young children when he had left to join the Templars and probably had little memories of him.

But Mia - stubborn like himself - had persisted. And perhaps it was finally time to write her another letter, to warn her and his siblings of the Breach and to be wary of any rifts appearing in South Reach. He was lucky that all of his siblings were alive and well, unlike the Herald, who had just lost two sisters, as well as all of those who had perished at the Conclave. They had all been someone's son or daughter, sister, brother, mother, father…

Cullen ran a hand through his hair and tried not to dwell too much, lest he lose himself in it. So he pulled out a fresh piece of parchment, dipped his quill into an open inkpot and began to write:

Dear Mia,

Things have changed considerably since my last letter, with the official forming of the Inquisition here in Haven, we are at the mercy of the Herald of Andraste herself - a mage and a noble woman from the Free Marshes. There is little for me to say of her except that our working relationship has already been strained due to an abundance of conflicting views. Nevertheless, I believe in the Inquisition and my time here is busy preparing our growing army ready for Maker only knows what. I won’t bore you with those granular details.

I realise this letter is possibly somewhat of a shock for you, considering it is so soon after the last, and this is an essay compared to what I usually send you. All I can say is that I’m grateful you and our brother and sister are nowhere near Haven.

That being said, there are plenty of reports coming in of rifts appearing all over Ferelden and most of Southern Thedas. I implore you - if a rift is seen in South Reach, please keep everyone away - including Branson - and send word to me immediately.

Take care, all of you, and pass on my regards to Branson and Rosalie.

Your brother,

Cullen

There were a million other things he wanted to say to Mia and now he longed to write more to each of his siblings… but the Chantry bells peeled to indicate the hour, so Cullen folded up his letter and pocketed it: he hoped one of Leliana’s swiftest birds could deliver it for him.

Cullen left the War Room with some reports in his hand and headed back down through the village. Many were stirring now, and he walked briskly to ensure he wasn’t intercepted with idle chatter and miss the Herald’s departure. Fires were being lit, and servants scurried around fetching water and firewood. A delicious smell of bread was coming from the kitchen and his stomach rumbled. He quickened his pace keen to wave them off and head to breakfast; that was if they hadn’t already left.

He need not have worried, for when he approached the stables, only Cassandra was there, fully dressed in her Seeker armour, her back to him. He followed her line of sight and saw her watching two figures in the sparring ring. As he shielded his eyes from the morning sun, he squinted at the figures and recognised them.

“Is that... ?” he began.

Cassandra nodded beside him. “The Herald is training with the elven apostate, Solas.”

A trickle of unease crept down his back as he stood and watched with Cassandra. The pair of mages used long sticks instead of their staffs - not too dissimilar to wooden training swords. Solas held his stick with his left hand, his feet apart in a good stance. Cullen couldn’t hear what he said, but Solas appeared to instruct the Herald, as the elf demonstrated a feinting move. Cullen’s eyes were drawn to Trevelyan and he sucked in a breath as she turned, imitating Solas. Her face was flushed with the cold mountain air and there was a look of deep concentration as she listened to the apostate’s advice - a small frown on her brow and a nibble on her lower lip, he couldn’t help but notice. They then began to spar in earnest: their sticks twirled with no magic as they remained focused entirely upon their technique of movement in a fight. The two mages moved well together, and Cullen felt that peculiar pull in his gut - fear? He wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t help but continue to watch them spar and he observed that Solas’s eyes never left the Herald’s face. She, on the other hand, concentrated on her footwork; eventually outstepped Solas, whacked him on the shins then behind the knees, causing the elf to lose his balance and fall on the hard ground. The Herald’s staff was pointed at Solas’ neck and a brief look of triumph crossed her face.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Cassandra said, making Cullen jump. He had forgotten she was standing with him.

“Hmm?” he made a non-committal response as he watched Trevelyan stretch out a hand to help Solas to his feet.

“You have nothing to worry about, Cullen,” she continued. “I will be keeping a close eye on each of them - especially when they are together as such.”

Cullen nodded, but the twinge of unease didn’t abate. “I know you will Cassandra,” he replied evenly. Although the Herald’s magic was only one small part of what he had been thinking: the rest was a completely frightening feeling he was not familiar with, nor ready to admit what it was to himself, let alone Cassandra.

“You’re always watching, aren’t you?” a new voice called, and Cullen’s stomach lurched as Lady Trevelyan herself and Solas walked over to him with Solas. He was unsure of how to answer her. Yes, he wanted to say, but not for all the reasons you think.

Thankfully Cassandra interjected. “Can you blame us? We aren’t mages ourselves but are still drawn to magic and its uses. It was part of our livelihoods respectively before all of this.”

Cullen looked anywhere other than the Herald, but he could feel her eyes on him and he didn’t know if that made him uncomfortable or quietly pleased.

“I suppose you’re right,” the Herald sighed. “But even so. I would appreciate it, Commander, if you could please stop watching my every move, like I’m one of your charges,” she said wearily, rubbing her forehead.

Her words had struck a little too close to home - it eerily reminded him of when he had been infatuated with one of his charges as a new recruit, over ten years ago. Clenching his fists, Cullen glanced over his shoulder at the stables. “Well then, you will be pleased to know that I won’t be joining you on your ramble through the Ferelden countryside,” he replied flatly. “And it seems your horses are now ready for your departure.” He started to walk back towards the stables with Solas and Cassandra following him. Leliana and Josephine were also at the stables, waiting to wave off the party.

He pulled out his reports and passed them to Cassandra as she mounted her horse. “If the roads are clear, it should take you around five days to reach the outskirts of the Hinterlands,” Cullen said. “Corporal Vale departed yesterday and should be a day’s ride ahead of you and will leave signals if there any dangers to be aware of along your route.”

Cassandra thanked him, but her attention was diverted to behind Cullen, where the Herald had mounted her horse in silence and the mare had skitted, unaccustomed to her new rider.

“Woah girl, easy,” she cooed in an attempt to soothe the horse.

Cullen strode forward and took the reins in his hands before patting the mare down and hushing her. “You can’t show her you’re afraid,” he said honestly, hoping his willingness to assist would be seen as a small token of peace between them.

But instead the Herald frowned down at him. “I know that, thank you very much Commander,” she said tartly.

“I understand the horse is the mascot of House Trevelyan, is it not?” Leliana said suddenly.

The Ambassador nodded and Lady Trevelyan inclined her head. “You’re right. My ancestors were one of the first humans to breed and sell fine horses for profit: they started the whole trade of horse dealerships in Southern Thedas.” There was a note of pride in the Herald’s voice, and Cullen tried his best not to roll his eyes. Her family invented trading horses? Not bloody likely. Maker’s breath, what drivel has she been fed as a noble growing up! He glanced at Cassandra who appeared to be containing herself too.

“I understand that’s how your family came into nobility,” Josephine said with a smile.

As The Herald nodded, Cullen couldn't help but interject. “Well if that’s the case, then you should know how to handle a horse better than anyone,” he said sarcastically.

“Well perhaps you should mind your own business,” she retorted, snatching the resigns out of his hands.

Cullen clenched his jaw. “And you should know when to accept help when offered, no matter how unwillingly,” he ground out. How was it, just the night before he had found himself noticing... other things about her? How in the world could he even think this was the start of an ill-advised infatuation when he enraged her so, and vice versa?

Before the Herald could reply, Cassandra rode past them. “Let us depart, Lady Herald - the road is a long one.”

“Indeed,” Solas said, following the Seeker. “It would be good to cover as much ground in the daylight as possible.”

Another, croaky voice joined in. “Let’s just get this over with,” a bleary-eyed Varric grumbled from his pony.

The Herald paused and looked back at Cullen. “Just tell me one thing, Commander…” He nodded for her to continue. She cocked her head to the side. “Do you not trust me?”

Cullen sucked in a breath. It was a heavy question, thick with hidden accusations. He searched his mind for an answer that would satisfy, but he was far too slow.

“That’s what I thought,” she said flatly and an unexpected look of disappointment crossed her face. At me or herself? He wondered. She dug in her heels and set off at a canter to catch up with the rest of the group.

“Maker preserve you!” Leliana called, and offered a small wave to the group.

As he watched her ride away, Josephine tutted from beside him. “Goodness, what is going on with you and the Lady Herald?”

Still looking at the retreating back of Elsie Trevelyan, his mouth felt dry as he replied “A mutual sense of loathing.”

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#please reblog!#my writing #believe again #fic: believe again #dragon age

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