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timextoxhajima · 4 years ago

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The Misadventures of Ares: Promotionem

HOSTIS MASTERLIST

“Do I want to know if one of you will be reported missing tomorrow after I give you this information?” Dr. Choi has his left jaw snug in his left palm, head resting in his hand with his free one fiddling with the corner of a file.

“With all due respect, Dr. Choi, I doubt you have much of a choice,” Hyunjae grits his teeth and bares them like he was cringing. You would love to agree with him on the spot, but that’s not a very smart thing to do now, no.

The promotion was yours, and if it wasn’t, Dr. Choi might actually have to call 911 tomorrow when he doesn’t see your fiancé report to work.

He raises a brow and provides a slight shrug at Hyunjae’s words, already tuned to his little remarks that could cause a fire, but not enough for him to fire him. The hospital couldn’t anyway, not when Hyunjae’s done more good than most doctors in the building.

“I must have the both of you know that this promotion doesn’t mean anything. The paycheck is just about two or three thousand dollars difference and the working hours are still the same.”

A pause. He’s waiting for a reaction.

None.

“No matter which one of you gets promoted at this point, the other can get a promotion far more honorable, you know?”

He pauses again.

Nothing.

Dr. Choi sighs in resignation. “Very well,” He opens the file. Hyunjae sucks in a deep breath and shrinks his left eye, like he was scared something was going to pop out of those ivory pages. “I would like to congratulate Dr. l/n for excelling at her job, and the hospital would like to present her with-”

“YYYYYYYYYEEEEESSSSSSSSSS!” Your fists are clenched so hard and pushed so fast up into the air, the sides of your chest hurt. “AHA! DIDN’T I TELL YOU I’D GET THE PROMOTION FIRST?”

“Dr. l/n,” The senior doctor calls out, yanking your ghastly triumph back down to Earth. You hadn’t realised you were inches away from Hyunjae’s face, doing nothing but ironically talking down to him as if you were ready to win a rap battle.

“Oh,” Quick, embarrassed steps retreat you from your fiancé (and your loser of a colleague). “Sorry.”

Gaze stuck to the floor and your fingers tightly interweaved with one another, you cannot control the smile that’s erupting across your face. The glee, the satisfaction, the pure bliss that encapsulates your entire being in the form of a sheet of paper in front of you.

“Very graceful, Dr. l/n.” Hyunjae’s voice sneaks up from your right, and the childish need to stick out your tongue at him overwhelms your need to remain professional.

“Sometimes I question how you two made it past med school,” Dr. Choi looks up, over the rims of his glasses and raises a brow. The gesture earns a gentle huff from you as you turn away from Hyunjae. “Anyway, I’ll be sending you an email regarding the additional things you need to look out for, but for now, just keep up the good work.”

Clenching your fists in glee, you are snickering when you look up at Dr. Choi, who only turns to look at Hyunjae. “Doesn’t mean you can’t be the next to get a bigger promotion, Dr. Lee.”

“I know,” Hyunjae nods knowingly. The smug smirk directed at you rips out a sneer from your lips. “I trust you, Dr. Choi.”

You are halfway across the distance between you and your fiance, hand in the air and ready to slap it down against his arm when Dr. Choi raises both his hands, palms facing his audience and waving aggressively.

“If you two want to fight over this miniscule promotion, please do it at elsewhere, possibly in the safety of your own homes.”

Hyunjae tuts loudly, walking around you and heading for the door of Dr. Choi’s office. “Thank you, Dr. Choi,” He pauses, and glances between you and the older doctor. “And do help me call the police and ambulance tomorrow if I don’t show up.”

Your lower jaw goes slack as Hyunjae purses his lips in mischief, quickly exiting the office before you can throw something at him. “You-!”

“Dr. l/n!”

The mandarin shades of the setting sun is reflecting off the champagne glass tower as you are shown to the rooftop restaurant. With the spectacular view of the city and the sights of exquisite food placed on perfect-white porcelain plates, this is the last thing you would’ve expected him to do.

“Over here, Mr and Mrs Lee,” The waiter, who’s dressed in a suit that seemed mroe expensive than the clothes you were wearing now, gestures to a table for two nearest to the end where there was a gorgeous waterfall over the ledge and into the water catchment area below. “Here’s the menu. Today’s soup special is the Black Truffle Mushroom and I recommend that we get you started on a five-course seafood and steak meal with a Cabernet or Malbec.”

“Kitten, is there anything you don’t want before I get us started on that five-course?”

Your eyes dart away from the glistening water below to look at Hyunjae, whose eyes are plastered to the menu while the waiter is standing by the table with his hands before his abdomen.

“Uh- I-”

“We’ll both have the five-course. And make that two Cabernets. But is it alright if we change the soup special to Clam Chowder? It’s in the menu.”

The waiter takes the menu from Hyunjae that was being handed over. “Definitely. I’ll come by soon with the wine and soup.”

“Thank you.”

And with that, the waiter takes off with the menus and leaves you staring in awe at the view before you. Hyunjae peels your hand off the table and plants a kiss on the back of your hand, before cupping his own cheek in your palm.

“Do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it,” As much as you wanted to slam a book in his face for teasing you infront of your mentor this morning, you couldn’t. How could anybody? “You really didn’t have to.”

“No, no,” Hyunjae releases your hand for you to keep. “I’m great at being gracious and this is it. You won the fight and you deserve a treat.”

“But my treat’s the promotion. I didn’t need this.”

Hyunjae leans back in his chair, with his emerald green blazer a capturing all the orange there is that settling on the fabric. His hair is slightly tousled, and it’s a miracle how it remains in its position. He never liked touching much wax or hairspray unless he knew he couldn’t afford it getting into his face. But his skin is so clear, it looks like glass. And his eyes are pearls in the clear blue sea when you look down in the sand.

Then he looks at you with utmost genuine when he parts his lips, only speaking out enough for you to hear.

“At least let me enjoy celebrating your wins with you, even if you beat me to it.”

A gentle chuckle escapes your throat. “Is this how you won Minhee over, back when we were in school? With your... diabetic, sugar-infused speech?”

Hyunjae pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue and crosses his legs under the table. “That probably wouldn’t work - words don’t click like they do in her head as they do in ours.”

“That’s mean!”

“Says you.”

The sound of your stomach gurgling stirs you in your sleep - which is weird. You've never had a problem with gastric or anything similar of the sorts. It's a surprise when your mouth starts flooding with saliva though, and you try to sit up in a bid to swallow down the need to hurl.

But a weight on your hip keeps you from sitting up completely, as so does Hyunjae's arm on your waist that keeps you pinned to the bed.

"Jae-"

"Hmm? What is it?"

"Get your leg off me."

"No."

"Get your damn leg off me before I-"

There it is again.

Hyunjae can feel your physique squirm against his chest. The feeling of queasiness lurches up your stomach and into your throat and finally it becomes unbearable. He isn't given a chance before you literally slide out from underneath him and bolt for his bathroom, and before you know it you're on your knees with your dinner and dessert being hurled out into the toilet bowl.

"Jesus, are you okay?" Hyunjae squats next to you after turning on the bathroom light. "Was it something you ate?"

The stench of the remnants in the toilet bowl stinks up the whole bathroom, and your slightly limp hand reaches out for the flush. "I don't know. I don't think so- you're not puking."

"Well- I could have a stronger stomach than you."

Sitting your bum to the cold tiles of the floor, your eyes naturally start shooting daggers at your fiancé. "You really know when to say the best things, don't you?"

The mischief in him slips away, replaced with a gentle smile as he presses his hand to your forehead. "Well, you're not having a fever so it probably isn't food poisoning."

"Never mind," Your hand searches for something solid to help you up, but Hyunjae interrupts you and slides his arms under your knees and your back instead. "I can get a check up at the hospital tomorrow when I check into work."

"Can't you take the day off and get your check up elsewhere?"

"We literally work at the hospital," Your bum leaves the floor as he carries you out, stopping by the switch on the wall to turn off the light. "Isn't it common sense to make use of that?"

Hyunjae hums, making it to his bed in about 5 or 6 steps. The cushion sinks under your weight when he puts you down in bed, and he crawls over you playfully, with his arms perching his torso above yours.

"You're so cute when you need me to take care of you," He pecks your nose and forehead.

"I don't need any taking care, Sir," Your fingers dig into his cheeks as you squish them, forcing his lips into an 'o'. "You're cuter, by the way."

Hyunjae grins widely, eyes still sleepy. Then he topples over and scoops you into his chest like a child holding a puppy, lips against your forehead as his gentle breathing takes you away into your slumber.

"Why did you even bother to clock into work today when you're not feeling well?" The general practitioner frowns at you through the reflection of his laptop as he watches you slide the door of his office shut.

"Aw, not happy to see me?" The sarcasm was awfully heavy in your voice as the smirk remains plastered to your face. Dr. Kyung Won Jin whirls around in his roller chair and scoots over to his desk where you head for, automatically pulling your white coat so that you wouldn't sit on it.

"I think I'd like it more if we were... perhaps in a restaurant or a café catching up instead." He takes your temperature and blood pressure.

"I would but I'm swamped," The blood pressure arm strap tightens around your skin and muscle.

"Not to mention that promotion I heard you got yesterday, right?" He smiles, turning to his laptop and letting some program run.

The satisfaction wells your chest. "So you've heard!"

"How could I not, when the entire department heard you yelling about it in Dr. Choi's office?"

A low chuckle collects the atmosphere as he removes the blood pressure strap. He clicks a pen and jots down the number, but it's not enough to catch your attention.

"Well, had to make sure to rub it in his face."

"Would've been there to see it myself... but, probably didn't want to be around when y'all are hurling things at each other."

"News flash, we didn't throw anything at each other," You grin at Dr. Kyung, who pulls out a needle and a blood tube.

"Nice to know," He wraps a band around your forearm before lifting the syringe. "Hold still for me, yeah?" Dr. Kyung starts pulling on the syringe. "So, how did he take it? Did he give you the cold shoulder?"

All you can remember from the previous day was the warmth of the sunset and the coolness from the starry night sky.

"Nah," A sweet smile overcomes your greed to flaunt your triumph. "He took me out for a dinner date."

"Aww," Dr. Kyung pouts cutely, eyes flitting back and forth between the blood tube and you. "So, when's the wedding? You've already registered your marriage, haven't you?"

"Well, yes. But the wedding's gotta wait," Dr. Kyung pulls out the needle, pressing a cotton pad to your tiny wound that you press into your arm. "I don't think we can afford the time to plan one now. We were already busy before and now with the promotion... Nah."

"Mm," He hums, sticking the blood tube into one of those test tube holders.

"That's a bummer. But if you do have a wedding, I'd hate to miss it."

Dr. Kyung helps you paste a plaster before you get up and take your leave.

"Of course not. Anything for you, Dr."

The marble counter is slightly stained with cream sauce and some pepper when the pasta is done cooking, and Hyunjae wraps his arms around your waist in a bid to plant little kisses into the back of your neck.

"You're already not helping and you want to pull this stunt now?"

Hyunjae turns off the stove before you're done and turns you around, letting you lean against the edge of the counter. "Who said I didn't help? I got the groceries and I set the table."

You can taste the butter from the garlic bread he was told to make when he presses his lips into yours.

"I told you to help with the garlic bread, not eat them," Hands on his chest, you pull away but unable to escape from between his hands on the edge of the counter.

"I was hungry, let me live a little, would you?" His fingers find your chin and bring them to his face again. The smile that stretches across his lips when you can't resist the kiss he's offering tastes like-

Then Hyunjae's right arm finally leaves the counter, and his left rests on your waist instead. His lips don't leave yours until he finds the vibrating device in the back pocket of his pants.

"Mm, hi- Dr. Kyung," He manages between the kisses. "Mhm- yes- she was just- cooking-"

Of all times to call...

"Right- the blood test- Mhm-"

Then he abruptly screeches to a halt, and your lips are left alone like ditching a puppy along the street.

"Ugh, will you hang up and just-"

"No, shut up, kitten," He shows you his palm as he transfers more attention to the person on the other end of the line, his left hand still gentle on your waist.

Rolling your eyes, you turn back to the pan and pour out your dinners into two plates that you bring to the table.

"It's my blood test," You mumble to yourself, annoyed. After setting down the food, you finally turn around to look at him, hands on your hips. Your lips are already parted to ask him to hang up and just come for dinner if it's nothing important, but he beats you to it.

"Kitten," The phone is held a distance away from his ear, his eyes flickering like satellites in the sky. "You're pregnant."

#hostis #timetohajima hostis #tbz hyunjae #hyunjae #lee hyunjae #the boyz #the boyz hyunjae

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chopper-witch · 5 years ago

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AWOMOD: A Touch of the Past (CH 9)

Characters: Loki x Ashira; TV GoT version characters of Dorne but it’s my version of that version.

Warnings: angst, nightmares,

Locations: her ship, TV GoT version of Dorne but it’s my version of that version; a place that is basically my version of Jakku.

Word count: 8,000+

Summary:Memories Ashira forced herself to forget (though she remembers everyday) are dragged from the depths when she realizes just how much Loki means to her.

A/N: I am so sorry for taking so long,,, It’s been a long few months. This feels longer to me than it is. Also, the dress she wears is basically Daenerys’ Qarth dress (this). Sorry for any mistakes,,, its been a thing.

AWOMOD Masterlist

The sun on Dorne never seems to fail cheering her up. Something about the way it shines, she supposes, always makes it feel nicer than it is. Maybe it’s because it’s where Ares isn’t. It is an adversarial planet to her home after all, and, despite that, she can roam freely around. They will never turn her over; Dorne doesn’t want Ares to have the satisfaction of anything. The ex-princess of Ares was essentially granted amnesty as soon as she escaped Hala. They even contacted her.

And she had gladly accepted. She needed somewhere to go and to be honest, if they were intending to kill her or use her in an attempt to create a fake peace of some form, she was so close to death that she didn’t care. Anything would be better than what she just escaped.

They hadn’t tried to use her for anything. In fact, they genuinely wanted to help her. So for a few years after she escaped she spent most of her time in Dorne, adjusting their technology to match Ares or beat Ares’ detection.

But it just wasn’t home.

“So where are we?” Loki asks.

While he almost always wears the same thing with only mild moderation, she is yet again in another outfit. But this one is a bit of a shock: she’s wearing a dress. With her normal boots on, but a dress nonetheless. Made of a pale blue, shimmering, flowing fabric, and gold stripes periodically dusting the the fibers, it fits perfectly. The curls of her hair flows over her shoulders and down her back to cover where there is a v in the dress. The silver of the locks braided contrast the gold metal work that is covering her shoulders, also found in the large gold metal work belt cinching her waist. Little baubles hang off each side of her waist; they even jangle a little as the wind blows past them. The neckline matches the back, plunging between her chest and easily exposing more cleavage than anything else he has ever seen her in.

Something slightly peeking out from the top of the low neckline, discoloration of her skin. A pure white patch just barely hidden…

Her hair also seems different. Braids, like always, but this time there are a few pins in it, all with smalls gems in them of the same shade of blue.

“Dorne. Come on.”

He’s never heard of it before. Then again, there is a lot he hasn’t heard of before that Ashira has guided him to. Asgardian education really let him down.

Loki shoves his hands in his pockets. “Should I change? You look much nicer than I thought I’d ever see you.”

Ashira scowls. “I can look nice, asshole. I just don’t normally wear dresses.”

“Sorry…” Loki trails off. His intent wasn’t to insult, but rather compliment. “I just meant, it looks nice on you…”

A glint of dark blue catches his eye. Around her neck is a simple pendant necklace. The blue in the center, which rests perfectly in the center of her sternum, seems anything but ordinary. There is a glow that yanks his mind towards it. It’s beautiful… alluring… mesmerizing…

“Loki, hey, Loki!” Ashira snaps her fingers in front of him.

He snaps his eyes up. “Yes?”

“Brain is up here.” She points towards her head. “That’s definitely my best feature so if you want to stare at anything let it be that.”

Loki laughs at that, forcing his eyes back to her grinning face. “But if your face is your worst….?”

“Still look there.” She chuckles, pulling at his left arm. “Come on, Loki. I’m not going to sit here the whole time when we are in one of the nicest places in the universe.”

When they exit the ship Loki hops back in. They are not in an open field or a secluded forest. Instead the first thing he sees as he walks out is several pathways followed by several other landed ships followed by the realization that they are landed in an area very clearly in an area designated for the government of this… Dorne.

Banners and flags are set up all around the area with a red sun proud in the center of the dusty orange fabric, a single golden spear running straight through it. Even from the glance of the landing area he got, he can tell there is one painted beneath them.

Ashira is already thirty steps ahead of him, however.

Unsure of whether she is being foolishly stupid or not, he opts catches up with her. Better to be with her and help her get out than leave her alone and end up both detained or killed.

“So why are we just walking around so casually?” Loki asks once beside her.

“Major enemy of Ares. They don’t want Ares to get me back and Ares has no access to this planet so they can’t tell if I am here or not.” Ashira slows her steps as they approach the arched entrance of the Water Gardens. “Plus I fixed a lot of their tech so Ares can’t touch them for the most part. I come here only occasionally though. It’s pretty.”

Loki continues to walk forward and even passes her when they finally reach the entrance of the Water Gardens. “I’ll agree with you on that.”

A quiet snort is released as she watches Loki look around in awe.

Every color Loki could ever imagine (and then some) in every plant; shimmers and glimmers like he never thought possible on a plant of all things; birds that appear to be hummingbirds but vibrant pinks and blues and purples instead of a more toned down blue or brown or shimmering green (though that does make sense, evolutionarily); and row upon row of infinity pools filled with the most fantastic water features, plants and fish.

And he thought Asgard has the most amazing gardens.

“Enjoying yourself?” Ashira teases.

Loki happily scoffs. “This is amazing... I’ve never seen any place prettier.”

“It only gets more beautiful.”

It remains a silent walk. Loki is far too distracted by everything to make conversation. Ashira opts to just silently move beside him and continually playfully tapping some of the more active plants, hands gliding through every little pond and basin of water.

Then, about ten minutes into the walk, a set of 9 guards marching come around the corner. Clad from head to toe in something eerily similar to what she wore when they landed on, but with more loose and colorful fabrics. The guards are large as well, larger than him in every respect.

Loki expects Ashira to either tense up or even try to find an alternate route. Instead of tensing, she simply pauses her steps and smiles.

She even stands a little straighter. Not in challenge though… respect.

“Ashira, the King awaits,” the singular unmasked guard at the head of the group announces.

Ashira nods. “Thank you.”

Her steps pull her forward, then immediately back again. At least half have weapons pointed at Loki that she hadn’t originally noticed. Those that don’t are gripping the hilt of their swords anxiously.

The guard peers past Ashira. “Who is your friend?”

Ashira glances over to Loki. There is a soft smile on her face, no malice or suspicion for once. “He can be trusted. He was outcasted from Asgard.”

“Asgard?” The guard looks him over. Loki feels exposed. Sure he was singled out on Asgard for various reasons but never treated like a hostile threat being brought on trial. “Then he is welcome as well.” All the guards immediately return to a neutral position resulting in Loki letting go of the breathe trapped in his lungs. “Come.”

All guards turn a perfect 180 in sync to begin their walk towards the palace.

Loki leans down to whisper to Ashira. “So... what is happening?”

“The King meets with me once a year to thank me.” It’s at a normal tone instead of the whisper he desired.

“Oh.”

Ashira chuckles. “That’s why I am dressed like this.” Her hands gesture down her body. “For respect of their traditions.”

Loki hums. Respecting traditions doesn’t really seem her style. “And the necklace? A gift from him?”

“No!” She rushes to reply. Loki immediately whips his head to more closely examine her. No one replies that quickly about a necklace. “It was.” She swallows hard. Loki notices. “It was a gift from someone else. A...” she exhales slowly. “... a friend.”

Loki leaves it at that.

The palace is entirely open from what he can tell, built of a red clay with no real doors or windows, just open arches on every level. In fact, Loki hadn’t even noticed they were entering a building until the sun grew dim as they turned right down a hall.

At the end of said hall sits a man who appears to be at least half way through his life, as Loki does not know how these people age.

And the chair… has wheels?

Loki recalls reading about some form of chair with wheels that helps those who cannot walk, but Asgard never even had them as far as he is aware. It’s a bizarre sight to see and even more bizarre to see a monarch in one.

“Ashira!” The King shouts, extending his arms out to her. She leans into them, awkwardly balanced on her toes as they embrace. It’s not very long but the man is definitely happy with it. “And who is this?” He gestures behind Ashira.

Ashira simply places her right hand on his left forearm as reassurance that Loki is not an enemy. She pauses though, taking a moment to look back at Loki.

His face is entirely neutral and mostly focused on her (not on the king like he was trained). The pair shares a brief smile before Ashira turns her head slowly towards the king again.

“A friend.”

Doran raises his right brow skeptically. Ashira has never brought anyone with her on her trips back to Dorne. Not even Selene. “A… friend. Alright. Well, everyone is here today.”

Ashira yanks her head back in shock. “Your brother is here?”

“He is.” Doran nods. “As are all his children.”

“Is there a special occasion?”

“I wish. He is never here when those occur. Let’s go before he decides to leave again.”

A guard aids in wheeling the king around. While they wait Ashira realizes her left hand is still rested on Loki’s forearm. The prince seems not to even mind her instinctively protective touch that has turned into a comically long lingering hold.

Embarrassed, Ashira tugs her hand away hastily before slowing her movements once a few inches away to reduce the visibility of her movement. Loki notices regardless.

As the group starts to walk, Loki leans towards Ashira, again.

“So who is all here?”

“The king, his daughter and two sons, the king’s younger brother and his eight daughters are all here today, as well as the prince’s lover.”

Loki furrows his brows. A lover invited to a formal gathering? “His lover?”

“Yeah, she is the mother of four of his children.”

Oh. “So they are not legitimate?”

“Every child is legitimate, but they aren’t in line for the throne. Any of them, technically. Four have the same mother, but the other four all have different mothers.”

“What?”

Ashira looks up at him confused. “What?”

Loki hums. “That would never be allowed on Asgard. Unmarried is one thing but five mothers for eight children?”

“Marriage is immensely rare on Ares.” So are unplanned kids. Or, kids at all. “So it happens. Think of Dorne like an in-between.”

And then they enter the room.

Well, it’s more like a courtyard, Loki figures, seeing as each side as covered pathways but the inner part is entirely roofless, giving way for the bright, searing sun to light the semi-bricked yard. A large wooden table is set in the center, with trees and bushes surrounding it and a water fountain proudly on the other side from them.

The people - hel the people - are dressed everywhere from close to what Ashira is donning to sandy toned clothing that is barely covering anything. Then there is the sheer chaos of the situation. Even the older of the people seem to be running around and play fighting, one girl using a whip to pull who appears to be her older sister back to her.

This is a royal gathering? It feels informal. He would be chastised for not sitting properly, forget wrestling his brother to the ground.

“Come on,” Ashira whispers at Loki’s stoic and shocked form.

There are three seats towards the end of the table near the side they are on where there are no indicators of being pre-occupied. Well, four, if you count the empty spot where a Queen would presumably sit, as well as two on one side and one on the other.

Loki goes opposite Ashira as she chooses to sit where there are two spaces. He almost followed to sit beside her. His upbringing kicked in and overruled him, reminding him that he ought to sit opposite her.

So he reluctantly sits across, sliding into the chair at the very end of the right side from the King’s view. Ashira offers an almost sympathetic smile.

Barely a minute after Loki and Ashira sit down, the rest begin to follow. The once empty seat beside Ashira is soon filled by a woman who makes a show of staring another guest down before tossing her spear to stick perfectly in the center of the planter behind said guest.

“Still don’t see why you should get to go first,” the other guest, another woman in similar clothes practically whines.

“Because I am both older and better.” She raises her brow before sitting very uncordially down.

Someone slides in besides Loki, as he expected, so he does not pay much attention. His mind is more focused on trying to generally identify most of the people as everyone begins to seat themselves not wanting to insult anyone. He has learned that it does not matter whether or not you’ve been introduced or told the title of someone, it’s better not to disrespect them.

“Nym, no weapons at the table, you know that,” an older woman a few spots down and across from who Loki has identified as the younger brother of the king, whispers angrily.

The way the girl reluctantly slides the whip beneath the table to her feet reminds him much the many, many times his brother had to be reminded Mjolnir was not allowed at the table and opted to just slide the weapon out of sight.

Loki cannot help but zone out. He’s been through too many events like this in his lifetime. The king will make an announcement thanking everyone, the food will be brought out, people will eat. Conversation will commence.

And that’s exactly what happens. The only factor throwing Loki off is Ashira. She is just sitting there across from them in clothes that just don’t seem to fit her quite right. She doesn’t seem like a roam around in a flow dress type. Yet she is conversing as if this is niche, this is where she really flourishes. From what he knows these sorts of meals were not common on Ares. Somehow she makes it look like she’s been through it for centuries like he has.

As he continues to eat mindlessly (the food is amazingly flavored but immensely repetitive, though he can't really blame them for being in a desert planet), his eyes can’t help but switching between the necklace and the plastic like spot on her chest, even if his mind is elsewhere. Something about both just seem unnatural in ways he can’t quite describe and now that he is sat directly across from her he has the opportunity to just look.

The pendant seems to be alive. The blue pulses not randomly, but controlled and consistently, like a heart beat almost. But it also seems to react to Ashira as she laughs and talks as if it is trying to respond as well. The shades even swirl around like it is thinking a couple of times.

The spot is less and more odd. It is not like her other scars that seem to have naturally stitched back together with the surrounding skin; it also doesn’t look like something just pasted on either. Add the strangeness that the patch appears to be most of her left chest, meaning her heart was somehow impacted as well.

At least that is what he assumes.

“What do you think, Loki?”

He is shaken out of his mindless staring. “Pardon me?”

“I was wondering what you think of the trade disputes due to the new found mine of gravitonium?” it’s the king’s brother.

Loki shifts slightly. “I don’t think I have enough knowledge to be qualified to answer that.”

Oberon nods satisfied. “A reasonable answer. I wish that’s how the rest of the Westeros system would respond instead of interrupting our intervention. That reminds me…”

He looks back to Ashira for assurance he responded correctly to her to see her smiling over at Loki widely, hiding her face partially behind the glass of wine in her hand. A smile pulls at his lips as well.

The King watches the entire table carefully, including his guest and her friend. He notes the lingering smiles between the two causing himself to get slightly distracted when his brother asks him a question.

One of the others, Loki assumes the lover of the king’s younger brother, soon says something that pulls Ashira’s attention to way. But her head pulls away slowly, her lips answering before actually looking back to the others.

“You are very lucky,” the woman to the left of him whispers.

Nam? Nym? Something like that.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Ashira. She is an amazing warrior and very pretty. Anyone would be lucky to have her.”

“Oh, we’re not —”

The girl cuts him off.

“That’s a shame. I know the older of the two princes has been interested in her since they first met. She isn’t interested but you never know.”

Loki’s brows furrow and he looks down the table again. The prince on his side on the table is indeed staring at Ashira. It isn’t a subtle stare either. It’s a doe-eyed, intense, ceaseless stare that Ashira is either blissfully ignorant of or insanely amazing at ignoring.

“Don’t worry, it would never work out.”

The girl’s words draw him out of the staring he begun at the prince. The difference? Loki’s utensils now were slightly altered in shape; the handles of them now bent back to follow the curve of his hand. He opts to set them down and pick up his glass. Just needs to relax.

“Pardon me?” Loki asks.

“It would never work. We only live for a hundred years at most, she’s almost 5,000 years.”

Loki chokes on his drink at that. She’s as old as his entire lifespan? He really hadn’t thought how old she must be if she is in the Greek Myths. She looks maybe a tad bit older than him, by maybe a few years in terms of relative age. So if he is a fifth through his life, there is a chance she is as well.

Live for 25,000 years? Hel, that’s a long time.

Too long, even.

“You okay Loki?” Ashira asks. Her attention has returned to him at the sound of his coughing. Outwardly she appears generally concerned like any friend would; internally she is genuinely concerned.

He looks down at the red wine refusing to drip off his leather then to her. “Yeah, just drank it wrong.”

“Well, be careful. It’d be a shame for you to die because of some wine of all things.”

The rest of the meal continues similarly - Loki unsure of when he should and shouldn’t talk, Ashira being unusually social and talkative, several of the daughters of the prince (and the prince himself) suggesting things that seem obscene to be discussed at such a supposedly formal setting. Sure, Asgardians talked often about battles and such, but never anything like the poison the girl beside him figured out how to imbue her whip with.

That was currently sat at their feet.

Something he appreciated, but a few others did not.

When it does finally end, some of the people go off in various directions, others remaining in the court-yard to go back to fighting each other.

His attention is removed from the clamor around him when Ashira says his name.

“Loki, we’re going to leave soon. If you want to fight them, do it now.”

“I-I what?” Loki narrows his eyes. “I was observing them.”

She shrugs as she stands. Loki stands as well. “All I’m saying is if you want to rumble before we leave, might as well.”

The king is wheeled down towards their end while Loki walks around the end of the table to meet Ashira.

“I’m assuming you will want some wine again?” Doran asks Ashira.

“I can’t say no. Best alcohol in the entire universe.”

“Well, I’m not sure about that.” The King waves his right hand and two guards move quickly out of the room. “We wish you good fortune and that you will visit again.”

“I will. Don’t worry.” Once again she bends down awkwardly, carefully tipping to hug the ruler. Loki nearly grimaces at her disastrous posture as she does so. “I’ll always come back to visit.”

“Very good. Goodbye until next time.”

“Until next time.”

Ashira then turns to walk back to her ship, skirt billowing out around her. Loki is quick to follow. While this place isn’t threatening (confusing, rather), he doesn’t wish to linger without Ashira. The prince was taught better than to intrude.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get more than a few paces before his name is called once again.

“And Loki?”

Loki pauses, watching as Ashira continues on as if she didn’t even hear his name being called. Hesitant to completely lose sight of her, Loki opts to look over his shoulder at the older king.

“Yes, your grace?”

“Stay a moment.”

Loki sighs and turns. His royal upbringing is fighting the past few months of adventures. On the one hand, he knows he needs to remain courteous in front of a member of the royal family of this planet (more importantly, the king) and stay as long as the king wants; on the other Ashira’s impatience and specific type of chaos has seeped into him and he has become wary of anyone who is not himself or her.

“What is it that you need?” Loki speaks up.

“Just some advice from an old, dying man.” Loki nods. Seems as though every old, dying man he has met in his life has advice to offer. “Don’t hurt her. She’s been through a lot... she’s hurting a lot, still. We don’t invite her just to thank her, we invite her to make sure she is doing okay. We took her in for a time after she escaped, a time when she was too shaken up to make sense of anything. This is the first time she has seemed happy. Don’t ruin that.”

Loki takes a moment so he can process what was just told him. It’s a lot packed into only a few words.

First, the old, dying man is advising him not to hurt Ashira because she seems happy. Between the king’s insinuation and the girl’s implication, what Loki had begun to consider since the quiet conversation the other night seems more real… or maybe realistic? Two people don’t just say things like that unless the feelings are two-sided.

He also just admitted that it isn’t a yearly thank you, rather a yearly check-up on her. Loki’s been a witness to some of her worst moments of relived panic but for it to be of enough concern that an entire other race checks on her regularly?

That is a little stunning, to say the least.

“I have no plans to,” Loki decides to respond.

“Good. Cause if you do, she has more people behind her than she makes it seem. She could change the universe if she wanted.”

Loki smiles at that. “Trust me, I know.”

Loki finds Ashira spinning around like a child in the pilot’s seat, outfit changed to plain black leggings and a matching tank top. His eyes inadvertently go immediately to the scars along her neck and arms that she is no longer covering. The day she explained them was the same day she gave him something that healed him when his magic wouldn’t. So he stares almost blankly as he realizes she has scars when she shouldn’t.

“So what did the King want to talk to you about?” She does not stop spinning as she asks.

“Just offering me some advice.” Loki sits in the co-pilot seat.

Ashira nods slowly as she final stops her spinning. Her brain is still off somewhere else as she continues to speak. “So despite being stocked up on alcohol, we are kinda low on everything else. We’ll stop at J’henga tomorrow.”

“Alright.”

Silence blankets the ship for a few minutes, save the sounds of switches being flipped and the engine whispering to life. Ashira has nothing more to say for now; Loki is not sure what to say to her. Yet right before she can finally take them off the ground he speaks again.

“Were you ever going to tell me you live for 25,000 years?”

She pauses. Shit. “Why would it matter?”

Loki shrugs. “Would have been nice to know.”

“Why?” She scoffs and her head turns to face him. “One day you are going to go home…” she shakes her head. “…and if not, realize that I’m not a good person to be around. You’ve seen me and what I do. I bring chaos and even death everywhere I go. One day you will leave me and it will be long before my age actually comes into question.”

Her words end with a sad, nearly in tears tone. She didn’t intend for those words to tumble from her lips. As the anniversary of the day grows near, despite her attempts to ignore it, her mind and body automatically begin to act on their own, forcing her into more unstable and erratic moods.

“Well, I am the God of Mischief,” Loki replies as he works to make sense of what she just said, “sometimes known as of Chaos. I’m not worried.”

“You should be.” She shakes her head and turns away. “You should be.”

With that she pulls them off the ground, leaving Loki to sit quietly in their ascent.

—

The following morning Ashira awakens before him, as always. She pushes herself to a sitting position with ease, her left hand mindlessly reaches to where the pendant of the necklace ought to be. Her hand, however, just touches the strands of hair that decided to stick to her chest as she slept.

The necklace is gone.

Her heart practically skyrockets past the walls of the ship.

She knows she didn’t take it off last night when they both finally made it to bed; it was definitely still secure around her, the metal clasp going absolutely nowhere. It had to be, she remembers seeing the reflection of its glow as she fell asleep.

In her panic Ashira nearly falls off of the window seat.

Thankfully she stops herself before she can full tumble off.

First, her eyes search where she was sleeping while her hands fervently shake out her hair and shirt.

No necklace.

Then a quick search of the floor around her is done.

No necklace.

There is no way it could have gone far.

Right as she turns to go downstairs to see if it could have possibly fallen off down there, she catches sight of the blue.

It is hovering along the wall, a little note beside it.

‘Didn’t want it to get tangled with your hair, I hope you don’t mind.’

Ashira snatches it away from the hook. The blue swirls around inside as she grabs it into her hands once again as if to greet her like an excited dog. Similarly relieved, she quickly puts it back on.

The weight is exactly what her anxious self needs. Her fingers on both hands nervously curl and uncurl around it several times.

“Are you alright?”

Loki has barely woken up at the sound of her scrambling.

“Y-Yeah,” Ashira mutters back, turning to face him. “J’Henga is uh, not far out. Maybe 45 minutes? We can land now if you’d like.”

“I mean, we’re up.”

Ashira nods. “Yeah, already up. I’ll be downstairs.”

And her timing is still scarily accurate. 45 minutes after she descends to the cockpit they land and another fifteen later she is standing at the entrance of the ship in white leggings and a loose tan blouse, Loki coming to stand beside her a moment after in a looser, less leather version of his normal clothing. Another desert planet.

“You ready?” He asks.

Loki watches as Ashira nervously grip the necklace.

Ashira turns to him and smiles. “Of course. Always am.”

The trek to the trading post - Ashira made a point of ensuring Loki knew it was not a city or village of any kind - is unusually quick. It is not a one mile or more hike to get close to civilization. Instead, it appears there are tons of ships around them and everyone seems to generally be moving towards the same trading post - some with wagons and actual boats worth of goods, others with nothing. The walk itself is also not long, a half mile at most.

Loki isn’t sure what he expected when he finally gets a clear view of the area. It really is just a bunch of make-shift stands and people randomly scattered once they pass the entrance point. More species than he has ever seen before are selling and trading in one spot to their left, to their right a singular woman with ten animals he has never seen before. The closest thing Loki can compare them to is some form of mangled horse.

“We really just need food, to be honest,” Ashira finally relays to Loki. “Once we are out of this system with the track I’m on we won’t be getting great food any time soon after, so we need to get a lot, actually.”

“Any suggestions then?”

“Not really. Trust your gut, but most of the stuff here is good. To be honest,” Ashira careful side steps a bucket of who knows what, “the food that doesn’t follow any regulations tends to be the best I’ve learned. So don’t be afraid of the gross stuff, your highness.”

“I - I am offended you would think I would be afraid of ‘gross’ stuff,” Loki huffs.

“You are a pretty rules and regulations guy from what I can tell so… yeah. Anyway, c’mon.”

Of course, she’s right. Loki nearly slaps a bag of out of Ashira’s hands as it is passed to her because he swear he saw something moving inside of it that shouldn’t have been. He claimed he is just concerned for her health. She has to remind him that it will be just fine and that she has been here before whereas he has not.

He reluctantly yielded.

Three hours into their market wandering and multiple instances of Ashira casually handing Loki yet another bag and him pretending not to notice that she still is carrying nothing, Ashira notices them nearly done.

“So we’ve got almost everything,” Ashira hums, handing yet another bag to Loki.

“So what’s left, miss ‘I cannot carry my own bags’.”

Ashira tries to stop the absolutely ridiculous grin pulling on her lips at Loki’s remark. “Hey, every king needs to learn to be humbled every so often.” She glances up to him. “Sugar, is what we need. Like candy. Specifically something that is like 100% sugar is preferable.”

“Do you have a sweet tooth I never noticed?”

“Hm, maybe. It’s also good to chase some of the drinks I got from Dorne with candy or mix them. Trust me, it makes the experience much, much better.”

“You would know. A true connoisseur of drinks, I’ve learned.”

With the next step her gut feels like it’s been punched.

It’s the day again.

To be honest, Ashira tries not to keep track.

But she feels it in her gut. The dread, the complete and utter dread fills her system as they walk through market. Her heart is palpitating so painfully; her vision blurring dramatically. Things are spinning in circles, the crowd rolling almost comedically around as she struggles to stay balanced.

Loki immediately notices the change. The runaway has a very distinct pattern of walking through bustling crowds and any change is immediately obvious to him.

So he calls out to her as she stumbles out of arms reach.

Only one grabs Ashira’s attention, however. A person. Someone a bit shorter than Loki pushing through the crowd a few feet in front of her with white hair to his shoulder and a perfectly clean dark silver streak against his left side.

At least it looks that way to her spinning head.

Ashira rushes forward. The crowd is thick but means nothing to her panic mixed with her natural strength. She isn’t paying attention to the narrowed eyes, growls, and Loki’s increasingly concerned shouts to her.

Once she reaches the man, her hands wrap around his wrist. His head whips to look at the sudden intrusion.

“Eros?” Ashira asks hopefully.

Who she grabbed onto, however, is a disgruntled mixed Elf, part light, part lunar with narrowed, angry plain hazel eyes and hair that is actually more of a very light blond with brown streak through it. The man yanks his arm away from Ashira violently. She involuntarily stumbles forward.

Then someone else comes to stand in front of her. Fingers curl around her upper arms and squeezes. She’s too disoriented to even flinch or pull away. Her eyes just stare directly forward for a moment or two. So the person squeezes her arms again. Her brows slowly pull inward; she’s confused as to what is happening. The person squeezes again.

She finally looks up, mind completely dissociating from her surroundings. The face seems familiar, she thinks.

“Are you alright?” Loki wonders.

Ashira furrows her brows. “Loki?” It’s a statement laced with confusion.

“Uh, yeah, it’s me.” Loki puts on a smile to assure her it will be okay. “Let’s get you back to your ship, you don’t look well.”

“Alright...” Ashira looks back to his chest. “Sure.”

Loki practically drags her back to the ship. She is stumbling and struggling to even see as her body falls into a numb panic.

When he finally practically hurls her onto the ship, she instantly dashes up the stairs.

It’s not a smooth run, it’s messy. Loki is staring agape as she falls on her face twice in her scurry.

She’s tearing open her pathetic little chest of clothes in her little window seat. Buried beneath all her clothes, deep within her makeshift bed, are two physical pictures she has kept. The first is her and Selene, centuries ago, laughing on top of their ship after their first successful stealth mission.

But the second?

Her and Eros in front of the new engine they built so ships can be converted mid-flight instead of needing fighter ships attached and risk the main ship getting damaged. Her lips are pressed against his cheek as he grins sappily, the engine acting as a seat. He’s flushed in both excitement and embarrassment: she had just kisses him (albeit only on the cheek) in front of hundreds of people. He was never particularly public.

She hasn’t touched it in ten years.

But to see it doesn’t help. That’s why she stopped looking at - instead of helping her cope it only made her sadder and more angry at herself.

This time she doesn’t burn. There is a numbness inside of her that directs the pain inwards, her organs ripping and shredding instead of her surroundings. It somehow hurts less this way as well. She isn’t sure why.

To her, it’s unclear how long she has been sobbing on the floor, clutching the photo to her chest. It’s been about fifteen minutes.

Loki, having chalked up the incident on her just needing to eat combined with the heat, decided to make her something legitimately edible. Well, as edible as he can make something, especially given the limitations of the ship.

Satisfied, Loki calls out to her. “Hey, Ash, I made you food.”

Ash.

Only one person ever called her that.

And she falls into harder sobs.

“Ashira?” He calls out.

He listens for a response only to hear her crying. It’s a painful, wet, deeply quiet sob.

With a sigh, he walks up stairs.

Ashira rushes to put the photo away; the seat closes right as Loki gets up the stairs.

“Seriously, what’s going on with you?” Loki demands.

“I’m fine.” It’s through a damaged throat still damp with tears.

Loki crosses his arms. “You are literally sobbing while collapsed on the ground."

Ashira hiccups. The hiccup shutters her entire body but she shakes it off, looking up at Loki with a crooked smile. “Like I said, perfectly fine.”

Loki rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say.”

—

When night falls, Loki is no less worried.

She opted to leave as soon as dusk hit (without giving him a reason) and he didn’t push for one. Something is wrong and she is too stubborn to explain.

Due to the overwhelming amount of energy she spent crying (and her body attempting to heal itself), Ashira falls into a calm slumber quickly.

Loki is not so lucky.

He lies awake worried.

What the hell happened today and what the hell happened to mess her up this much?

He spends a few hours mulling it over but knows he will get no answers by just making assumptions in the dead of night.

Eventually he, too, begins to drift off.

—

“Are you excited, ‘Shira?” Selene asks, finishing off the braid she’s spent the past hour on.

Ashira snorts. “Of course. I mean, I’m getting married.”

“And it is going to be a wonderful spectacle.”

“I would hope so.”

Loki, in his half-asleep state, barely registers the sound of Ashira suddenly gasping like she is choking.

Kneeling in the water bed of the waterfall, Ashira chuckles as splashes continuously hit her and Eros in the face. He keeps flinching his silver eyes closed to stop the water from hitting them but he keeps reopening them to look at her. Her grin causes Eros chuckles back, his fingers gripping hers a little harder.

“Now, to make the bond official, you both shall share a kiss to seal your fates together.”

Ashira pushes forward to press her lips against his. She’s crying into it. So is he. It’s a messy kiss, filled with wet tears on their wet faces, a happy giggle leaving both of their lips.

As her lips pull away from him, it’s no longer Eros in front of her, smiling back.

It’s Loki.

“Wh-what?” She gasps.

“What’s wrong, Ash? Did I get something caught in my hair again?”

“Y-you’re not…”

“You’ve got something, on your…”

But then he begins to vanish. First his hands crumble in hers, nothing more than ashes. It quickly spreads up his arms; bit by bit he slowly fades into nothing more than shattered particles, body falling into the water and washing away.

His face is last, still smiling as it does, like nothing is wrong.

A sob passes her lips in both real life and her dream.

Loki practically jumps out of bed.

She turns her head back to look at Selene, tears already blurring her eyes with sorrow and panic. Selene looks just as shocked as Ashira feels. Her face is darkened by sadness combined with fear - fear of repercussions, not fear of her best friend.

“What did you do?” Eros’ father shrieks. “What did you do to my son?”

Ashira, terrified and breathing sporadically looks back to the group of people watching. All eyes are either wide with terror or narrowed with anger.

“I-I… I don’t know,” she sputters out.

Some of the higher officials run up behind Ashira and grab her arms and throw cuffs around them. She’s immobilized as the paralysis injection begins to push through her veins. But it increases the panic in her system, the complete opposite its intention, whatever flowing through her veins fighting off the substance, the poison, attempting to hurt her. She’s too panicked to notice the burning glow on her body, too terrified to feel the heat radiating off of her.

The blanket around her body is practically strangling her.

Loki begins to shake her quickly with his left hand and his right is tugging the blanket from around her. It’s choking her.

“Ashira, Ashira you need to wake up.”

“No! No please, I don’t know what happened, please let me go!” Ashira screeches as multiple officials begin dragging her away. “No!”

Before she is dragged more than a foot, the ones holding her slowly begin to disintegrate too.

There is a burn of purple erupting along Ashira’s skin. She’s heating up and yelling out nonsense. Not only is the purple whatever tearing at her, but she is physically burning up, a sweat beginning to cover her skin.

“Ashira, come on you gotta wake up.” His hand goes to touch her head to see just how hot she is.

He pulls his hand away with a hiss. He remembers that one visit he, his brother and the other four fools his brother calls friends took to Muspelheim and how Volstagg so graciously tripped him so he fell face first into a pile of very, very hot rocks. The whole ship begins rumbling and tearing apart slowly at the seams. The metal begins to glow a heated red around the edges.

She’s going to blow the ship.

In the middle of flying.

“Hey, Ash, wake up!”

It’s only a sense of distraught in him. His heart is skipping beats as he keeps shaking her by touching the extra fabric of her shirt. Her skin is far to warm for her to even be living at this point.

“What the hel is going on?” Loki whispers desperately.

Loki looks around again to see the ceiling ready to fall on them both. So he does what he can to calm and cool her. It’s dangerous, it’s risky and also the only solution he can think of. He hopes he won’t regret what he is about to do.

His skin begins to shift blue.

It’s chaos. People are screaming, shouting, scrambling. Except Selene, who is running towards the girl she was raised with. Selene just wants to pull her friend away before any more drastic action is taken, like being killed on the spot.

Where he touches her he begins to literally sizzle. Despite it hurting like hel and then some, Loki continues to try and cool her down at least marginally.

It seems to a work just a hair; enough that Ashira doesn’t feel like she ought to be a molten puddle on the ground, at least.

Before Selene can dive to Ashira, though, Ashira is blasted nearly unconscious. Her friend turns to see the Queen standing there, Scepter in her hand with at least three mindless Chitauri behind her.

As a taller, terrifyingly imposing person, even one side glance can instill fear. This murderous glare could cause immediate death.

“Have something you need to tell me?”

Selene gulps nervously.

Ashira hears this as she rolls over to look at her mother. Her hands reach out towards her mother, begging for her to help.

She barely spars at glance at her only child as Ashira loses consciousness.

But now she is re-heating up.

“Ashira!” Loki shouts.

The ship stops rattling.

She gasps for air as she sits up suddenly. Her eyes are wide and startled, whole body heaving with each inhale and exhale. She isn’t even looking towards him, just straight ahead. Her heart will not slow at all; there is purple radiating off of her palms and chest still. There is an odd cold touch on her left arm. It feels nice compared to the obscenely warm sweat covering her.

“Ashira?” Loki shifts back to his ivory color and touches her left arm again. It hurts from the scotching heat yet he refuses to let go. He decides to just change his hands and slowly rubs them up and down her forearm. “Normally you say something right after I wake you. Is everything alright?”

She’s grinding her teeth to calm her breath and mind. She doesn’t really know so she doesn’t really want to answer.

On one end, everything is fine. He is there in front of her. And alive.

On the other, this is the first time someone else has appeared in her nightmares.

“This is...” she pauses to slow her breath. It works only to slow her breath a smidge; it is better than nothing. So she turns slowly to look at Loki directly. His eyes are wide with sheer worry and he is desperately attempting to help her relax with his soft touch against her arm. “This is real, right?”

Loki’s brows softly gather together. He’s confused and concerned by her question. It even causes him to drop his hands. She isn’t paying enough attention to the physical sensations around her to notice.

“Why are you asking?”

Ashira wildly shakes her head, hoping her brain will reset. “I’m just being an idiot. I’m sorry.”

Her hands yearn to reach out and touch to confirm he is still there but she is too afraid that if she does they will move right through, or worse, he will vanish entirely.

Or even worse: he will crumble.

“You don’t ask dumb questions for no reason. What’s going on?”

Not even Selene, the girl she was raised with, the girl who has been her best friend for longer than Loki has been alive, has been the victim in her dreams.

She is terrified to admit what is the reason.

I’m scared, she wants to admit. I’m terrified. You were in my dream, I killed you in my dream and I’ve never had a dream like that. I think... I think I might love you.

And that might be more petrifying, horrifying, terrifying than anything else.

Because loving you means killing you.

“IOx-10. Let’s land tomorrow, maybe do some hiking or something?”

Loki smiles. “Whatever you need.”

“Thank you.”

There is no joke. No ‘my liege’, no ‘your highness’.

Simply a thank you.

___

------

Taglist

@tarynkauai @illogicalfangirl

#awomod #loki imagine #loki fic #loki x oc #loki x reader #imagine you are purple #and short #you get it

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