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davidtennan-t · 5 years ago

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‘Daddy, you’re soft...’ Chapter 2

The second and last part of this soft af Tentoo x Rose fic

Summary: A tree house and adventuring with his little girl. What could possibly go wrong for the Doctor?

Fluff, angst and the works!

AO3 Link: Chapter 1 Chapter 2

The moment Susan started running, the Doctor was quick to chase his daughter, his long legs moving faster than they had done in weeks as he tried to catch up to his little girl. Persuasive techniques did seem to run in the family. All Rose ever needed to do was lovingly curl her arm into his and spread that smile on her face if she wanted something, so no surprise had come when Susan used it against him to.

"Don't leave me for the Slitheen!" he called after Susan. When had she gotten so fast?

The young girl reached the ladder first and quickly began to scale it, checking behind her every so often to see if the Doctor was still following. By the time her feet were running along the wooden floor, her father only just made it to the bottom. He noted the breathlessness and the quickened pace of his single heart.

“Oi, didn't you hear me? You can't leave your old man to the mercy of the Slitheen!” the Doctor called up to Susan, scaling the ladder to join her at the top, albeit a little slower - his arms and legs couldn't push him up quick enough and some part of him was suddenly frustrated. Tomorrow, he was asking Pete to be head of the next field mission. Exercise, that's what he needed. Not a desk and some occasional heavy lifting.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked, leaning over with his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath from the short run.

Susan was taking readings on her toy sonic screwdriver. The tool was battered and broken but showed nothing but love.

“We get to the TARDIS, get to the controls and get inside Downing Street to stop the Slitheen before they escape, or destroy the world!” Susan ordered enthusiastically. She couldn’t remember the last time her father had joined her for one of her adventures. Solo adventures were fun but having a companion was much better. That's what her mother always said - there was somebody always there to help you.

“Ah-ah, you’re forgetting," the Doctor inputted, "Slitheen are cunning, it’s possible they’ve already taken over the security of the whole building by the time we get there… they could be watching us right now - have you scanned around the TARDIS?"

The Doctor pulled out his own sonic, seeing Susan's eyes light up as he scanned the garden. And of course, the tree house - their TARDIS.

"What's yours telling you?" Susan asked.

"It's not good news... they know we're coming, they're closing in - signs of potassium in the air. So, I think we need to use the...” the Doctor stopped, wanting Susan to gain the idea instead of him. He knew it always made her feel much more important. She was - she was his girl.

Susan folded her arms and thought for a second before looking a little surer of herself, a bright grin replacing her doubtful pout.

“The secret entrance!”

“Of course! Well then, Allons-y!”

Another ladder to scale. But in the Doctor’s mind he was the same man he had been when he’d first built this tree house. They would be saving the world together in no time.

Susan raced to the top floor of the wooden structure, feeling ever the more ecstatic her little plan had worked and she was now having some fun with her Dad. She was so ecstatic in fact, she failed to notice the Doctor struggling on the ladder. He reached the top but stopped before he could pull his long legs over, trying to conceal heavy breaths.

“You okay, Daddy?” Susan asked when she realised her father wasn’t beside her, concern heavy on her soft little features.

The Doctor almost looked surprised at the question and was quick to rectify his stillness with a bouncy jump onto the wooden platform.

A click in one of his knees... ouch.

“What? Me? Yes, fine, grand, absolutely smashing – Molto Bene! Now hurry inside, before they spot us,” he insisted, “in fact – I think I see one in the bushes over there."

“Where?” Susan asked, pretending to look for the supposed hiding alien where the Doctor was pointing.

“Although… could just be the leaves. Slitheen are green, aren’t they?” he joked, Susan giving him a playful tug in return.

“No time to joke, Daddy – Allons-y!”

The Doctor smiled as he watched Susan crawl into the wooden house. It had been months since he last stood here… nearly half a year, in fact. It elevated a strangely unfamiliar warmth in his heart - nostalgia. Sometimes he pondered to himself over just how many emotions humans could endure. His first day with utter giddiness after finding out Rose was pregnant had been very eventful.

Not wanting to keep his daughter waiting, the Doctor lowered himself onto his hands and knees, turned sideways and began to shimmy inside the slim doorway after Susan. His first thought wasn’t that the entrance seemed a little tighter than he remembered – it was the shabbiness of the room on the inside.

He really needed to repaint.

“Logging on now, Daddy…” came Sarah’s voice from the pretend console, her figure jumping around the wooden panels whilst she expertly navigated the fake ship.

“Right, that’s my girl, I just need to… just need to…”

A grunt escaped the Doctor’s throat as he tried to push himself inside. His body was slanted to the side, he should be through by now… what had he done wrong? It was so incredibly tight.

He placed one hand on the wood and pushed, feeling a pressure on his middle that was completely unfamiliar to him. When he looked, he noticed his belly was filling up the small space.

“What?” he grunted under his breath, trying again in vain to squeeze his way inside. His still lanky frame struggled and eventually, he had to give up. The skin was nipping the wood too much and the tightness was only growing.

Read the rest on AO3!

#the angst actually made me tear up at one point i'm not kidding #i'm just so SOFT FOR DADDY DOCTOR OKAY #hnnnfff #tentoo x rose #tenth doctor #rose tyler #doctor who #tentoo #notcorin #as soft as fluff #my fic

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scribeofmorpheus · 4 years ago

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Himmeløyne [9/?]

Pairing: Loki Odinson x Reader

Catch Up Here | Masterlist

Warnings: Odin being a God-King...which is code for ‘dick’.

A/N: Hi, this probably my most IMPORTANT LOKI RELATED NOTE: The very talented and delightfully risque writer @lokilickedme has just released a book. I love her work (especially Sanguine)! Refer to this post for all details about her book.

Now, onto triffles.

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment or leave a like please ☺

~Y/N

“—I do not think I can keep this from her any longer,” you heard Heimdall say mid-conversation. He sounded like a man desperate to shout but too afraid to do so.

You swallowed, feeling guilty for impeding upon something so personal.

Just as you had made up your mind to leave, you heard Odin warn: “You remember what the Oracle said, old friend.”

Oracle? You wondered. And that was all it took to get you to plant your feet before the throne room’s doors and listen like a mouse in the night.

“Her vision already came to pass,” Heimdall said, defeated. “I’ve lost one. I cannot lose another. Not when she is safe within our walls. Safe here.”

“No place is impregnable to violence,” Odin let out a sigh. “I already took a risk in allowing my son to train her. If he knew what she was…”

You shifted, a soft noise coming from your hand that braced the door to steady your stance. Was there more about your powers that you didn’t know? Why did Odin speak with such animosity towards you? Did he fear you?

Heimdall’s works quaked with emotion: “Please, Allfather. I cannot keep this lie any longer. I cannot pretend as though my heart doesn’t ache when I see her. And ache all the more when I must remove myself from her presence. She is my daughter. What would you give to have your daugh—”

And that was the moment. The moment everything snapped into place. Heimdall and Odin kept speaking in secret and your mind struggled to make sense of things that were right in front of you the entire time: the bloodkin spell leading you to Heimdall’s post by the bi-frost; the gold in your eyes reflected in his; the mark that shielded your power from his gaze; Loki’s coy words during their Game of Fates; the disapproving glower Heimdall had flashed Loki when the dark prince had placed a finger on your knee; Your mothers mantra: “The universe rests in your eyes.”

Magic screeched inside you. Angry and betrayed. How many people knew Heimdall was your father? How many lies had you been subjected to?

“Hnnnfff,” the magic grew painful; piercing. You clutched your body. Everywhere ached.

Odin and Heimdall’s voices grew sharper.

“…Odin,” Heimdall’s voice shook. “I beg of you. When you ordered me to never look for Sigrid, I did it to protect her. To keep the prophecy from coming to pass. And she died all the same. Without ever knowing how I truly felt for her.”

“I am sorry,” Odin sounded regretful. “But if it came to it, I would take her from you as Sigrid had been. Such is the weight I bear. The weight of King. To protect my son, I would destroy your daughter. It is for this very reason that I cannot allow you to tell her the truth—to love her as only a father could. It is the smallest mercy I can give. And the only mercy I will allow.”

You wanted to escape, go somewhere far. Away from gods and magic and kings. You didn’t cry, there were no tears left to shed. Niflheim had broken you. Asgard had reset you wrong. Frayed, like the ice wound that scarred your chest.

You thought of the ocean, the one back home. And with gut-punching intensity, you were swallowed by a portal of your own making.

Home. You were home. And it was gone. The longhouse that belonged to the chief was nothing more than snow extinguished timber. The fabulous fabrics and furs that decorated his walls left no traces. The polished silver tankards you’d always wanted to drink from were black. The rest of the village suffered a worse fate. Huts leaving nothing behind but black shapes in the snow. There were no bodies to identify. No history to reclaim.

Slowly, you made your way back to your house. The air was colder than you remembered. Wind biting at your skin till you turned pale and stiff. The dress you wore provided little protection from the weather.

Your house barely stood. A state of decrepitude would be too generous a description. Stone walls struck down; no door to walk through; the eight pronged symbol visible on the stone floor beneath the foundations. With a heavy sigh, you tried to rebuild. Placing each stone block back where it had been. Reanimating wooden doors and burned furs from the ash. When you opened your eyes again, you were surprised by how faithful your iteration of home was.

The house stood again, walls shivering with magic. If it was an illusion, you weren't interested in breaking it.

When you walked in, you were disappointed to learn it smelled of fire. No herbs or mead or tanned leather scents to bring comfort. Just fire.

Your mother wasn’t sitting in her chair with her lit pipe. The only trace of her resided in the seer bones cast on the floor; untouched—predicting the future for no-one.

Without a plan, you walked to the small space with a mead stain on the furs. It was where you used to fall asleep to the warmth of the fires as a child. Then, with a wave of your fingers, you conjured a real fire in the fireplace. Sitting back to stare blankly into the flames. You drifted. Too tired to remember to blink from the dry air. Too tired to remember to be present.

Heavy boots broke your stupor. A man, shed of armour and wearing mortal weaves, sat beside you.

“Everyone was worried,” Heimdall’s voice found its way to your ears. He sighed. “I was worried.”

“How did you find me?” You asked, voice raspy.

He opened his palm to reveal a cut, “How you tried to find me, I suspect.”

“Bloodkin spells,” you intoned.

"Of sorts," he chose to sit close enough to seem familiar, but far away enough to let distance be a kindness. “I had to use older magic, more…dangerous magic, to find you.”

“And so you did.”

“Your powers are impressive,” he said. “To conjure a portal on your own and actually end up where you wanted to go is…impressive.”

Your heart beat sluggishly, neck straining from barely being moved for so long. “Is it true?”

Heimdall’s chest sunk, a deep exhale disrupting the flames in the fireplace. “Yes.”

“How?”

“It is...” Heimdall stopped himself. His open palm balling into a tight fist that shook. Something shifted in him. The next time he spoke, he sounded different: “Before you were born, the prince—Loki—fell ill. It wasn’t a sickness of the body, but…something else. Odin was secretive then. More than he is now. Frigga didn’t eat for days. Thor had been sent away so he wouldn’t cause a scene…

“There had been an attack, you see. Jotuns. Somehow, they managed to slip past me and into the castle. A portal I couldn’t sense. There had been a battle. Some died. Not many. But enough. In the fray, Loki had been injured. Odin had shut him in his quarters. I remember hearing Loki scream with fever for days. Spouting heinous accusations at his father.”

You shut your eyes tight. The thought of Loki suffering made you feel uneasy. Heimdall noticed this and quieted his words even more. He probably thought that by making his voice softer the words would hurt less.

He continued: “Odin called for a witch with strange abilities. Her name was Dagna, she was known to her people as—”

“Minnevever…” You turned to look at Heimdall. “She was my great-grandmother.”

Memory Weaver

He smiled humbly, the lines on his face showing the age that his immortal body hid so well. “I had been sent to a village near Lake Mälaren. That is where I first saw your mother. She told me I’d fall in in love with her the first day we met.” Heimdall’s cheeks pulled taut as his teeth peeked through his smile. “I had brought Dagna to Asgard to cure the prince. His treatment took days. For a few hours, during those days, I’d find myself slipping away—going back to the village. Again and again and again.”

Heimdall reached into his pocket and pulled out a lock of hair. You gasped. His smile fell. “On the last day, she gave me this. I didn’t know it was to be our last day. If I had—” He cleared his throat, eyes blinking rapidly.

You felt the urge to ease his pain; or maybe you wanted to mourn with him as the only other person alive who remembered Sigrid. Either way, the strangeness was too thick, your hand never managed to make its way to his side.

“She saw her death too,” you added. There was anger there. Between the octaves. “She saw and yet she didn’t tell me either. Such is the elusive ways of those with godly gifts.”

Heimdall wiped a tear from his cheek, “When I opened the portal to return Dagna to her home, she told me something. A prophecy. She said that I would only know pain if I let my heart know love. I was destined to be the Watcher—and one cannot watch the stars from above if their heart belongs below.”

His fingers played with the ridges of the braided lock of hair. “She warned that if I ever returned to the village, death would follow me. So I never returned.” Heimdall turned to look upon your face in the glow of the fire. Eyes moving over every spot and hair and sculpted angle. It was then that you noticed you shared more than the gold in your eyes. You shared the same chin and more of his lips than your mother’s. Two dark spots mirroring his beneath your left eyebrow.

In a strangled voice, he said: “And I never knew you existed until you were brought through the bi-frost…half dead.”

His choked up, finally giving in to his tears. Heimdall wept then. In the rawness of the moment, your hand finally found the strength to cross over and comfort him. Soon, you were both crying; mourning; celebrating; letting go. As you did, the house proved itself to be an illusion. It fell back into disrepair as you held your father's hand for the first time.

#loki #loki marvel #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #himmeløyne #tom hiddelston imagine #loki imagine #loki imagines #tom #hiddleston

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