#i mean to be fair. he wore his helmet and he made it home safely till he parked..? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maybege · 3 years ago

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Safe And Warm - Part 2

Summary: The journey to get Thalassa to Coruscant continues and Paz and you get closer. (Anastasia AU)

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 6.4k | Rating: T

Warnings: once again Disney-level fluff, some tense moments but nothing really dangerous, Mandalorians do not wear helmets in this AU

Here we go! The second and final part to this little AU. Thank you everyone who has commented on and reblogged the first part, I was so happy you liked it. This part also coincides with @agirllovespancakes ‘s 7 Days No Smut Challenge which I highly recommend you check out as there are so many wonderful contributions. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated and I hope you enjoy it!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

The next day, you mostly spent in the room that Thalassa and Din had slept in.

It was amusing, the dark circles under Din’s eyes and the way his brows were in a constant frown.

“You owe me,” he hissed as soon as Paz stepped over the threshold, “Princess here wouldn’t shut up for even one second. It’s a wonder she survived that long on that muddy planet we found her on. I would’ve strangled her years ago.”

Paz only chuckled.

That night, it was felt almost like a routine. None of the passengers tried to talk to you this time around, the dark look on Paz’s face proving enough to keep them away.

The curtain was pulled closed and he had his back turned to you as you got changed. He could hear the shuffling behind him and once you had settled down, he got undressed as quickly as he could.

When he laid down, he felt your arm brush against his. As he turned towards you, his hand found its way to your waist on its own and you smiled, shuffling closer.

“Here we could –“ he put the blaster behind your back.

The metal scraped against the wall and when he noticed that there was not enough space he gently pulled you towards him until you were flush against his chest.

“Is that all right?” he asked hesitantly, his chin on top of your head. You nodded against him, your nose dragging along his throat and goosebumps erupted all over his skin. You were so close …

“Will you tell me why you’re doing this?” you asked him suddenly, “No one would ever spend more than one day with Thalassa out of the goodness of their heart, much less smuggle her into the Core Worlds.”

“Her family will pay a good prize to those that bring her back,” he admitted, almost scared of what your reaction would be. He wanted to add that he was happy to do it now that he got to know you. That he was happy to be with you, here at this moment, and that he would happily abstain from the money if it meant he could just stay here with you.

“I can imagine,” you whispered against him, “All she ever could talk about growing up was how much money her family had – sometimes I wonder if that is the only reason my uncle ever kept her. Apart from the undying love my aunt had for her, of course.”

How anyone could love Thalassa was a mystery to him to Paz did not say anything. Instead, he just held you close.

“I’m flattered you thought that I was her,” you murmured a few moments later, so quiet he could barely hear it, “I – no one ever thought I was more than a farmer’s daughter before.”

“You looked – you were radiant,” Paz replied, “Areradiant, I think. Doesn’t matter if you’re a princess or not, I think – I think you’re beautiful.”

He felt the heat of your cheeks against his chest and his heart warmed. “Thank you, Paz,” you whispered as the light outside shut down, “Thank you for taking me with you.”

And in the darkness, as he remembered that he would have to say goodbye to you on Coruscant, his heart hurt.

The days on the ship were absolute perfection.

Or as close to perfection as they could be.

You spend the days either in the common rooms or in the small room that Din and Thalassa shared. Paz made it a habit to clean his blaster every day, just to have something to spend the time on. Din did it as well and there were more than a few moments where Paz contemplated taking the weapon away from Din to prevent him from hurting the constantly chattering princess.

But most days it was not too bad. There were ways you were able to entertain yourself – either by watching a longer holovid on one of the datapads or playing cards. Thalassa had expressed interest in watching one of the loth cat races but Din and Paz had steadfastly refused to take her there on the grounds that if a bounty hunter was anywhere on this ship, he was sure to be at the loth cat races.

And in part that was true and Paz was convinced that Din said it in an attempt to keep her safe. But Paz also had another reason: He did not want to leave you.

Because as the days and nights wore on, he noticed that whenever you were in the same room (which meant always) you would drift towards him or vice versa. No matter if you started out sitting next to Din or Thalassa in the morning, you always ended up right next to him, often talking quietly to each other in a corner of the room.

He had gotten used to your figure next to him, having pulled your knees against your chest as you let him explain to you the different mechanisms of the blaster he was cleaning.

“You’re good at that,” you had said once, smiling at him, “Explaining stuff.”

“Well, I am a teacher,” he had revealed with a teasing smile, “Back at home, I mean. I teach our foundlings about the world and everything they need to know to survive in it.”

You had nodded, resting your chin on your knees and your eyes had been so soft he had wanted nothing more than to kiss you. “It fits,” had been your response, “Paz Vizsla, the teacher.”

Other times you would volunteer to accompany him to the cantina, getting some food for the four of you so Thalassa did not need to leave the room. (“Less exposure, fewer chances for her to be recognized,” Din had shrugged and Paz had agreed.) And with you walking next to him, both of you talking about everything and nothing, Paz only barely registered the jealous looks of other passengers, clearly directed at him.

But he could not care, not when you were so happy to choose the meal of the day, trying out different delicacies from all over the galaxy – stuff you had heard of as children or that was so strange to you, you could barely imagine its taste, all of it landed on your plates.

When the night neared, you would sometimes challenge him to a game of dice which you hopelessly lost every single time but Paz could only smile at you, trying to show you the right way to throw the galactic dice, his broad hands holding yours and his heart skipped a beat every time you asked him to show you again.

Yes, the more time passed, the more Paz allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to spend his life with you.

With the ship having safely arrived on Naboo, the next leg of the journey was pretty easy. You needed to get on the train to Theed to catch the next ship that would take you to Coruscant.

“I am sure you’ll like it, Princess,” Din huffed, carrying his bag and hers, “The next room will be much more to your tastes.”

“I can only hope so,” Thalassa replied coolly, shielding her face from the sun, “Thus far the trip has been rather underwhelming.”

Paz chuckled, grinning when he caught you rolling your eyes. To be fair, Paz was pretty sure that everyone would be happy about the better accommodations. In comparison to the ship they had just left, it was almost luxurious. They would have a bedroom big enough to accommodate all of them with an ensuite bathroom and room service available. He could not wait until he had the chance to take a good long shower and get cleaned up.

Not one to waste credits where it was unnecessary, Din bribed the train personnel to let you stay in the luggage cabin much to Thalassa’s dismay. But as Paz helped you up, his hands on your waist, he noticed how giddy you were. You were grinning from ear to ear and he felt his own lips tug up in a smile. One thing he lamented about the better accommodations was that he would not have you next to him every night.

Sitting down on the floor, he watched as your skirts flared up with the wind as the train gained speed.

“I can’t believe we’re this close already,” you said, gazing out at the glittering sea under Naboo’s sun, “It feels like yesterday where you picked us up.”

“I am happy we did,” Paz replied quietly, feeling how your pinkie finger brushed against his thumb and turning his hand so his palm was open to you. His heartbeat quickened, hoping that you got the hint and took his hand but he also did not want to force you.

Your smile warmed his heart while the sunlight warmed his skin. He felt your fingers brush over his palm, moving to interlock your fingers when –

“You have never been to a gala, have you?” Thalassa asked you suddenly, “My family always threw the biggest feasts when I was younger, I can’t imagine it will be any different now. Oh, wait until you see the dresses and the food! It is more than your village could ever imagine.”

“You have seen the dances I have been to,” you reminded her with a grin, “None of them could be called galas at any point.”

“That is true, you have never danced with a partner before have you?”

“I – well I did not need to,” you stuttered, pulling your hand from his and he grumbled internally, “Will I need to know how to do that?”

Thalassa scoffed, “Of course you will, sweetie,” she turned to Din, “can’t you teach her? Or are you two going to embarrass me as well? Oh stars, here I am, returning after years of separation and the group I am with can’t even dance properly.”

Paz rolled his eyes, not saying anything as he rolled up his sleeves. His suit jacket was somewhere behind him on one of the crates, weighted down by a bag on top of it.

“C’mon,” Din said with a heavy sigh, “If I can learn to do it, you can too.”

You looked a little apprehensive at first, standing up to stand across the dark-haired man who held out his hands for you. Happy that she had got her way, Thalassa started to play a common tune on her datapad, something that even Paz recognized from his home.

But when Din started to move, trying to lead you across the wagon, it became clear that it would not work out at all. It was more stumbling than dancing, really, and Paz cringed when he saw how unintentionally harsh Din was grabbing your hands. No wonder you looked uncomfortable, turning your head to face him.

Paz took that as his sign, standing up and straightening the wrinkles in his pants. His heart was pounding in his chest as he approached you. Funnily enough, both you and Din looked relieved.

“Let me,” he announced, grinning as Thalassa kept playing the tune on her datapad.

“I don’t think I will learn it, Paz,” you admitted shyly, avoiding his gaze, “Maybe I am too clumsy …”

“If I can learn to do it, you can learn to do it,” he repeated Din’s motto and gently grasped your hand, pulling it to his mouth for a light kiss.

“M’lady,” he offered, bowing his head formally, “May I ask for this dance?”

“Why of course,” you answered in an equally exaggerated voice, sounding much happier than you had before.

With the music in the background, he pulled you to his chest and started to lead you through the empty wagon ins low steps. As you grew surer, he got faster and soon you laughed with him, fitting so perfectly against him. Stars, he did not remember the last time he had had this much fun.

The melody got slower and so did the steps but he did not let go of you. Instead, he kept you even closer, feeling your heartbeat against his.

“You are a good dancer,” you said with a smile.

He twirled you around with a grin, watching as your skirt flared.

“You are a good dancer too,” he murmured, his forehead falling against yours. Your breath audibly hitched in your throat and it felt like you were alone in the wagon, “Maybe we could dance at the gala if you want.”

“I’d like that,” you whispered back, “I always feel comfortable with you, safe and – safe and warm.”

He opened his mouth. He wanted to tell you how he would keep you safe if he could. How he would make sure to always be by your side if that was what you wanted. How he wanted you to continue to travel with him and not leave him on Coruscant. His hand on your back wandered up to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. “I –“

“Kriffing Imps,” Din cursed, “Get back, get back, we need to hide.”

Immediately Paz stepped away from you, pushing you behind him with his arm in front of you.

“Get the bags,” Din hissed, already unlocking the safety of his blaster.

Thalassa was surprisingly quiet, her eyes wide as she pulled the bags from the crates with as little fuss as possible. She handed one to you as Paz grabbed his blaster, switching off the safety.

The one disadvantage they had with being in the luggage cart was that they were the last on the train. There was no way they could escape the imminent arrival of the guards and it made him sick to his stomach, especially when he was highly aware of you behind him.

“They will discover us,” you whispered, clearly scared. He saw them coming closer, slowly checking every wagon.

Din looked outside. “We need to get out of here before we cross the water, we won’t survive the waves.”

That was when they must have noticed you. Shots rang through the air and Thalassa ducked, screaming in fear as the carte behind her took a hit. Paz cursed, rushing you behind the crates as he and Din tried to return the fire. But with the slim doorway and the crates in the way it was difficult to keep cover and do any significant damage.

With a kick to one of the doors, Din managed to create a new exit, the ground only a blur as the train rushed towards a bridge across the sea. But as the Imps got closer, so did the water and soon it was clear that the meadows would be your only escape.

Paz was sitting behind the crate next to you, leaning forward to shoot. He heard a scream but even if he had managed to hit someone, there were still too many to cover the time until they would arrive in Theed.

“We will need to jump,” Din shouted.

Thalassa squeaked in shock, “We can’t! The train is moving,” another shot rang, “And they are shooting at us!”

You were sitting right next to him, eerily quiet, your hands trembling. He could see how scared you were and the thought of something happening to you made him sick to his stomach. No, as the Imps came closer, he knew he could not bear to see you hurt. His gaze met Din’s and he nodded, the plan clear.

“You jump while I cover you,” Paz announced.

You looked up at him in shock, your lips trembling as you shook your head, “Paz please, I – I am scared.”

He grabbed your hand hastily, pulling it to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “I promise it will be all right, just trust me. I will be right behind you, you just need to jump for me, can you do that, love?”

You nodded frantically and with a push of his hands, you stumbled over to where Din was waiting at the exit. The wind was rushing and got sick when he saw how close the sea was.

“Now!” Din shouted, pushing Thalassa away with a scream, you followed. As second later Din followed.

Paz did his best to shoot a few Imps, kicking out the bags into the air. When they reached the doorway, he knew it was time to leave. In his haste, he knocked his shoulder against the doorframe, shouting in pain as he threw himself through the opening just before the train crossed onto the water.

The landing was harsh but he did his best to roll it out, groaning as his shoulder throbbed with pain. He could hear a few shots, the Imps attempting to hurt him even after his escape but they failed. Thank the stars they did because he did not have it in himself to avoid any bullets now.

He grunted, his head resting against the grass as he held his shoulder, trying to get the pain to stop.

“Paz!” a voice shouted and footsteps came rapidly closer, “Paz, Paz are you all right?”

It was you.

You bowed over him immediately, your face blocking out the sun. Gentle hands framed his face and he smiled tiredly as he blinked against the light. Stars, you were so pretty he did not even care about his shoulder.

“How are you?” you asked quietly, your brows furrowed in worry, “You – it looked pretty bad.”

His hand closed around yours on his face, pulling it to his lips again. “I’m feeling better now that I am seeing you,” he mumbled against your palm, “Are you all right?”

“I am perfect,” you smiled, running your fingertip across the bridge of his nose, “So – so what do we do now?”

“Where’s Din?”

“Oh, he is taking care of Thalassa, she had a fright and he told me to make sure you are okay.”

“If I tell you I am not, can we stay here for a little longer? Just the two of us.”

“You would want that?” you murmured with a chuckle, “Take a nap in the sun right here?”

“I can’t imagine anything better,” he replied, his hand holding yours to his chest closing his eyes and just enjoying the calm around him with you by his side.

It was decided that in order to get to Coruscant on time, you would walk back to Theed.

The walk was not too strenuous and even though it was long, it offered some wonderful views of the Naboonian landscape and nature. That and the climate was nice. It was not too warm, not too cold and there was just the right amount of breeze in the air.

Even Thalassa seemed to be in better spirits.

That was, until Din had to tell her that there was no way you would be able to catch another passenger ship to Coruscant today.

“But then how will we get to Coruscant?” Thalassa asked in terror.

“I think I might know someone,” Din grumbled.

Paz snorted.

You, walking beside him, looked at him questioningly. He only shook his head, already looking forward to Thalassa’s distraught face when she would see what Din had meant.

It was not even a commercial passenger ship. It was a freightship to Coruscant and Thalassa’s (and yours) face could have made him laugh if it hadn’t made him wince. His shoulder was still hurting as if a loth cat had decided to bury her teeth into the muscle but he simply shouldered his bag on the other side.

That friend of Din’s, Peli was her name, had owed him a favour and a few placed on the board of the freight ship were apparently enough to cover that debt. Which is how he found himself next to you, sitting on the floor of the hull.

The one advantage this had was that freight ships were much quicker than any other mode of transportation. You were huddled up next to him, your head on his shoulder, his coat laying over you.

You were fiddling with his large hand in yours, playing with his fingers. Paz was fascinated by how small your hand was compared to his and maybe it was the pain or the exhaustion but he spread his fingers completely out, waiting for you to catch on.

He heard your small huff of laughter when you understood what he wanted to do. Gently, you laid your palm against his, seeing how his hand dwarfed yours. He smiled before closing his hold on your hand and pulling you closer until you were completely seated in his lap.

You hummed, settling your head on his shoulder, your breath fanning against his neck.

“How long until we’re there?” you asked quietly.

(Somewhere a few rows back, Thalassa was complaining about one thing or another. But he was good at tuning her out in favour of listening to you.)

“Only a few hours,” he muttered quietly, “By this time tomorrow we will be there. Then, it will only be a matter of time until we can find Thalassa’s family at the gala.”

“Have you thought about what you want to do – when it is all over?” you asked carefully.

“I will go back home,” he answered, “With the money, we can build a new school. I can get some improvements on my home done, some repairs.”

“That sounds lovely,” you answered, with a smile, “Do you think I could visit you sometime? You and the students, of course.”

“I would want nothing more,” he said quietly, “I could show you the lake, the forest, there is this nice walk up the hill from where you can see the stars at night, you would like it.”

As you both fell asleep you did not know you dreamt of the same thing.

A future together.

Coruscant was loud and bright and glittering.

And word spread fast – really fast – because as soon as they stepped foot into one of the spaceports, an elderly woman approached them, introducing herself as a distant aunt of Thalassa’s. A distanced aunt who had arranged for food and lodging for the entire stay.

Paz had never wanted to hug a stranger so badly in his life.

The hotel they had been ordered to was one of the finest places he had ever stayed in and they all got their individual suites. A whole suite.

“It is beautiful”, you breathed next to him, looking up at the decorated ceiling, “I don’t think I have ever seen anything this beautiful.”

Paz bit his lip. I have seen you, he wanted to say, I have seen you smile and that will be the most beautiful moment of my life.

But he did not say anything. No, he simply nodded and disappeared into his room, taking the longest shower of his life and dressing in a new suit before swallowing three bacta pills at once.

It did not take long for Thalassa to be completely back in her element. For the gala, she would need a new dress. Which meant that no price was too high, no amount of glitter or skin showing too much. And because he and Din wanted to make sure that she would remain safe until they could get the reward for finding her, they needed to accompany her on her trip.

Her trip through every single shop Coruscant’s elite had to offer.

With every shop they left, the bags got increasingly fuller and heavier and as the designated carrier of goods Paz was a little grumpy. But that soon passed when he saw how happy you were, grinning and joking with Thalassa as the latter tried on dress after dress.

As Thalassa was trying on more and more dresses – no end in sight as the wallet of her family seemed to be bottomless – Paz was sitting on one of the chairs, watching you.

You were busy staring at a mannequin at the back of the store. Your eyes were wide and your mouth slightly open in wonder as your fingers brushed over the glittering fabric of the dress.

“Would you like to try it on, ma’am?” the attending salesperson asked you

A sad smile formed on your lips and you shook your head. Paz frowned, leaning forward to hear what you said.

“No thank you,” you declined, “it’s really beautiful though.”

“Are you sure?” the woman asked again, “It’s a beautiful gown, I am sure it would look wonderful on you. Especially for the gala.”

“I can’t afford it,” you replied, shame on your face and in your voice. Paz’s heart broke for you and he frowned, unable to stop thinking about your sadness.

He watched as you looked wistfully at the dress, making your way back to where Thalassa had just stepped out of the dressing room. She was wearing a bright red number and turned this and that way to admire herself in the mirror while Din looked to be suffering even more, knowing that h would have to carry most of her purchases.

“You look wonderful,” you smiled, your eyes roaming over her dress, “Do you think you’ll wear it to the gala?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Thalassa mused, her tone falsely indecisive as if she didn’t already know that she would buy the dress.

Paz could barely concentrate on whatever was said. All he could think about was your sad smile and how you had gazed at that dress so longingly. This entire day money was spent on Thalassa. But – you didn’t seem to have anything to wear for the gala.

As the group departed the shop, Paz motioned for Din to walk off without him. His brother in arms nodded knowingly, raising his eyebrows in an I told you so motion. Paz ignored him.

“Everything all right, Paz?” you asked, staying behind as you noticed he hadn’t followed you.

“I think you should try it on,” he blurted out, motioning to the dress, “For me … please.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, “I –“

“Yes,” he nodded, “Yes I am sure and I know you want to. Come one, love … for me.”

A few minutes later you stepped out of the dressing room, looking absolutely magnificent. Paz’s mouth gaped open as he sat in the chair. The fabric left your shoulders bare and there was a slit up your leg and stars you looked pretty. As you saw yourself in the mirror, your whole face lit up and he could only feel the warmth in his cheeks as you twirled for him.

“It is so beautiful,” you murmured in awe, hands gliding over the fabric, “It is like the colour of the night sky.”

“You look … you look perfect,” he brought out, his voice hoarse, “You look really beautiful.”

“Well, it – it was nice having it tried on,” you smiled, clearly trying to mask your sadness and his heart broke.

As you disappeared into the changing room, he whirled around to the saleswoman, “How much?”

She smiled at him knowingly. “We would be able to deliver it to your accommodation without her knowing about it,” she said as she slipped him the paper with the number.

It was not as high as he had feared. And with the pay coming in soon, this would be nothing.

“Good,” he nodded, “It should be a surprise.”

After a rather exhausting shopping spree with Thalassa, you were happy to be back in the hotel.

It was nice to see her in her element and certainly good to know that everyone here behaved like her. Even if it was a little annoying.

You sighed as you returned to your room. The gala was approaching fast and you were still thinking about what to get dressed in. You had brought your only good dress from home but that had been the standards from home. This here was something else entirely.

With a look at the grey fabric, looking colourless against the vibrant furniture of your hotel, you remembered the dress you had tried on. How Paz had looked at you so adoringly. How his voice had hitched and made your heartbeat quicken.

It was frustrating that you could not afford it and you wondered if maybe Thalassa would lend you one of her dresses if you asked her.

You let yourself fall onto the soft couch in the bedroom, taking in a deep breath. Yes, you were feeling a bit down. Everyone was getting ready for the opera gala and you felt like you were the only one who would be completely out of place. Even Din and Paz knew how to behave around high society, it seemed, and you clung to the idea of just … hanging out with them the entire night. Not that you wanted to do anything else anyway.

Sitting up, a box on your bed caught your eye and you frowned. You recognized the symbol from the shop and your heart skipped a beat. Quickly you stood up and walked over to your bed, keeping your eyes on the box in case you blinked and it disappeared.

Excitement grew in you and you carefully lifted the top, you squealed and let it fall back into place.

The dress.

He had bought the dress for you.

Your hands trembling from excitement and you were sure your face hurt because you were smiling so widely.

With a look at the clock, you knew you needed to hurry and you practically ran under the shower, getting ready as quickly as possible. When your body was dry enough, you hurried to the box, pulling on the dress and grinning when it fit perfectly. It was even prettier than in the shop and for the first time, you allowed yourself to truly admire yourself in the mirror.

You were excited and you looked excited. And happy and bubbly and in love and –

“Knock, knock, can I come on?” Paz’s voice sounded from outside and your smile got even wider.

“Yes, come on in!” you called, turning around to greet him.

The man stepped inside, faltering as he saw you, if only for a second, and your heart raced in your chest. He was all fancied up in his black suit and tie. His shoulder looked broad and strong and you saw that he was not wearing a blaster. He was truly ready for high society.

“Got you a present,” he murmured almost bashfully, “ I thought Thalassa could not be the only one with a bit of jewelry.”

“You already gifted me this,” you gestured to the dress, “And I will never be able to thank you for it, I – thank you, Paz, it is so lovely and it means so much and I –“, you sniffled, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Hey now,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you, “no crying, this was supposed to make you happy.”

“And it did,” you whispered, burying into his chest, “It does.”

“Good,” he said, his arm wrapping around your waist, “Because I remember that a pretty lady promised to dance with me tonight.”

“And she intends to keep that promise,” you smiled up at him, resting your chin on his chest. It was warm and safe and familiar and your heart hurt at the thought of never seeing him again.

Then he pulled a smaller box out of his jacket, “Good, now are you ready for your second present?”

You nodded. He made a circle motion with his finger and obediently you turned around so your back was to him. You gasped when you felt something cold touch your neck and when you looked in the mirror you saw that it was a necklace he was fasting at the back of your neck.

It consisted of white gemstones, glittering in the light of the lamps and you felt you had never worn anything this expensive. You were captured by his gaze, feeling your chest and cheeks heat up with how he looked at you. His rough fingertips grazed the sensitive skin on your throat and back of your neck and goosebumps erupted everywhere his touch went. You never wanted him to stop touching you.

“You look stunning,” he said, holding your gaze, “Like the stars.”

“Thank you, Paz,” you whispered, slowly leaning back so he could rest his chin on your shoulder, his arms enveloping your middle, “It is beautiful.”

“You are beautiful,” he replied with a smile, “Now, are you ready to stun some old rich people?”

You giggled, your heart skipping a beat as he took your hand.

The only way to describe how you behaved in the opera was the following: a couple. As soon as you stepped out of the speeder, your arm had wrapped around his and you remained by his side the entire time. A fact that made him immensely proud.

He had watched with you by his side as Thalassa had reunited with her family and Din had received the payment in full. You were the one he was seated next to in the little private booth before the performance was starting to be honest he did not want it any other way.

He never once let go of your hand, his thumb constantly drawing patterns on your skin as you talked about all the different novelties this performance had to offer.

And it did not seem like you wanted him to either. You kept whispering about all the different things you saw, the pretty lights and dressed and clothes and the food as you shared a few appetizers with him. You both watched Thalassa in the booth with her family, getting reacquainted after years of being separated from each other.

But by far his favourite part was that his lips brushed your skin whenever he spoke into your ear.

“Everything is so beautiful here,” you murmured to him, gently squeezing his hand, “it is exciting isn’t it?”

“It is,” he agreed, keeping his eyes on you, your excited smile, and the way your free hand kept drifting to the necklace he had gifted you.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear,” you admitted bashfully, tilting your head closer to him, to hear him better. Paz’s heart skipped a beat as he leant closer, his lips now brushing your ear. “I said,” he murmured, “It is beautiful and – I think you are the most beautiful person here.”

He heard your breath hitch and gathered his courage to lean down and press a soft kiss just beneath your ear. And as if that was not enough, he raised your hand softly against his lips again before leaning back into his own space.

You looked at him softly, a small smile on your lips and he could see how your chest heaved.

Then, you took his hand back, pulling it against your lips this time and pressing a gentle kiss against each of his knuckles, all the while keeping his gaze. Paz forgot how to breathe. And suddenly he knewhe needed to tell you now, needed to askyou now.

“When our business is done here,” he began, his throat dry and scratchy, “Would you – would you maybe like to – I mean with me, would you like to –“

“Thalassa invited us to dinner afterwards, would you like to come – oh, I am sorry.”

He had never hated Din more in his life.

Paz was pacing the hallway in front of Thalassa’s room.

The entire dinner he had not gotten any chance to talk to you and suddenly it had been time to go and he had overheard someone talking about how you would be offered to stay here. With Thalassa. As her assistant or something.

He had not even been able to call your name or grab your hand before the princess had whisked you away into her room and now everything felt too tight and constricting. Panic flooded him. Panic that you might accept the offer. Panic that he could not tell you how he felt. Panic that he had lost you before he even had a chance to offer himself to you.

It felt like an eternity before the door opened and you looked almost surprised to see him there. Paz’s heart pounded in his chest, a feeling of now or never coursing through him. You opened your mouth but he stopped you before you could say anything.

“Let me just –“ he murmured, “Let me just say … this. Please don’t go, love, please don’t stay here, I – I know I have nothing much to offer, certainly not as much as this,” he gestured around the grand hallway, “But … by the stars, I will make sure you will lack for nothing, I promise.”

You did not say anything.

“I – I love you,” he confessed, his shoulders dropping relief of finally having said what he had kept with him for so long, “and I – please stay with me, please come home with me, I – I can’t bear to say goodbye to you now.”

You looked at him with big eyes, teary eyes, stepping closer to him. “Paz,” you murmured, searching his gaze for something, “I declined the job offer,” you looked down at your hands, nervously fiddling with them. Automatically he took them in his, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles.

“I love you too,” you whispered with a smile, “Very much so and I – I don’t want to say goodbye to you yet.”

“What are you saying,” he murmured, a wider grin on his face, raising your hands to his lips, “You coming home with me, love?”

“Yes,” you smiled, nudging your nose against his, “I am.”

With your words echoing in his head, he leant down and softly pressed his lips to yours. It was a slow kiss, one that you immediately started to reciprocate and goosebumps erupted all over his skin at the feeling of your lips against his. Stars, you were soft and warm and wonderful.

He felt your hands on the back of his neck, playing with the short curls there and he smiled against you, stepping closer and wrapping his arm around your waist. A giggle escaped your lips and he gripped you tighter, chasing your mouth with his as you pulled away to breathe. You did not complain one bit when his lips landed on your jaw instead, gripping his shoulders tighter as you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

Whatever journey lay ahead of you, you would master it together.

#maybege writes #7daysnosmutchallenge #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x fem!reader

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rosesgonerogue · 4 years ago

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Let the Sunshine In - Chapter 6

Masterlist (because I finally learned to make one)

Five years ago Jason would have said he felt like death. Now Jason would have welcomed death with open arms if he thought Ra’as wouldn’t just track his body down and resurrect him again, even more broken the second time around.

Also, saying that you felt like death usually implied that someone was listening, which definitely was not the case. He felt like a ghost in a number of ways, a specter trapped between heaven and hell, desperate for someone to notice him, confirm that he existed. But the feeling of emptiness, of invisibility was put aside in the name of anger. After all, anger reigned supreme in his mind.

As each day passed, thoughts of Marinette slowly faded. It couldn't have been more than a week since he’d left her house, but the memories felt years old, a fleeting moment of light that could never have been permanent. It was almost easier that way, so he couldn’t reflect on how badly he’d messed up.

Not that Jason had any time to reflect. Each day without Marinette meant that the anger was becoming stronger and more frequent. He found himself blacking out for large chunks of time, and when he woke up he would wake up in the Red Hood mask, covered in blood that wasn’t his.

A part of him didn’t know why he even bothered with the costume - he was already a monster, no one could deny it. Part his reasoning for the costume was simply habit from his days as Robin, but a large part of his motivation was the thought of Marinette stumbling across him in the street. Just imagining the look of horror on her face was enough to shatter what little sense of self he had.

Maybe Marinette meant more to him than he was willing to admit.

So, Jason existed, even though he didn’t want to. It only took a week for Paris to start talking about him consistently, so he watched the news, monitored what he did when he wasn’t in control. It seemed that he hadn’t killed anyone yet - or if he had, the Miraculous Cure had brought them back. Apparently he lost consciousness during akuma attacks, and on several occasions he’d simply shot the akuma down, disappearing while Ladybug and Chat Noir dealt with the aftermath.

In theory the fact that he hadn’t shot anyone should have been some small consolation, but he couldn’t avoid that suspicion that he wasn’t actually helping the French heroes. He’d dealt with enough in Gotham to know when something was playing head games to accomplish their own means, and whatever it was that controlled him during his blackouts wanted something sinister.

Weeks passed just like that, Jason slowly losing himself day by day to the anger, the destruction he caused.

The nothingness.

Disguises, masks, his life was pushed into the shadows. He didn’t even think that he could actually call this living. Jason chuckled to himself, the sound cold and empty. His miraculous second chance at life left him in even worse shape than before Bruce found him, cold and hungry and completely without the will to live.

Jason didn’t have much hope for the future - really, he had a single hope. When the time came, he hoped that next time he stayed dead.

***********

She couldn’t understand - Marinette had known Jay for less than twenty-four hours, but the memory of him still haunted her. Did he have a safe place to stay? Was he eating enough? Had he fully succumbed to the influence of the Lazarus Pits yet?

Shaking herself, she turned her attention back to the issue at hand: Red Hood, the mysterious new vigilante. He had dodged any efforts she or Chat made to follow or talk to him, so they decided to split up and look for him outside of an akuma attack. It was doubtful that it would yield anything, but Marinette knew that if that hideous outfit she’d been forced to make was visible, she would spot it. The jury was still out on whether or not she would destroy it - if the opportunity presented itself, she would be more than tempted.

Swinging around the city until it was dark seemed like more than enough, though. Pausing on a rooftop, Ladybug spoke into her yo-yo. “I think it’s time to call it quits, Chaton. We both need to get some rest.”

“Brilliant idea, M’Lady. Don’t worry, we’ll find him soon.”

“I have no doubt about that, Chaton. After all, I can’t just let him steal my colors like this.”

Chat Noir let out a surprised bark of laughter. “I don’t know what happened to bring you back to yourself, Bugaboo, but it’s nice to have the old you back.”

“It feels nice to be back, Kitty. Now sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

“Oh, you’re trying to steal my lines now? Just you wait, my new jokes are going to be insuf-fur-able.”

The two bantered a bit before finally saying goodbye. Detransforming, Marinette clambered down the building’s fire escape. It was dusk, so she probably should have gone straight home, but there was a grocery store not too far away, and she needed a few things.

“Bonjour,” the tired shop owner called upon her entrance.

“Bonjour!” Marinette replied, mentally making a list of things she needed. She was content to browse the shelves idly, despite the dwindling sunlight. It was a smaller store, and a handful of others milled around as well.

Marinette was staring down the produce and deciding what she wanted to make the coming week when the shopkeeper yelled, “Stop! Thief!”

Instinctively dropping her basket, Marinette launched herself to the doors of the store where someone was attempting to flee. He got caught up in a crowd on the sidewalk, which gave Marinette more time to catch up to him.

The closer she got to him, the more she recognized an eerie situation permeating the air. Now with completely different intentions, Marinette pounced, catching Jay’s and in hers.

She hauled him into an empty alleyway before demanding, “Jay? Are you okay? What’s going on? Why did you leave? Especially if you have to steal!”

Seeing him like this hurt, definitely more than Marinette could have ever expected it to. His eyes widened when they met hers, full of emotions - pain, fear, and regret swirled in his eyes before that same toxic green clouded them and anger reigned supreme. Snarling like a feral animal, he lunged towards Marinette with hands outstretched.

Marinette had been dreaming of finding Jay again for weeks, but this wasn’t how she’d pictured any of it happening. She dodged instinctively, and her stomach twisted when his jacket fell open just enough to see the familiar bullet proof material he wore underneath.

So, it seemed she’d found Red Hood after all.

None of it made sense just yet, but some of the pieces were starting to fall into place. All along it had seemed like Red Hood had been attempting to help in his own, destructive way, but he had never spoken, and his movements were always jerky, uncontrolled, not at all the way that Jay moved ordinarily. As someone alive because of the pits, he was probably drawn to all of the errant Miraculous energy.

It wasn’t fair. Overwhelmed by the injustice of his situation, Marinette’s body took over. She ducked another of his lunges and pivoted on her heel, her other one connecting solidly with his temple. He crumpled on impact, leaving Marinette panting and slightly regretting her hasty action. But her recently unleashed emotions burned within her.

Screw the Lazarus Pits, screw Jay’s anger, and screw Hawkmoth. Neither of them had asked for any of this - neither of them deserved any of this.

She went back in to pay for the food she’d dropped and he’d stolen before calling a taxi.

“Marinette, what are you thinking?” Tikki asked, flitting around her head while they waited.

“I’ve been complacent for too long. I understand why I’ve done what I’ve done, but no more. Hawkmoth, whoever did this to Jay, they better watch out because I’m taking our lives back.” Marinette glanced to the bag she assumed held Red Hood’s helmet. “But only after I burn that awful helmet.”

Tikki couldn’t reply because it was then that the cabbie arrived, but she settled in Marinette’s purse, practically glowing. Finally.

Taglist:

@cravethosecrazysquares @krispydefendorpolice @thesunanditsangel @sonif50 @kris-pines04 @persephonebutkore @tbehartoo @corabeth11 @caffeinetheory @drarryismylife101 @bluerosette23 @weird-pale-blonde-person @mystery-5-5 @heaven428 @thethirdwheelfriend @thetinymoonflower @interobanginyourmom @chocolate1721 @akana-sama @skyel0ve @katiegardneriscoolerthanyou @theatreandcomicfreak @jardimazul-blog @karategirl119 @thewondersoflebanon @tbehartoo @shizukiryuu @northernbluetongue @moonlightstar64 @naoryllis @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @saphiraazure2708 @yokizu @jeminiikrystal @chocolatecatstheron @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @zalladane @slytherinsheashire @bran-thecreeper-stark @otaku4312 @emotionalsupportginger @dorkus-minimus @18-fandoms-unite-08 @tired-butterfly @bamagirl513 @pauliestorylover @alenee13 @ladybug-182 @senpaiweird @kalligraphic @jessigurl-design @emeraldpuffguide @veunnotvuen @storyteller-d @g-arya @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @procrastinatingrightnow @sturchling @dast218 @trashystar420 @indecisive-mess-named-me @awesome-starfish-and-tacos @kittycatwowmeow @zebrabaker @mycupisbroken @jeminiikrystal @miraculous-simmer7 @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @lulutheawkwardess @fusser90 @fsketchart @maribat-is-lifeblood @buticaaba @zotinha456 @purplesundaze @verraa

Note:

Hey guys, I know it's been forever, sorry about that. I had a wicked case of writer's block, which was compounded by the fact that I only have the loosest of outlines for this fic. Picking what direction I needed to go was harder than I thought it would be. But I'm not giving up on this story, I promise to see it through to the end no matter how long it takes! If you want to be tagged or if I forgot you somehow, just leave a comment in the notes!

#maribat #jasonette #marinette x jason #let the sunshine in #LtSi

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valkyriesryde · 4 years ago

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Release the Hounds {9/?}

Chapter 9: Wait for Summertime

Pairing: Persephone!Steve Rogers x Hades!Reader

Chapter Summary: The god of Spring has disappeared and no one has seen Hades for a week since. That doesn’t mean she is gone or has admitted defeat.

Word count: 2,800ish

A/N: *warning nods of parental abuse* I wrote this while listening to Hadestown so I fell ya’ll should know this chapter is heavily influenced by that soundtrack hahah, anyway, hope you enjoy!

When Hades separated the Underworld from Olympus she separated herself from the obligations of working for the Olympians and following their rules and regulations. She had free rein over what she and those residing in the Underworld could do, she had freedom to rule the way she wanted to.

When the prospect of her joining the council of the Olympians came up one of the things that was vitally important to Hades was that the Underworld remained free of Olympian control; yes they would work together on issues that affected both populations, but no, the Olympians would not hold any authority in the Underworld just as she held none in Olympus.

Technically speaking, to make it easier to understand, the Underworld and Olympus were to separate countries that, in the event that Hades did join the council, had a council that overlooked both countries and how they worked together and shared resources and experience. Sort of like the European Union.

That’s at least what Hades hoped for and the terms she discussed with Thor, in an incredibly detailed report that he had to read twice to understand completely.

But things were different now, things didn’t go as planned.

Immediately following the speeches of both Demeter and Hades eleven Olympians of the council were to meet and the decision of whether or not Hades would join would be decided. Neither parties were to be present and neither were able to vote, “to make things fair” Thor said.

However, as the gods [ThorZeus, JaneHera, LokiPoseidon, NatashaAthena, Peter QAres, TonyHephaestus, BuckyApollo, RebeccaArtemis, PepperAphrodite, T’ChallaDionysus and PeterHermes] began to make their way to meet, word reached them that the god of spring had disappeared. He had gone missing straight after the presentation along with Hades and her judges.

With a cry for justice Demeter demanded the gates of the Underworld be taken down until her son was found. Thor refused. He said there was no evidence that Steve was even missing through force and not his own accord. But the other gods weren’t overly convinced that Steve wasn’t already under some sort of influence from Hades. And with the cries of Demeter the council decided that until Steve was returned safe and his side of the story was shared that the vote will be suspended.

As Loki told Hades this she rolled her eyes and cursed under her breath. She rubbed her hands over her face and turned off her computer, standing from her desk she walked around to stand in front of Loki and shrugged her shoulders.

“There’s nothing I can do. I don’t know where he is Loki, I swear it,” she told him and he told her he believed her. They hugged, Loki bid farewell and returned to Olympus and she closed the door behind him and locked it.

That was a week ago and no one has seen Hades since. They’ve heard from her, her own council, the judges and HarleyThanatos, MJ and Peter. But none had seen her.

When Peter came by to deliver her weekly fruits the door was unlocked but there was no sign of her. He looked in every room, he listened for any footsteps, but he couldn’t find her. She watched him, walked behind him as he called for her and as he wrote her a note saying he’d popped in and was worried about her she almost revealed herself.

However, as Peter went to walk out the door he turned back to the empty entryway and for a second thought maybe he knew she was here.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can…Bucky says he’s safe.”

It didn’t take long for Hades to find him. Bucky wasn’t a subtle person when he didn’t need to be and the more obvious he was about his movements the less obvious it was that he was hiding something.

She wore her helmet, glowing gold and blue but you wouldn’t know it as it sat on her head and made her and everything she wore invisible. Her favourite accessory. Hades followed Bucky from his office well after the sun had set. She followed him into her home and to a doorway that didn’t fit into the rest of the layout of the house. The she was in New York.

Her helmet now a cap, her attire now a casual jeans and t-shirt as she continued to follow Bucky out of the alleyway and down the busy streets. He weaved through the crowd with a sense of familiarity, she figured this wasn’t the first time he’d done this.

Bucky’s footsteps slowed as he neared the apartment building, he stepped inside and into the elevator and she followed him in, standing further enough away that he didn’t accidentally walk into her or touch her as he pushed the button for the ninth floor.

She was his shadow as he walked down the hallway, he’d missed her every time he had looked over his shoulder, he was none the wiser when he unlocked the door and when he called “Honey I’m home” he had no idea he had let her into the apartment after him.

“Did you bring what I asked?” Steve asked from his seat at the table, a new sketchbook Bucky had brought him open in front of him.

“Food to last you a lifetime and I even got you a special gift from me to you,” Bucky beamed and started to unpack the backpack he had brought with him.

Hades stood by the wall and watched the two. This is where Steve was, he wasn’t taken, he wasn’t kidnapped, this wasn’t against his will. He was hiding, he was here because he chose to be. Who did he fear so much that he had to hide? Why hadn’t he told anyone, why hadn’t he told Thor?!

“I don’t trust your gifts, yesterday you brought a gold fish.”

“That’s what you asked for!”

“I asked for a some paints because I wanted to paint a koi fish!”

“Pfft, what’s the difference.” Bucky bit back and leaned against the counter and smirked at Steve who stood from his seat and began walking towards him until he held his hand up for him to stop.

“Wait there, do you want your present or what?”

“Not particularly,” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Oh you’ll want this one.”

“What is it Bucky?” He narrowed his eyes and Bucky ran his tongue over his teeth and turned his head to where Hades stood, her heart started beating faster and she started to back away towards the hallway.

“You’re not as stealthy as you think.”

Steve looked at the empty space Bucky was looking at confused, he didn’t know what he was talking about or who to. Until Hades appeared in front of him and in her hand a cap that he knew was her cap of invisibility.

“How did you know?” She asked Bucky, diverting her eyes away from Steve.

Bucky shrugged his shoulders and patted Steve’s shoulder who still stood there dumbstruck staring at Hades.

“Had a hunch,” he whispered as he walked past her, “you two have a good rest of your night,” he called and soon enough it was just Steve and Hades left in the open living area.

“I’m sorry”

“Can I get you-why are you sorry?” he walked around the counter and stopped to turn towards her. She looked at the ground and fidgeted with the cap.

“I shouldn’t have intruded on you, I’m sorry for invading your privacy,” she said, “I’ll leave you be, you obviously don’t want to be found yet, Bucky shouldn’t have led me here but I also shouldn’t have followed him.” She turned to leave just as Bucky had a minute before but Steve quickly caught her wrist.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, I can’t even begin to imagine what impact my disappearance has had. I’m sorry if its caused any repercussions for you. Bucky told me they’ve suspended the vote.” He looked guilty, like a puppy caught doing something he shouldn’t and Hades wanted so badly to reassure him and tell him it wasn’t his fault. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“I can go-“

“I want you to stay,” Steve had walked back over to the kettle and turned it on, pulling down two mugs, “tea or coffee?”

“Tea please,” she stepped further into the room but still stood awkwardly in the middle of it like she didn’t quite know what to do.

“Truth be told, it’s good to see someone that isn’t Bucky. I love him, and I’m grateful for what he’s done for me but interactions with others is something I oddly miss.” Steve chuckled and placed her mug on the coffee table. He gestured for her to sit with him and she did.

It’s my fault you’re stuck here. She thought. This is my fight and you were dragged into it. I’m sorry. She wanted to tell him. I’m sorry you shouldn’t have to go through this, you shouldn’t have to hide. This is my fault, this is my fight, you’re a victim. She couldn’t get it out.

“Tell me, how’s the Underworld?” Steve acted as though this was normal, as though they sat and talked before.

“Truth be told,” she laughed nervously, “I’m not sure. I haven’t been very present for the past week or so.” She brought the mug to her lips. Steve shifted in his seat.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I didn’t know you drew,” she quickly changed the subject, Steve looked up at her curiously, he saw her looking at the discarded papers over the table, the scenes from outside that he had drawn early in the mornings and late into the nights.

“I dabble, they’re no good though.” He reached to tidy the pile but she stopped him and picked up the discarded papers.

“I’d like to see what you consider good then,” she smiled at him, “this are beautiful.”

They talked for hours about his drawings, about the things he had seen from his window, about what he thought of New York and how it differed from Olympus, “some bits are similar, it’s all so busy all the time,” he laughed.

They ignored the elephant in the room as long as they could and Hades tried to ignore how heavy the empty mug was in her hands when she placed it back on the coffee table.

“Steve,” she took a deep breath and blamed it on her nerves.

“I can’t go back Hades.” He stood from the couch and took their mugs to the sink. She followed him and Steve kept his back to her as he gripped the sink.

“You need to tell Thor, your mother needs to know you’re safe.” She reached out a hand to his shoulder but he spun around, anger and fear across his face.

“So she can find me?!”

“She doesn’t have to know you’re here.” Hades’ voice was calm as she took a step towards Steve, “but I know how terrified she must be, if Harley-if any of the ones I care about disappeared without a word for even a day I would be terrified for them.”

Steve’s face dropped, words he’d heard before ran through his head. “I would tear down mountains for you…if anything happened to you no one would be safe…” Words his mother had told him once when he yelled at her when he was younger. But Hades would be terrified if her son went missing, if anyone she cared about went missing.

“Why haven’t you been present in the Underworld lately?” He asked, surely she didn’t think of him like he hoped.

“Someone I cared about went missing…” she pushed her fingers through her hair and averted her eyes, “and I was being blamed, I was being punished and I was terrified because I knew it was my fault they were in danger.” Her voice started to rise but she still refused to look at him. “I dragged them into this, I let my idiot brothers give them false hope and I didn’t stop them from putting themselves in immediate danger. You shouldn’t have to be here.”

“I have to be. I don’t want to be here but I have to be.” Steve reached out for her hands and held them to his chest, “I did this to myself.”

“You didn’t-“

“I did. This is no one’s fault but my own. You’re not the villain in this Hades. It’s not because of you I’m hiding here, it’s because of her. It’s because of my own mother I’m hiding for my life, I don’t want to be here but I have to hide from her,” his voice got quiet and his eyes dropped to the floor, “she’ll kill me, she’ll tear down mountains and no one is safe. If she’s focused on finding me that tyranny from hurting anyone else.”

Hades hand reached up and wiped the tears that began to fall down Steve’s face. She held his cheek and he flinched slightly before relaxing into her touch. Hades realised then the truth behind it all. She thought Demeter was just selfish, that she was just narcissistic but there was more. She’s hurt him before.

“Are you okay?” he asked, her breathing became heavy and he could practically feel her heartbeat in her wrist.

“I’m fine,” she lied through her teeth and tried to catch her breath. She blamed it on her anger, she blamed it on the pieces she’d put together. She was fine.

Hades stepped back from Steve, she needed to calm her beating heart. But as she walked towards the couch her knees gave out from underneath her and Steve was only just quick enough to catch her.

“You’re not, you’re weak like Bucky was when he was in the Underworld. You can’t be here for long can you?”

“Perhaps I’ve overstayed my welcome,” she smiled shyly and leaned against the back of the couch. Steve rushed into the hallway and appeared again holding a familiar black flower. “You can’t use that, it won’t work I’m here with you already.”

“We need to get you back to the Underworld though!” He thought for a second before he remembered Bucky’s escape route if anything went wrong quickly. “I know how to get you back to Bucky’s and from there he can take you home.”

The building was quietly when they stepped into the elevator. Hades was weakening quickly now, she leaned against Steve and he was practically holding her up when they reached the basement.

At the end of the basement, behind piles of stuff and things Steve revealed a door, a sun and moon engraved on the handle.

“This will take you to him, I’m sorry I can’t take you back to the Underworld.” Steve was rushed, he reached for the handle and was too focused on the woman in his arms he didn’t notice the symbol change to a three headed dog until the door was swung open and he saw a cave that looked out to the river Styx. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s me,” she said quickly, “it’s okay,” her breathing was uneven as she stayed on the side of the door with Steve. “Steve…”

“You’re home, it’s okay. Go.”

“No, wait…if she finds you…” she could barely get the words out, “use the dahlia…she has no eyes in the Underworld…I promise Steve…” she gripped his shirt and he tried to push her over the line. Her eyes drooped and her strength was no more. “I’ll protect you there.”

“And I’ll protect you now.” He said and pushed her over the threshold, the door slammed and disappeared behind her before Steve could close it himself. He stared at the door and hoped she was okay. The symbol changed back to its original form and he dropped to the floor with a sigh as he started to cry. He was terrified. This is my fault, I’m so sorry.

Hades fell to her hands and knees, she felt the dirt under her fingers and took a deep breath as she felt the air fill her lungs. She stood from the ground and tucked her cap into the back pocket of her jeans. Hades walked out of the cave with her head held high, she walked down the bank of the Styx with her head held high and Cerberus ran towards her as she neared the gates.

Pietro and Harley were standing there has they guided souls through the right doors and when they turned and saw the queen walking towards them they were confused.

She was straight faced and didn’t stick around to answer any questions. Hades, with Cerberus on her tail walked between the two and through the gates but not before placing a quick kiss on Harley’s forehead and brushing a reassuring hand over Pietro’s shoulder. She walked through the gates and turned around as they watched her go.

“I apologise for my absence boys. Family dinner, tonight.”

Chapter Ten: Face Value

Permanent Taglist [28/50]: @witch-of-letters @buckysmischief @marvelsangels@momobaby227@weirdlyokaywithit @disgustangg @bucky-blogs @sebbbystaaan @geeksareunique@stuckonjbbarnes @ellieisgae @mushyjellybeans @lovesmesomehiddles @this-kitten-is-smitten @itsunclebucky@kitkatd7 @lokisironthrone@supraveng @thinkoutsidethebex @binkysteebnpewter @starbxcks @agent-barnes40@theannoyingnightmarecollector @starkerhowlter @fckdeusername @murdermornings @thefridgeismybestie@wonderlandfandomkingdom @aikeia

Release the Hounds Taglist [28/50]: @little-dark-empress @matsumama @anasteas @anjali750 @brastrangled @moonchild-stark @kaithezaftig @fafulous @sucker-for-my-fandoms @truly-insatiable @nerdamongnerds @henderwhore4life @the-girl-of-many-fandoms1414 @brooklyn-1918 @elsasshole @powerful-vixen @dramaqueenarg @princess-evans-addict @lexy9716 @megzdoodle @majorcurious007 @king-seb @whenescapingdinosaurs @jubileestreetv @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @wormonastringonastick @brilliantkey @tofeartheunknown

#release the hounds #steve rogers x reader #persephone!steve rogers x hades!reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers au #marvel au

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changingourdestiny · 3 years ago

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Nightlight Part 1: Endless Night

Summary:

Fireteam Paralight awake to the Last City being plunged into darkness with the sun nowhere in sight. Ikora and Osiris have no doubt about it being the Vex's doing but with no answers on how to fix it, they turn to unlikely allies for them but familiar allies to Paralight: Mithrax and Tif of House Light.

Next Part: Here

“I know I said to ‘party until the sun rises’…but this is NOT what I meant.”

Cayde and Fireteam Paralight all stood at the Helm’s front window at the endless night sky…at 11am. The sun hadn’t risen at all that morning with strange glitch-like wisps in the air. Rae let out a sigh, “Can…can someone pass me that cushion over there?”

“Oh, sure.” Crow picked up a nearby cushion resting on the war table and handed it to the Stasis Vanguard. “Thank you.” Rae calmly accepted the cushion and held it to her face before letting out a stressed and frustrated scream into the pillow. As her scream faded, Adam hesitantly spoke, “Are…are you ok, Rae?”

“My stress levels are PERFECTLY healthy, guys!” Rae said with a forced grin. “Uh huh…sure…” Blaze scooted away from Rae a bit as the sound of footsteps approached. Zavala and Ikora entered the Helm. “Thank you for coming on short notice.” Ikora began. “Figured we’d be called up here at some stage.” Blaze replied, “Usually when things take a turn for the crazy, we’re the ones that are called. And the sun being gone is kinda hard to miss.”

“Very true. With that said, allow me to deliver your briefing.” Ikora began, “As you saw, for the first time in humanity’s long and storied history, the sun did not rise. Osiris tells me it’s a Vex simulation that has plunged the City into an endless night. It seems they’ve found a way to harness our energy against us. And even in all his wisdom, Osiris can offer no solution.”

“To do something like this to the Last City…” Cayde muttered, “Whatever the Vex are planning, they’re confident enough to target our home turf.”

“That or they’re becoming desperate.” Zavala added. “The Vex rely on logic. Whatever their plan is, the chances of success for them are high enough for them to execute it.” Rae chimed in. “Rae’s right.” Ikora agreed, “I don’t know what will happen if we can’t break the Vex’s hold over the City. I do know that we must protect our people, no matter the cost.”

“Agreed.” Adam nodded. “So, what’s the plan? How’re we gonna pry the Vex’s robo-hands off the City?” Blaze asked. “The Vex are machines…” Ikora replied, “And no one understands machines better than the Eliksni. Osiris and I could only think of one we might turn to. And I believe you’re acquainted with him and one of his captains.”

“Wait…you mean…?” Rae perked up in realisation. Ikora nodded, “Mithrax, Kell of House Light. My spies report he claims to be among the last Sacred Splicers; those with the power to commune with machines. He may be our best and only hope.”

“I didn’t know he was a Splicer.” Rae muttered, “He never made it obvious during the times we met him and Tif never mentioned it either.”

“It makes sense that he would try to keep it hidden.” Crow replied, “House Dusk and the remnants of Salvation would find the abilities of Splicers useful against their enemies.”

“Hmm…fair point.” Rae said before turning back to Ikora, “Do we have any information on his location?”

“My Hidden report that both Mithrax and Tifawt were last seen on Europa, helping Variks evacuate Eliksni defectors.” Ikora explained, “Both the Vex and Eramis’s loyalists are down there hunting for survivors, shooting anything that moves. Be sure to shoot back. We need Mithrax alive if he’s to help us with our Vex problem.”

“Right.” Rae turned to her Fireteam, “You heard Ikora. Let’s hit the skies.”

“Yes ma’am!”

Fireteam Paralight hurried out of the Helm. Cayde went to follow but was stopped by Ikora. “No. You’re still in trouble for the last time you snuck out. Besides, we need all the help we can get for crowd control.”

Rae couldn’t help but feel sorry for Cayde as she heard his disappointed groan from down the hall.

“Oh, the Vex outside are frightful~ But the Light is so delightful~ Knock them down, blow-by-blow~ Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow~”

Blaze sang to herself as she shot down Vex after Vex with Firelight. “Nice Dawning carol.” Crow chuckled as he fired a round from Hawkmoon into a hobgoblin, “You should remember them for this year.”

“I’m already working on ‘Sainta Claus is coming to Tower’!”

Crow let out an amused snort at Blaze’s pun as Rae tuned into her comms, “Ikora, any luck on locating Mithrax?”

“You’re closing in on some residual signals. It could be Eliksni bound for House Light…or it could be more of Eramis’s loyalists.” Ikora replied. “I think I see an entrance in the ice.” Adam yelled from several feet away. “Let’s go say Velask.” Rae said as she slid down the ice into the hideout. The four Guardians landed with a faint clang onto the metal plating of the hideout. “Velask? It’s Fireteam Paralight. Is anyone here?” Rae called out before contacting Ikora again, “Empty. Looks like the Eliksni cleared out before the Vex showed up.”

“See if you can learn where they’re headed.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Over here!”

Rae looked up to see Blaze by an Eliksni terminal with Crow typing away at it. “I think we found something. Some sort of looped audio recording.”

“I’ll patch it through to Ikora as well.” Crow added as he played the audio.

“-over their possessions. Trigger message repeat. This is Misraaks. To those who renounce the violence of House Salvation and seek refuge in the House of Light, I will be landing a Skiff near Asterion Abyss. Bring only what you need. We must prioritise survivors over their possessions. Trigger message repeat.”

“Asterion Abyss. That’s their rendezvous point.” Ikora began, “A single Skiff recently touched down near your position. It’s got to be Mithrax. Hurry, before he takes off.”

“Uhh…we should hurry but I don’t think he’ll be taking off.” Adam said as he stood near a cave opening looking over Asterion Abyss. In the middle of the ice and snow was a crashed ship with smoke emerging from it. “Oh no…we gotta hurry!” Rae exclaimed as she began to climb up the ice with the rest of the Fireteam not far behind. As soon as they were on smoother turf, the four Guardians summoned their Sparrows and began to speed across the snow towards the downed Skiff. “Mithrax sure is wrapped up in dangerous business, huh?” Blaze muttered. “It’s a bad time to ask for a favour, true.” Ikora replied, “But he and his House of Light still worship the Traveller. And due to your previous interactions with him and Tifawt, he’ll trust you more than the rest of us.”

“I just hope we’re not too late.” Rae sighed, “The second we get there, we secure the crash site and help any Eliksni that might have survived.”

“Crow and I can handle any Vex or Salvationists that are around while you and Adam can protect and heal survivors.” Blaze added.

“Sounds like a plan. Let’s move!”

Upon arriving at the downed Skiff, all that remained was the smouldering wreckage, Eliksni bodies, and Vex swarming the ship. Rae prepared to shoot at the Vex with Lumina when-

“HUS NE, SHER BA!!!”

A hobgoblin that was standing atop the wreckage was suddenly shoved off by an Eliksni captain from behind with two goblins that were standing either side of it getting sliced by arc blades. The captain wore purple, blue and grey armour with the usual furry mantle at the back and the back spikes. The armour looked slightly different to a standard captain’s, mainly the boots and gloves. That’s when Rae realised it. Only one set of arms. Short for a captain. And the last piece of evidence came when the captain punched a harpy with a Stasis-covered fist.

“Tif!” Rae exclaimed with a smile. As the last Vex fell, the captain spun around at Rae’s yell, only seeming to notice the Guardians’ presence just then. “Paralight!” The familiar voice of Tif came from behind the captain-esque helmet of the Titan. Tif ran up to Rae and hugged her, lifting the Warlock off the ground slightly as they did so, “Oh my Traveller, your timing couldn’t be better! We’re trying to evacuate Salvation defectors but the Vex-”

“We know. We actually came here looking for you and Mithrax.” Rae explained. “Wait. Really?” Tif cocked their head to the side before shaking it, “There’s no time to wonder. Misraaks is keeping the refugees safe but I don’t know for how much longer they’ll last. Please hurry!”

“Lead the way.” Rae nodded. “Berhane?” Tif began. “Pike is at the ready!” Berhane chirped as a Pike appeared beside the Titan. “Follow me!” Tif yelled as they hopped on and sped across the icy tundra, Rae and co. in tow.

Visibility decreased slightly as an icy wind blew in. “We should be close.” Tif yelled as they came to a stop, “Misraakskel, are you there? Paralight are here!” As Tif called out, Mithrax emerged from a nearby cave. He wore different attire compared to the last time Rae had met up with them. His upper right arm was heavily mechanised, and he wore a grey and purple helm. “Guardians, I find you in the Light.” Mithrax greeted, “And on your signal…Ikora Rey?”

“Mithrax-kell, it is an honour. We have been searching for you for a long time.” Ikora greeted from the comms. “This is known. You are not the only one with hidden eyes.” Mithrax nodded, “Many enemies pursue my House of Light. We did not wish to be found.”

“Then times are desperate for us all.” Rae chimed in, “The Vanguard need your help.”

“Oh yeah…the Vex have been messing with the City, right?” Tif began. “You know about that?” Blaze asked with surprise. “Yes. Vex systems pulse with talk of the City’s Endless Night…but my people demand much protection.” Mithrax explained, “If Paralight could assist Tif and I in blinding the Vex here, we can speak more without risking bloodshed.”

“Blinding the Vex…we’ll do whatever you need, Mithrax-kell.” Rae nodded. Mithrax motioned for the Guardians to follow as he ran to a large clearing in the ice. He held out his mechanical arm that began to glow as a sudden pulse of Vex energy opened up a hole in the ice, “I have opened the door for you, Guardian. Will you walk the path of the Sacred Splicer?”

The four Guardians glanced at each other before nodding. “We’re ready.” Rae replied. “You might wanna hold onto your tummies!” Tif suggested, “I did this once and it gets weird. WHOOHOO!!!” Tif jumped cannonball-style into the hole with Fireteam Paralight jumping in after them. In a flash of light, the Guardians found themselves slowly descending onto a series of teal, geometric platforms in a vast purple void filled with geometric creations emerging from below. “Is this…some sort of Vex simulation?” Rae asked as they touched down. “The path before you is no illusion.” Mithrax explained through the comms, “You venture through the Vex domain itself, where the machines guard their most precious secrets. I will clear the way. Tifawt, can I count on you to guide the Guardians?”

“Yes, Misraakskel!” Tif responded with a smile.

“Very well. Good luck, Guardians.”

Rae looked out at the vast space before her and sighed, “Alright. Let’s start the crazy.��

To Be Continued…

#Changing our Destiny #rae drakyx #blaze kiria #adam bergfalk #cayde-6 #destiny cayde #ikora rey #destiny ikora #Zavala #destiny zavala #the crow #destiny crow #fireteam paralight #tif kariuki #mithrax #destiny 2

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rosepyrearchive · 3 years ago

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𝐟𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏

an experiment of posting a drabble a day, from a few sentences to a paragraph or more. i posted them on my old blog, now i’m going to compile them all here !

fingers carefully shift the lavender crystal in betwixt her thin fingers. for years, it had remained faithfully at the base of her throat, the way wolves protect each other’s most delicate parts; her father always did the same. now, there’s somewhere else she’d like to place that power, that protection. what color would the crystal turn, when placed in anakin’s palm ? blue, like his eyes, or red, like the blood he sheds ? the choker she once wore, pastel colored velvet around her neck, has an empty slot where she’d pulled the gem from, and now it finds a new home on a long chain of beskar; where she imagines it will press right in the middle of his chest, beneath his tunic & tabard. no matter what becomes of him, or what tries to hurt him . . . the chain and crystal will remain.

ii.

in her mother’s arms, she is just a daughter, a doll. on stage, she is better than a mortal girl, or even the immortal one she became; she’s a ballerina in tufts of pink & tulle. i am a good girl, even now when they’re all in the ground. now that the curtains of earth & velvet have fallen, though, who is she ? who does she become, without the pale pink ribbons & tight bodice of her costumes ? the voice, the visions, the hallucinations seem to answer for her; a ghost, a hazy, obscure daydream who cannot truly exist. who is she ? where does the camouflage, the eagerness to please end ? serena supposes it doesn’t end at all; and in that, she is a russian doll of nothingness.

iii.

she’s never seen him without his helmet. no one has, serena imagines — not in this state of his life, where removing it means deprivation and vulnerability; the simple act and thought is filled with an intimacy serena knows she could never earn from him, but … the yearning doesn’t stop, nor does the longing and curiosity to see his pallid skin, scarred & tainted, the marks that must cover his cheeks and chest. where do they end ? are they like ripples in waves or a pattern ? and … when she stands near him, does he ever look at her ? the blackness of his shield hides it all, and it does it’s job in making her nervous; serena can never stand still in his presence, thighs shaking and nails digging trench tracks into her soft palms. darth vader is terrible, awful, even cruel … so what is it that allures her so deeply, and why ? then again, if she knew, perhaps the shimmering butterflies would subside and she could see clearly, see this for what it was. he wasn’t even using her — and she is the very picture of devotion.

iv.

to what end does the fae steal a fair maiden ? or is it truly a crime, when the victim is so terribly willing ? allie’s feet move so mesmerizingly, around & around while flowers and mushrooms bloom from beneath her soles; her palm is so open – ❪ come to me, serena ! ❫ perspiration of late summer sticks to serena’s forehead, betwixt her rosy fingers, ❪ 𝙾𝚁 𝙸𝚂 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃 𝙽𝙴𝚁𝚅𝙾𝚄𝚂 ? 𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙴 𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙳𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙾 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙵𝙴𝙴𝙻 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚆𝙰𝚈 … ❫ and without a regret, she lays her hand in the other girl’s. she sups on honeyed milk, gives her name. the fairies covet gold, and what is serena, if not well - dressed in a golden shroud, from her crown to the hem of her long dress ? what does she have to fear, when she is magic all on her own ? allie’s hand lifts both of theirs high as she twirls serena amidst the flowers, and she swears she can feel grass grow from her steps.

calloused fingers dig deep into serena’s sweet, soft dimples; and from her jaw, trickles of sweet wine drip, down her neck, like spilled rubies on her pale skin. you hurt me, she wants to say. you’ve hurt me, and i am the one who’s sorry. hollis draws his thumb down to her chin, leaving perfect smudged fingerprints across her the way one would drag their fingers across a fogged glass. his eyes are a dull, venomous green as he calls her a name that doesn’t belong to her. that isn’t me, serena wants to cry. non, mon rêve, you’re much prettier than she ever was, hollis would reply, because this isn’t the first time. he squeezes bruises into her little arms as he kisses her, and serena thinks she kisses him back.

vi.

allow the camera to pan upwards, from her pale pink ballet slippers into her soft cotton dress, her feet turn out in first position as she raises her hands into fourth, pulled up by soft silk strings by an invisible puppeteer. the stage is her church, a massive, all encompassing world of history & grace, and then the world becomes it’s own stage; and serena’s performance is all consumed, like an apple in the garden of eden. isn’t she so lovely, so flawless, our little ballerina ornament ? serena doesn’t know who, or what, controls her actions – her lies, her pliés. some entity who refuses to present themselves, only bothering to choreograph her life & watch her from behind the scenes; she is both fresh as a flower, brought up in springtime, & as broken as skeletons that have long withered to dusk in their caskets. even in her most secluded moments, she does not feel alone – not truly. this puppet master is always watching, writing their script, judging her arches and how gracefully she can slide across the floor in her pointe shoes. when she takes her final bow, it’s only the studio mirror that gazes back at her, her own doelike brown eyes, her own slim form – there’s no cables attaching her to the ceiling.

this life is so very boring, so unlike the dreamy world she longed for as a foolish girl. i had long ruined my own life with my own dissatisfaction before someone else destroyed it for me.

viii.

longing lurks deep behind a golden - brown gaze / what comfort can she take in the jedi code, when it’s cold, hard … and ben’s hand is warm, all encompassing ? the code, the code … the temple is a stage, and the council pulls her strings, but the one thing they can’t take from her is her mind; in there, she is strong, stone. they encourage compassion: but no attachments. what is that, to her ? what is it compared to the sunlight she feels in ben’s eyes when he leans down to kiss her temple, or the delight serena can see in him when she enters the room ? ❪ because love is the death of duty, as wiser men say ❫ in many ways, she is greater than other girls; a doll - like padawan, bright, intelligent – but in the end, she is still human, and she finds no love within the code / only does she find the serenity it speaks of in ben’s embrace, and the way he bends over at the waist to hold her, and he is all around her like cologne. that is a glory & a tragedy worth dying for.

viii.

fear has always cut deep within serena’s soft skin; it was easy to pull her apart like a pomegranate, see the little pin - prick razors of fright, but nothing had made her so afraid since meeting the jedi. she’s a fragile heart wound tightly in red ribbons and strings, each tied to the pinkie finger of every person she loves. some of the ends are cut, some fray towards the latter, but she doesn’t forget. she doesn’t let go, not in her deep heart, where they are safe. the jedi don’t agree; and her body wracks with guilt as she resists placing ribbons on their fingers. they cannot love me, she knows / so why isn’t it enough to stop her ?

ix.

every part of my body aches. serena sits on the hard bathroom floor like a stain on the tile, the tulle of her practice skirt shimmering in the dim fluorescents. the plastic stall divider is freezing against her shoulders, and it hurts when her head falls back against it. the bathroom is empty, but the room is loud. DISGUSTING GIRL. IT HURTS. what hurts ? I CAN’T FIND IT ANYMORE, IT’S SPREAD LIKE A POISON. she finds sanctuary in her own little white lies, and this stall where none of the other ballerinas go – she’s a soloist, a prima; she is special. allegedly. she barely notices the wine - red trickle of blood that spills from her nose, gravity pulling it down her perfect pale face. the relief is nearly instant, whatever ache she’d had seems to fade away / her eyes hone in on the empty plastic bag, only remnants of white pill powder left. the same resin seems to linger on the tip of her pointe shoe, that she’d used to crush it all up. the urge to smash the wooden end of her slipper into the stupid godforsaken plastic container as hard as she can and see how much damage she can do washes over her; but she’s too shocked by the sudden violent urge to act on it. instead, serena lets the clarity & ability to focus drown out the voices that scream in her tender head, and brings herself to stand.

❪ 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐊 ❫

pink silk shimmers in the early morning sun; her blush is just as pretty, sitting across from her father at the iron balcony table. he is her king, her first love, and serena revels in the attention her father lavishes on her. everything is still so new, so beautiful, when she’s young – serena dreams of the future, of white veils and cotillions. her distance isn’t yet defensive, but a sweet daydream, of romantic notions & hopes. serena dreams of the far away, of paris and rushing crowds. you have the carlisle look, julian had told her, once. your brother has it too. someday, this world will be wrapped around your little finger. be kind to it. serena had smiled so lovely at that – let the world be kind. let it show her kindness.

xi.

❪ 𝐈𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐘 ❫

this is a private moment; but serena can feel the hidden camera lenses on her, seeking that million dollar photo of palpable grief, or the bullet hole in her father’s chest, as if it weren’t hidden from view behind his favorite suit. she won’t cry. serena had already emptied herself of every golden tear when she’d cleaned her father’s face, when she’d combed his hair. she was the one who’d laid his arms over his chest, with her favorite stuffed animal between them to keep him company. august pulls all her curls behind her head, and lays his hands on her thin shoulders, squeezing just enough to be a reassurance. a million questions ran through her head – every single one beginning with why.

her fingers drift, softly, for the last time, over her father’s cheek. she pretends it’s warm with life, and not chilling to the bone. if he could be killed, then no one is safe.

xii.

❪ 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐋 ❫

be kind to the world. serena’s innocence had died screaming, yet she still remembers the words her father had told her. sunlight streams through the trees above, but she is too stiff to move just yet; so she lies there in the grass, flowers having bloomed over the years of her sleep through her hair and around her body. a new era has begun, everything she knows is gone. everyone she loves is gone. maybe it’s the haziness of first waking up after a half - century, but there’s a determination beneath her silk skin, her ivory bones. serena has become something new, just as the world has – beneath the porcelain, her ribs have grown steel. she will not be so breakable ever again.

xiii.

in the movies, pearls are always being yanked from necks, the precious little beads clattering to the hardwood floor in bunches. serena allows the pretty necklace to drift through her fingers, remembering the time her mother had wrapped it around her neck. she’d felt like such a little madam in her maman’s pearls. there’s a little secret: those pearls in films, dramatic as they were, were fake. maman’s were genuine, and the little pieces were knotted in between, meaning even if she’d ripped them from her throat, only one or two at worst would go missing. her mother was too much of a lady, anyway … prone to melancholy and hurt, but not quite fits. what a complicated love, the one between a mother & a daughter … serena finds herself missing her mother’s arms more often than not these days, and the security that came with them.

xiv.

valentine’s day has always been a non - affair romantically; her favorites were dinner dates with her family, the men being the gentlemen, and the one day her maman would let her wear her red lipstick. the couples on the street below her balcony make her feel something, but is it jealousy, or nostalgia ? her palm cradles her jaw as she leans against the iron barrier. a man kisses a woman, and why does her heart lurch for something so impossible ? to love, to be loved … she would never be capable of it, her last boyfriend had told her so. adam had as well. anyone who would want to spend this day with her is dead, and no one else could accept the things she’d done, the person she’s become beneath the lace and ribbons. hallowed, broken.

xv.

i hate the dirt. i hate the grime that i can’t wash away, and the fingerprint i leave on the pristine envelope that the postman gives me, his gaze apologetic. until i look at the handwriting, i don’t understand why. it’s been a week since he could last reach us on the battlefield, to give us some form of comfort and relief, and he only gives me a single letter. there should be more. serena writes to me every day, there should be at least six or seven, all beginning with my dearest brother; but even the single letter isn’t from my sister, but my wife. i should be excited for that, but i’m not – not when i can’t fathom why there’s only this one letter. when i tear into it, a picture falls out: my wife, holding our son. this is a happy moment, and i can feel pressure build behind my eyes, but it’s distracted, because serena should be in this photo. she isn’t, because for some godforsaken reason she’s here in europe – and that’s enough to push the tears from my eyes. i should be there, and serena should be holding her nephew and accepting our request to be his godmother.

but she isn’t, and i’m not either.

xvi.

the streets of new york now aren’t so different from the streets of new york in my childhood. the fashion is different; women wear shorter skirts, deeper cuts to expose their collarbones, and these are changes i like. the buildings still creep into the clouds like pillars of divinity, and the sidewalks are crowded, but no one pays too much attention to anyone else. the men dress differently too, and those changes i don’t like, but if i sit and close my eyes … it’s still all the same, and i can picture the cars, the pretty women and handsome men … even my silly little girl friends, the ones who would walk with me during breaks in ballet when we had so little else to do. when i close my eyes, it doesn’t feel like a lifetime ago.

xvii.

it happens gradually, then all at once, like the impatience of waiting for a rose to blossom. one day you wake up, and it’s simply bloomed, petals spread wide in the sunshine. in that case, serena wonders which moment it was that made her realize her feelings for ben had flowered ── was it the time his fingers grazed hers on the piano keys, and he played the wrong note to make her laugh ? or perhaps when he smiled at her so earnestly, all white teeth and curled lips that met the crinkles by his eyes ? she can’t pinpoint the exact moment she realized she loves ben kenobi; serena only knows what she feels now, the safety of his warm hugs, the way the word ‘graves’ slips between her teeth and she doesn’t choke trying to reel it back in. home was something impossible, turned to ash & bone, but then she finds herself sitting at their table in the coffee shop & she thinks perhaps a home can be rebuilt.

xviii.

prayer used to come first thing in the morning, a mantra spoken breathlessly to open air. it’s not an ideology that serena subscribes to anymore ❪ part of her wonders if she ever did ❫ , but old habits had died hard. she wants to enjoy a new one. ben is there, barely awake while thick raindrops smack against the balcony doors, and serena shimmies his boxers down his thighs. she’s already asked him nicely, with her polite manners and pretty mouth ── and she tries to mask her eagerness with languid movements, laying her cheek to his hip and letting her long curls fall over his body. serena knows he can feel her by the way he shudders when her eyelashes flit over him, her rose - petal fingers everywhere and nowhere because they aren’t exactly where ben wants them. you should tell me what you like, serena offers with a wicked little smile, dragging his hand until he can grip her curls, holding sunshine in his palms.

xix.

when the legs beat against each other in the midst of a jete, it’s a battu jete … beaten. everything is more beautiful in french, and serena thinks it’s true of herself as well. she had been her company director’s little princess, sliding into his queen; she would’ve been the youngest prima ballerina in history. she would’ve had a life. she would’ve had a brother. orson does so much for her, and serena can hardly find it in herself to be grateful, can hardly repeat the pleasantries and manners she’d been taught to sing since she was a little girl letting words tumble from her mouth. instead, serena tries to create a peaceful world, she jumps at the chance to redesign the building he buys, create a setting of her own making; only to lay under the covers, sleeping next to a pillow she pretends is august.

xx.

disgusting. vile. serena watches august rip a newspaper in half, once, twice, then three times, letting the pieces fly onto the floor and cover the coffee table. the headline had once read about her, calling her a top three debutante in new york’s uppercrust society. not just in the top three, but ranked number one. shouldn’t we be proud ? serena asks him. shouldn’t i be flattered ? august had fallen to his knees in front of the chaise where she sat after that, holding her little hands in his own. he squeezes them so tight serena winces. tell me, he begs. tell me if anyone ever touches you. tell me, and i’ll kill them. with all the naivety in the world, serena giggles, shaking her head. nonsense, my darling brother. the only man i love is you; and the only man who shall ever touch me is not here yet.

xxi.

the sunlight doesn’t seem so bright, but the city is just as bustling as the last time she’d seen it. what year had that been ? somewhere around nineteen forty, serena thinks. her old ballet studio has moved; it’s previous location now just another parking lot in new york city. everything about it gives her whiplash. it’s all the same and all entirely different. she almost expects to see august across the street, handsome smile & hair swept back, but she knows she won’t. he’s dead, and so is everyone else she ever knew. there’s a pressure on her shoulders, wondering when someone will notice the imaginary blood seeping out of her core, or when someone will realize she’s half - dead. little walking dead girl, schrodinger’s girl, dead and alive.

xxii.

photographs from another era are spread all across the wooden table serena sits at, glimmering and shining in their black and white glory, sepia, and even a few colored ones. they all had a touch of grain to them, the consequence of new, unperfected technology, but serena adores them. after all, in every photo she sees the face of someone she loves. her grandfather royce, cradling the toddler version of herself in his arms, and then them at a later age, serena with her arms wrapped tightly around him. in another photo, serena sits in his lap, while her grandmother, the woman for whom she was named, hugs them both from behind. so many lost smiles, shining with no idea of what’s to come. her finger traces along another photo, of her mother posing with her in her first pair of pointe shoes. she’d been so proud that day, and serena can’t help but smile back at her. these little moments are all she has left now; what if she forgets it all someday ? at least she won’t forget their faces. serena glues the back of the photos, pasting them into a scrapbook. there are new people she doesn’t want to forget someday as well, and for them, serena glances at a newer camera. she doesn’t have to forget.

xxiii.

moy lebed. my swan. mr. nikolaev calls her that, from the first moment he saw her complete the thirty - two fouettés in odile’s coda. serena sighs into the open studio. the sky has long gone dark, and every other dancer and crew member has gone home — but she remains. this is the dedication that will make me the prima, serena reminds herself. this is what sets me apart. she counts the steps in her head until she loses herself to the imagined music, eyes closed while she moves her arms and tip - toes across the floor. serena is the very picture of a music box ballerina when she kicks her foot up, finding her north star and turning in pirouettes. not even the quiet opening of a door interrupts her focus. august takes her little waist in his hands and helps to give her the extra momentum. then he hoists her over his shoulder, telling her how mother is so worried, and she has to come home right away… all spoken with his hidden, wry smile.

xxiv.

i had never tried to impress anyone the way i’d tried to impress mr. nikolaev, my ballet master and choreographer. my every waking moment was spent under his scrutinizing gaze, attempting to dissect his utter dissatisfaction with the world for it’s lack of grace and beauty and what he felt towards me specifically … all in a leotard and tights that would only leave the color of my skin to our imaginations, and mirrors on every wall reminding me of that fact. i don’t know if i tried harder to gain his attention in the first place, or if i would have killed myself trying to keep it. no girl is ever more beautiful than they are at sixteen, and though i didn’t realize it, perhaps if i had lived to see him again in my later years he would’ve been impressed with my freckles, my dimples, and my big eyes at the age of twenty – i’ve heard i don’t look so different. still, i was even more girlish then than i am now, and three times as shy ; ballet was all i could use to get him to look at me, to make him pay attention & perhaps remember why he took this job in the first place after his own short, but famed career. i would be perfect ; not just for him, but for myself. it didn’t hurt anything that i was his little prima prodigy. he smiled for the first time when he called me his moy lebed, his swan, and i can’t remember the last thing, even now, that had made my heart soar so much.

xxv.

‘are you ready?’ on the cusp of spring in the midst of march, lies serena’s birthday. thirteen is such a special age for a girl ; not quite a woman yet, not quite a girl anymore, but leaving the throes of childhood behind. august’s question comes with an excited edge to his voice and a slim box in his hands, with pink wrapping paper and white ribbons. the other guests at the party had long dissipated, and serena sits on the edge of her bed, feet swinging back and forth to dissipate a bit of the thrill she feels. ‘i’ve been waiting all day!’ is what serena replies, taking the gift into her lap. her brother sits down next to her ; he’s twenty, seven years older, and a man grown, but it’s as if there’s no difference between them as august wraps his arm around her waist, matching brown eyes gleaming as he watches her carefully pry apart the paper to reveal a box of velvet. ‘it’s sentimental,’ august had said, as to why he couldn’t let her open it amongst the guests. private, serena thinks. her brother was always a private man. when she lifts the lid, and august uses his other hand to fold away the white paper, it reveals a precious, heart - shaped golden locket. he pulls it out by the chain, letting the pendent rest in serena’s palms. ‘it’s the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen,’ serena says, eyes glimmering. august’s fingers snap the clasp, and inside, a photo of himself on one side, and then a photo of their parents from their wedding day on the other. serena beams as august closes it then places the necklace around her neck, the pendent falling just at her collarbones. ‘it’s beautiful, my wonderful brother,’ she says, and august kisses her crown. ‘it’s almost as lovely as you, my sweet little sister, and you deserve lovely things. this way, we’ll always be with you.’

xxvi.

julian’s wedding band was like him ; it was a simple golden band, with ivy growing around it, interrupted only by a diagonal line of diamonds. when serena tilts it back, she can see her mother’s name engraved in it. eirene’s was a little flashier, with a bigger diamond in the center. it wasn’t because of her personality, though … in that, serena can still see her father, wanting to impress her, wanting to give his wife the world. julian’s ring occupies her left thumb ; she couldn’t bear to get it resized for her dainty hands, so it’s the best she could manage. he’d had a lithe frame, and for that she’s thankful – serena remembers sliding the ring off of his finger when she’d crossed his arms over his chest, holding it between her fingers. she had to have it. her mother had worn hers until the very last, until she had slipped from serena’s hand into the ocean’s embrace. serena had only been able to just clasp the ring, before it too could fall from her grasp. now, it rests on her index finger, where at least on her hands, her parents could still be together.

#◞ ⁽ ⠀ ♡ ⠀ ⁾ ⠀ ⠀ 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐔𝐄 ⠀ ⠀ —— ⠀ ⠀ the sweetest flowerets gleam.#◞ ⁽ ⠀ ♡ ⠀ ⁾ ⠀ ⠀ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄 ⠀ ⠀ —— ⠀ ⠀ may these memories break our fall.

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fanficwriter013 · 5 years ago

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The Tower: The Queen of Asgard - 10

The Tower: The Queen of Asgard An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 2355

Warnings: none

Synopsis: The twins are now three and while the Avengers know that Clint and Thor are the biological father’s none of them know or care which blond, blue-eyed baby is related to which man. When Riley gets the power to control wind and it becomes evident that she is the heir to the Asgardian throne, Elly, Steve, Thor, and Tony take the twins to Asgard to train her.

Not every Asgardian is happy with their king’s choice of consort, nor the impurity of the heir’s blood. While others expect Thor to make things more official. What’s clear is, the role of Queen of Asgard is not easily filled.

Author’s Note: Oops @avengerscompound

Chapter 10 - Before the Feast

After I’d napped with Thor we went out to wait for the others to arrive. Loki showed up first, fuming no one had come to tell her what had happened. She ranted at Thor for a while and then strode off in a huff, complaining about the fact that it was always up to her to get to the bottom of these things while Thor was whoring around.

Next, came the Warriors with Riley. They dropped her off exhausted and while her brother played quietly on the floor she fought sleep in Thor’s lap.

“If you put her to bed, she’ll probably just crash,” I said.

“She’s fine here,” Thor answered as he held her rubbing her back in circles.

I gave a small nod and let out a breath. “Hopefully they get back soon.”

“My ears are burning,” Tony said, striding into the room, followed by Steve. “Are you talking about us?”

“Hey. Did you have fun?” I asked.

“So much stuff,” Steve said.

“Oh, that’s great,” I said as Pietro toddled over to them with his arms up. “How about you come sit with us for a bit?”

Tony picked Pietro up and looked at Thor and I suspiciously. “What happened?”

“Come sit down first,” I said.

“Something happened,” Tony said. Steve gently touched the small of his back and nodded to where Thor and I were sitting. With a soft sigh, Tony came and sat down beside me.

I tapped my fingers against my wrist nervously, not sure how to proceed. I took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. “So, after I left you, that guard took me back to Loki. She was reading to the kids but Riley was going bonkers. So rather than stay and talk with her like I said, I asked the guard to take the two of us back here… because you know me.”

“And there’s something and that guard tried to kidnap Riley?” Steve asked.

I frowned and shook my head. “Not kidnap, and not just Riley.”

“He wanted you both?” Steve asked.

“I seduced the king and she’s the filthy half-breed in the way of the throne.”

“Excuse me?” Tony asked, sounding outraged.

“That’s what they said. I don’t think they had any intention of ransoming us.”

Tony got up and started pacing, still holding Piet, who was starting to sag against him. “And this was just allowed to happen?”

“I’m here aren’t I? Riley is sitting in Thor’s lap.”

“So this was allowed to half happen?”

I got up and approached him, rubbing his arms. “I wasn’t careful enough. I thought it was weird when I went from eight guards in formation to just one. I didn’t trust my instincts and I didn’t do what I said I was going to do. I should have just sucked it up with the shopping. So that guy insulted me? It’s not the first time that’s happened while I was shopping. I should have stayed in the group. And then I told you I would go and stay with Loki and I didn’t do that either. I let them isolate me and Riley.”

“No, Elly,” Steve said, gently. “It’s not your fault.”

“I still,” I sighed and collapsed back down on the couch. Steve wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. “Look. I know it isn’t. There were a lot of factors involved here. But it’s not Thor’s fault either. He was still watching. He arrived quickly. And now Loki is out for blood.”

“I assure you. This is being taken care of.” Thor said.

“My kid isn’t some filthy half-breed.” Tony snapped.

“No. She isn’t. And if you don’t think Loki, in particular, hasn’t jotted that particular phrase down so she can reign down some righteous fury, I don’t know what to tell you.” I said.

“I knew I should have gone and made that robot,” Tony said, mostly to himself. “Now it’s going to have to have weapons too. A robot guard.”

“We’re both okay. I promise.” I say.

“I have my friends on guard now until this is sorted out. I trust them with my life. You do not need to worry.” Thor assured us.

“Besides, whoever they were, they aren’t the norm. You saw what the general public has been like with us.” I said.

“No, it isn’t. They have been treating us like the chosen ones.” Steve agreed.

“See. So except for that little, not so little blip, we’re all fine and it’s going to be okay. Pietro had a really nice time with Loki. And look, Thor’s friends wore her out completely.” I say gesturing to Riley who had fallen asleep on Thor’s chest with her mouth open.

“So graceful,” Steve joked.

“The kids will be safe?” Tony asked.

“I guarantee it. I would not risk them.” Thor said.

“I don’t like this,” Tony muttered.

“What can we do to ease your mind? Should we change the subject?” I asked.

“Maybe,” Tony said, starting to pace again. Pietro’s head flopped as he fell into a deep sleep in Tony’s arms.

“How about you show me what you guys got?”

Steve went through the things they’d brought on their expedition. A set of ornate and perfectly balanced throwing knives for Natasha. A bow that was beautiful, light and yet had the heaviest draw strength I’d seen in a bow, and yet pulled easily, for Clint. A collection of rings and necklaces for Wanda that Steve said the vendor just kept adding more and more. For Bruce, there was a set of what looked like scientific instruments and for Bucky, an Asgardian puzzle cube that Thor said was called a Vanigler. The most amazing thing though was a bag that one vendor had given them to carry everything that seemed to hold its own pocket dimension. You could fit as much as you wanted into it and it got no bigger or heavier.

We put the babies to bed and not much later some attendants came to get us ready for the feast. I was taken to a large bath by two female attendants. It was white marble and the size of a small pool, and so warm that steam came off the surface. They scrubbed me down and washed my hair. When I got out they rubbed scented oils into my skin, did my makeup and hair and dressed me. The dress was stunning. Floaty robes in champagne that had a long slit up one leg. Over the bodice was a gold breastplate with black scrollwork.

I came out to find Steve and Thor dressed in very similar armor. Thor’s was black and silver with a red cape, while Steve’s was silver and navy blue. Tony was wearing one of his two-piece Burberry suits in black.

“Well, would you look at all of you,” I said. “Don’t you all look handsome.”

“You look stunning, El,” Steve said.

The door to the children’s room opened and Sif came out with both the children who were wearing white robes with gold ropes holding them together. Riley had a bracelet on from home that was made of plastic rainbow beads on a piece of elastic.

“Wow, look at you two,” I said as Riley bounced excitedly at Sif’s side.

Tony came over to them both and crouched down. “Look at my precious little man.” He said tickling his side. “And the little princess.”

“My warriors!” Thor said proudly.

“I wanna be a wawwia,” Riley said bouncing over to him.

“When you are older,” Thor said, picking her up. “Are we ready?”

“I think so.” Steve agreed.

We were led down the halls to where the feast was set to be held. As the sounds of people talking and celebrating got louder Loki came striding down the hall. He had shifted genders in the meantime and was in his full regalia of green and gold with his horned helmet.

“Brother!” He said, sounding angry and agitated. “Did your council advise you what was going to happen at this feast?”

Thor looked at Loki confused. “They said it was just to announce the heir and my consorts.”

“They have the stage set for a bonding ceremony,” Loki said. “There is a high priest waiting.”

Thor laughed. “You jest brother.”

“I do not,” Loki said. “They think you have remained unattached too long and now there is an heir you must bond. They intend to force it.”

“What do you mean bonded?” Steve asked.

“It is like your Earth custom of marriage,” Thor said.

Tony shifted nervously and Steve seemed to freeze. “We can’t. We can’t do that without the others.”

“They are saying if you cannot adhere to Asgardian customs you are not fit to rule,” Loki said. “Of course, that leaves me in charge, so if you’d like to back out.”

Thor turned to us and gave Riley to Steve. “Wait here. I shall go and figure this out.”

He strode off leaving us with Loki, Sif and the warriors.

“You should prepare to do this if you care for him,” Loki said, sounding slightly more concerned than he normally did. Pietro started reaching for him and Tony handed the little boy over. Pietro immediately scaled up onto Loki’s shoulders and rested his chin on his uncle’s head, his little face poking out between the horns.

“Just me, or all of us?” I asked. My stomach had started to churn and I was feeling a very powerful desire to vomit all over him.

“They have prepared for all three, but any one of you will do,” Loki replied.

I looked at Steve. “I don’t want to do this without the others at least knowing what’s happening. It’s not fair on them. I’ll do it though if it protects Thor. But you, you can’t do this without Bucky. If Thor can’t get them to change his mind, you can’t do this.”

Steve nodded. “I know.” He said and took my hand. “I would marry you, El. You know that right?”

I nodded and tears pricked my eyes. “It has to be with him here at least.”

“Thank you.” He said softly and kissed my cheek.

“Don’t sweat it. It’s probably just chuckles here stirring the pot.” Tony said.

“Watch yourself, Stark. Everyone else here might care that you’re a consort, but I don’t.” Loki sneered, pulling himself up straight like he was about to fight.

“Can we please not fight right now?” I said. “What about you Tony? Can you do this? Because that’s my main issue. The others should at least be witness to it. But I’m the spare. No one is particularly going to be more upset they aren’t here for this. They’ll understand. You think Bruce will understand.”

“El,” Tony said taking my hand.

“No, it’s okay. I’m not saying that like it’s a bad thing, you each have your special person.” I said. “I’m loved on pretty hard by all of you.”

He came closer to me and looked me in the eye. “El, I love Bruce. And you’re right, he is special to me. But if you’re gonna say there’s a special person for each of us, that’s you, honey.”

I swallowed thickly. That had never really occurred to me before given that I’d come in last and sometimes it was just about impossible to pull Bruce and Tony apart from each other. But, even though Tony had in the past hurt me more than anyone else had ever hurt me, he was in the group because of me. I leaned in and kissed him and he pulled me a little closer to him. “I’ll do this with you if that’s what you want.” He whispered.

We stood around waiting, speculating on why this was happening and what it actually meant. After what felt like hours but was probably only twenty minutes, Riley picked her head up from Steve’s chest and pointed. “Daddy!”

Thor emerged from around the corner looking defeated.

“They’re forcing it?” Steve asked.

“I was able to delay it. But they insist.” Thor said. “We have a week to come to an agreement between us and plan the ceremony properly. Would the others come if I sent for them?”

I nodded. “I think so. Did you want to do this with all of us?”

“I would prefer not to have my hand forced.” He said. “This should have been something I got to come to in my own time.”

I came over and wrapped my arms around his waist. “I’m sorry they’re putting you in this position. I’ll do this with you though. You don’t have to worry about us letting you down.”

“Thank you for understanding, Lady Elise.” He said sagging against me a little.

“Are we still going in?” Tony asked.

“You will be expected to show,” Loki said.

Thor huffed and his hand opened and closed on my back.

“You otay, daddy?” Pietro asked.

“You wanna doe home?” Riley added.

Thor smiled sadly at them and didn’t say anything. I looked up at him and caressed his jaw. “Did you want to go?”

“Go where?” Thor asked.

“Anywhere. Back to our rooms. Back to Earth. Away from here and the feast.”

He sighed. “You know I can’t do that.”

I leaned against him, gently stroking the back of his neck. “Someone attempted to murder your daughter today. You could say she is too shaken for a public event. That you are still concerned about her safety.”

“It would definitely be better to keep her guarded at the moment,” Sif said.

Thor thought for a moment. “Okay. We call it off.” He turned to Sif. “Thank you. Can you handle that?”

She bowed and jogged off down the hall.

“So where to?” Steve asked.

“Back to the rooms. I’ll have food bought up.” Thor said.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Steve said. “We can still have a party for the kids, and then… we’ll talk.”

Thor gave a sharp nod and we all turned and began our trek back to our chambers, completely unaware exactly what I’d just agreed to.

// NEXT

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captainsassmanes · 5 years ago

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I Sleep to Dream

Read here on A03

The first time Alex had a dream, he was fourteen.

It had been a particularly rough night at the Manes house; two of the boys having to stand outside in the rain holding bricks for an hour after not finishing their dinner. Alex had come back inside, shivering and furious, desperate to run away and completely aware that he didn’t have the means to.

He’d grabbed a towel from the bathroom and dried himself off as best he could with shaking hands, throwing on the warmest pajamas he owned. That hadn’t been the worst punishment he’d ever received from his dad, but it felt different tonight. It felt more personal.

And it left him feeling vulnerable.

As he laid in bed, watching red, neon numbers slowly tick the night by, the tears slid out and fell down his cheek. Eventually, exhaustion took him.

But it took him to the most beautiful place he’d ever seen.

He was in what he could only describe as a palace. It was all glass, with gold trim and marble floors. Everything looked regal and grand but warm and somehow welcoming. A loud noise broke through the silence, scaring him into hiding behind a sculpture he had practically knocked over. On his left, a group of soldiers appeared. They didn’t appear to be carrying any weapons, but they dressed in golden armor matching that of the great room. On his right, a door swung open, at least ten stunning people entered, dressed in clothing that seemed to be moving for each person, complimenting their bodies completely.

Two people stood on top of a dais, a tall man with a golden crown and a statuesque woman, blonde hair to her waist and glowing flowers decorating her hair. With a nod of the woman’s head, the army yelled out in unison and split down the middle. Between the two groups, a man appeared who had Alex practically walking out to the middle of the room for a closer look.

He wore a helmet, golden of course, that wrapped around his forehead and down his jaw. His armor was similar to the other soldiers, the exception being the inscriptions on the torso, a language Alex didn’t recognize.

“My brother,” the crowned man announced with open arms. After a quick embrace, the two men separated, allowing the regal woman to step forward. She brought long fingers under the warrior’s chin and lifted his head up. “Did you find what you were looking for, Commander?”

With a quiet laugh, the man removed his helmet, revealing curls and the most remarkable eyes Alex had ever seen. The man’s jaw was sharp, and his mouth held humor despite the power he clearly possessed.

The man smiled and looked directly at Alex who stopped breathing.

“I did.”

*******

A few years later, when Alex meets Michael Guerin and his siblings, he runs away.

Not so much running as walking quickly and trying not to panic.

Later, when Maria and Liz questioned him about what happened, he made up some bullshit story about having a stomachache and going home early.

He had no idea what he was supposed to say.

That’s the man I’ve dreamed of? I saw them in my dreams? I think they’re royalty?

He’d sound like a lunatic.

So, he did the most logical thing he could. He avoided all three of them at all costs.

Until he couldn’t.

“Alex, right?”

He closed his eyes tight and kept walking, praying he wouldn’t walk into anything and that he wouldn’t pass out.

“Alex, wait!”

Trapped, he stopped and took deliberate, deep breaths. He turned slowly, brows furrowed and heart racing.

“Hi. I’m Michael. Guerin. I’m in your chem class.”

Alex nodded with a small smile as he tried to inconspicuously avert his gaze. Every time he caught sight of those hazel eyes and free curls, he pictured a man draped in gold, chest puffed in pride, a look that saw right through him.

“Um, anyway,” Michael cleared his throat and Alex wondered how long his mind had wandered as he stood in front of his literal dream man. “Your friend, Liz, suggested I talk with you about getting some notes for class. I’m a little behind since we came in late.”

With shaking hands, Alex twisted his backpack to his front and dug for the notebook he needed. “Here you go,” Alex said as evenly as he could.

Michael smiled, taking the notebook and Alex’s heart with it. “Thanks, man. I really appreciate it. I hate feeling lost.”

Alex made a sound of agreement. “I get that.”

He looked up through his lashes and found Michael staring at him, head tilted slightly in puzzlement. Quickly shoving his backpack into place, he smiled and said, “see ya around,” and practically jogged out of the school.

****

That night he was brought back into the golden world. This time he found himself in a bedroom, ornate and, he thought boldly, a bit gaudy. A huge bed with soft linens and far too many pillows were the focal point of the room. Large windows looked over what appeared to be a lake but offered waves like the ocean in a stunning teal blue. A fire roared in a marble-like fireplace but, from his quick glance, Alex saw nothing that should make it glow.

The large door opened suddenly, and Alex threw himself behind a curtain, holding his breath. Michael had entered with a sigh, looking tired and worn. Alex was overwhelmed with the desire to take care of him; wash off the day, remove his uniform, rub sore muscles into comfort. He brought his hand to his throat and swallowed, concerned about how dry he suddenly felt.

Michael sat at the end of the bed and removed what appeared to be a gold crown. He held it in his hands for a while, moving it this way than that, before shaking his head and placing it beside him. With a groan he stood and moved to a large mirror hanging on the wall. Slowly, he removed his clothing; a gold and white jacket that seemed to glow wherever Michael touched it and matching pants. His large black boots, something Alex thought looked something like he would wear back in Roswell, looked odd with the outfit but he assumed was mostly practical.

Alex realized, a bit late, that he was watching Michael take his clothes off in the privacy of his bedroom. He closed his eyes, praying to the sleep gods that he’d wake up, when a soft, heartbreaking sound forced his eyes open. Michael had moved to the edge of the bed, beautiful covers thrown to the side as though he’d intended to rest, but he held his head in his hands, fingers curling tightly in his hair, and sobbed.

Without his permission, his feet began to move. He was so drawn to this man, this king, or God, he couldn’t stop himself. Wondering briefly if he was even real in this world, he reached out a shaking hand to place softly on Michael’s damp cheek.

Without looking up, Michael moved his hand to cover Alex’s, leaning into the comfort he brought. After a moment, he twisted his head to place a kiss to Alex’s palm. Michael’s hand felt strong and rough from, what he imagined, were many battles fought, and hopefully won. In this moment, he wanted nothing more than to hold Michael close and whisper reassurances and love.

Michael stood slowly while Alex froze in awe.

Michael was so beautiful.

Hands came to cradle Alex’s face while Michael rested his forehead against Alex’s, his eyes closing in comfort.

“You’re my light. You’ve always been my light.” He lifted his head and smiled sadly at Alex. “Please don’t leave me in the dark.”

******

Alex was most definitely no longer avoiding Michael. He walked around each day with the ghost of Michael’s touch on his face, his breath caressing his cheeks. Michael’s words reverberated around his head day in and day out. He found himself looking for any excuse to be in Michael’s presence, across a room, standing a few people behind him in the cafeteria, timing his exits just right to bump into him in the hallway.

Alex’s fear and confusion over who Michael was and why he had dreamed of him had morphed into an overwhelming need to be near him.

To his frustration, Michael didn’t seem to notice. Outside of a few meager attempts at small talk, Alex had felt unseen.

It was a dreary Wednesday morning following a particularly challenging Tuesday night at home. He had put on some of Liz’s concealer trying to cover the darkening bruise around his eye, his friend tearing up as she kept repeating, “it’s too dark. It doesn’t match.” He gave her a hug and a kiss to the head, providing the reassurance he wished he had.

Standing at his locker, a picture of Brendon Urie staring back at him, he heard Kyle’s voice before he saw him and tensed in preparation. Alex vividly remembered his adventures with Kyle; tree forts and getting lost in the woods, campfires and scary stories. He adored Kyle, looked up to him. His friend had always been so kind. Any animal that was hurt, any tears Alex spilt after his brothers pushed him around, the panic he felt when his mom left, Kyle was there with a soft voice and kind words, always knowing what to do.

Then puberty hit and Kyle’s growing need to be accepted outweighed his friendship with Alex. His gay friend, Alex.

Now, as he closed his eyes and waited for the abuse to begin, he thought of the Michael from his dreams. Strong and brave, he’d keep him safe from the bullshit.

Someone would care about him.

“Nice outfit, Manes. Only one you own?”

He stood up straight, shoulders back and chin raised. His bravado dropped when he found Kyle wasn’t alone. About four of his jock strap buddies were standing behind him, laughing and smirking while they shared their one remaining brain cell.

Today, Alex decided, was not a good day for a fight. A throb in his eye reminded him that he’d seen his fair share of violence over the last twenty-four hours; he could use a break. Silently, he closed his locker and tossed his backpack over his shoulder.

One minute he was walking forward, the next he was being pulled back and thrown onto the floor. As the five assholes stared him down, he realized with horror, that he was on the verge of tears. He couldn’t understand why people couldn’t just leave him alone. For years he longed to be seen, for someone to notice him and care about him. Now, he just wanted to vanish into the scuffed, dirty tile.

“Hey. Hey!”

Alex had shut his eyes as he waited for the first kick to come but, when he opened them, his curly haired angel kneeled next to him with concern on his face. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

Alex looked around, confused but relieved. The group of boys had scattered, Michael was kneeling next to him trying to get him to sit up and Isobel and Max Evans were leaning casually against the nearest set of lockers, watching closely.

Without taking his eyes off Michael, Alex shook his head. “No, I’m okay. Thanks.”

Michael smiled and helped him stand.

Brushing away the crap he’d gotten on his clothes, Alex tried to think of something to say. He hadn’t been this close to Michael in a while and found himself breathing a little easier with the safety he felt.

“I think we should talk. Away from school.”

Alex nodded, falling defenselessly into the stunning hazel staring at him.

With a smile and a nod, Michael said, “meet me at the UFO Emporium at 6, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Before he walked away, Michael took Alex’s hand in his and squeezed gently. Alex watched him go, his siblings taking up the rear like they were used to moving in formation.

Alex’s hand felt warm, a tingling sensation radiating slowly from his fingertips into his wrist and then on to his forearm. When he looked down, he was glowing, a subtle shade of orange. His heart raced as excitement flooded him.

Time for answers.

******

It was 4:30 when Alex arrived at the Emporium. He’d gotten home after school, all nerves and adrenaline, which immediately caught his father’s attention. Before he had to answer any questions or simply annoyed Jesse with his presence, Alex had headed right back out.

He let his mind wander as he sat on the warm pavement, feet in front of him knocking a stone around. What did Michael want to talk to him about? Was he having dreams, too? Were they the same? Or was Alex some kind of king in his dreams? What about the glowing? Had Michael felt that, too?

What the fuck did it all mean?

He grabbed a granola bar from his backpack and started snacking, feeling a little nauseous from the rapid-fire thoughts.

“Hey.”’

Coughing, Alex looked up at an apologetic Michael, haloed by the sun setting behind him. He’d never looked more beautiful.

Once he gained his breath and swallowed the offending bite, he whispered a, “hey” in return and stood up.

Indicating the doors with his head, Michael headed inside the building, hands buried in his jean pockets. Alex took another deep breath, refusing to acknowledge how shaky it was, and followed him in.

They stood together in one of the display rooms, a geo exhibit featuring moon rocks and alien debris. Alex rolled his eyes, banking on the fossils being a bunch of plastic shit behind well lit glass.

He was beginning to feel more nervous and unsure of where this conversation would lead. The doubt was slamming into him in waves; this could have absolutely nothing to do with the dreams or the weird, glowing hand magic. Maybe he was just losing his damn mind.

Before he passed out, Alex cleared his throat and started with the benign. “So, uh, thanks again for earlier. I’m sure I would have—”

“Have you had some odd dreams, Alex?”

With his mouth still open, Alex nodded. Michael sighed and ran his hands through his hair, turning so his back was to Alex.

“You glow.”

With a raised eyebrow, Michael looked over his shoulder. “Excuse me?”

Feeling a spark of confidence, Alex stepped forward. “When you touched me earlier. My skin turned orange. Well, like an orange, yellow type color. But I glowed.”

“Fuck.”

Michael looked disappointed and Alex’s stomach sank. He didn’t want to make Michael upset. He’d felt nothing but an aching desire to make him happy for weeks now even though he stamped it down as best he could.

“I’m sorry, Michael.”

Seemingly confused, Michael asked, “for what?”

Alex shrugged, looking toward the exit and wondering if Liz would let him sleep over tonight so he didn’t have to be alone. “I just didn’t mean to upset you.”

“This is just so complicated, Alex.”

A fluorescent light buzzed, and a clock ticked from another room. Through his doubts and confusion, Alex had accidentally held onto hope; hope that the dreams actually meant something, that he meant something. That hope vanished with the slope of Michael’s shoulders and the way his gaze stayed focused on the floor.

He fished out his phone from his back pocket and headed dejectedly for the exit, pulling up a message for Liz when a hand on his backpack held him in place.

He bit his lip, angry with himself for getting emotional. Alex shook his head and said, “just let me go, Guerin. I clearly misunderstood, okay?”

But when he glanced over his shoulder to try shaking off Michael’s hold, he found that the other boy hadn’t shifted at all; he remained in the exact same spot.

“Wh-what?”

Walking forward with his head held high and shoulders back, Michael radiated a confidence he had never outwardly shown. In this world, anyway.

“Are you afraid of me, Alex?”

Shifting his weight to test if the hold was still in place and discovering its grip gone, he turned and shook his head.

“No.”

“If I told you the dreams are real? Are memories? My memories?”

Alex searched his eyes, looking for a lie but came up with nothing. Feigning calm, he shrugged. “I’d have a lot of questions.”

“And what if,” Michael stepped in so close they were chest to chest, Alex resisting the urge to simply fall into him, “what if I told you that there’s a reason you’ve been having those dreams?”

He thought about it and smiled, feeling nothing but warmth and kindness roll off Michael. The warrior Alex saw in his dreams stood before him, but he wasn’t intimidated. He felt at peace.

A shaking hand reached out and took hold of Michael’s, his thumb moving gently over the rough skin. Together, their hands came to life, a new variety of colors dancing across their skin and spreading up their arms.

Their eyes met and Michael’s smile left Alex weak. He leaned in, resting his forehead against Alex’s. “Where I’m from, this is only possible once in a lifetime. With only one other.”

Alex wrapped his arms around Michael’s waist as Michael’s nails scratched comforting patterns into his scalp.

“I’m your light.”

With a sigh and a mutual feeling of returning home, Michael nodded.

“And I’m yours.”

#Roswell New Mexico #malex #malex fic #soulmate au #angst and fluff #teenage years #edited a bit

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sighingstarbeam · 5 years ago

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Spies and Gods - Chapter 10

Summary: You and Loki head out on a night on the town. But you need to make a pit stop along the way.

Word Count: 3,245

A/N: It's finally here! I'm finished with my classes and I have some time to write. With everything going on in the world right now, I'll try my best to upload more chapters, hopefully I can pry one out every week and get a schedule up and going. Thanks for the patience and stay safe!

Chapter 9 | Chapter 11

The next hour you debated if your decision was right. Your mind kept weighing the polar opposite options yet you put on your makeup as if you already made your choice. Every time you thought about going back to Loki’s room and calling the deal off you lingered to how you deserved a night out with your friends, even if Loki was in the background. On the other hand, when you thought about how much you wanted to leave the facility, what would happen if you got caught? New York was big, yes, and you never told anyone which nightclub you were going to specifically as there were hundreds just in the city alone, but if someone saw you leave and grew suspicious who’s to say what would happen? So many scenarios scattered in your brain. That person would rat you out to the team, they’d shun you for the rest of your life, Tony would kick you out immediately, he would second guess why he let you stay in the first place, which was something you never quite fully understood. If worse came to worse, you could always move back in with Lilly and Maya. But what if they thought you abandoned them? You didn’t mean to. In fact, you were forced to leave your current living situation. They wouldn’t lea- Before your headache could grow any larger, you heard a knock on your bathroom door. Your breath hitched when a familiar voice spoke up, “It’s me,” Tony said, “I’m sorry about before, but we really need you to do this. We’ll celebrate with a restaurant, your choice, just us two to get to know each other. Maybe Pepper. No, not Pepper.” You could practically hear his head rushing with what he was trying to spit out as he hesitated, “What I’m trying to say is we’re heading out. Don’t let Loki… Honestly don’t let him do anything but breathe and blink. Steve and his squad should be back tomorrow from their mission. Hang tight until then.” You didn’t say anything, you were processing the fact that Tony actually said the words “I’m sorry” to you. On top of that he wanted to take you out to dinner and have a real conversation. Not just the chats you have in the lab about his works, but about both of your lives, something you have secretly been yearning since day one. “O-Okay.” You stammered, careful not to burn yourself on the curling rod, “See you later.” Great, now you’ll feel some guilt for sneaking out. To be fair, it was Tony’s own fault for not letting you live your life. About an hour later you were dolled up in makeup and a form fitting maroon dress with off shoulder sleeves that Maya helped you pick out a few months back. It was already 8:00 and you promised you’d arrive at that time. You quickly texted Maya and Lilly that you were heading out and you had to “pick up a friend”. Speaking of which, you needed to tell Loki you were ready. Peeking your head out of your door, purse in hand, you checked the hall if anyone was around. Your heels clacked on the linoleum tile as you crossed the few feet to Loki’s door. You knocked sharply, waiting for him to emerge. A part of you wanted him to not answer, for him to end his own deal so you could have a reason to stay home. Or you could leave him alone and go by yourself and deal with the repercussions later. Well, somebody was listening and decided to pull a joke on you as Loki opened the door. You would’ve noticed him looking at you surprised by how you were dressed if it weren’t for the fact that you were too distracted by his attire. He went with his usual Asgardian wear of green, gold, and black leather outfitted with actual gold bands. “What are you wearing?” You asked. “What do you mean?” Loki questioned. “We’re going to a party in a club, not a renaissance fair.” Loki was taken aback from your comment, “I am dressed for a party. In Asgard this was standard attire for events our family held.” You rubbed the bridge of your nose out of frustration, “You’re on Earth now. You got to own something like a suit.” In almost an instant a shimmer of gold surrounded his head as a helmet with long horns manifested on Loki’s head, “How is this?” He mused. You crossed your arms, “If you can do that, you can illusion yourself human clothes.” Loki stared you down, then sighed rolling his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t win this situation. The golden shimmer surrounded him as he changed into the black suit he wore on the first day you saw him. “This should suffice, but know this; ” He leaned in, a little too close for comfort, before hissing his next words, “this night will not grant you permission to treat me like a cornered dog. Just because this is your planet does not give you access to order me whenever you please. I am a god in this realm- and for a moment your divine ruler.” You resisted the urge to step back from his proximity, for doing so would only pin you against the wall. Instead you stood your ground, trying to match the intensity of Loki’s glare. “If you say so. But if you do anything that raises any red flags while we’re out, I won’t hesitate to drag your ass back here early.” You pulled your phone out, it was a few minutes after you were supposed to meet up, plus you needed to pick up a gift. “We gotta go. Does the divine ruler want to stop for some fast food on the way?” You asked sarcastically. Loki’s manner transitioned from his intimidating look to amused as he let out a soft chuckle.

___

Getting to the garage was a lot easier than you expected. With practically everyone gone nobody saw you and Loki made it to the rows of cars that were perfectly lined up. When you were first moving in Tony explained to you that most of the vehicles had keys hung up accordingly on a grid wall. Most of that conversation he mostly bragged that at least three-quarters of the cars belonged to him personally, which at least gave you a wide variety to choose from. “Got a preference?” You asked Loki, perusing the key selections. Loki looked back at the cars with a sour look, “Please tell me we are not driving any of those.” You were bemused at his remark, “What’s wrong with them? I mean, sure they’re a bit pretentious like that Ferrari- and those other two Ferrari's… but there are a few cool ones we could borrow.” You scanned the row, a black car caught your eye. “How about this Tesla? I heard they’re pretty cool.” Part of you knew that taking a car that glamorous would catch a few eyes, but if you were going to break the rules might as well go all the way in style. “Whatever you think is best.” Loki responded, “Personally I would never be caught dead in any of these, but if this is the only mode of transportation, then it will be adequate for the night.” No matter what you said to the man you could never seem to satisfy him, even if it was for a moment. You plucked the key from the slot and the two of you made your way to the sleek Tesla. Simultaneously you both entered the car. When you turned the key in the ignition you expected the screen in the dashboard to show different selections, except you were greeted by the display illuminating a video of a lit fireplace. A wave of warmth flooded the car as if the fire actually gave out heat from the heating system. The speakers blasted a funky tune of smooth jazz music, and without warning both yours and Loki’s seat reclined backwards. “Well well well, I didn’t realize this was your true intention for the night.” said Loki, showing off a wicked grin. “If you wanted to go a different route, we could have stayed upstairs.” “What? No! I didn’t-” Your face went beet red. You shot up away from the reclined seat when you tried to fiddle with the controls. After a few buttons pressed and smacks on the screens the fireplace video and heat turned off as well as the music. You readjusted your seat before selecting the maps to enter in the location of the club. God I hope they cleaned in here before we got here. You thought to yourself. “We’re never going to talk about this again.” You only heard a chuckle from the god next to you, your heart was beating out of your chest. Why was it doing that? Maybe it was because you were still in shock by the unexpected romance mode the car was set to. Yes, that was it.

___

Driving in downtown New York at night always brought a sense of surrealistic peace to you. The way the lights lit the structures in the distance, the ambiance, the shadows bent in contrast, everything melded together perfectly. You have only lived in New York for less than a year, but you would consider it to be one of the only few places you enjoyed residing in. After the incident in 2012, you fled as far as you could until you reached Maine. For a year it was your shelter, then Pennsylvania for six months, then Vermont for two years, and so on. You jumped from state to state in the northeast area for five years. For even longer you knew that Tony could be your biological father. At any time you could have gone to Stark Tower, to follow the only lead you had read once in a file years ago. Yet you didn’t. Instead you hid from the past of who you were and what you were forced to do. If it wasn’t for the voice in the back at your head screaming you would have left the country the second you had the chance. When you finally had enough of the voice there was only one remedy you knew that could soothe the coarse yells that have been echoing in your ears. The moment you stepped foot in front of the tower, the voice ceased. Now you wished there was another voice to tell you what to do now. Originally your plan was to leave the country, perhaps Paris, find a cozy cottage on the outskirts of town away from the population. Maybe get a cat or two, maybe a bird. The point was to finally be free and forget the past, to finally be alone. But there was a tug in a different direction. The direction that kept you with your friends, Maya and Lilly. A chance to be part of a family with the Avengers, who’s trust you have gained from most of the team the near two months you’ve been there. Even Bucky was slowly starting to initiate conversations with you. Even with the new, unexpected life that was thrown your way, making the decision to leave it behind or stick with it was a sea of voice in your mind. For tonight however, you were going to drown out the voices with liquor, loud EDM, and dancing. All of course while keeping an eye on the Asgardian prince. Speaking of which, you thought that he has most likely never been to an earthling party. “So…” you droned out, Loki’s gaze still out the window, “I’m sure you probably haven’t been to a club on Earth before, so I’m giving you a heads up that this is going to be different than whatever parties you’re used to.” Loki cocked an eyebrow, finally turning his head to you, “And what parties would that be?” “I don’t know. I thought it was more like royal stuff with balls and fancy dresses.” Considering he was a prince and the stories Thor told you about Asgard (not to mention Thor and Loki’s choice of fashion and speech), you only assumed Loki had only been to medieval like parties. Loki smirked, almost as if he was reminiscing about the memories, “We did have parties similar to those on Asgard. However I have observed and even participated in Midgardian-like events.” “Oh yeah? When was the last time you partied or to put it in simpler terms, ‘go out’?” Loki thought for a moment, “The most recent I recall was on Sakaar. True the ruler was a clueless sociopath who wanted everything his way, but he did throw marvelous events.” “He sounds like somebody I know.” You teased, not getting a very positive response from Loki. You changed the subject before an awkward silence could interfere, “We need to make a pit stop before we get to the club.” “What for?” “I didn’t have time to get my friend a gift.” It was only five minutes later when you got to the store Lilly loved. It was a small spiritual shop that sold crystals, candles, all sorts of things that Lilly had interest in. She’s a self-proclaimed witch, which didn’t bother you, except for certain incense she burned that filled the entire apartment, nearly setting the smoke alarm off. Hopefully they sold something that Lilly would like and didn’t have. You turned off the car and unbuckled when you noticed Loki wasn’t moving, “Come on, I’m not leaving you alone.” Loki gave an annoyed look, but quietly obeyed and exited the car. The store was small but had a lot of aisles to peruse. You and Loki definitely were out of place, with it’s dark wood floor and even darker concrete walls. Actually, with Loki’s black suit and demeanor he could fit right in. But you were only there for five minutes tops, not wanting to waste any more time. Going through each aisle you took note of what Lilly would enjoy. Most of the items you knew she already had, except for a few mugs that were cheesy like “Witch Please” or “Witches Be Crazy”. The first thing you needed to do was pick out a birthday card, which thankfully the store had a small display on the side. While reading through the cheesy ones, you settled on a card that had a cat on the cover, but had a thoughtful message on the inside. Looking over to Loki, you found him perplexed at not only the greeting cards, but the general atmosphere of the store. “So this friend, she actually is a witch?” “Yeah, but she doesn’t practice a lot of spells. She mostly does tarot cards and sage burnings.” You didn’t fully understand her lifestyle, but you respected it nonetheless. Loki furrowed his brows before continuing down the aisles. After finding Lilly’s card, you skimmed down the aisle until a book caught your eye. The title read: 101 Love Spells to Spice up Your Relationship. You picked up the book, examining the cover and flipped through a few of the pages, taking notice of the more sensual spells. You actually considered buying it as a joke, until a familiar voice rang in your ear. “I didn’t realize Midgard had spell books, especially of the sultry design.” You jumped from the sudden lack of personal space. Loki was leaning towards your ear, observing the book from your hand. “I’m not buying it.” You blurted, taking a step away that ended more like a shuffle, “I mean, this is just a gag book. I wasn’t actually considering it.” If only you had a mirror to prove to yourself your face was red. You tossed the book back onto the shelf with a thud. Next to it was another book, Spells For Self Care. Flipping through the pages this was the perfect book for Lilly. D.I.Y. organic face masks, spells to calm your mind, even some advice on how to deal with stressful energies. You tucked the book under your arm along with the card, “Let’s get out of here,” you said to Loki, determined for you and him to forget about the conversation prior. The two of you checked out the items along with a gift bag and some colorful tissue paper. You were in there a little over five minutes, but you would still make it to the club in time. The drive was short, but the silence made it feel longer. You didn’t know what to talk about to a literal demigod, and small talk wasn’t your forte in the first place. If it weren’t for the traffic you would speed just a bit faster to get to the club even sooner. What else could you talk about with Loki? So what’s your favorite color? Your hopes and dreams? If you had to marry, kill, or f- “Y/N?” Loki asked. “Hm?” You were so lost in thought you didn’t realize you arrived. “Oh, yeah I’m just looking for a spot.” You pulled into a parking garage a few blocks away. The only space you could squeeze into was on the third story, and just your luck the elevator was out of service, forcing the two of you to walk down the concrete stairs in your heels. When you finally made it to the front of the club, the line wasn’t extremely long, but you remembered Maya saying something about telling the bouncer your name and you were in Lilly’s party. So just as Maya said, the bouncer pulled away the velvet rope, but not before asking about Loki. “He’s with me.” You stated. The bouncer gave a questioning glare, but let him through as well. Before you opened the doors to the club itself, you pulled Loki aside in the lounge. “Before we go in, there are a few ground rules.” Loki rolled his eyes, “I thought we already settled those earlier.” “Yes and no. First off, you’re not allowed out of my sight. If I need to go to the bathroom, my friends are in charge of you. Second, don’t try anything funny. Thor told me you like to play tricks, but not tonight. Are we clear?” He grinned ear to ear, placing his hand on his chest, “I give you my word I will not play a trick on your friends.” “Great.” You nodded, averting your gaze, “And one question, do you think anybody will recognize you?” Loki’s grin slowly faded as he tilted his head, “What do you mean?” “Your reputation isn’t exactly… favorable. I don’t know how much you made the news.” “You didn’t know who I was when we first met.” He had a point, you were a bit busy escaping with your life from actual creatures. “Not many people cared to memorize this face. I’ve been here long enough and nobody bats an eye. Now I must ask you the same question.” You tilted your head this time, “I was told of your predicament. Are you sure no one will recognize you?” To be honest, you didn’t know. You’ve been really good about keeping out of trouble, and you haven’t seen any agents in years. “I’m sure we’ll both be fine.” Loki’s grin curved its way back in, “Great.” You sure as hell hoped you sounded convincing. Not just for him, but for yourself.

#spies and gods #spies and gods chapter 10 #chapter 10 #loki x reader #loki #Loki Laufeyson #mcu #marvel #loki mcu #reader insert #fanfic #my fic #fanfiction #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic

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mandos-little-friend · 5 years ago

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A Party, a Promise, and Spotchka

The Mandalorian Fan Fiction

Rating: General

Characters: Din Djarin, Omera, Winta

Relationship: DinxOmera

Summary: After ten years the immediate threat is gone, and Din and the child have settled on Sorgan as a home base, but are still frequently traveling in the search for the child’s people or those that could train him. Some people are not okay with this arrangement. Includes some Mandalorian headcanon of my own making.

Notes: Just posting this here first, I may put it over on AO3 later. There may be more, but I wanted to get this main idea out of my head primarily.

Feedback always welcome.

---------------------------------

On a cool summer evening on a small, backwater planet, a tiny fishing village celebrated. A band of three played rustic instruments with gusto while many of those gathered clasped hands and stomped feet and laughed. Torches had been set up all around the center of the village adding light to the moons’ illumination and allowing the party to continue long into the night. Poles had been erected on which strands of flowered garland streamed overhead, and tables of homemade food and never-ending pitchers of spotchka were set up at frequent intervals.

In the center of the merriment was the couple of honor, bride and groom dancing together while laughing and waving at their family and friends, like multitudes of newlyweds that came before them. However in this instant the bride was carrying a child unlike the humans of the village – small, green, large-eared. The child laughed and raised his hands in the air in celebration.

Din Djarin stood off from the crowd smiling contentedly as his child was bounced gleefully in Winta’s arms. The girl – no, woman now – was as radiant as any bride should be. She wore a gauzy dress of a rich plum color, which Din had himself purchased for her as a wedding gift. A wreath of flowers in pinks and purples and blues circled her flowing dark hair. The smile hadn’t left her face since the simple hand-fastening ceremony had completed and her bridegroom had swept her up into an ecstatic embrace. They had eaten and danced and drank what seemed to be a krill pond’s worth of spotchka, and all the while Din stood back and watched, only offering nods to the few villagers that felt comfortable enough to approach him. After all, he had no official place in the festivities, while the mother of the bride, equally as radiant, mingled and accepted all manner of congratulations, occasionally giving him a smile and a wave.

Once the latest song of a particularly hectic tempo fell to an end, the musicians took an opportunity to catch their breath and partake of the refreshments. Din watched as Winta gave his boy a squeeze and set him down, the child then running with carefree abandon into a group of adults who immediately began showering him with attention. Winta grabbed a mug off a table and downed it quickly before turning and catching sight of Din. He nodded to her and she stared at him for a moment, the previous smile fading. Finally, after wiping her mouth with the back of her hand she marched towards him, grabbed his wrist and kept walking without waiting to see if he would follow.

Perplexed, he allowed himself to be led past several huts, until they were between the village and the forest far enough away that the sounds of the reception were barely echos. Too far away from the torches, the only light was the weak silvery glow from the moons, however the filters in his helmet amplified the light enough to see that Winta was clearly upset.

“What’s wrong?” he asked trying to reach for her hand, but she pulled away from him. She swayed a moment from what Din suspected was the alcohol.

“You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” she asked sharply.

Din sighed, the datachip in his pocket weighing heavily. “Yes, we are.”

“Momma knows?”

“Of course. We agreed to wait until after your wedding.”

She looked down at her hands that were now clasped together tightly. “She cries, you know.”

Din blinked. “What…? I don’t understand.”

Her head flew up, eyes blazing. “When you leave!” she hissed. “Every time, for two or three nights. She thinks I don’t know, but I do. I’d hate you for it, but then you’d come back and everything would be good again. Until the next time…”

“Winta -”

“She’s had marriage proposals too. At least three. Turned them all down.” He tried to open his mouth but she cut him off. “I’m not going to be there anymore! She’s going to be alone, completely alone, and it’s not fair!”

“It’s not like you’re moving off-planet,” he observed quietly.

Her eyes widened in anger and one clenched fist came up and rapped on his beskar-covered chest. “That’s not the point! She deserves more. She deserves a commitment from you!”

Din gently placed his hands on her shoulders. “Winta, I can only make a marriage vow to another Mandalorian. Either she would have to swear the Creed, or I would have to break mine,” he finished softly. She looked up at him and he could see the tracks of tears flowing down her cheeks.

“We’re not important enough for you?”

“That’s...that’s not...you both are of extreme importance to me. But so is my boy. I need to find his people, and I need to protect him. I’ve sworn it. The best way I can do that is as a Mandalorian.” He swallowed. “Do you remember me explaining dar’manda?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“My Creed is my core, it is who I am. To be stripped of it, to lose my soul…even in service of my heart, it’s unthinkable, profane.” He sighed. This wasn’t a conversation he’d planned to have tonight.

“What if you never find them?” she asked, previous rage gone, now sounding like the girl he’d first met ten years prior.

“I honestly don’t know. I can’t stop looking just because it’s inconvenient for me.” He pulled back and crossed his arms. “When I finally got the nerve to come back here, when I’d felt it was safe enough, I did question if it was the right thing. It seemed selfish to invade your lives after so many years. Your mother and I spoke for a long time about expectations, about what I could offer...and what I couldn’t.”

Winta was looking at the ground again. He reached out and lifted her chin with a finger. “I know your heart is in the right place, but maybe trust that your mother is strong enough to make her needs well known?”

She sobbed and threw her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that!”

He wrapped his arms around her tenderly. “Never apologize for fighting for those you love, cyar'ika,” he whispered to her.

They stayed like that for several moments, until light footfalls and a small cough caught their attention. They both turned to see Omera approach, clutching a shawl around her shoulders against the cool evening air. Flowers of the same color as Winta’s crown were woven through her hair and she was radiant in the moonlight. “There you are,” she said with a smile. “What are you two doing out here?”

“I was just giving Winta a proper Mandalorian blessing for a bright, prosperous future,” Din said and Winta hastily wiped tears from her cheeks.

Omera beamed at both of them. “Well, your new husband is getting worried sick that you’ve changed your mind already.”

“Oh no,” Winta gasped, then giggled.

“Go find him and make sure he knows you’ll never let him go.”

Winta threw her arms around Omera. “I love you, Momma,” Din heard her whisper, then she was running back towards the party with the energy of youth and love.

“So, are you going to tell me what this was really about?”

Din sighed. “She’s concerned about you being alone.”

“Hmm.”

“She says you cry. When I leave.”

“Ah. Can’t hide anything from that kid.”

“So it’s true?”

“Yes,” she said matter-of-factly. “There’s a...void, at night right after you go, getting used to sleeping alone all over again. But it passes. Nothing wrong with a good cry once in a while.” She smiled up at him in that way that made his stomach feel like melted beskar.

He was silent for a moment, then, “She also said you’d turned down a few proposals of marriage?”

“Oh, she did!” Omera exclaimed. “Well yes, I’ve been turning those down for years. Any single person of child-bearing age is considered fair game around here. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Nothing?”

She shook her head firmly. “Nothing.” She moved closer and put her arm around his waist. “Trust me, if I had only wanted to be married again, I would have done so years before I met you.”

He pulled her in tight, gently placing his helmet against the top of her head. He had a sudden need to feel the silky hair beneath his lips and smell the flowers that were nestled in the tresses. “Omera,” he said softly. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about, eventually, but I suppose now is as good time as any.”

She pulled back and looked at him. “What?”

“You know my Creed is based on the Six Actions?” he asked.

She nodded, hesitantly. “The Resol…”

“Resol’nare. Yes. The Actions include protecting one’s family and clan, and rallying to the call of the Mandalore, the leader, in times of battle.”

Omera nodded, but her face had gone tense. “Are you saying you’ve been called to fight?”

“No, no,” he said quickly. “But the Resol’nare demands I be ready and able to go to battle if it should come to that.” He swallowed. “For most Mandalorians a life spent following the Ways of the Mandalore end...abruptly and early.” She frowned at him. He laid a hand gently on her shoulder and continued. “But many do survive a life of battle, past the time they are able to safely contribute.”

He pulled away from her and turned slightly, to gather his words carefully. “A Mandalorian may be deemed unable to fight effectively due to age, or infirmity, or serious injury. They become a liability in battle.”

“And then what?” she asked softly from his shoulder. “Are they rejected?”

“No! Not at all. They are revered for having both the discipline and the fortitude to survive. But there is an opportunity at that time. To be relieved of the duty to serve the Mandalore, if they so choose. They are given full funeral rites, their name is remembered and honored along with those who fell in battle.”

“Wait, you’re not saying they...die?” she said.

Din turned back to her. “Only symbolically. They remove their armor and are released from the Creed. They are not dar’manda but they must leave the tribe, forever. While the physical body still remains, it is as if the soul has already gone to Manda.”

“And does this happen a lot?”

“No,” he said quietly. “Most Mandalorians would rather die than be separated from their loved ones, their tribe, their home. Many, choose to...go out on their own terms rather than become a burden.”

“Oh.”

“But,” he stressed, “most do not have a life outside the tribe. They have no where to go. No one to go to,” he finished, placing a hand along the side of her head.

“Oh!” she whispered and smiled brightly.

He smiled back, and realized just how much he wanted her to see that. Instead he said, “I can’t promise this is something that will happen soon. But I’m nearly fifty. My joints ache most mornings. My back…” He chuckled. He’d lost count of just how many times he’d fallen or been thrown down violently. “But my son still needs me.”

“I know,” she said firmly, taking his hand in both of hers. “I know.”

“And I need you,” he whispered hoarsely. She pressed into him, laying her cheek against his chest. “Some day,” he promised and stroked the back of her hair. Flower petals rained down to the ground. “I can’t say when, but the day will come. Will that be enough?”

“Yes. More than enough.”

----------------------------

Mando’a translations:

Resol’nare - Six Actions, the tenets of Mando life dar'manda - a state of not being Mandalorian - not an outsider, but one who has lost his heritage, and so his identity and his soul - regarded with absolute dread by most traditional-minded Mando'ade cyar'ika - darling, sweetheart

#the mandalorian #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic #din djarin #omera #winta #dinxomera #din x omera #mandomera #made up mandalorian headcanon

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maybege · 3 years ago

Text

Safe And Warm - Part 1

Summary: Din convinces Paz to find the long lost Princess and bring her to her family in Coruscant. What Paz did not expect was her very beautiful companion and the feelings she would wake in him. (Anastasia AU)

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 6.1k | Rating: T

Warnings: one (1) tense moment of threatened violence, otherwise Disney-level fluff, also Mandalorians do not wear helmets in this AU

FINALLY! When I start writing this in November of last year I certainly did not expect it to take this long until I would publish it but the writing gods had other things in mind. This is a loose Anastasia AU with a bit of a mixture of like 1920’s fashion/aesthetics set in the Star Wars Universe. It was a lot of fun to write and – in my mind – is like a 90-minute fun Disney movie with romance sprinkled in.

Because there will be two parts of The One posted next week, the second (and final) part of this story will be posted on July 23. Always, feedback is greatly appreciated and I hope you enjoy it!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

Paz was sure that Din had lost his mind.

To be fair, he had thought that more than once but this time he was convinced that it had finally happened. Din Djarin had lost his stars forsaken mind.

But, as always, Din did not seem to be deteriorated by his friend’s disapproval.

“Valoria has been destroyed a long time ago now,” Paz said, “And everyone on it has been destroyed with it.”

“Yes, except maybe what if it hasn’t?”

Paz scoffed, “I very much doubt that.”

His eyes wandered around the cantina they were sitting in. The bar was packed by what seemed to be the crews of the trade ships, gambling and laughing at their tables, and over on the other side of the glittering gown of the singer caught his eye. Stars, he just wanted one calm evening …

“Paz,” Din grabbed him by the upper arm, “We all know the remaining Valars are Coruscant royalty so to speak and them setting out a price for the lost princess? That must mean she is out there somewhere. And wewill be the ones to bring her home.”

Paz did not say anything. He wanted nothing more than another drink and maybe watch a good fighting match. Stars, maybe even participatein a good fighting match.

But Din did not give up. He never did.

“Think of the money, Paz,” he implored, “That would be more than enough to build a new classroom in the covert and get you one of those fancy new blasters the Armourer has been eyeing – and that would only be with half your share.”

Paz hesitated.

They did need a new classroom. Or at least some improvements on the current one. Last week, some bricks had tumbled down and it had been pure luck that none of the foundlings had been there.

He would have never been able to forgive himself if something had happened to one of his students.

He sighed in defeat, his shoulders dropping and he leant back in his chair. “How do you plan on finding – what’s her name again Thama-something?”

“Thalassa,” Din corrected him with a smug grin on his face. He had probably realized by now that he had captured Paz’s interest. Smug bastard.

“And you’ll be glad to know that I have found her already.”

“Found her?” Paz was stunned, “I am impressed, vod. You never seemed like the planning type.”

Din ignored his jab and set out the map, the galaxy lighting up between them. “A reliable source told me we can find her here,” he pointed to the very end of the map, symbolizing the edge of the Outer Rim, “All we need to do is get her from here to here,” he drew an imaginary line all the way to Coruscant, “Without having anything happen to her.”

“Seems easy enough,” Paz commented, brows furrowing, “So why do you need me for it?”

“There might or might not be a price on her head … from the Imps,” Din admitted.

He knew there had to be a problem somewhere.

“Do you have any idea how many things can go wrong? This is asking for trouble Din,” Paz cursed, clearly unhappy with that tidbit of information, “No credits in the whole wide galaxy would make this worth it. I have no desire to have a run-in with the Imps any time soon.”

“Vod, please,” Din said, “I – kriff, I need the money to get stuff for the kid,” Paz's eyes fell to the little pod in which the green child – his honorary nephew – was sleeping, “I need him safe, alright? And I need your help, brother, please.”

“Alright,” Paz murmured, nodding, “But I already know this will go wrong.”

Din’s ‘hot tip’ led them to a planet on the Outer Rim. The very edge of it, to be exact.

They had gotten a ride on a friend’s ship much to Paz’s amusement. Din begrudgingly calling Boba Fett of all people for help all the way from Tatooine was the highlight of his week – month, even.

The Razor Crest was hopelessly broken down and Paz was sure that Din would use significant amounts of his share to get the ship and his home back on track.

They had left Grogu with the covert under the watchful eye of the Armourer, knowing that the mission would be too dangerous and too risky to take him along. That was the moment Paz knew that Din was serious about all of this. For his vod to leave his kid somewhere that was not with him – that was a big step.

A step which both of them seemed to regret as they landed on the planet in question. It was muddy and green and brownish, a wholly unappealing colour palette. The sky was dark or … well, not dark. But it seemed to be a permanent twilight no matter what time it was and with the small drizzle, the rain seemed to paint the whole world a constant grey.

The only homes that littered the streets – or rather trampled paths – were small homes, only distinguishable from the grey horizon by the small fires that lit up their windows.

Paz had never been so sure that there would never be a princess here. But maybe that was exactly what made this the perfect hiding spot.

And so, he hoisted his bag higher on his bag as they trudged through village after village in search for whatever sign Din deemed to be worthy to stop for. As the rain lessened, the sky lightened up a little but they were still wet to the bones and Paz hated it.

After hours of walking, Din finally stopped in front of a small hut.

Children were playing in the space between the houses and the few adults that seemed to be working outside eyed the newcomers suspiciously. Paz’s hand felt the blaster on his hip, a strange feeling overcoming him at being watched.

“I don’t like this, vod,” he murmured, “I really don’t.”

Din hummed in agreement before knocking on the door.

A few moments passed and then an elderly man opened. Both his eyes and his hair were grey, he seemed … worn. Tired and worn. But when he spotted them, and his eyes flew immediately to the weapons on their hips, he tensed. And so did Paz.

Surely this was not the best first impression they could make.

Then again, he was impatient to get away from here.

“I know why you are here,” the man said, his eyes lighting up in excitement as he motioned for them to come inside.

Paz was confused by this but he did not complain. The man did not seem to have any weapons on him and, as surprising as it was, he seemed genuine.

The house they were led into was simple. The downstairs consisted of a single room, serving as both the kitchen and the living room, and a set of stairs led to what Paz assumed to be the bedrooms.

A hearty smell wafted through the air and he spotted a pot hanging over the fire. His stomach growled.

“You are here to bring her home, aren’t you?” the man asked excitedly and both he and Din tilted their heads questioningly, making no secret of the fact that they were surprised by his warm welcome.

“We have been waiting for years but you see,” the man explained, gesturing to the outside, “there is no way to send reliable messages out there without them being able to be transferred.”

A woman came through a backdoor, clearly his spouse. She wore an apron and a suspicious look on her face as she spotted the two intruders. But even then, she did not acknowledge them. Instead, she walked over to the steaming pot of soup and set it on the table in the middle of the room.

Paz heard Din’s stomach grumbling and grinned.

“They are here to bring Thalassa home, darling,” the man explained, looking almost relieved and Paz furrowed his brows. He did not put it past the stranger to genuinely be happy for the girl to get back to her family but somehow, he had the feeling that the man’s happiness had a different reason.

“Where can we find her?” Din asked gruffly, shifting his weight on the other foot, “We want to get going as soon as possible.”

“Why should I tell you where she is?” the woman spat, “I cared for her like she was my own, what makes you think I would so easily give her away?”

“Because she deserves to be reunited with her family,” Din stated drily, “And her family wants to see her. They have waited a long time for this to happen.”

Paz held onto himself to not roll his eyes. Din could always be so dramatic if he wanted to and he hoped that it would work. He just wanted to get on with it.

The spouses looked at each other for a long moment and Paz could tell that they were having a conversation without words.

“Alright,” the woman finally relented, before adding, “But I do have one condition.”

“What is it?”

“I want you to take my niece with you. She – she has been stuck on this planet for far longer than she needed to. She is a good girl, she deserves a chance in the big worlds.”

Paz could feel how tense Din was. His first instinct was to disagree. They would have trouble smuggling one princess across the galaxy but a princess and another random stranger? Besides, who knew how this niece would hinder them on their quest to keep the princess safe?

No, that really was a ridiculous idea.

But Din was better at lying than he was and so he agreed with a reluctant nod. Nothing would speak against just taking the princess with them once they found her, right?

“Where is she then?”

“Oh, they’re just outside, working in the gardens,” the older woman says, wiping her hands on her apron, “You can tell them dinner is ready. You’re invited to stay as well, you won’t be able to walk back to your ship in that darkness.”

Both of them nodded and Paz was happy to set down his bag at the door that led outside. He kept his blaster on his hip though and he knew that Din had done the same. His thoughts were rushing with how quickly they could get Thalassa out of here and how long they would have before any of the Imps had an inkling of where she was.

But as he stepped down the stairs all thoughts left his head because … because …

There you were.

Like the lady had said, you were working in the gardens. You were kneeling on the muddy ground, your hands full of wet earth as you cleaned the plants of any weeds. Your companion was next to you, sitting on a small chair and talking to you. She must have said something funny because you threw your head back and laughed.

You – stars, you were beautiful.

How could people not see a princess when they saw you?

Noticing the newcomers, you raised your head and your eyes grew wide as you saw the two big men walk determinedly towards you. You hurried to stand up, wiping your hands clean on an apron. “How can we help you?” you asked carefully.

Paz did not slow his steps. He felt how flushed he was, even the tips of his ears felt hot as he walked towards you. His chest was oddly warm and tight as he looked at you, your eyes big and your mouth opening with another question.

“Your Majesty,” he murmured, lifting your hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it. You had wiped them clean on the fabric of your skirt and he felt how soft it was and he heard you gasp and oh stars how would he ever be able to forget this very moment.

The other woman seemed to be more excited rather than surprised and he heard her talking to Din in a high-pitched voice. But what did he care about that woman’s niece when you were there right in front of him?

“Oh I – I’m not,” you said, clearly embarrassed. You held your hand to your chest, the one he had kissed and Paz frowned. Shame filled him when he realised that he had made you feel uncomfortable but then he was also confused by your words. What did you mean?

“If anyone’s a Majesty, that would be me,”the woman behind him said, “It’s been time I would think.”

“We’re here to get you back to your family, Your Majesty,” Din said, throwing an amused look to Paz who was still standing in front of you. He looked from the other woman to you and back again. She – she was the princess? And you were the niece?

“We will start our journey to Coruscant tomorrow,” Din announced, “We got a ticket on a freighter ship booked. It will be a long and dangerous journey, princess, but you will see your family again soon.”

“Well, I should hope so,” Thalassa replied, wholly unimpressed, “It’s been years, I almost thought I’d never leave this forsaken place. Oh, is that dinner I smell?”

The princess walked off without another word, leaving the basket and little chair behind as well as Din and Paz looking at each other and realizing that keeping her safe might not be the issue – enduring her might cost them their last nerves.

Paz watched as you kneeled down again quickly putting some of the vegetables in the basket.

With the basket in your hands, you stood up again, looking at Paz for a long while. He felt how this warm feeling came back and nervously shifted on his feet. He could not figure out what it was about you but he – he wanted more. Wanted you more.

You took a deep breath, seemingly gathering your courage for something, and he resisted the urge to take your hand.

“When, uh, when you said you would go to Coruscant did you mean … me too?” you asked quietly and the small hope in your eyes made his heart clench.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Din opening his mouth. He knew that look on his face, knew that Din would reject your request just like they had planned when your aunt had first voiced that condition. Din would tell you that they would leave only with the princess in tow. And he was right, probably. Fewer people meant less danger.

But you did not look at Din.

You looked at him with a small smile on your lips as if you did not allow yourself to be hopeful yet but as if you wanted to be. Wanted to be hopeful. Wanted to be excited. Wanted to be on this journey.

He wanted to change that.

“Yes,” he said, already feeling Din’s eyes on him. But when you looked at him like that there was no way he could say no, “Yes, you will come with us too, if you’d like, of course.”

To no one’s surprise (and Paz’s excitement), you wanted to come along.

Already the preparations for the trip were eating at their nerves. Thalassa was more than annoyed that she was only allowed to take one bag with her. But Din was adamant and surprisingly patient with the demanding princess and soon she had reduced her luggage to only the essential items. It was not like she would need her muddy dresses in the high society of Coruscant.

Paz felt like he could not wait until the trip was over.

The next morning, they were able to borrow speeders from the family which would take them to the capital of the mud planet. From there, they would take one of the big cruiser ships to Naboo.

It was the easiest method to fall under the radar – by blending in with the large crowds that flocked to the core worlds. Paz had worn his best suit for that exact purpose.

The only downside was that the Imps were slowly becoming aware of that loophole and more and more of them infiltrated the standard ways of travelling.

Already in the terminal did Paz spot a few suspicious-looking people. They were most likely bounty hunters but he was not too worried. The ship they were boarding was enormous and so was the number of passengers. The odds of them crossing paths were very slim and so he and Din decided to not change their plans at the last minute.

You, on the other hand, seemed to be intimidated if not scared. Din has assigned you the space on Paz’s speeder and with your arms wrapped around his middle, you had driven hours on end until you had reached the spaceport. He had liked the proximity, the way you had pressed your cheek against his back and how your arms had sometimes tightened around him.

He could very well get used to it.

Now, even as you were in the terminal, ready to board, you stuck to his side. It flustered and pleased him to have you so close that your arm was brushing against his constantly. But he was also relieved to have you this close because everywhere he looked, strangers were walking towards the gates and he did not want to lose you in this chaos.

And so, he made it a point to make himself seem bigger, pushing out his chest and straightening his posture to make sure that none of the other passengers would stray too close.

You sent him a grateful smile.

A few rows before you, he could hear Thalassa’s high-pitched voice complaining about one thing or another and soon he recognized Din’s dark hair in the masses. He wondered if his brother in arms was even listing to her. Her voice was shrill and she had not stopped talking for one moment since leaving the house this morning so Paz found it hard to imagine that Din could just tune it out but he hoped for his sake that he could.

He did not want to imagine the next few days on the ship.

“Do you have the tickets?” you asked quietly beside him, pulling him out of his thoughts. Paz nodded and rummaged in the inside pocket of his jacket. He brought out two data chips, handing you one.

“Stick close,” he advised you, “It can get a little chaotic, getting through the gates.”

With big eyes, you nodded. He watched how you took a deep breath and then you were separated from him, being pushed towards another gate. There was a sea of people trying to get through the electronic controls and Paz did not like this suffocating feeling that came over him

He pushed the chip in and the gate opened with a beep before he was swept up again by the masses making their way into the hull of the ship. But there was something – or rather someone – missing.

Paz turned around, trying to spot you. When he did not see you, he grew panicked. He could care less what happened to Thalassa but you– he wanted to make sure you were safe.

Hoping that it would help, he shouted your name over the chatter of the other passengers. He turned around, fighting his way back to the gates, pushing against people and getting insulted in more languages than he understood.

A soft hand grabbed his and he froze. He whipped his head around and there you were, looking clearly a bit overwhelmed but smiling at him. He breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders dropping. Out of instinct, he grasped your hand tighter, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“Ready?” he asked and you nodded with a smile.

Neither of you let go of each other’s hand.

Hours later, when the ship finally started taking off, you were settled in the cantina.

The ship had dorms and suites and common rooms, more than anyone could ever count, but Din and Paz had decided that it would be safer for the time being to be in the cantina before figuring out any sleeping arrangements.

“I don’t understand why we couldn’t have gotten a suite,” Thalassa hissed, looking around her with disdain. It was clear that she did not appreciate being around ‘commoners’ as she had called them before and Paz wondered how she had lived her life in poverty and still ended up like this.

Fittingly enough, he could see how Din’s jaw clenched, how his eyes flashed with annoyance, and grinned. When he had thought of credits he certainly hadn’t thought of how annoying royalty could be to deal with.

“It would be too obvious, Thalassa,” you explained gently, sitting next to Paz and a datapad in your lap, “They already explained before. It will only be for a few days. Isn’t that right, Paz?”

His heart skipped a beat at you saying his name. You were already looking to him for backup, as if you trusted him with it, and the way his name rolled off your tongue … stars, he would dream of that tonight.

“Very right,” he replied, “Three days at the most, all of this will take less than a week if we’re lucky.”

“And if we’re not?” Thalassa challenged.

“Then it will take longer,” Din hissed.

Paz grinned. This would be a long journey.

When dinner had been served, the group had barely moved from their spot in the cantina.

Thalassa had been busy watching some holovid or another on a datapad and the best part about it was that she was silent. Under different circumstances, Paz might have been annoyed by how loud she was playing the holovid, the actor’s shrill voice sounding all the way through the cantina but he could not be bothered to care when the alternative was to explain to her for the hundredth time why she needed to be happy with the lower standard of accommodation.

Din was sitting next to the princess, thoroughly entranced by studying maps or researching new parts for the Crest or something.

But whom Paz was most focused on was you.

You had started to doze off in your seat next to him for a while now and your head kept leaning dangerously to the side, threatening to fall on his shoulder. Paz was tense. Slowly, he shifted closer to you until your cheek rested fully on his shoulder and he heard you sigh in your sleep and then … you shuffled closer to him.

Paz tensed even more, pretending to read the ship’s safety manual in his hands.

He still felt Din’s amused gaze on him though and he furiously tried to ignore the heat that rose in his cheeks. But you were soft and warm against him, completely relaxed now that your head was supported by something.

He wondered if you were cold. It was drafty in the cantina, maybe he should put his jacket over you? He would be fine with just wearing his shirt and the vest but he would have to move and what if that would wake you?

And how would he get you to your sleeping quarters without waking you? Would you be angry at him? He knew some people had trouble falling asleep on spacecrafts and what if you were one of them and you had finally managed to fall asleep only to be awakened by him and then you would not be able to sleep again and –

“Guess it is time to talk about the living arrangements,” Din muttered.

Thalassa put her datapad on the table with a clatter. “Finally,” she sounded exasperated, “I hope at least our sleeping accommodations will be sufficient.”

At the sound of her voice, you stirred next to him, your brows furrowing. Paz thought you looked adorable, like a loth cat that had fallen asleep in the sun with your cheek squished against the tweed of his suit.

“Hey, love,” he whispered, hoping no one heard how that pet name had slipped out of lips so naturally. He rose his hand to your cheek, gently coaxing you awake.

“Huh?” you murmured, blinking up confused at him before a small smile appeared on your lips.

Then you noticed the position you were in and, clearly embarrassed, scooted away from him.

“I am so sorry,” you mumbled, “That was very inappropriate of me.”

Paz wanted to protest and say that he would hold you in his arms for however long you wanted. He would be gladly at your service should you have need of a human pillow again. But even in his lovestruck state, he knew how ridiculous that sounded and so he managed to keep his mouth shut and only smile tightly at you.

“So,” Din pulled the attention on himself, “We have three beds and four people. One private room for two and one bunk bed in the larger dorms. I’d suggest you girls get the room and Paz and I take the bunk.”

“Absolutely not,” Thalassa protested, completely horrified. Paz furrowed his brows confused over why she was this opposed to something that should actually please her. Having a private room had to be one of the points on her secret lists of requirements, he was sure, why in the stars would she not want to stay in one?

“If people are out there searching for me I want to be roomed with someone who can protect me, not – not her, no offence, honey,” she gestured towards you.

“None taken,” you smiled slightly, then turned to Din, “But Thalassa is right. If people are hunting her like you say they are, then – maybe I should sleep in the dorm? I – surely, it won’t be thatbad.”

Everything in Paz’s stomach turned at the idea of you in one of the big dorms. This was the first time you had ever left your planet and you thought they would throw you into a dorm with a bunch of rowdy passengers? No way.

“Well, then how do we proceed?” Din asked, throwing a knowing look his way, “I guess it is best if Paz would be in the dorms with you, he is intimidating enough that people wouldn’t want to approach you.”

“Intimidating?” you asked confused, turning to look at Paz, “I – I don’t think he’s intimidating at all.”

Paz was positive that he had never been this flustered in his life. You didn’t think him to be intimidating. You were not intimidated by him. You were comfortable with him. Comfortable enough to even share a bunk with him.

“Is that so?” Din asked, hardly able to hide his grin, “Well, isn’t that interesting, Paz?”

Shut up, Paz thought, too focused on how you were still tucked into his side, the sleep barely gone from your eyes, Shut up and let me enjoy this.

The walk to the dorm was long and dark and for you, probably quite scary.

Paz was convinced that he had already witnessed at least two spice deals and you weren’t even halfway to the dorm. He was happy about it though because he was not sure what would have happened if anyone thought you had noticed their illegal wrongdoings.

But you were probably unaware of it.

You seemed to make sure never to stray too far from him or the path that you had set out for yourself, your hesitant footsteps echoing around the labyrinth that was the ship. He could see how tightly you were clutching your bag to your chest as he walked beside you and it took everything in him not to put his arm around your waist.

Where did this endless need to touch you come from?

When the door to the dormitory came into view, Paz took a deep breath, shouldered his bag. The weight of his blaster against his hop was a comfort as he braced himself for the worst. Dorms on ships these big … they could be bad.

“We’re bed 32B,” he told you and you nodded your understanding as the door slid open with a creak.

It was a huge room and it seemed endless. Paz could not even see the furthest wall from where he was standing at the entrance. But no matter how big the room seemed, it was absolutely packed with people of all ways of life and it was loud.

You backed up into him, your back bumping against his chest as a sound of fear escaped you.

“It’ll be alright, mesh’la,” he promised quietly, his hands finding your hips as he gently guided you forward. There was a resistance in your steps as he saw you watch your new surroundings. There were several bet games going on and from further down the room he was sure he heard some illegal loth cat races and even more angry shouts at a commotion just to your right.

The bunks that lined the walls each had four levels and Paz was somewhat relieved to find that your assigned bed was on the third one. Far enough up to avoid getting pulled into any of the conflicts. Far enough out of reach that he would have enough time to react if someone tried to come for you.

“I hope you don’t get claustrophobic too easily,” he muttered as he spotted how dark and small it looked. You might be able to sit up fully but he was certainly not.

Before you could step towards the ladder, however, a bright red arm stopped you, blocking your way. You squeaked and stepped right back into Paz’s chest whose arm came around your waist, holding you to him. He tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating at having you this close. Instead, he eyed the man in front of you who grinned confidently.

The alien’s eyes roamed over you slowly, dragging over every single inch of your body and Paz sneered, pulling you closer.

“Oh, where did you get this beauty, Mando?” the stranger asked, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he leered at you, “How much for a night of entertainment, girly? I promise I pay well.”

Paz did not even blink as he pulled his blaster and held it against the man’s forehead. “Touch her and you are dead,“ he growled, arm tensing around you.

Instantly, all eyes in the room focussed on the three of you and the charged weapon but he could not bring himself to care. His eyes were cold as he stared the man down, his other and still on you and he noticed how your shoulders relaxed.

The man shifted uneasily on his feet before he lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. “Alright, alright,” he muttered, taking a few steps backwards, “She’s yours, I get it, I’m backing off, you see, Mando? No need to point that thing at me.”

Paz did not lower the blaster until the man had disappeared into the darkness of the room. Soon the other passengers started minding their own business again, the chatter picking back up and the hissing of the loth cats sounding above everything else.

“C’mon,” he muttered to you, gently pushing you towards the ladder, “That one’s ours.”

You climbed into the bunk before him and scooted to the very edge of it to make space for him as well. Just as he had suspected, the bunk was too low for him and he needed to duck his head before he could even thinkof crawling into the small space.

The bunk was outfitted like most bunks he had slept in, a curtain to pull close during the night, a net at the side to store a small bag or other belongings and a dim night lamp. He pulled the curtain close immediately, fastening it at the side so no one from the outside could open it easily. Then he switched on the small lamp, flooding the little bunk with warm light.

The first thing both of you did was take off your shoes and putting them at the very end of the bed where a small shelf was located. Paz decided to store his backpack there as well. It did not necessarily feel very safe but he also did not want you to feel uncomfortable. The bunk was slim as it was.

“I – I still need to change,” you noted, shifting in what he now recognized as discomfort.

Paz felt his cheeks heating up at the implication.

“I’ll turn around and, uh, let you change,” he decided and turned his back to you. The only problem was that in his haste to offer you some privacy, Paz forgot that the bunk was not built for people of his size and smashed his head against the ceiling.

“Ouch!” he cursed, “Kriffin’ bantha –“ he grumbled, holding his head and hearing your giggle behind him.

“I’m sorry,” you managed to bring out between your quiet laughter, “It just looked so funny.”

He only grumbled, his head still pounding but his heart fluttering because you sounded so happy. It was lovely.

He took the chance to slip off his suspenders and unbutton his dress shirt, only leaving him in his Henley and his pants. It would be comfortable enough for a night’s sleep, he supposed.

When he felt you shift and rustle beside him, he took it as a sign that it was safe to turn around. This time, he ducked his head, making sure to not even come near the hard ceiling. You were dressed in your night shift, fiddling with your hands in front of your chest.

“Does – does it hurt very badly?” you asked guiltily, “Maybe we can find a bacta pill or something?”

Even in the dim light of the bunk, Paz could see the unease and guilt on your face. And he rushed to make you feel better.

“No worries, mesh’la,” he assured you, “It was just a bump and I suppose from the outside it must’ve been pretty funny.”

You smiled shyly at him, “It was and … if it makes you feel better, the next time I bump my head, you’re allowed to laugh as much as you want.”

With that, you settled down under the blankets, your cheek hitting the pillow as you expectantly looked up at him and patted the spot next to yours. “Aren’t you going to sleep too?”

He had no words. Not only were you smiling at him like that but now you also wanted him to – to really sleep beside you. No staying on top of the covers. No sitting at the end of the bed and looking out for trouble. You wanted him to sleep.

He laid down, turning so his back was towards the curtain and he was facing you. “It’s, uh it’s a tight fit,” he murmured trying to arrange his arms somehow. You smiled, carefully taking his hand and stars your skin was soft and put it behind you on your waist.

Immediately, his fingers spread out on your back, pulling you closer. The fabric of your nightdress was soft under his fingertips and he wondered if your skin felt like that too. He heard you take a deep breath and then he felt your fingers on the exposed skin of his chest, playing with the buttons of his Henley.

His eyes fluttered closed, enjoying your soft touches on him.

“Are you comfortable?” he whispered, your head tucked into his chest, “the blanket’s not very thick I could try and see if they have some more on -“

“It’s alright,” you cut him off, smiling up at him, “I’m – you – you’re very warm, but what is that?”

You shifted again and he felt something hard brush against his belly. He chuckled and put his finger to his lips to shush you with a conspiratory grin. Lifting the blanket, he revealed the blaster between the two of you.

Your eyes widened.

“Safety’s on,” he revealed, “but I don’t want to take any chances.”

You shuddered, “I’m not used to all this – this danger,” you confessed, your finger brushing against his chest and he made sure his hand didn’t flex too much on your back.

“I worry about it,” you said, “Of the things that could happen. Thalassa and I – we’ve never been anywhere but home and now this – this is so much.”

“It’ll be alright,” he promised quietly, “it’ll be alright. Just rest and as soon as you can blink we’re one day closer to Naboo.”

“W-will you be there when I wake up?”

“Yes.”

#maybege writes #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x fem!reader

133 notes · View notes

rosecolouredash · 5 years ago

Text

Duality ; Rival Hockey!Cashton

Pairing: Captain!Ashton x fem!OC x Captain!Calum

Summary: A tale of two captains and their childhood love.

Warnings: Ash being a grade A jerk™️ like serious big cocky flirt energy, Calum being a soft smoosh, me being an indecisive bitch.

Notes: When new tattoos fuel your creativity, you have to take advantage of it — which I did. Thanks to everyone who continuously loves on my lil hockey!au. I love YOU.

For as long as Liza Morales has known them, there was constant conflict between the two hockey captains — a war of emotions that diverged off of the ice they competed on. It was something deeper than the cheap shots to the boards and the harsh chirps they exchanged when meeting one another at the face-off circle. After all, their fight over athletic awards and hockey championship titles meant nothing compared to their fight over a childhood love.

Ashton Irwin, the captain of the Vipers, was alluring and cunning like the creature that represented his team. Whether it was during practice or an official game, he was always out for blood — a true believer in “no pain, no gain.” If he made an absurd play on the ice, as long as it benefited his team, he’d do it.

His school still fawned over him for it.

Calum Hood, on the other hand, was all dark stares and pouty lips as the leader of the neighbouring university hockey team — the Knights. He was naturally fair and encouraging on the ice but his brooding attitude deemed him as unapproachable and standoffish by most of the student body.

The former could flirt with an unsuspecting spectator at one of his games even after just coming out of a scuffle with a rival player — his knuckles bloodied and not a single hair out of place while the latter could strike complete and utter fear, without meaning to, in a teammate with a single narrowed glance.

They were two sides of the same coin.

Charming smiles and profound scowls.

Conspicuous behaviours and deep insecurity.

Bright eyes and dark curls and somehow, Liza found them vying for her love.

—

The three childhood friends lived next door to each other in the same cul-de-sac. Liza was closer in age to Calum so they shared many of the same classes growing up. Ashton, who was a couple of years older, took the advanced classes at their local school.

Even as children, the two boys bickered often.

Ashton reveled in antagonizing Calum, especially when it came to hockey. Ashton was a known prodigy at the sport and he was sure to remind Calum of that every chance that he could. The juvenile banter fueled the younger boy’s want to excel and surpass his friend and rival with pure finesse and raw skill in the rink.

There were days when, as the three would hang out together, that Ashton would feel particularly petty. He’d slink his arm around the black-haired beauty, drawing her body against his. He’d tut his tongue at Calum, complaining that he never got to hang out with Liza alone — that Calum took up too much of her precious time.

“You see each other in class all day but what about me?” Ashton would ask with a small pout, his tone at the borderline of joking and being dead serious.

As the coiffed brunet pulled her from the Hood’s front porch to his own, Liza missed the burning glare directed at the older boy and the wicked glint in Ashton’s eyes as he thanked Calum for his hospitality. At the time, the young teen still had the decency to stay tight-lipped; at the respect for his senior.

In the end, the dark-haired boy had the last laugh since Liza had decided to study medicine at Calum’s university rather than Ashton’s. What was worse, at least in the Viper captain’s eyes, was that she was also part of the enemy team — as the student physician — which meant she and Calum spent more time together, nowadays.

Sometimes, in intimate and close quarters.

—

Liza wasn’t blind to their advances. How Ashton’s flirty smiles always softened whenever they were directed at her. Or how at games at his university, he’d use his sharp tongue, that usually quipped at Calum and the Knights she stood behind, to compliment her with devilishly sweet words.

Calum too, made his feelings obvious through gentle conversations shared in the halls of their university — in-between seminars — and the way he seemed to keep the girl tucked by his side, his hand pressed at the small of her back, during crowded victory parties.

Liza’s mind often wandered to her two captain friends. There was no point in denying her attraction to both. They had so much history.

Childhood sleepovers where she was the last to fall asleep; her mind racing about the future. Even at a tender young age, she knew what she wanted in life and Ashton and Calum would listen to her rambles with expressions of complete endearment.

Pinky promises were made during those nights; claiming that they’d be together forever.

If only she knew of the war that would wage between the two boys over her affection.

Liza was so certain about many aspects of her life and for the first time: she was indecisive.

She doubted that she could ever choose between Ashton and Calum and so, she focused on what she could control. Liza put all of her energy in her studies and on being the Knights hockey team’s glorified healer — much to both the boys’ dismay.

They too, tried to busy themselves on honing their own skills as athletes. Frustrations caused by the matter were taken out on each other when they met on the ice.

Until one day, it wasn’t enough.

—

Liza received a text message from Calum, requesting her immediate presence at the university’s training rink. Fearing it was injury-related, she rushed over. Luckily, her classes were finished for the day.

She expected to find a crowd of rowdy Knights when in reality, Liza was only met by one — the captain and he was on the ice with the Snake King, himself.

Though they were older, they were still childish which was clear when Liza realized that the two boys thought that duking it out in a one-on-one hockey game could settle things.

If only wading through emotions was that simple.

They were clad in their respective uniforms — the letter “C” ever present on their chests.

Calum was calm; wrapped in black and silver. His every move was calculated.

From each glide of his skate to the flick of his wrist — hockey stick pointed at the Viper’s net. The dark-haired boy had the resolve but Ashton, clad in bright red, was simply the better athlete. The older captain was always two steps ahead and it made Calum furious.

It was easy to see that they wore their hearts on the sleeve of their hockey jerseys.

Liza watched, after making her way to the home team’s bench, as they etched into the ice. Their skates were heavy with every powerful stride they took on the frozen surface.

Since the rink was empty, safe for the three childhood friends, the boys’ conversation rang clear in Liza’s ears.

When he stole the puck, Ashton chirped, “you may as well give up now, Cal.”

As Calum skated after him, Ashton continued, “you’re a good player but that doesn’t mean you’d be a good boyfriend.”

Guiding his hockey stick, Calum tipped the puck out of Ashton’s possession. He sent the captain of the Vipers a mischievous grin as he pivoted away. “What do you know?”

They went back and forth for a while.

The frown on Liza’s face deepening with each quip they spat at each other. There was a time when she believed her boys could get along. She was sure they could be the best of friends — if only they tried.

The intensity of the match continued to grow as the boys physically crashed into one another. Liza was ready for one or the other to shatter on impact. It was one particular hit to the board — Calum to Ashton — that she was reminded how tough they could be. The older of the two kept his composure, even after being slammed hard. Without skipping a beat, Ashton continued to goad on the Knight who was beginning to lose his form on the ice.

It was with one final puck to Calum’s net that Ashton watched with a triumphant smirk as the captain of the Knights gripped at his hockey stick with such force that it snapped in half.

They had decided at the start: first to five would win their little match.

The score was 5-4, in favour of Ashton.

The Viper removed his helmet, his cocky demeanor now serious. “How many times will you have to lose to me, Calum?”

From where she stood at the bench, Liza could see the twitch of Calum’s upper lip — his expression darkening.

Calum fists were still clenched and his broken stick was long forgotten on the ice. He didn’t bother to reply and skated straight for the exit; never once sparing a glance towards Liza, as he passed the bench in shame.

Her heart broke to see Calum so dejected.

To Ashton’s surprise, Liza chased after the younger captain, almost slipping on the ice in doing so because of improper footwear.

She could hear Ashton’s desperate protests as they echoed from the rink but she didn’t stop.

—

Liza was halfway down the hall that led to the locker rooms when she caught up to Calum. She looked to the side to find his helmet lying on the cement floor, its visor cracked; most likely from being thrown away in frustration.

“Cal?”

He turned to face her, his grimace prominent. If Liza hadn’t grown up with the boy, she would have flinched at his expression.

Calum was still in his skates so he was a couple of inches taller than usual. He looked down at his childhood love.

She couldn’t read him. “What is it?”

Words were never his strong suit, whether he had to communicate or receive them. Knowing this, Liza reached out to embrace him — the only form of comfort that she could really offer at the moment. Almost immediately, he latched onto her frame. His face buried into the crook of her neck.

“I’ll—” he began.

His breath ghosted her skin.

“I’ll be better,” he finished, voice filled with determination.

Liza pulled back slightly, “but Calum, you’re great as you are.”

She’s seen his growth as a demure defenseman into a confident captain.

“You’ve worked so hard and you continue to work so hard—for yourself, for the team. It’s what I love about you.”

Love. Was it contradictory to offer such affection when she harboured the same feelings for his rival?

At that comment, his expression became contemplative. Calum’s gaze was suddenly fixated on her and only her. Her warm eyes. Her round cheeks. Her thin lips.

“Calum?”

His gloved hands moved to cup her face.

“I’m sorry.”

His apology was the last thing spoken before he dipped his head and Calum’s lips met hers. Though the contact was rushed, the action itself was gentle. A gratifying sigh escaped the two.

Aside from kisses to the cheek and her forehead exchanged with both, this was Liza’s first real kiss. Not even Ashton had made the move. Though he was self-assured that he’d know when the time was right.

But now he was too late.

The Viper captain watched as they broke apart — eyes wide. His pompous facade shattered in an instant as he made his way down the hall towards the two.

Glaring vengefully at Calum, he hissed out while giving the younger boy a shove. “How dare you?”

Ashton with his composure lost was a true force to be reckoned with. She recognized his state immediately and so Liza placed herself in-between the two boys. “Ash, please.”

With pleading eyes, she continued, “that’s enough.”

“So you’re just going to let him kiss you?” Ashton questioned in heartache. “Are you choosing him?”

Calum instinctively moved to her side, ready to defend her, if necessary. Liza shook her head at the older boy, “I haven’t chosen anybody.”

She then let out an exasperated sigh, “and it’s unfair of you to expect me to choose between you two.”

The boys would never intentionally force her to pick. They had too much respect and adoration for Liza to do so but maybe they had not thought their plan through.

Now visibly frustrated, Liza positioned herself so that she could address both captains at the same time, “or allow a stupid little hockey game to decide for me.”

The boys were left speechless and too surprised to stop her from walking away.

—

That was the first time they had directly confronted their odd circumstances of emotions. Liza had avoided the two boys since; even going as far as asking the head coach of the Knights if she could step down from her position as the team’s student physician for the time being. Coach Sveinson let her go, almost reluctantly but she reassured him that she just had some things to work through — he could only wish her the best.

It was sometime after that the three childhood friends would face their feelings, head on, once more.

Liza sat at the desk in her bedroom — notes and multi-coloured pens scattered across the wooden surface. She was home alone and deep into studying for exams when she noticed movement outside of her window. Curious, she looked through the glass to find Ashton and Calum having a conversation in front of her house.

When they reached the Morales’ front door, Ashton made the gesture to knock but Liza appeared at the entrance before he had the chance.

She let them in.

They stood in the foyer, in silence. Surprisingly, it was Calum who was the first to speak.

“We came to apologize,” he started, the sentiment written on his face. “What we did—it wasn’t fair to you and we’re sorry.”

Liza kept her stance with arms crossed. She didn’t know what to say so Ashton took the opportunity to continue.

“We really do love you, Liz—” her breath hitched at the pure honesty in Ashton’s voice. “—and love makes you do ridiculous things.”

She gave her boys a small smile. “I have to admit. What’s going on between us—it’s complicated, isn’t it?”

Even the two rival captains could agree on that.

“Yeah but, if it makes you want to avoid us than it’s not worth it.”

Calum let out a breath, “the boys miss you.”

Liza admitted she missed the Knights hockey team too.

“As do we.” Ashton gestured to himself and Calum. Her heart swelled at that since she most definitely missed her boys.

Liza Morales wasn’t sure what would happen now but it was a start and that’s all she really could hope for.

Tagged: @irwinkitten @calpops @rosecoloredash @lilbabycalum @gorgeouslygrace @rainingcalum @cashton-dolan @lockthisheartinchains @americanhorrorstudies @lovableah

BONUS: Her study notes were hard to recall at this point. Liza’s mind was in a blissful haze.

When they said they had a way of making it up to her she hadn’t expected this.

Ashton opened her bedroom window — the temperature in her room too high. When he looked back, he found Calum kneeling at the front of her bed — the tattoo of a dagger glaring back at him on his rival’s arm.

Ashton rejoined Liza on the mattress, placing himself behind her as she reached back to grip at his biceps. Her left hand caressed his snake tattoo.

“Hey Cal,” he started. Calum lifted his head from between her legs.

“First to get her to five, wins?”

Liza almost choked on air.

“You’re on.”

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Klaine one-shot “On Your Mind” (Rated NC17)

Summary: Blaine is sitting at a bar, ill-advisedly looking for Mr. Right ... and failing. But as he plans to leave, he sees an incredibly gorgeous man who captivates him. He sits back down and watches him, fantasizing about who he is, what he's doing, and why he's there. But before too long, Blaine discovers that this man is far from ordinary. (3448 words)

Notes: This is a re-write.

Read on AO3.

Being a New Yorker isn’t for the weak-hearted. Living here is rough.

And as the days go by, it doesn’t get any easier.

The city can be cruel. But it’s exciting, too. Blaine loves living here. He may be a small town boy, but he can’t imagine living anywhere else. But he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t overwhelming.

Back home in Ohio, people wore their hearts on their sleeves. That made it easier for him to survive as the token gay kid at his high school. From bigots to allies, he pretty much knew where everyone stood from the start. But in New York, everyone has their own unique brand of armor, forged through the give and take necessary to thrive in a diverse metropolis. It’s harder to tell from the outset who’s truly on his side and who’s faking it.

When Blaine first moved to New York, he stumbled into a few hornet’s nests. He learned a valuable lesson, but now he has a habit of being super-cautious about everyone, over-analyzing behavior, picking actions and conversations apart in search of clues.

It keeps him safe, but it also leaves him lonely.

He feels the weight of that as his butt falls asleep on the hard-as-a-rock barstool he’s monopolizing, stirring the watered-down rum and coke he’s been nursing for over an hour. He doesn’t actually like rum and coke too much. He’ll drink it, but it’s not his preferred choice overall. If he wasn’t so concerned about looks, he’d order a strawberry daiquiri. But a tall curvy glass filled with pastel pink drink and topped with a colorful umbrella isn’t the impression he’s trying to give off. He’s afraid it might scream flaming gay. A rum and coke always struck him as a man’s drink, probably because that’s what his dad used to order. And if there was a man’s man anywhere out there in the world, it was definitely his dad.

But Blaine, sighing in the solitude that is his corner of the bar, really wants a daiquiri.

He runs a hand over his tired face and up into his hair, mussing what was once a helmet of meticulously plastered curls, though he figures that the way he looks far from matters now. If not a single man looked him up and down when he was fresh faced and crisp as a brand new hundred dollar bill, then no one’s going to look at him now.

Not anyone who’d want to spend more than one night with him anyway. And even then, he’s giving them too much credit. More like fifteen minutes in the bathroom. And as much as Blaine has had fun in his fair share of bathrooms, he’s really looking for something deeper. Something more.

Of course, this bar that he’s scored most of the ass he’s tapped since he’s lived in New York probably isn’t the smartest place to go looking for it.

But his choices are limited. He’s a creature of habit, and this bar happens to be a block away from his apartment. Aside from that, he’s a certifiable workaholic, and he doesn’t like to shop at work. He’s a producer and a songwriter, currently slumming the orchestra pit down at the Lyceum Theater as a favor for a friend, and even though Broadway is rife with gay men, the ones he’s hooked up with have mostly been social climbers, warming his bed, hoping for the opportunity to snag something better than chorus line.

Blaine Anderson is no one’s stepping stone.

He takes a sip of his drink, checking to see if it’s any more salvageable than it was five minutes ago, and since the answer is no, he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet, preparing to settle his tab and head out. Who knows? Maybe if he hits Whole Foods on the way home, he might stumble across a nice, eligible bachelor in the organic produce department.

And this is where his imagination runs wild.

They’ll both reach for the same Asian pear. They’ll brush fingers, giggle bashfully. Blaine will offer it to him, but the man will insist Blaine take it instead. Small talk will ensue. They’ll find out they have tons of stuff in common. They’ll go for coffee and end up talking till five in the morning because time will fly by. And as the sun peeks over the horizon, they’ll share Blaine’s pear, along with a few sweet kisses …

It’s the rom-com variety meet-cute New York City is known for.

The romantic in him says it’s worth a shot.

The realist in him says don’t hold your breath.

He puts a tenner on the bar and tells the bartender to keep the change.

High-pitched laughter cuts through the murmur of drunken conversation, stopping Blaine cold, half-standing with his hand thrust awkwardly down the back pocket of his pants. He doesn’t understand why he has such an extreme reaction to it, but it calls to him, goes through him – in his ears and around his brain like a silk sheet, sliding down his throat like a rich mouthful of hot chocolate and settling in his belly. He’s never had that reaction to a laugh before. It’s almost ludicrous. He waits for it to continue, but it doesn’t, and the heat in his belly begins to cool.

But I didn’t just imagine it! he thinks as the sensation drifts away. It was clear as day!

He turns his head, eyes sweeping the dingy bar for whoever made that sound, pausing at the front door as traffic flows in and out. A thin stream of average, uninteresting faces make an appearance but nothing that fits that voice. A few faces later, Blaine decides to go with his first instinct and leave, but he stops for a second time when a gorgeous, almost otherworldly man with pale skin and impossibly blue eyes walks into view. He turns to the bartender as he passes Blaine, not even sparing a glance for the man staring numbly like a dumbstruck teenager. When the stranger speaks, his voice sounds even more magical than before.

“Shirley Temple, extra cherries if you please, Ronnie.”

Ronnie, a surly manticore of a man with a handle-bar moustache and bright red suspenders, raises a hand to acknowledge his order.

“Sure thing,” he says, his gruff, smoker’s voice sounding happier now that he – whoever he is – has arrived. Other patrons at the bar turn to welcome him with a wave or a smile. Blaine notices that the overall atmosphere of the bar has become lighter, less depressing, as if whoever this man is swept in and cleansed the aura of the room.

Or maybe the rum, weak though it is, is finally hitting him.

Either way, this man, taking a seat at a table not too far from him – this ethereally handsome, fashion-forward man with the sea blue eyes, and (Blaine can’t help noticing) incredible ass stuffed into ridiculously tight jeans - convinces Blaine to sit back down and hang out a little while longer.

Whoa, those jeans are tight! he thinks. I mean, I guess I can’t talk. My pants are pretty tight, too. But those look dangerously tight. Like … health endangering tight.

The man sits up straight and runs his hands down his thighs, stopping briefly at his knees, then continuing back up to his hips again. Blaine leans forward at the sight of this man touching himself, stroking the dark denim pulled tight over trim legs, and nearly falls straight off his stool.

Blaine pinches his lips together tight before he can accidentally moan out loud and make a fool out of himself.

N-not that I’m complaining. If you’ve got it, flaunt it. And you definitely got it. I mean, have it. And that voice … are you a singer? I think I would have heard of you if you were a singer. You’d have Broadway wrapped around your finger if you were …

The man bites his bottom lip, holding back a smile, eyes searching the bar, looking for someone. His hand trails up the buttons of his shirt, fidgeting with his open collar, touching his neck lightly with his fingertips.

He must be waiting for someone special. Probably a lover with a reaction like that.

Looks like I don’t stand a chance, huh?

Blaine watches his fingertips move, envisioning opening the man’s shirt, button by button, following with a kiss to every newly revealed patch of skin, ending at his long neck, tracing a path up to his ear with the tip of his tongue. Blaine blinks his eyes, snapping back to reality.

Okay … I don’t know where that came from …

The man looks distracted as he peers off into the crowd and swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bouncing when he does. A waitress comes up to his table with a tray carrying a single drink – a bubbly beverage overflowing with crayon red maraschino cherries. The man’s eyes flick up to the waitress and he smiles, the distracted look dissolving with his enigmatic grin. The waitress sets a napkin down in front of him, and then the drink on top of that. The man nods and watches the waitress walk away before he regards his drink.

Blaine has become positively fascinated with this man, every minute detail of him, even though apart from being inconceivably sexy he has yet to do anything more extraordinary than smile and sip his drink.

But that smile.

It has more character, more personality than the half dozen men he’s tried talking up this week.

The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. He opens it up on the table in front of him and looks at it intently, reaching for his drink again and forgoing the straw this time to take a healthy sip.

That’s an awful lot of cherries for one poor drink, Blaine muses. And here I was, stressing over a daiquiri …

The man looks up from his paper (list? letter? Blaine can’t tell from where he’s sitting …) and chuckles. He pauses for a moment, as if he’s expecting something to happen, gaze shifting left and right, and then returns to the words on the page. The smile on the man’s face drops an inch, than an inch more, until none of it remains.

Sucky news, huh? Blaine commiserates. I understand how that is. I hope that’s not a Dear John letter. Blaine’s mind drifts to thoughts of an envelope resting against his lamp on his bedside table, the letter inside months old but read so many times that creases from the folds in the paper are tearing.

But the edges are still sharp enough to sting.

Someone with gorgeous eyes like yours shouldn’t have to read something like that, he thinks with a sigh.

The man sighs as well, eyes skimming the last few lines. His smile returns. He folds the letter back up and puts it in his pocket.

Guess not, huh? Well, good for you. A man like you deserves love letters … and poetry …

The man shakes his head, but this time he’s staring straight ahead at someone approaching his table. Another unspectacular man from the bar - this one wearing a long, tan coat - walks right up to the only vacant chair at the table and sits down without being invited.

Rude, Blaine thinks. The man he’s been watching for the last half-hour raises both eyebrows and nods his head once, as if he agrees. Blaine watches the second man closely, observing the way he sits, how his eyes bounce from face to face around him, how he keeps his hands folded in his lap, suspiciously close to his hip. The waitress comes up to take his order but the man waves her away, and Blaine gets it.

This second man is a cop.

Suddenly, this show he’s been watching has just become way more interesting. His thin rum and coke forgotten along with all pretense of ever leaving this bar, Blaine focuses on the couple, no longer concerned whether they know he’s watching them or not. He debates finding a chair closer to their table so he can hear what they’re saying, anything to give him a clue as to what his mystery man is up to.

The cop monopolizes most of the conversation from what Blaine can see. He starts talking, low and calm at first, but then more and more animatedly, gesturing with one hand since he keeps the other pinned to his side, probably where his holster is. Blaine prides himself on the fact that he has watched enough episodes of Law and Order that he’s well-versed in many aspects of police behavior by now. In fact, he’s considered becoming a police officer. He thinks he’d be really good at it. He’s athletic and smart (if he does say so himself). And he can be assertive. Only problem is he’s not too keen on guns … or chasing after people … or getting shot at …

In the middle of the officer’s speech, the man with the iridescent blue eyes starts to laugh, apparently at an inappropriate moment because the officer stares at the man with mouth agape and eyes wide, offense written in every line of his strained face. The blue-eyed man peeks up at his companion and waves a dismissive hand. It looks to Blaine like he’s assuring the angered officer that he wasn’t laughing at him or anything he said. He quiets down, gesturing for the officer to continue.

Blaine watches in silence as the two talk back and forth, concentrating on their lips to see if he can catch any snippets of conversation. He narrows his eyes until he gets a migraine, but the only words he thinks he can catch are ‘lost’ and ‘help’, and maybe ‘dead’, though it could have been ‘den’ or ‘desk’. Blaine’s eyes begin to cross, and more and more he’s starting to wish that the police officer guy would just leave so he can go back to unraveling the mystery of this man with the prismatic blue eyes.

The man (Blaine has decided to call him ‘Noel’ since he bears a striking resemblance to a young Noel Coward) closes his eyes and puts his fingers to his temples, pressing and massaging tiny circles into his skin.

Is Captain Overbearing bothering you? Blaine thinks. Is he giving you a headache? I know people like that. They walk into the room and pow! My head throbs. I used to let them walk all over me, mostly because we’d been friends forever. It happens with my brother, too. I could tell them to eff off, but I guess I have a phobia of not having any friends. But now, being a New Yorker for the past decade, I opt for revenge. Not the big kind of revenge. I mean, I don’t think I could hurt anyone, or ruin their lives, or anything. I have been known to slip a few drops of Visine into their soda. Gives them the poops for hours. That’s fairly satisfying …

In the midst of massaging his temples, the man smiles. He opens his eyes, throws his head back and laughs, and again the officer looks entirely put off. The man shakes his head, leaning toward the man across the table, putting a hand up to either amplify his voice or shield his lips from view. Blaine pouts, feeling intentionally left out of the conversation. Even though his lip reading skills have so far gotten him nowhere, now he has no hope of finding out what’s going on between Noel and his police officer friend.

The officer nods, his eyes performing a cursory glance of the bar one last time before he gets up and heads for the exit. The man at the table stands as well, reaching into his back pocket, squeezing his hand into the tight fit and pulling out his wallet. Blaine deflates when he sees the man pull out a bill along with some other thin piece of paper, something that looks suspiciously like a business card, from his wallet. He places the bill beside his half-drunk Shirley Temple on the table, and then turns on his heel. Blaine expects the man to head out the door after the police officer, but instead he looks straight at Blaine.

Blaine pivots his head left and right, then turns his head completely around and glances behind himself to be sure, and yes, he’s the only one in Noel’s sight line at present. He heads right for Blaine, eyes locked unnervingly on Blaine’s face, and for a moment Blaine becomes confused and frightened all at once. The man is striking, but he also has an undeniable air of confidence and power that makes Blaine want to drop to beg for forgiveness and do whatever this man tells him to do. But why does Blaine feel so guilty? He hasn’t said word one to the man! He’ll admit, he has been staring, but that’s all.

Maybe he should have just gone home when he’d planned. Now he’s about to get into a fist fight in a bar.

Not really. Blaine has no intention of throwing a single punch.

The man stops before Blaine, hands resting on his hips, doing nothing but look at him, eyes going over his body from head to toe. A range of emotions pass over his face from amusement to sympathy to curious. He lands back on amusement and stays there. He holds the thin card out to him. When Blaine just stares at him, speechless, he leans forward and slips it neatly into the outer pocket of Blaine’s button-down shirt.

“The name’s Kurt,” the man says, “not Noel, but I appreciate the compliment. Also, I appreciate your concern about the effects of my pants on my health, but I promise you, they’re no tighter than I can handle.”

Blaine leans against the bar, knocked out of his stupor by the man’s opening line.

“Believe it or don’t, I understand what it’s like to feel alone in a city of 8 million people. We have that in common. And by the way,” the man Blaine now knows is Kurt, not Noel, says, “I’m not a big fan of rum and coke, either. So when you take me out on Friday night, just order the damn daiquiri? Life’s too short for shitty friends and crappy drinks.”

Kurt pats Blaine’s pocket where the card is safely tucked and winks, turning and heading toward the entrance where the police officer has ducked back in to wait for his companion to follow.

Blaine still hasn’t said a word, stunned into silence as he watches Kurt leave. Kurt says something to the officer at the door, motioning vaguely in Blaine’s direction. The officer’s eyes find Blaine and the weary man smirks. He holds the door open for Kurt, who turns one last time to see Blaine stuck in the same position that he left him. He raises an arm and waves, blowing Blaine a kiss. He steps out the door with a satisfied grin, and like that, he’s gone.

Blaine waits a moment longer after Kurt has gone, trying to wrap his mind around everything that happened. But try as he might, it’s too surreal for him to comprehend. Noel – not Noel, as it turns out, but Kurt – had called him out on everything he’d thought while watching him. But how? How in the hell is that possible? Well, he works with a police officer. Is there a chance that maybe he … what?

What, Blaine? he asks himself. What on God’s green earth could possibly explain all of that?

Remembering the card waiting for him in his pocket, he pulls it out carefully, not willing to lose it and the opportunity to contact that fascinating man. Blaine reads the words embossed on it, then he reads them again. He reads them over and over, close to a hundred times, and after their meaning sinks in fully, he’s not sure if he should laugh or find the nearest rock and hide under it.

Blaine mentally goes over everything he saw tonight – every inflection Kurt made, every movement, every shift of his inquisitive eyes. Blaine has spent the past ten years of his life being a skeptic, constantly questioning everyone’s intentions and emotions, feeling like no one he’s met has truly understood him, nor has ever really wanted to. But after tonight, none of that matters.

This might be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

Kurt E. Hummel

Medium

Psychic Investigator

#klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #klaine #frankie writes

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sidehowriting · 6 years ago

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Kiss

Masterlist

A/N: Hello, everyone! Are you ready for the Loki feels? Hopefully I can deliver! This is my first story with him so fingers crossed I did alright. This story is for @barnesrogersvstheworld Marvel Kiss Challenge! The challenge and the prompt just really spoke to me so I had to do it!

Italics are flashbacks

Prompt: I’m in love with you

Pairings: Loki x Asgardian!reader

Summary: Asgard is gone and Loki is alive.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Angst, swears

You were on the ship, making everyone was safe and secure. Once you knew everyone was alright, you began to go over the events of the past hour or so. You could have sworn you saw Loki as you were loading everyone on the ship. You could have sworn you saw his green armor, horned helmet, and shiny daggers fighting this way through the mob. But he was dead, wasn’t he? Odin himself had told you of Loki’s passing. Which was a bit odd in and of itself. How many times had you spoken to Odin one on one before? It happened so infrequently that you couldn’t even remember the last time.

But then you were in the crowd, being hurled into space and watching Asgard burn and who steps up next to Thor? Fucking Loki. Your stomach did a panicked flip and you weren’t sure why. Part of you wanted to run up and hug him because you missed him like crazy. You wanted to cry in his arms because you thought he was dead (twice) for so long. And then part of you wanted to just punch his stupidly attractive face because he hurt you so deeply.

You made the executive decision to just walk away. The sight of him was stirring up weird feelings inside of you that you didn’t feel like thinking about. Instead, you found a bathroom to clean yourself up. The dirt and grime of the trek through Asgard and from trying not to get killed by Hela washed off of you easily. You hated putting your dirty clothes back on after that, but they were all you had.

Afterwards, you just roamed the ship, trying to figure it out. It was large, more than enough room to hold everyone. You stumbled upon what looked like it could be a study. You stepped inside, not realizing it was already occupied.

Loki was there, looking at the objects that decorated the room. His hands were clasped behind his back and his long black hair looked a bit messy. More panic set in as his attention was turned to you.

“Loki,” you breathed. “You’re alive. You’re here and you’re alive.”

“Hello, Y/N,” he said, walking up to you. You didn’t move. He wore a sad smile as he took another cautious step towards you. You simply stared, not sure how to process everything you were feeling. “I know this must be a bit of a shock-“

“Considering you’ve been dead for years? Yeah, that’s one way to put it.” You took a step back from him, not quite ready.

He sighed, hanging his head. “I know. And believe me, I wanted to tell you-“

“Then why didn’t you?” You bit, suddenly feeling angry.

He opened his mouth to respond then closed it. Your glare softened a bit when you met his sad eyes. You hated to admit that they pulled on your heartstrings.

“I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “I can’t do this right now, Loki. I’m not ready.” You avoided his eyes as you walked away from him. You knew you would cave if you saw them again. And you needed time to process everything that had happened. You lost your home, friends, and now the person you cared for most in the world turns up not to be dead. A lot had happened in a few short days.

Loki was first and foremost your friend. For years and years, he was really the only person you talked to, spent time with. You cared for him. Quite a lot. But deep inside, you knew it was so much more. You loved him. Truly and properly. You never spoke the words though. It wasn’t worth the risk of your established relationship and you didn’t think you could bare it if he didn’t reciprocate. He never made it seem like he had the same feelings towards you, so you simply pushed them down as far as they would go and hoped for the best.

But now you were homeless and stranded and he wasn’t dead.

You properly avoided him for close to a week. You’d meet his eyes from across the room or in one of the halls. You’d quickly look away once you saw his pain. But you couldn’t manage yet. It had been years since you had seen him. The last time being when he was locked away after his attack on New York. He told you not to visit him again. Then the next thing you know is he’s dead protecting Thor’s mortal, Jane (who he’s apparently not with anymore, good for nothing). You were angry, upset, and scared.

Honestly, you would have avoided him for longer, if you hadn’t stumbled upon a conversation he was having with Thor. You snuck up closer to the room they occupied to listen better.

“She hates me, Brother.” You pressed your back against the wall and scooted as close to the open door as you could.

“She doesn’t hate you,” you heard Thor insist.

“She hasn’t spoken to me in days.”

Thor sighed. “She’s been through a lot, Brother. Give her time. Y/N will come around.” You heard a noise that you assumed was Thor slapping Loki on the back. “She cares deeply for you.”

“And I might have ruined that,” Loki said in a much softer voice. Did he ruin that? No, not entirely. Your feelings for him were just as strong as ever. He was your best friend, your confidant, your Loki. And you needed him back.

As silently as you could, you walked away, not wanting to be noticed by the brothers. You went to one of the unoccupied rooms and sat down, thinking about everything.

During your contemplation you heard Loki’s voice from the doorway. “Hello,” he said, “May I join you?”

“You may.”

He stepped inside the room and over to you. When you didn’t move away he sat down next to you. You could feel his eyes on you, but you made no notion to meet them. Instead you stayed facing forward.

“I heard you and Thor talking,” you said softly, quickly glancing over at him. “I don’t hate you.”

“You should,” he responded. “I pushed you away and then I couldn’t even tell you I was alive.”

You looked over at him and saw that now he was facing forward. “Yeah, that wasn’t very kind of you.”

“To be fair, I’ve never been known for my kindness.” His dry remark did make you smile. He smiled too. Finally, your eyes locked. How you missed him.

“I’m glad you’re back, Loki.”

“I’m glad to be back with you,” he said to you. “And I’m so sorry for not telling you the truth. I wanted to, truly I did, but I couldn’t risk being exposed.”

“I guess it makes sense why Odin took a sudden interest in me,” you said, lightening the mood a bit. “I thought he hated me then all of a sudden he’s requesting my presence?”

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t say Odin hated you. He just didn’t care for me and by proxy didn’t care for you.”

You brought your hand to your mouth and giggled. “I should have known it was you with the golden statue and the play. I thought Odin had started to go mad.”

He laughed again. “Was it a bit much?”

“Just a bit.” You turned to face him, a small smile on both of you. Your stomach did a tiny flip.

A comfortable silence fell between you two. You wanted to reach out and touch him, just to make sure he was real. You know he’s fond of illusions and you wanted to be sure you were talking to the real Loki. Slowly, tentatively, you touched his hand, relief flooding you when you knew it was really him.

Your fingers folded under his hand. His cold ones wrapping themselves around yours. You watched the movements carefully. Making sure it was all real.

“I’m here,” he said softly, squeezing your hand.

“I just wanted to make sure.”

“That’s more than fair.” He squeezed your hand again. “I’m sorry for pushing you away.”

“I don’t understand why. I would have visited you everyday if you had let me.” You thought back to when Asgard was still there and Loki was locked away for his crimes. You had gone to see him; he was your best friend after all. But he had been closed and distant.

“Take me to see him, Thor,” you demanded, arms folded across your chest. You were highly irritated that Thor was being so impossible. All you wanted to do was visit Loki in prison and Thor was being a huge pain about it. “The guards won’t let me pass without your escort.”

“I just don’t understand why you want to, Y/N. There’s nothing there for you,” he responded.

“Yes, there is. He’s there.” You were determined and not about to let Thor stop you.

“Your feelings for my brother are miss placed.”

“But they’re mine to miss place!” You sighed in frustration. “You don’t get to decide what I should or should not feel for Loki, Thor. Just let me see him.”

“He’s not your childhood friend anymore, Y/N!” He was getting just as frustrated as you were.

“Neither are you, Thor!” you spat back.

“What?” His face crinkled in confusion. “I know we haven’t been as close in recent years, but I thought we still had a good relationship.”

You scoffed. “I mean, I guess we’re fine, but I know you were always closer with the others. The warriors. I was only good to play damsel in distress.”

He looked genuinely upset by your words. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t realize.. I always thought of you as a friend.”

“it’s fine, Thor,” You reassured him. “Honestly, I don’t care. I had Loki. You know this. You saw how close Loki and I became. That hasn’t changed for me. So please Thor, as a friend. Take me to see him.”

He sighed in defeat. “Very well.”

You were pleased. Following him to the prison where Loki was being held, you heart started to race. It had been awhile since you last saw him, and you were so scared.

The guards didn’t ask questions as you and Thor passed. They barely even looked at you which was a contrast to when you first tried to see Loki. You were happy Thor decided to take you.

As soon as you saw his prison, you quickened your pace, leaving Thor behind. He stayed a distance back, letting you take center stage.

You stood in front of his cell, looking at him. He still looked well put together, just as he always had. But there was something slightly off. Something about his demeanor that made him seem… different.

“Loki,” you said softly.

“Y/N.” He said your name so casually as he stepped forward towards the barrier that separated the two of you.

Loki and yourself just stared at each other for a moment, taking each other in. The last you had heard he was dead and then all of a sudden you hear he’s on Midgard attacking.

“It’s good to see you alive.” You were the one to break the silence. You weren’t sure how to start the conversation, but you were beyond thankful that he was there.

“How kind.” His voice still didn’t show any emotions.

“Are you not happy to see me?” You asked in confusion.

He simply shrugged. “It matters not. You’d probably be better off not being here.”

“You sound like Thor. He said the same thing.” You rolled your eyes, annoyed.

“He has a point. You shouldn’t be here.”

“And why not? I wanted to see you, Loki. How long ago did I think you were dead? That I’d never get to see you again? It broke me. Then to hear you’re alive… I had to come visit.”

He chuckled once and started pacing his cell. “I’m touched, Y/N, truly I am. But I must ask you don’t come visit again.”

“And why not?” You asked again. “Do you not want to see me?”

He stopped in front of you, getting as close to the barrier as he could. “You’re naïve, Y/N.”

You were getting angry. His word games annoying you to your core. “You’re my friend, Loki. I care about you. So much. I…” Tears prickled in your eyes. This was not how your first meeting with him had gone in your mind.

“Go home, Y/N.”

“Loki-“ You pleaded.

“Leave!” His commanding voice echoed around you. Leaving you stunned and shaking and damn near tears. You took a few steps back, both of you staring at each other like when you first arrived. As the first tear rolled down your cheek you turned away from his cell and walked away.

You met back up with Thor and the two of you left the prison. You were thankful Thor didn’t boast about being right.

Loki sighed. “I know you would have, and I didn’t deserve it. I didn’t deserve your kindness. I couldn’t bare having you see me that way. I was…I still am a monster.”

“You’re so stupid sometimes, Loki. I wanted to see you. Odin and maybe even Thor might have decided you weren’t worth their time anymore but not me.” Now it was your turn to squeeze his hand. “And you’re the only one that saw yourself as a monster. You made yourself that way by acting like a complete fool. Not because your Jotun.”

He leaned his head back and sighed. “I’m sorry. For everything. I never should have treated you the way I did.”

You scooted a tiny bit closer to him. He didn’t react, so you scooted even closer, your arm pressed against his.

“It’s okay. I’m here now.” You leaned your head against his shoulder, nuzzling gently. You heard him sigh in contentment and soon his cheek was, pressed to the top of your head. “Please don’t ever push me away again.”

“I won’t.”

You closed your eyes and smiled, feeling happier than you have in a long time. Being this close to Loki, resting against him, breathing in his scent. This was everything to you. He was everything to you. And…did you feel his lips press against the top of your head? You loved him. You couldn’t deny it and you didn’t want to.

The words were floating around in your head. You wanted to tell him. You needed it. If he didn’t feel the same way, well, it was a large ship. Avoiding him would be easy until the awkwardness went away.

You opened your mouth to tell him but was cut off by a blaring horn. You jumped up at it, confused. Loki tensed besides you. “We’re under attack.” He hurried to his feet, pulling you with him.

“By who?” You asked, unsure. Hela was destroyed on Asgard (with Asgard) by Surtur. Who was out there that would want to attack a refugee ship?

“I think I know,” Loki muttered and ran out, you right on his heels. “Make sure the evacuation pods are running. Gather as many Asgardians as you can to get on them.” He called over his shoulder to you.

“But-“

“Go!” He ordered, and you nodded, taking off in the other direction. You raced towards the refugee camp. Explosions started going off and you weren’t sure where they were coming from. You dodged and dived, coming away with just a few scrapes.

There were a decent number of Asgardians currently present at what had become their camp. You ordered them to follow you towards the escape pods and they did so without question. Getting there was just as dangerous as getting to them but somehow you did it.

There were two escape pods tucked neatly together, doors made of glass. They looked big enough to hold the Asgardians you had with you. But you knew this wasn’t all of them; however, you didn’t know where the others were. The ship was large, and you didn’t have the time to gather every single one. The most you could do was hope that they others were safe and that there were more pods located somewhere on the ship.

You started hastily pressing buttons, hoping something would happen. Whatever you were doing, seemed to work. They started making noise, signaling that they were starting to fire up. You figured out the button to open the doors and started ushering people inside. One of the pods was almost packed to compacity when Loki ran in.

“Loki, what’s going on?” You demanded to know, trying to hold back the fear you felt.

“it’s Thanos,” he said, a fearful look in his eyes. You knew about Thanos. Odin (Loki?) told you everything you needed to know about him. “You need to get in there and get out.”

You shook your head. “I’m not leaving without you.” The first pod filled, and the remaining Asgardians were scurrying onto the second.

“Darling, you must.”

“I’m not losing you again, Loki! You can’t make me!” You screamed as another explosion happened nearby.

“This isn’t up for debate, Y/N. Get in the pod and leave!” He grabbed your arm and tried to push you inside. You pushed back, unwilling to move.

“No!” You were seething. Your heart started to race at the thought of losing him away and tears prickled the back of your eyes. You had just found him again, you couldn’t possibly leave him. Not here. Not like this.

“Darling-“ He growled in a low voice, but you cut him off.

“I’m in love with you, Loki!” You slammed the button to close the pods. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

He was still grasping your arms, eyes searching yours intensely. It was hard to read his expression. His mouth in a thin line as he squeezed you tightly. This wasn’t exactly how you had imagined telling him, but it was too late to go back. And you knew you couldn’t keep going if you didn’t tell him.

You were about to open your mouth to say more but he cut you off with a kiss. It was intense and powerful and made your knees shake. How many years had you waited for this moment? To know what his lips felt like. Tasted like. You head was spinning and you were starting to lose yourself in his kiss.

And then he pushed you.

You landed in the pod just as the door closed. It geared up to launch as you got to your feet, doors locked and unwilling to reopen. You banged on the door screaming for him. He didn’t move. You continued to bang and cry, pleading for him. While his lips stayed in a hard line, his eyes were an open book. You saw the hurt, the pain. You saw love. You knew he did what he did because he loves you just as fiercely as you love him.

The pods launched into space, hurling you away from the ship and Loki. All you could do was miserably watch as he grew smaller and smaller until you couldn’t see him anymore at all.

Tags: @dsakita

#attie's marvel kiss challenge #loki #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson x y/n #loki odinson #loki angst #loki fanfiction #kiss #asgardian reader

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the-yandere-cryptid · 6 years ago

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“ I saw you write something before about Reinhardt always breaking down the door when you lock it. Do you think you could write something about that? “

Oh of course I can do that. (Gender N Reader, SFW)

Watchpoint: Ankara was in complete chaos. Alarms echoed down every corridor. People scrambled in all directions, allowing you to easily duck and weave around in the cover of a crowd. Responding to a threat that was quickly becoming a massive internal emergency. Thunder shook the ground beneath your feet. Sometimes close and other times further away, like the source of the noise was following you. It probably was.

You turned down a hallway, and suddenly there was no traffic in your direction. Every soldier was trying to push past you, some urging you to evacuate the base as you passed by. Despite their warnings, every one seemed a bit too busy to try stopping you. Once you broke free of the ranks, the soldiers rounded the corner and you were alone. But that didn't necessarily mean safe.

You continued down the tile hallway, making a sharp right and coming across a massive vault door, slightly ajar. You couldn't think of a better place to hide if you tried.

The door was controlled by a panel, and that panel still held the keycard from whoever had last used it. You pressed open, watching the door swing slowly on massive creaking hinges. Then, you pressed close, and snatched the card. The door began to creak shut, and you slid through the sizable gap with plenty of time to spare before it closed. Each click of an automatic lock brought joy to your ears, the sound of pressurizing air elating your lungs. Once the system locked into place, you turned and realized immediately where you had locked yourself.

The Overwatch Armory.

Home to more than just an assortment of guns. All the latest tech--some not even revealed to the public--lined each and every shelf. If those soldiers came from that hallway, that meant they had armed themselves from this same vault, carrying some weapon of doom to finish off the man destroying the base. All the better. You could let those soldiers do their job, and you would do yours: Figuring out how to escape.

The floor shook again, the sound deafened from behind the soundproofed walls. You couldn't believe it was all the work of one man. One massive, terrifying beast of a man. So powerful that you felt safer locked in a tiny vault than out there with him.

But you couldn’t stay here forever. The entrances were on lockdown, and you needed an Overwatch ID to escape the evacuation entrance, which you didn’t have. So he knew you were still in the base, and unless you found another method of escape, he’d tear every wall down looking for you. You weren’t going to wait around to find out whether he breaks into the vault or you starve to death first.

You turned and began gauging the size of the armory. You couldn’t feel a breeze, but this room was definitely a scale colder than the rest of the base, meaning there had to be some form of air conditioning. That meant a vent. Weaving between looming metal shelves, you started scanning the walls for anything resembling a grate.

---

Kilik had never believe the whole "life flashing before your eyes" thing, and he certainly wasn't getting any flashes of his childhood now. Perhaps the taste of the blood he was choking on was distracting him from his fond memories.

But no, he wasn't going to die. That psychopath was focused on someone else now, interrogating some other soon-to-be-cadaver on the floor, and there was an elevator right across the hallway. If he stayed quiet, if he crawled, he could get somewhere, get help. Sucking in a breath, he started to drag his numb lower body across the tile.

"You there." Kilik froze, eyes stuck on the elevator. Massive footsteps trodded his way, an equally massive hand grabbing him by his kevlar vest, and it made Kilik release a very massive squeak. At least he was grateful that the man wore a helmet--he didn't like the idea of looking into his killers eyes.

"Did you see someone in a gray shirt and sweatpants?" Kilik's eyes widened. He did see that person. God, it felt like days since that had happened. His eyes glazed over the man’s shoulder to a cracked clock on the wall. It'd only been 10 minutes since they dispatched from the armory.

"Y-Yes," he gurgled.

"Did they look afraid?"

Kilik scrunched his brows together. He tried to recall the face from that long distant memory. He supposed he didn't notice, considering everyone was in a panic. "Yeah."

The armor-clad man nodded slowly, his orange visor dimming. "Where?"

All the grates you found were no bigger than your foot. No human-sized vents. That made sense, high security vault and all, but fuck, whatever happened to contingency? What if someone got locked in here?

...Well, to be fair, you would probably be the only one stupid enough--or rather, desperate enough--to lock yourself in here in the first place. So, you only had one more choice: Grab something that could kill a man and wait it out until the base was in the clear again. You weren't going to be lax, couldn't feel safe even behind concrete walls and a metal door. You would only feel safe with two thousand miles of distance between you and that man.

A bang. You whipped around, grabbing the first thing you could reach off of the shelf and pointing it at the door. The now-misshapen door. You lowered the laser pistol, eye trailing over the massive protrusion of metal that poked into the vault. That door was at least 6 inches of solid steel.

And yet, he pushed through it like clay. “Hide,” you thought to yourself. “Run.”

But you could bring your stiff muscles to do nothing but gawk as he smashed into it again. The metal lightened as it started to give, then, with a metallic squeal that shook your eardrums, the metal split open. And in came Reinhardt.

His armor was dented with hundreds of bullets, but you didn't have to look to know that none had penetrated. All the blood on his hands, and you'd bet that none of it was his. The pistol fell out of your trembling hand. Why try? If whatever Overwatch had taken to stop him didn't work, what chance did you have?

"Mein leib," he growled, ripping his helmet off of his head. His single blue eye shone wildly, teeth bared in an wild scowl. "This game is over."

#reinhardt wilhelm #overwatch #yandere #sfw #yandere scribbles

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rookie-dm-disasters · 3 years ago

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Chapter 3: Night Terrors

Deep into the night, Thorfreyer tossed and turned in his bed. Body and mind churning from the horrible meat he ate only an hour ago. He was visited by a dream he was all too familiar with. One that he knew would haunt him forever, for it was both a source of fear, and a painful memory for him.

He was back home, just woken up by the sound of a scream, his father staring at him, calling him a monster, and launching his spear at Thorfreyer. Not understanding what was happening, Thorfreyer ran and ripped the spear from his shoulder. He ran deep into the forest and came a across a still pool of water. He stopped for a drink and discovered that he was no longer a man, but a minotaur, cursed by a hag. He had this dream enough times to know he was currently dreaming, but that did not stop him from fearing what came next.

He roamed the forest for what felt like hours, and upon passing a large oak tree, he noticed a scorched symbol in the wood. The symbol looked like it was burned into the wood with a green flame and the scorch marks we fresh. The symbol itself looked like a capital T with two dots at the base of it. It was a symbol unfamiliar to Thorfreyer at the time, but now he knew it as the hated symbol of Baphomet. He heard branches snapping and felt as if the earth itself was being disturbed. He looked to where he heard the noise coming from.

In the distance, there was a rustling of trees. A large figure appeared, unfazed by the trees in his way. The trees themselves appeared to bend and bow to the figure that approached. As it got closer, Thorfreyer could see the figure more clearly as a demonic looking minotaur, somewhere between a goat and a bull. He carried one large sword and each step he took seemed to shake the earth. His figure loomed over Thorfreyer like a mountain. The figure looked down on Thorfreyer and said, “You seem to have found yourself in an unfortunate situation, boy.” His voice was deep and controlled and held the confidence of a warrior.

Thorfreyer looked at the monster before him. “I don’t understand. This isn’t what I wanted. This isn’t what I wished for!”

The monster cocked his head. “And, what did you wish for?”

Thorfreyer paused for a moment. “I wished for the strength of a bull.”

“Seems to me like you got exactly what you wanted.” He said with a smirk.

“But everyone hates me now!”

“If you wanted everyone to like you, you should have wished for everyone to like you. A word of advice, boy. When someone, anyone, grants you a wish, either make sure you are smarter than them, or don’t accept.” He gazed up at the stars in the sky. “The forces that be do not like being tampered with.”

Thorfreyer contemplated the words of the monster. “Who are you?”

“I am called Baphomet, Demon Lord of Minotaurs. And you work for me now.”

“What, exactly, would working for you do for me.”

Baphomet raised his eyebrows. “For one, it will allow you to live longer. Second, I do not expect much. Most of what I desire involves joining my army. I have a” he paused, looking for the right word, “rivalry, with another god. My desire is to amass an army of beasts and monsters, so he is no longer a pain in my side. You act as my agent in this world and do as I say. Simple as that.”

Thorfreyer never had much patience for anyone who tried to command him. He would take jobs as a mercenary, but those were always on his own terms. If he was working, he would be the one benefiting, not some self-important snob who thought they could tell him what to do.

Thorfreyer scoffed. “You can take that sword of yours and shove it. I only fight for the sake of others when there is coin on the li-“

Before Thorfreyer even realized it, he was on the ground with an impossible weight on him. He felt a hand grab the back of his head and bury his face in the dirt.

Baphomet said, “Look, I get it. You’re lost and confused. Your entire life just changed, and you lost your home. I can understand that you may not be in the right headspace at the moment. I will let it slide this time, but know this, boy. The next time we meet, you will either join my army, or you will die. Until that time, I would advise that you beware your new kin.”

With that, Thorfreyer felt the monstrous weight leave him. He looked around and Baphomet was nowhere to be seen. He looked to the tree that bore the scorched symbol of the god, and saw that the tree looked as if the symbol had never been there at all.

Thorfreyer awoke in the Dusty Dunes Tavern, bellowing in rage, and his fur matted in a cold sweat. His eyes darted around the room, questioning where he was. Questioning if he was safe. It took him a moment to remember why he was in this room and began pacing, trying to calm himself down. He paced past the desk and leaned against the window sill. He looked out into the night sky. It has been a year since he had that experience with Baphomet. How much longer until the god made his move? Would he be safe from his wrath much longer? He knew he was no match for a god. If he ran into Baphomet again, he would have to join him and be his servant or die. He though he might prefer death to a life of servitude.

There was a knock on the door. It was a small light knock, almost a question, scared to disturb what was inside. Thorfreyer walked towards the door and swung it open. His face scowled when he saw no one was there. He grumbled to himself and started closing the door but stopped when he heard a small noise.

“Ahem”

Thorfreyers’ ears twitched, and he turned back around. He looked down to see Argibold looking up at him, looking wholly unamused. Thorfreyer let out a long sigh that could have been mistaken for a growl. No part of him wanted to deal with this right now. Argibold looked at him with a clearly fake smile.

“Hey big guy. I heard a bit of commotion up here. Bit of a light sleeper myself. Anything I can help you with?” Argibold looked like he was just as done with this conversation as Thorfreyer felt.

“Well,” Said Thorfreyer, “if you have a way to put me into a dreamless sleep, that would be great.”

Argibold clapped. “Done”

Argibold reached into his gelatinous arm and pulled out his wand. A soft purple light emitted from the wand and he muttered an incantation. He thrust out the wand and the purple light shot out like a small marble and hit Thorfreyer directly between the eyes. Thorfreyer started to blink slowly and swayed on his hooves. Before he could fall on the floor, Argibold summoned a large hand to nudge the minotaur back on his bed. In an instant, Thorfreyer was snoring. Argibold placed his wand back into his arm, a blank expression on his face the whole time. He closed the door and walked down the hallway to head back to his room in the basement. He saw moonlight pouring out of a room at the end of the long hall next to the stairway. He peered inside and saw that this was room Nariel had claimed. The elf was on her bed in a trance and Argibold slowly shut the door to her room. “These kids,” Argibold muttered to himself, making his way down the stairs. “Can’t even shut their own doors.”

Within her room. Nariel was in the midst of a deep trance, resting for the night. Not long after Argibold shut the door to her room, she was brought out of her trance by a startling noise.

“Princess.” A stern voice said.

Nariel looked to where the voice came from and saw a familiar figure. He was dressed in raiment’s Nariel was all too familiar with. It was the regalia of the royal guard of the Golden Kingdom. He wore a white leather vest with a green shirt underneath. His helmet was gold in color and had a plume of what looked like grass coming from the top of it. He had a rapier at his side. This was a man that Nariel knew well as the leader of the royal guard, Timon. He is the one who taught her how to fight back home. He was currently kneeling on one knee, head bowed, and a hand to his chest. If he was here, Nariel knew it could only mean one thing.

“No, Timon.” She said. “I am not going back to the kingdom. I am not going back to a life of being cooped up in a castle.”

Timon let out a sigh. “Unfortunately, what you want isn’t a factor right now.”

Nariel rolled her eyes. “When has it ever been a factor?”

Timon let out a soft chuckle, “Fair enough. Regardless, I am under direct order from the King and Queen to return you to your home. The kingdom needs you.”

“They’re smart, I’m sure they can figure it out without me.”

“Princess, I beg you, don’t make this more difficult than this has to be.”

“You can’t make me go back.”

Timon let out another sigh. “I didn’t want to do this.” Without leaving from his kneeling position, he snapped his finger, and another elf in the same attire rolled in through the open window. Before Nariel had a chance to collect herself and react, the elf produced a vial of powder, crushed it, and threw it at her. Nariel, still on her bed, was now surrounded by a small cloud of purple smoke. She was losing consciousness with each breath, falling onto the floor when she tried to stand. In her last moments of clear thought, she yanked the golden leaf pendant from her neck and tossed it under her bed. She hoped it would be enough of a clue for her party to know what happened and find her. She knew it wouldn’t be easy for them. The Golden Kingdom was a secretive place, always hiding itself from the outside world. Most people outside of the kingdom didn’t even know of its existence. She had to believe that was enough.

Nariel, unconscious, was carried out of her room through the window. The guards of her own kingdom stuck to the shadows of Waterdeep as they carried her through the streets. The people of the Golden Kingdom were well practiced in staying hidden and staying out of sight of the Waterdeep guards was easy work for them. Swift as the wind and silent as a shadow, they made their way out and away from the city. Nariel was on a direct course to her home.

Back at the Dusty Dunes Tavern and Inn, all was finally quiet. The whole group rested in their beds, not knowing that their newest friend was taken from them. The only sound in the night was a gentle breeze blowing in through the window of Nariel’s room. A lone golden leaf pendant rested on the floor beneath the bed, waiting to be found.

#dungeons and dragons #writing #short fiction

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