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anchovies-4-dinner · 2 years ago

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Love for a Sinner | Yan!Cyno

What if: the Mahamatra is nothing but meticulous. You were unfortunate enough to be deemed suspicious.

Words: 2k

Warnings: Text is long. You should probably open in a new tab 👍

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Peace. Order. Stability.

With upholding the laws of the Akademiya naturally comes those favourable results of his labour. Though researchers may never truly feel at ease, and common folk will always veer away, Cyno is... indifferent. He executes his job well and with high efficiency, as expected of a general Mahamatra.

He brings criminals to the eyes of Justice for their trial. Their crimes are not for him to judge.

So why does he feel restless when a rehabilitated sinner is walking free?

Sumeru is a small city so it was no surprise that you would bump into each other often. The first few times was awkward, what with you both avoiding eye contact and shuffling away as if there was a gun to your head. It probably didn’t help that he was the one to personally arrest you for committing the second cardinal sin: tampering with life and death.

He’d been shoved, bribed, and briefly escaped from when confronting sinners, however only a small margin had pitifully sunk to their knees sobbing over the corpse of their husband as they were dragged away to a cell.

Of course the sages ripped into you; they pointed out every flaw in your grief-stricken research and admonished your recklessness. Cyno attempted to soften the blow, but lost all motive when they ushered him out. Sometimes he felt as if the sages were overcompensating, for what he didn't know.

This would be a good lesson for you, he chanted, there’s no room for mistakes when you have bountiful knowledge in the hands of a mourner. You were trying to reanimate the corpse for crying out loud.

Now that you’ve been kicked out the Akademiya you managed to secure a job in Zubayr Theatre working on stage props. According to Nilou and his own observations you seemed happier than before...

Cyno tsked without realising. He blinked in surprise and so did the others around him before turning back to the performance on stage; Nilou was dancing, quite literally glowing from the mix of light and water glistening like jewellery. It was nothing short of an enchanting display yet the Mahamatra found himself drawn to the darkened corners of the stage where you stood watching. Even under the hood of his disguise your figure was unmistakeable, to him at least.

He had no doubt the rehabilitation and trial and knocked some sense back into you, but it was just as important that your mistake is seared into your memory forever lest you be lead astray again. If that were to happen then he would be more than glad to step in.

After anonymously gifting a beautiful bouquet to the performer he brought up his concerns to his trusty friend.

“Are you an idiot?”

Cyno was often a victim of Tighnari’s vents but that one-liner tipped him off more than haughty scholars. These days the ranger seemed to be getting snappier towards him, must be the jokes. He should really stop picking them from random joke books.

“I hardly think keeping surveillance on a newly released criminal is foolish. Yes they are reformed, but any moment they could slip right back.” The general crossed his arms, “The wound’s still fresh. All it would take is one bad day.”

The forest ranger shook his head and grumbled something under his breath as he patched up the latest victim of the forest. The victim then suffered a wind long lecture followed by scathing remarks; he really isn’t in the best of moods huh.

After the patient left Tighnari finally offered ‘constructive’ criticism, “For someone who everyone fears you’re as thick as that GCT box you always carry around.”

“You mean Genius Invokation TCG deck. And it’s thick for a good reason-”

“I’ve beaten you 3-2 don’t even try telling me that you still think that deck’s invincible.”

“Perhaps, but you haven’t yet encountered my new additions: (insert unforgivable joke).”

Cyno physically saw Tighnari’s eyes shift as his thoughts were processed until he was fixed by a blank stare.

“Ha-”

“Get out.”

...

A month and a 20 days later Cyno grew more restless, so for that month and 20 days he surveilled you, individually asking others of your state and probability of relapse. They were all a bust until one day your co-worker whispered in a shaky tone:

“They never come to our parties and such, spending all their time at home.”

This was important. Your house had long been ransacked by officials and any illegal research confiscated, but for all he knew you could be breaking the law again.

Usually he liked to be upfront but due to a lack of evidence he had to be extra careful in investigating you. Once you left for work he made his move; As he approached the door he noticed a few incriminating things: for one you had an abnormal amount of locks installed, most likely to prevent the chance of anyone finding out your activity. Second, he could spy a few concealed trip wires near the entrance, and after successfully passing by the obstacles, he was met with an uncharacteristically bare house. It obviously to trick him into thinking you weren’t hiding anything, but the Mahamatra was nothing if not perceptive and he easily found the hidden entrance to your workshop.

And it was exactly as he thought; papers and apparatus were splayed around the room with a few photos pinned onto a cork board. He quickly went to work, heart racing-

He paused.

“Are you done?”

The general blankly turned to face you who was out of breath but had a piercing stare. “(Y/n), you are under arrest for illegal research and-”

Cyno was interrupted by your laughter. Usually he’d be delighted to hear such a thing but in this case it bordered onto insanity.

“You. Are. Such. A. Hypocrite!” Your lips trembled as you slowly advanced towards him, eyes watering. “Look! The pictures, look at what you’ve taken from me, destroyed, and I’m the criminal?!”

The general ignored your demand, the back of his head burning from the graphic photographs on the cork board, “You have some sick sense of humour turning this onto me. I never expected anyone to dare try mind games on a general.”

At this point you were practically livid. You stormed up to the Mahamatra with an accusing finger yet all Cyno could think about was the close proximity and how much he’s missed your scent- “You stalked me. Harassed my friends and family. You even-” A sob bubbled in your throat, “What do you want from me?!”

Cyno leaned forward and grasped your wrist, relishing the attention, “Multiple locks on your door and a tripwire, I think my actions were justified.”

“LIAR!” You pushed him away and tried forcing his grip off. “You- You’re scared of me saying anything, that’s why! I saw you kill him- my hus-”

Your mouth was clenched shut by the general’s hand. “I did no such thing. You can’t fool me (Y/n)-”

Cyno hissed when you dug your teeth into his calloused hand and he released you at the sight of blood. His heart lurched when you lunged towards the door and, in a rare state of panic, he grabbed a hefty apparatus and threw it at your head. You collapsed as the metal fell next to you and groaned through the blinding pain.

A hand pinned your neck to the ground and you were forced to look up at your husband’s murderer.

“Killer.” You croaked through his grip.

“No.” Cyno breathed, but what was he doing if not proving your point?

Cyno was a Mahamatra. A man of strict ideals. He would never, ever stoop so selfishly low. And yet...

His breathing ceased as he finally faced the pinned photos; he hadn’t seen you enter the room then. Blinded by rage he had torn into the man, the husband who didn’t deserve you-

“He was innocent.” Your voice warbled.

-and neither did Cyno.

Facing these facts, after years of suppressed memories, was easier than he imagined. Perhaps the most terrifying of all was the lack of guilt.

“I killed him.” And those words have never been more freeing. It was your turn to still as a sickening smile crept up Cyno’s face. “I killed him.”

Your tried wiggling out of his grip to no avail. Cyno continued, “And you were trying to revive him weren’t you? I saw your notes, did you really think a corpse would be fit to testify in court? Even so I have no qualms of sending him back. Again. And again.”

It was as if a switch was flicked, the man was nothing like the righteous general you were once fond of. “You’re insane.”

“And who’s fault was that?”

“Now who’s playing mind games?! How the hell is all of this my fault!” Your voice became hoarse as Cyno doubled down on the pressure, “I’ve done nothing but treat you with kindness and this is how you repay me? That man you killed saw you as a friend, a brother even, did he deserve such a fate? Did you really hate us that much?!”

At this point it was too late to stop the flow of tears; you were snotty, struggling to breath, hands uselessly scraping the general’s, and endlessly frustrated by the power dynamic. It was almost laughable what Cyno said next.

“You knew what you were doing, seducing me when you were engaged. What did you think would happen? That I would let you marry a lesser man and that we’d all live happily ever after? This is your punishment.”

“You creep. I never seduced you, and he stole to survive. Stop making up excuses.” Your fists trembled at his slandering, “You’re truly the most pathetic, delusional man I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting.”

Cyno squeezed harder as his hot breath brushed your ear, “But look who’s burnt to ashes now. At least I know how to cover my tracks.”

“YOU-” Your eyes lit up in anger at the desecration of your lover’s body and lunged at Cyno.

Red stained your vision as your fist met his jaw. Not once during the beating did you question why it was easy to overpower the Mahamatra, only registering the dull pain of your knuckles. You didn’t even recognise the blood curdling scream as your own.

All too soon you were pulled away from the man. Thrashing your limbs all you could focus on was the general who merely stood up and rubbed his jaw, his usual facade of indifference masking his rotten soul.

“How disgraceful. And here I was thinking you would know better by now, evidently the rehabilitation didn’t work.” A sage tsked when he stepped into view.

Ice bled your insides; you were set up. Did the sages know of Cyno’s crimes? Was Sumeru really in the hands of such tyrants?! Bile rose as you voiced these thoughts aloud.

The sage ignored you, facing the general when you were led away. “The grief’s gotten to their mind; perhaps the Academiya ought to reject the emotional sort.”

Cyno crossed his arms as he responded, though his eyes were still pinned on you, “Emotional isn’t bad. In their case they just didn’t manage it well. I trust you have everything covered here.”

“No one will know a thing; as far as everyone is concerned (Y/n) is a widow gone mad.”

---

Peace. Order. Stability.

The disquiet in Cyno’s gut was settled and he was no longer as erratic as he was before. Now he could execute his duties without splitting his attention elsewhere, and his performance was higher than ever.

A lifetime of duty was payment enough for Cyno’s slip up, and a lifetime of near isolation was yours. It amused him to no end when you tried ignoring his presence but now you practically await his next baby-proofed gift. He even managed to get you back into TCG, a hobby you abandoned after your husband’s death.

Here, no one could steal you. No one but the Mahamatra would accept you.

He finally had you where he needed you.

#yandere #yandere cyno #yandere genshin #gender neutral reader

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janecrockeyre · 4 years ago

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scum villain is a greek tragedy disguised as a regular tragedy disguised as a comedy disguised as a danmei

this is going to be long, and this is only PART ONE.

a.k.a, Analysing the plot of Scum Villain’s Self Saving System through Aristotle’s Poetics, because I Have Mental Issues

Part One: Introduction and the Tragic Hero

Scum Villain’s Self Saving System is a tragedy disguised as a comedy, unless you’re Shen Yuan, in which case it’s a mixture of a romance and a survival horror. It's a fever dream. It's a horrible, terrible book that made me feel new undiscovered emotions when I finished reading it.

The thing is... SVSSS shares characteristics with some of the most famous tragedies in the West, such as Oedipus Rex, Medea, Antigone, the Oresteia... if you haven’t read these, I’ll explain everything. But the gist of my argument is this: SVSSS is the perfect tragedy. In triplicate.

Tragedy as a genre is old as balls and so it has meant slightly different things to different people over the last few thousand years. I'll be focusing on ancient Greek tragedy, which was performed at the yearly Festival of Dionysus in Athens during the 500-350s BC (give or take a hundred years). Aristotle, when writing about this very specific subset of tragedy, had no idea that one day Scum Villain would be written, and then that I would be using his work as a way to look at Shen Qingqiu’s Funky Transmigration Mistake. Anyway!

Greek tragedy greatly influenced European dramatic tradition. I have a lot of opinions about white academics idolising and upholding the classics as the "paragon of culture" but I'll withhold them for now. I have no idea if MXTX has read Greek tragedy or not, so don't take this as me saying they are writing it.

In my opinion, tragedy is a universal human constant. We are surrounded by pain and hurt and none of it makes any sense, so we seek to process that pain through drama, art, literature, etc. We want to understand why pain happens, and how it happens, and try to make sense of the senseless. The universe is cold and cruel and random. Tragedy eases some of that pain.

On that note: Just because I am analysing Scum Villain through a Greek lens doesn't mean that it was written that way. I'm pasting an interpretation onto the book when there's probably a very rich and deep history of Chinese tragedy that I just don't know about. If you ever want to talk about that, please, god, hit me up, I would love to learn about it!!

Anyway, tragedy. MXTX is excellent at it! Mo Dao Zu Shi? Painful dynastic family tragedy. Heaven Official's Blessing? Mostly romance, but she managed to get that pure pain in there, huh?

But in my opinion, Scum Villain holds the crown for the most tragic of her stories. MDZS was more of a mystery. TGCF was more of a romance. Neither of them shy away from their tragic elements.

Scum Villain would fit right in between the work of Sophocles, Euripides and Aeschylus. How? Let me show you. Join me on my mystery tour into the world of "Aristotle Analyses Danmei..."

Part One: The Tragic Hero

What is a tragic hero? Generally, Greek tragic heroes are united by the same key characteristics. He must be imperfect, having a "fatal flaw" of some kind. He must have something to lose. And he must go from fortune to misfortune thanks to that fatal flaw.

There are two (technically three) tragic protagonists in SVSSS and all of them are tragic in different but formulaic ways. Each protagonist has their own version of “hamartia” or a “fatal flaw”.

Actually, hamartia isn’t necessarily a flaw - rather, it is a thing which makes the audience pity and fear for them, a careful imperfection, a point of weakness in the character’s morality or reasoning that allows for bad things to happen to them. For example, in Oedipus Rex, the king Oedipus has a “fatal flaw” of always wanting to find the truth, but this isn’t exactly a flaw, right? Note: this flaw can be completely unwitting, as we see with Shen Yuan. It can also be something that the protagonist is born with, some kind of trait from birth or very young.

Shen Yuan

Shen Yuan’s “hamartia” is his rigid adherence to fate and his inability to read a situation as anything but how he thinks it ought to be. He believes that Bingmei will grow into Bingge, and it takes several years, two deaths, and some truly traumatising sex to convince him otherwise.

Shen Jiu

Shen Jiu’s fatal flaw is his cruelty. It is his own sadistic treatment and abuse of Binghe which directly leads to his eventual dismemberment. This is kind of a no-brainer. Of course, it isn't all that simple, and as an audience we pity him for his cruelty as much as we fear it because we know it comes from his own abuse as a child. This just makes him even more tragic. Delicious.

Luo Binghe

Luo Binghe’s fatal flaw is a complicated mix of things. It is his position as the “protagonist” which compels him to act in certain ways and be forced to suffer. It is his half-demonic heritage, something entirely out of his control, which sets in motion his tragic reversal of fortune when he gets yeeted into the Abyss. He also, much like Shen Yuan, has the propensity to jump to conclusions and somehow make 2 + 2 = 5.

As well as having their respective “flaws”, all three protagonists match the rough outline of a good tragic hero in another way: they are in a position of great wealth and power. Even when you split the different characters into different “versions”, this still holds true. Yes, Luo Binghe is raised a commoner by a washerwoman foster mother, but his dad is an emperor and he also ends up becoming an emperor himself.

Yes, Shen Jiu is an ex-slave and a victim of abuse himself, but Shen Qingqiu is a powerful peak lord with an entire mountain’s worth of resources at his back.

Shen Yuan is a second generation new money rich kid.

Bingge is a stereotypical protagonist with a golden finger. Bingmei is a treasured and loved disciple with a good reputation and a privileged seat by his shizun’s side.

In a tragedy, having this kind of good fortune at the beginning of your story is dangerous. Chaucer says that tragedy is (badly translated into modern english) “a certain story / of him that stood in great prosperity / and falls out of high degree / into misery, and ends up wretchedly”. If we follow this line of thinking, a good tragedy is about someone who has a lot to lose, losing everything because of one fatal point of weakness that they fail to address or understand.

If we look at Shakespeare, this is what makes King Lear such a fantastic tragic protagonist. He is a king in control of most of England, who from his own lack of wisdom and excess of pride, decides to split his kingdom apart to give to his daughters, favouring his murderous, double crossing progeny, and condemning his only actually filial daughter to death. He loses his kingdom, his mind, and his beloved daughter, all because of his own stupidity.

This brings us to:

Part Two: Peripeteia

This reversal of fortunes is called peripeteia. It is the moment where the entire plot shifts, and the hero’s fortunes go from good to bad. Think of it like one of those magic eye puzzles, where you stare at the image until a 3D shark appears, except you realise the shark was always there, you just couldn't ever see it, waiting for you, hungry, deadly, always lurking just behind that delightful pattern of random blue squiggles.

Each tragic hero has their own moment of peripeteia in SVSSS, sometimes several:

Shen Qingqiu

In the original PIDW, SQQ’s peripeteia presumably occurs when he finds out that Bingge didn’t perish in the Abyss but has actually been training hard to come and pay him back. There’s really not much I’m interested in saying here - as a villain, OG!SQQ is cut and dry, and the audience doesn’t really feel any pity or fear for him. As Shen Yuan often mentions, what the audience feels when they see OG!SQQ is bloodlust and sick satisfaction. There is also the trial at Huan Hua Palace, which I will talk about in Shen Yuan’s section.

Shen Yuan (SQQ 2.0)

One of SY’s most poggers moment of peripeteia is the glorious, terrifying section between hearing Binghe for the first time after the Abyss moment, and getting shoved into the Water Prison.

“Behind him, a low and soft voice came: “Shizun?”

Shen Qingqiu’s neck felt stiff as he slowly turned his head. Luo Binghe’s face was the most frightening thing he had ever seen.

The scariest thing about it was that the expression on his face was not cold at all. His smile wasn’t sharp like a knife. Rather, it showed a kind of bone-deep gentleness and amiability.”

This is the moment of true horror for Shen Yuan, because he knows what happens next: the plot unfurls before him, inevitable and painful, and he knows that death awaits him at Luo Binghe's hands (lol). Compare it with the bone deep certainty with which he faces his own downfall during the sham of a trial later in the chapter (I’ve bolded the important part):

“In the original work, Qiu Haitang’s appearance signified only one thing: Shen Qingqiu’s complete fall from grace. [...] Shen Qingqiu’s heart streamed with tears. Great Master… I know you’re doing this for my own good, but I’ll actually suffer if she speaks her words clearly. This truly is the saying “not frightened of doing a shameful deed, just afraid the ghost (consequences) will come knocking”!”

After the peripeteia is usually the denouement where the plot wraps up and the threads are all tied together leaving no loose ends, but because this tragedy isn’t Shen Yuan’s but the former Shen Jiu’s, it’s impossible to finish.

Shen Yuan cannot provide the meaningful answers that the narrative demands because 1) he doesn’t have any memory of doing anything, and 2) he wasn’t the person who did them. Narratively, he cannot follow the same path as the former SQQ because he lacks the same fatal flaw: cruelty.

This is why Binghe doesn’t kill him - because he loves him, rather than despises him. And this is why Shen Yuan has to sacrifice himself and die for Luo Binghe in order to save him from Xin Mo: because the narrative demands that denouement follows peripeteia, and SQQ’s fate is in the hands of the narrative.

(Side note: I believe that this literal death also represents the death of OG!SQQ's tragic arc. The body that committed all those crimes must die to satisfy the narrative. SQQ must die, like burning down a forest, so that new growth can sprout from the ashes. After this, Shen Yuan's story has more room to develop instead.)

It must happen to show Bingmei that SQQ loves him too. And this brings us to Bingmei.

Bingmei

Bingmei has two succinct moments of utter downfall. The first is a literal fall - his flaw, his demonic heritage, leads his beloved shizun to throw him down into the Abyss. From his point of view, SQQ is punishing him simply for the status of his birth. He rapidly goes from being loved and cherished unconditionally, to being the victim of an assassination attempt.

He realises that he is totally unlovable: that for the crimes of his species that he never had a hand in, he must pay the price as well: that his shizun is so righteous that no matter what love there was between them, if SQQ sees a demon, he will kill it. Even if that demon is Bingmei.

The second moment is when SQQ dies for him. Again, from his point of view, he was chasing after a man who was struggling to see him as a human being. Shen Qingqiu’s death makes Bingmei realise that he has been completely misunderstanding his shizun: that SQQ would literally die for him, the ultimate act of self sacrifice from love: that SQQ loved him despite his demon heritage.

Much like King Lear holding the corpse of his daughter and wailing in sheer grief and pain because he did this, he caused this, Bingmei gets to hold his shizun's cold body and cry his eyes out and know that it was his fault. (Kind of.)

(Yes, I’m bringing Shakespeare into this, no I am not justifying myself)

Maybe I'm a bit sadistic, but that scene slaps. Let me show you a comparison of scenes so you get the picture.

Re-enter KING LEAR, with CORDELIA dead in his arms; EDGAR, Captain, and others following

KING LEAR

Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones:

Had I your tongues and eyes, I'ld use them so

That heaven's vault should crack. She's gone for ever!

I know when one is dead, and when one lives;

She's dead as earth. Lend me a looking-glass;

If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,

Why, then she lives.

[...]

KING LEAR

And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life!

Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,

And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,

Never, never, never, never, never!

Pray you, undo this button: thank you, sir.

Do you see this? Look on her, look, her lips,

Look there, look there!

Dies

Versus this scene in SVSSS:

Luo Binghe turned a deaf ear to everything else, greatly agitated and at a loss of what to do. He was still holding Shen Qingqiu’s body, which was rapidly cooling down. It seemed like he wanted to call for him loudly and forcefully shake him awake, yet he didn’t dare to, as if he was afraid of being scolded. He said slowly, “Shizun?”

[...]

Luo Binghe involuntarily held Shen Qingqiu closer.

He said in a small voice, “I was wrong, Shizun, I really… know that I was wrong.

“I… I didn’t want to kill you…”

PAIN. SO MUCH BEAUTIFUL PAIN. Yes, I know Shakespeare isn’t Athenian, but he was inspired by the good old stuff and he also knew how to write a perfect tragedy on his own terms. Anyway. I’ll find more Greek examples later.

This post was a bit all over the place, but I hope it has been fun to read. Part Two will be coming At Some Point, Who Knows When. This is a bit messy and unedited, but hey, I’m not getting paid or graded, so you can eat any typos or errors. Unless you’re here to talk to me about Chinese tragedy, in which case, please pull up a seat, let me get you a drink, make yourself at home.

ps: if you want to retweet this, here is the promo tweet!

#svsss #scum villain #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #greek tragedy #hello followers this account has been silent for a long time but today i bring you whatever this is #long post #i am gonna cross post more art here from my twitter i think #you guys really like my shitposts on here

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litsetaure · 3 years ago

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Gellert’s ‘War with Muggles’ - what’s it really about??

(Okay, I will just say, if this is really incoherent and rambly, I’ve got a horrible headache and I’ve had a really bad week, but I needed to get this out; it might free up some headspace! I will also freely admit that ‘the history of Germany before WW2’ isn’t my strongest point, but anyway.)

So, apparently there’s some SoD artwork that mentions a year - 1932. Meaning the film is set in or around 1932, but that’s presumably the earliest it could be. Judging by some of the weather patterns we see (though, admittedly, this is a far from foolproof method of figuring out the time of year, especially with the ridiculousness that is the British weather), it looks like winter. Here’s where things get interesting though. I just checked for stuff that happens in around 1932-33…and, in January, 1933, Hitler is appointed German Chancellor. And he ran in the 1932 German presidential election.

Now, we know Gellert’s had a vision of WW2; we don’t know all the details of it, but it’s not implausible that he Saw something to do with Hitler, either then or later. And if he’s seen that maniac running for power, knowing what he could do, doesn’t it stand to reason that he might think ‘okay, enough is enough, this is war. That man needs to be stopped before he causes any more carnage.’

What’s interesting - or odd, really - about Gellert’s line ‘Our war with the Muggles begins today!’ (apologies if I misquoted it) is that, on the face of it, it sounds so unlike him. For one thing, we have never seen him attack anyone first. He’s never gone in unprovoked. Even in the station where he’s in disguise as Graves, it looks like he’s only using Shield Charms - and only reacted AFTER the first spell was cast. During the threeway duel, Aberforth attacked first. The Aurors killed the red haired witch at the rally - only then did he retaliate.

For another thing, we’ve seen that he appears to take no pleasure in senseless death or violence. I read something online that said that, unlike Voldy, he didn’t enjoy murder or torture (which, yes! Good! More of the ‘Gellert is not a pre-Voldy Voldy’ please!)

But here, it looks like he IS striking out unprovoked, which seems very out of character for what we’ve seen of him so far.

Except…to his mind, he’s not. He’s seen WW2. He’s witnessed Hitler’s - terrifyingly quick; seriously, the number of Nazi party seats in the German Parliament went from 12 to 107 between 1928-1930, so that’s a rise of nearly 900% in two years (something like that, my maths might be a bit out, but either way - it’s a lot!) - rise to power as it is - he knows what Hitler will do, he knows the time is coming closer, though it’s possible he doesn’t know exactly when, only that it’s soon. It could be in the next week. He can’t risk that happening, and he knows it. He’s seen - and/or Seen - this terrible threat and he needs to stop it before it starts. There’s already been one massive war - and I’d bet a lot that he had a vision of that one, but couldn’t act in time/enough to stop it, which makes him even more determined to stop this one before it starts.

Also, the line itself is interesting. He says ‘the war WITH Muggles.’ Not ‘on Muggles.’ Not ‘against Muggles.’ It doesn’t sound one-sided. Because, as far as he’s concerned, it isn’t. Okay, they haven’t done anything yet, but they will. He knows they will. He’s realised that this time he can’t just sit and wait for someone else to attack first - because this time? That person would be Hitler.

Especially if this has happened before. Like I said, I’d bet my life he had a vision of WW1, though when he had it, I don’t know. We know he saw WW2 over a decade before it begun; what if he saw WW1 during the summer of 1899?? Or a couple of years later? He’s still basically a kid at this point, he knows he can’t do anything about it - plus, he’s probably thinking, who’s going to believe him?? (Albus might have, but he can’t go to him…)

Even in spite of all this, though, I feel like he still wants to maintain his ‘do not attack first’ ethos. But this situation is too serious. He can’t do that in good conscious. Not after the last war. He has to act first. Stop this war before it can start. And if that means going on the offensive first, if that’s what it takes…well, it might not be his preferred option, but if it’s the only way…so be it.

I’m not saying that’s the line they’ll take, or even that WW2 will even be mentioned at all (though I don’t see how they can ignore it.) But it would certainly make it interesting. That the antagonist of the piece is trying to avert something he knows would be far worse. You might even call it…The Greater Good. (Wow, that fits alarmingly well, actually!)

#gellert grindelwald #tw ww2 #secrets of dumbledore #grindeldore #theory #just a few thoughts #ow my head hurts

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archived-kin · 4 years ago

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you braid your favourite fire boy’s hair (and get indirectly confessed to, maybe)

note from kin: some of you may say that diluc is too calm and stoic to be an arsonist but i refuse to believe the man hasn't set a tiny bit of fire to kaeya’s house at some point or another

fandom: genshin impact

character(s): gn!reader, diluc, aether (mentioned), venti (mentioned)

pairing(s): diluc/reader

warning(s): none! (except, like, hair brushing and stuff? i don’t if that counts but i also don’t know what sort of trauma people have so,,, here’s the warning just in case)

genre: fluff

“How do you even manage your hair?”

Diluc shoots you a look over the bar as you lean forward on the counter. “What are you talking about?”

It’s another one of those nights where Mondstadt and the area around it is pretty quiet. Normally you’d be out doing commissions or just general favours for the public with your adventuring buddy Aether and his friend (pet? guardian fairy?) Paimon, but he’s been in Liyue for the last week or so helping Zhongli run some errands, and likely won’t be back for another few days. He had asked you whether you’d wanted to come with him - the two of you make a dynamic duo like no other, after all - but the last time you’d spent time with Zhongli, you’d ended up having to pay about ten thousand Mora in terms of expenses on his behalf. You love the guy, but he really grinds your gears with his inability to comprehend how basic currency works sometimes.

So off Aether had gone to Liyue, though not without promising to bring you back a Starconch or something in return for your offer to patrol his area for him in his absence, and you had stayed behind in Mondstadt, promising to let him know if anything about his missing twin sister comes up while he’s gone.

As much as you’d like to (mostly for poor Aether’s fragile sense of self worth), you can’t say it’s been a particularly difficult week without him in terms of work - you miss your friend, of course, but there haven’t really been any outstanding attacks in the area that you didn’t manage to take care of within the hour. The lack of disturbances also means that Mr Darknight Hero over there hasn’t had much to do either, so he’s spent most of the past few nights behind the bar - which means, of course, that you’ve been coming is much more often than usual to see him.

Angel’s Share is a bar by trade, so of course it’s open all night to any gracious patron looking for something to drink. More than often it’s full, being one of the more renowned taverns in the city, but today is a day of rest, and so Diluc had closed up shop about half an hour ago.

Why are you still allowed in Angel’s Share if it’s closed, you ask? Well, obviously it’s because Diluc likes you so much!

No, that’s a lie - while you’ve always thought of Diluc as a close friend, you’re more inclined to believe that Diluc himself is only letting you stay here past closing time because he owes you for helping him out with a particularly overzealous Abyss Mage that had gotten a little too close to the city gates yesterday.

Still, you can’t help but hope that there’s some other reason behind his lenience...

“Hair’s hard to take care of, and you have a lot of it,” You respond matter-of-factly, dipping a biscuit into your mug of tea and shoving it whole into your mouth. Much like Diluc, you prefer to abstain from alcohol when you can - ironic, considering you’ve spent so much time in a bar recently. “I’m just curious. What do you do with it when you go to sleep?”

He shakes his head with a quiet scoff and returns to polishing an empty tankard. “I don’t do anything with it.”

“What, so you just leave it in a ponytail all the time?”

Diluc looks up to see you shooting him a scandalised look. He sighs, evidently not particularly willing to put up with one of your moods this late at night. “Of course not.”

You relax a little, only to stiffen right back up when he continues, “I take it down to wash it.”

“You—” You take a deep breath in an effort to calm yourself, setting your elbows on the table and pressing your hands together as if praying to Barbatos to save this poor man’s hair-ends. Finally, after a moment of silence, you ask, voice hushed, as if afraid that the answer will be too much for you to handle, “How the hell is your hair still so pretty?”

Diluc pauses in the middle of putting his freshly-polished tankard away. He takes a long while to formulate a response - whether because he’s nonplussed by the gormlessness of your question or something else (because he’s flustered, maybe? You know better than to hope in vain, but you can’t really help what your idiot of a heart does to your mind).

Finally, though, he mutters in reply, “Pretty?”

Your hand hesitates in the middle of reaching for another biscuit from the plate sitting next to you. Diluc doesn’t sound offended, but you know better than to assume that he isn’t. You don’t think there’s anything particularly wrong with calling his hair pretty, but maybe it stings his ego as a man or something?

“Uh, yeah…?” You curl your fingers around your warm mug and pull it towards you, staring determinedly down at its contents to disguise your growing nervousness. “I mean, well, it always looks really healthy and soft and glowy and stuff…”

Well, if he wasn’t offended before, he probably is now. You mentally cuff yourself around the head, reminding yourself that you shouldn’t let yourself get loose-lipped just because you’re so relaxed in the homeliness of the tavern. It doesn’t matter how comforting the warmth of the mug in your hands is, nor does it matter how fuzzy just being in Dilic’s presence makes you feel - you need to watch what you say.

But then you see Diluc move out of the corner of your eye, and you look back up to see him standing much closer than he was before, a smile tugging at his lips. You can practically feel your heart screech out of pure surprised joy as he reaches out and gently brushes his knuckles against your cheek.

“Thank you,” He murmurs - do you dare to hope that you hear affection in his voice? - and pulls away as quickly as he’d come close. “I appreciate it.”

You aggressively force your breathing to even out as he moves back to his work, going about his usual duties of making sure all the bottles on display are tightly shut and squeaky clean. Surely the fact that he willingly initiated contact with you - and such intimate-feeling contact at that - must mean something? Diluc has never been the type to be physically affectionate with friends, not like Kaeya, who you’re pretty sure has kissed about half of his entire friendship circle, or Lisa, who has absolutely zero qualms about giving a stranger a bone-crushing hug if they need one. Even if this only means that he considers you a closer friend than the others, though, you can’t help the delighted flutter in the pit of your stomach.

Diluc’s touch has far more power than you’ll ever admit - brief as the contact was, it’s sent such a rush of adrenaline through your entire body that you somehow muster up enough courage to abruptly ask, “Would you mind if I braided it?”

Diluc pauses again. You watch him in anticipation as he slowly turns around to look back at you. “...why would you want to do that?”

“Uh—” You struggle to come up with a decent reason that won’t make you sound like a lovesick fool, and eventually settle on, “I just think it would look nice?”

Diluc stares at you in silence for so long that you begin to think that you’ve lost him completely with your out-of-nowhere request. Then, however, he gives you a curt nod. “Go ahead.”

You barely catch yourself in time to prevent your shock from showing on your face as Diluc moves out from behind the counter and sits down in the seat beside you. “...uh?”

“Go ahead,” He repeats, reaching up and untying his hair from its low ponytail. It tumbles over the back of the chair in messy waves, reflecting the light of the fire so precisely that it almost looks like it’s glowing in the dim lighting of the tavern. “I assume you know how, since you offered.”

It takes you a moment to do something other than stare in pure dumbfounded surprise, but once you snap out of your mini-trance, you nod hurriedly and get to your feet, reaching in your pocket as you do so. You’ve made a habit of carrying around spare hair ties and a foldable wooden comb ever since you and Aether had started working together - his hair comes undone from its plait a lot in battle, and it’s always all matted and tangled in the morning if he lets it down to sleep - which means you won’t have to fumble about for an hour trying to comb’s Diluc’s abundance of hair out with only your fingers.

Diluc is sitting as prim and proper as ever in his chair as you hesitantly move around to stand behind him and - after a long, uncertain pause - begin to brush his hair. His back is ramrod straight, which doesn’t look comfortable at all, but you suppose that whatever works for him is fine.

“That feels nice,” He murmurs quietly as you carefully tease out a knot. Your hands freeze for a moment, then silently continue with their work. “You’re good at this.”

After a pause, you reply, equally quiet, “I get a lot of practice.”

He hums in reply, and the deep rumble of his voice almost seems to fill the room. “...with Aether, I presume.”

You nod, then realise he can’t see you and hurry to give him a verbal answer. “Yeah.”

There’s a long silence between the two of you. You continue to work your way through Diluc’s abundance of hair, painstakingly spending far too long combing out each tangle and kink out of fear that you’ll hurt him if you get too rough.

You don’t know how much time has passed by the time Diluc finally speaks up again. “You spend a lot of time with him.”

It’s a statement, not a question - but you can’t blame him for phrasing him that way. It’s well-known around the city of Mondstadt that you and Aether have been partners-in-crime ever since the two of you had bonded over nearly being stampeded by a swarm of hilichurls and working together to kill them all. It’s odd that he’s bringing it up now, though… you wonder why.

“...well, I do, yes. We are adventuring partners…”

Diluc inhales and lets out a soft sigh. You don’t miss the way that his shoulders tense up slightly. Another long silence passes, and he finally murmurs, “I might be a little jealous.”

You freeze again. Did you hear him right? Did Diluc really just say what you think he just said? He’s… jealous?

You don’t even have time to try to formulate a response before he starts speaking again. “The two of you are always out exploring together. It’s rare that we get to see each like this.”

“...hey, now…” It’s not often that you’re unable to find words - you’ve always had a sharp tongue. Right now, though, it feels like they’ve all dried up in your mouth. “What are you trying to say…?”

Diluc pauses. Then he lets out a soft chuckle - one that has no right to have the effect on you that it does. “...nothing. I just mean that it’s nice to be able to spend time together like this.”

He doesn’t continue, and you take that as a sign that this particular stretch of the conversation is over, and return to carefully separating his hair into segments. Your hands wobble imperceptibly as you do so, but if he notices, he doesn’t say anything about it.

Diluc sighs and lets his shoulders relax as you start pulling the locks of hair over each other into the beginnings of a long braid, carefully tugging it closer to the base of his head so that it looks a little neater. You’re not sure whether you want to go for something similar to Aethar’s plait or something more intricate, but considering the hour, you’d probably be better off keeping it simple. You wonder briefly what colour ribbon would look nice against the deep red of his hair, but quickly shut the idea down - it’s already a wonder that Diluc is letting you do this, and you don’t want to push your luck.

(You don’t know this, but, though his face is calm and composed, Diluc is so hyper aware of his stuttering heartbeat that he’s sure you can hear it. He almost wishes you would use more force with your hands, if only so that he can feel the movement of your fingers more clearly - there’s something therapeutic in the way they weave through his hair. He could almost fall asleep there on the spot, so soothing is your presence and the warmth of the fire, but he wants to talk longer.)

“Hey,” you begin, suddenly feeling that the quietude is more awkward than comfortable. “If you’re ever free, uh… I’m sure Aether wouldn’t mind if you came out on an expedition with us. There are some rumours about an Oceanid popping up in Starfell Lake…”

Diluc makes an indiscernible noise in response to indicate that he’s thinking about your question. You wait with bated breath, only to feel disappointment drop in your chest like a rock when he shakes his head, shifting the incomplete braid in your hands.

A moment later, though, the pressure disappears as he says quietly, “I’d much rather go with you alone.”

“Oh…” You breathe out loud before realising your mistake. You resist the urge to slap your hand to your mouth to shut yourself up, and instead hurry to rectify yourself by continuing, “That sounds good.”

Diluc chuckles again. “You don’t sound particularly enthused by the idea.”

“No, that’s not what I meant!” You shock even yourself with just how indignantly loud your voice gets. You hasten to quiet yourself, continuing much more mutedly, “Um— I mean, I’d love to.”

You can’t see his face, but you can almost hear Diluc’s soft smile in the way he speaks. “Then it’s settled. I’ll take a look at my schedule and let you know when I’m free, alright?”

You can’t help but feel an enormous grin pulling at your own mouth. Well, can anyone really blame you? You’ve just discovered that your unrequited feelings for Diluc might not be as unrequited as you’d initially thought! It’s almost too good to be true - as if you’re dreaming. It’s like the two of you are one of those couples in Venti’s songs, the ones that he likes to play after a good hour of so of drinking, staring meaningfully at you at the end of each… line…

Wait a minute…

A flame-haired noble with a stare as cold as ice, who does his duties by day and hunts evil at night? An adventurer with no roots left at home, who clings to action so as to not feel so alone? The longing stares across a busy room, the late nights thinking of a face so dear, the romance waiting to blossom and bloom, the hopes and wishes that they would stay here?

Son of a hilichurl! That cheeky bard really wrote a song about you and Diluc - and you somehow hadn’t noticed!

“What’s wrong?”

You jolt out of your train of thought as Diluc turns around to look at you. The faint concern on his face is enough to send butterflies spinning through your stomach. Stupid heart. Am I really that weak for this man? “Huh?”

“You haven’t moved in a while,” He says by way of explanation, gesturing to the end of the braid that you’re still holding. “Is there something bothering you?”

You stare at his face - at the deep red of his irises, the flutter of his long lashes, the strands of red hair framing his face, the faint freckles on the slope of his nose. You breathe out a quiet laugh. Perhaps there will never be a time when you can tell him the true extent of how you feel about him, but this will certainly be a start.

“No, nothing at all. So, about tomorrow…?”

#unedited #genshin impact #genshin imagines #diluc x reader #genshin diluc #genshin aether #genshin venti #i wrote this at like two in the morning so i'm sorry if it sucks #you know i thought i'd be more desperate for wishes when i played this game after seeing everyone online #but i'm already so attached to my team now that i kinda don't want any new characters???#(my team is aether kaeya barbara and lisa btw)#i've levelled up chongyun up because i was debating replacing kaeya as the cryo in my team but now i just use him for the electro hypostasis #and that's it #i've just got fischl and sucrose sitting it here at level one because i can't be bothered to level them up #anyway sorry about rambling #enjoy this little thing darlings!!

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anabsolutetrainwreck · 4 years ago

Text

i can hate you sometimes || h. styles

warnings: pre-covid, mentions of sex, swearing, kissing

word count: 2.2k

summary: you and harry have mutual friends, but that doesn’t mean you two are friends. but when harry gets caught in the rain and you’re the closest person he can turn to, it makes for a much more awkward night...

Though you could respect Harry’s artistic abilities when it came to creating music, you could barely tolerate him as a person. Likewise, he wasn’t at all too fond of you. You shared friends in common, which often unfortunately resulted in many a night out with him and your mutual friends.

Yes, Harry was a respectful man. That was perhaps the one thing you could say didn’t irritate you about him. Everything else, the subtle cockiness he played off as jokes; the incessant need to be centre of attention; the bloated ego, which left him thinking he was above everyone else, all of that stuff, you couldn’t stand. But he wasn’t going to stop you from enjoying time with your friends, so you continued to go out drinking with them or go out for big meals with them or on lavish holidays with them. Unfortunately, he had the same mindset. You were both very stubborn.

Going out with your friends when Harry was there seemed like a difficult task at first. But if you sat at the opposite end of the table or stayed fairly distant in a club, the night tended to run smoothly. The one time you’d been left alone was around a year ago when you and Harry had gone out for dinner with Sarah and Mitch. Sarah had gone to the toilet and Mitch had gone to pay the bill. It had been two or three minutes maybe, but it felt like long, excruciating hours. Days, even. You’d distracted yourself by finishing off your wine and trying hard to look anywhere but in Harry’s direction. He’d busied himself with his phone and trying hard to look anywhere but your direction. But, either way, it had been perhaps the most awkward experience of your life.

And now, on a quiet Sunday evening, you found yourself preparing some pasta. Your dog, albeit too big for his own good, was curled up in front of the fireplace. You had your laptop set up on your coffee table, your classical music playlist floating through your house.

It had begun raining heavily about five minutes ago. The droplets were pelting down on your large windows. You had some candles set up and a glass of wine waiting for you on the coffee table in your living room. It was the perfect romantic evening for one.

A knock on your front door took your attention from the boiling water before you. You quickly jogged through to your hallway, opening the door. And, much to your surprise and perhaps disappointment, you were met with the face of Harry Styles. “Can I help you?” you asked, staring at him expectantly.

He sighed, almost embarrassed to ask, but said, “Can I stop at yours until the rain passes?”

You looked him up and down. Stop at yours? Why did that send your stomach into a state of flutters? “Just get an uber,” you said firmly.

He winced, “My phone’s dead. Can you at least let me charge it so I can get an uber?”

You weren’t a fan of Harry (biggest understatement of the year), but that didn’t mean you were an utter asshole. Of course you would let him stop at yours for a little while. Anyone would, right? You sighed, making sure he knew this was a reluctant decision of yours, “Sure.”

He thanked you as he shuffled into your house. He removed his coat and hung it up on your coat rack. Quietly, he followed you into your living room. “Here,” you said curtly, passing him one of your spare chargers.

The entire exchange was even more awkward than last year’s meal with Sarah and Mitch. Benny, your dog, was quite clearly enthralled about the arrival of Harry. He jumped up at the brunette man, his tongue hanging loose. As you tended to your exuberant pasta meal, you could hear Harry petting Benny.

On the few occasions Harry had met Benny, he loved the dog. But, Benny was a dog after all and it was hard to hate a dog. Especially one as lovable and as cuddly as Benny. Harry’s footsteps became louder as he entered the kitchen, Benny, tail wagging, not far behind. It was only when you looked up did you notice Harry carrying your laptop with him. Your first instinct was to tell him to put it the fuck down; it was your laptop - you paid good money for it. But something seemed to stop you from snapping at the man, who was soaked from the rain, in front of you. Usually, you struggled with biting your tongue around Harry. He was just infuriating. “Can I please put something else on?” he asked, gesturing to the screen, which had Spotify open.

You shrugged. You weren’t that bothered if he wasn’t in the mood to listen to your collection of great classical records. It was his loss. Besides, your pasta was nearly finished and then you’d dish it up and settle down in front of the tv. “Sure.”

There was a moment of silence after he’d paused to whatever piece was playing. “What’s this?” his voice came suddenly.

You knew exactly what he’d found. And you practically kicked yourself for forgetting you had it. It was your playlist, simply titled ‘sex’. A sex playlist. A playlist for sex. “I didn’t take you as the type to have a designated sex playlist,” he said, smirking.

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you grumbled, your cheeks heating up.

“Clearly. Some interesting choices on here, Y/N. Not as many of mine as I thought there’d be,” he said.

There was none. None of Harry’s songs on your sex playlist and, if he was being honest, it kind of irritated him slightly. The thought of you having sex to his voice was an enriching one. But what most definitely pissed him off, was the sight of a couple Liam Payne songs and a few of Zayn’s. “I didn’t think Sign of the Times was right for the occasion,” you shrugged. “Do you want some pasta?”

“If there’s some going,” he said quickly. “I do have other songs you know. Besides, Sign of the Times is a great sex song. Starts off slow, builds to a climax...”

You turned to look at him. Only then did you realise you were actually having this conversation with him. Still, you pressed on. “All songs build to a climax one way or another. It’s called a crescendo.”

“Yeah, I know what it’s fucking called,” he sighed. “I’m the musician here.”

“And yet you can’t appreciate classical music. Anyway, if you’re so convinced you have good sex songs, name a few,” you challenged.

He spoke as he followed you through to the living room. You set his bowl of pasta (you always had a habit of making your portions way too large) down on the coffee table beside the candles and wine. “Okay, Kiwi.”

You hummed in thought, “What if I want something a little slower? Like, Kiwi could totally ruin the mood.”

He shifted in his seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his phone light up, signalling it had at least a little bit of power. But now he was eating your fresh pasta and discussing sex songs with you, and frankly, he didn’t want to leave. “Woman? You can’t tell me you’ve never had sex with Woman playing,” he said.

“Well, I can. So I will: I’ve never had sex with Woman playing,” you replied; you liked this game.

“Okay, come on. She is the perfect sex song,” he said smugly.

Now this one tripped you up. Because you’d had sex to She before. It had come on when the guy you were sleeping with asked if he could shuffle his playlist. She had come on second, maybe. And those six minutes had been the best of your life. You told yourself it was just the guy you were seeing at the time, and he certainly didn’t mind the compliment. But, in hindsight, you realised it was probably the fact that Harry was singing about living in daydreams in the background. In that moment, the sex hadn’t even been at the forefront of your mind. It was his fucking velvet voice. “I wouldn’t know.”

He smirked, “You’ve had sex to She, haven’t you?”

“No.”

“You have! I knew it.”

“Piss off, Harry.”

You hoped your nonchalant replies would be enough to deter his attention from the subject at hand. But alas, he didn’t seem to pick up on it. That, or he was deliberately ignoring your tone. You were beginning to regret letting Harry into your house. And you weren’t afraid to tell him so. “I wish I’d just left you in the rain.”

He scoffed, “That’s not very nice, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes at him, making sure he saw. God, you could really hate him sometimes. “Harry, we’re literally discussing my sex life. It’s none of your business. And a bit personal, don’t you think? You don’t even know my surname.”

You got to your feet and made your way through to the kitchen, placing your empty bowl in the sink. You could hear him behind you, you just wanted to turn around and tell him to give you a moment to yourself. He was like a puppy. Before you had the chance to do so, you felt him lean over, placing his bowl beside yours. He was so close.

Turning around slowly, you were met with him. He was there, right there. You looked up at him. He wasn’t moving. You were torn between pushing past him, making sure he knew you were angry and staying for a while, basking in the sexual tension that was buzzing around in the air. “I do know your surname,” was all he said.

He was so close, his eyes exploring your face as if he’d never seen it before. Trapped between Harry and the kitchen counter, you’d fantasised about this moment for ages. Harry’s face a mere few centimetres away from your own. You could feel his breath on your face. It was warm, welcoming. “Do you?” you choked out.

He nodded slightly. The revelation of Harry knowing your surname was almost surprising to you. You didn’t think he paid that much attention to anything that had something to do with you. Up until this point, standing in your kitchen, neither of you daring to make the first move, you’d thought he only knew your first name because he was obliged to.

You both yearned the simple delight of the other’s touch. All the pent up sexual tension from the last years, longing looks disguised as glares of disgust and the little snarky remarks used as an excuse to talk to each other, all of that began unravelling at the seams. He looked at you and you looked at him, both of you daring the other to make the first point of euphoric contact. “Harry,” you forced out quietly, hoping he’d take that as a sign that he could touch you, kiss you, anything.

“What do you want?” he hummed gently. “What can I give you?”

“Just kiss me.”

You were also embarrassed that, after years of suppressing your enrapturing feelings, you were asking him to kiss you. And still, he didn’t touch you. It was like he was playing some sick game with you. And then the dreadful thought that he might just be doing all of this to give him a means to mock you in the future. If that was the case, he’d have the perfect upper hand over you. “Do you still wish you’d left me in the rain?” he asked, almost taunting you as he left you practically begging for his touch.

You shook your head, “No, no. God, no. Harry, please.”

“Anything you want, darling.”

“Kiss me.”

“Only if you’re sure you want me to.”

“I do, Harry. Please.”

And when he was sure he had your definite consent, he didn’t waste another moment. He placed his large hand on your cheek, the tips of his fingers buried in your hair. His lips on yours was perhaps the most perfect form of ecstasy. As you wrapped your arms around his neck, tilting your head up to meet his, you were sure you’d travelled to some distant infatuating dreamland you only ever hear about.

Reluctantly, you pulled away, panting slightly, “Don’t go.”

“What?”

“Don’t get an uber. Stay with me tonight.”

A smile crept its way up into Harry’s features. He tried to hide how elated he was that you’d proposed he spend the night with you. A grin tugged at the corners of his lips, which were parted slightly. All he wanted to do was indulge his need for your perfect taste all night. From the moment the sky went from the most divine lavender colour to the most starry black, to the moment it turned back to the most marvellous oranges and reds in the waking of the sun. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that to me.”

part two.

#harry fanfiction #harry imagine #harry fanfic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry x y/n #harry x you #harry x reader #harry imagines #harry styles imagines

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sebsbrokentoe · 3 years ago

Text

Supply Closet

masterlist

warnings: nothing, pure fluff, nosy Sam but we love him, nothing else i could think of. all mistakes are mine.

please like and reblog

word count: 1696

“What are you doing?” Sam eyed you curiously at the way you were hiding behind him, seeing as you were the same height as him, it was like a giraffe hiding behind another giraffe.

“I’m looking for my dignity, can’t you see” You sarcastically replied to him as if it wasn’t obvious you were trying to hide from Bucky.

You didn’t realise when you had a crush on Bucky, it just developed over the moments you had with each other. You both had gotten close over a few months. It started just as small glances when you passed each other in the hallway but then it became sneaking off in the kitchen talking about anything. Then it became more, you knew he had nightmares, which is why he came at any hour of the night to see you. You, on the other hand, just couldn’t sleep at night, you didn’t have nightmares or anything, you just couldn’t so instead you started to bake or cook whenever you couldn’t sleep. Tony had an unlimited amount of supplies so why not use them. You rarely shared your treats with anyone, so when you started offering them to Bucky and eventually making what he liked, you, along with the rest of the team put the pieces together, well everyone except Bucky.

You tried to make your flirting obvious but every time you tried to flirt, you’d just make a fool of yourself and he’d laugh. Normally your flirting came naturally, especially with Bucky but you didn’t think he saw it that way. You were fine with things that way, you didn’t want to tell Bucky about your feelings in case you ruined your friendship, so you hid your feelings, horribly.

This time you decided to hide from Bucky because in your idiotic mind if you didn’t see him you wouldn’t have feelings for him. You swore you were smarter than that but not when it comes to Bucky. So now here you are, trying to hide behind Sam and doing a horrible amazing job.

“Why the hell are you hiding from Barnes?” Sam stopped in the midst of his walk to turn around to talk to you.

“Don’t move he’ll see me, just keep moving and stop looking suspicious” You squatted behind him in case Bucky turned this way.

“He’ll see us when we walk past him anyway and answer my question, why are you ignoring him?” Seeing as your disguise wasn’t working, you quickly pulled Sam away in the opposite direction of Bucky, but he saw both of you and quickly misinterpreted the situation.

Seeing as every time you ignored Bucky you would go to Sam, Bucky thought of the two of you becoming more than friends and he didn’t like how he felt about it. He was just bad at saying what he felt, especially when it came to his feelings for you. Normally he could talk about anything with you but he always felt flustered when it became about what he felt for you because you were special to him. When you came on the team and saw him around the compound, you didn’t hide from him and you weren’t scared of him either. You always greeted him with a smile on your face and since then instead of glaring at everyone who would give him a second glance he would give them a small smile as if your joy rubbed off on him.

He didn’t even second guess himself when he started to talk to you about his nightmares. Every night, when he couldn’t sleep, he knew he would find you in the kitchen making something and just the sight of you standing in the kitchen with flour all over you was enough for him to calm down from whatever woke him up. So your conversations came naturally, there was no push to talk about anything and if it got awkward, you would quickly talk about something else, while Bucky listened to you. Bucky for the first time in a long time felt peace. Of course, he had Steve, but you were different, you didn’t know anything about him yet it felt like you knew each other for your entire lives.

So when Bucky saw you heading off with Sam, he didn’t like what he felt. He didn’t want to come to conclusions but you’ve been acting weird lately. You haven’t been baking when he came into the kitchen at night, he never saw you around the common room anymore. He didn’t want to let anyone know, but he was worried, he was worried that he was losing you and he didn’t want to but he wasn’t one for a confrontation so he thought he’d try to forget about it for now.

You successfully pulled Sam away from anywhere near Bucky and steered him towards a closet, not completely closing the door. To anyone else, it may seem like you were more than friends about to have a hot moment in the supply closet, but it wasn’t anything like that.

“Okay, you need to listen to me and don't interrupt me and I swear to God you better not tell anyone about this, got it?” Maybe you were overreacting but you’d rather not die of humiliation if everyone finds out that you have a crush on Bucky. It didn’t matter if they probably figured it out but both you and Bucky brushed the rumours, with the excuse that you were just friends and for a while you believed it, thinking that Bucky didn’t need to get in a relationship right now, so you never thought of it. But now, after all the time you two spent together, getting closer than others in the compound and the fact that he trusted you to talk about anything, you cherished that and part of you didn’t want to ruin the wonderful friendship you had.

“Jeez woman alright, I won’t tell a soul that you’re in love with Barnes' “. That smirky ass held his hand up like he was being sworn in, almost laughing at you, but hiding it with a cough.

“I’m not in love with him” You scoffed at that, even though he was right, but you didn’t want him to be right, because if he is, then if this got out to Bucky, you’ll be screwed and not in a good way.

He raised an eyebrow at your confession, not believing a word you said, but urges you to continue.

“Okay, maybe I have feelings for him, but I can't let anyone know, especially Bucky. I don’t need my heart broken because I couldn't keep my mouth shut.”. You started to ramble not seeing what signals Sam was giving you, trying to ignore his distractions to continue your rant.

“Hey um, maybe we should talk another time-” You interrupted him again, not understanding what he was h trying to do.

“Stop interrupting me, I need to talk to someone about this and while you’re not my first choice, you’re here so shut up and listen” Before Sam could say anything, the door opened wider, with the last person you wanted to see behind it. Staring at Bucky with your mouth slightly opened, not saying a word, Sam slipped out between the two of you, not needed anymore.

You tried to move but of course, you were having a dumb moment, which you had a lot around Bucky, but usually, you hid it better. Before you could say anything, Bucky closed the door behind him and walked closer to you and suddenly, the room seemed a hell of a lot smaller and jeez was it harm in there. He stopped right in front of you, which made it easy for him to hear your shaky breaths.

“Why have you been ignoring me?” You were surprised, thinking Bucky would ask right away about what he heard between you and Sam, but you knew he wouldn’t understand your stupidity. So instead of beating around the bush, you decided to get to the point.

“I’m sorry, I just-, I was just being immature. I thought that I should stay away from you because I thought my feelings would get in the way and make you uncomfortable. I know you don’t like me like that so I didn’t want to tell you to mess up our friendship and I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you recently and I’m-”

Suddenly you were cut off by warm lips and you felt every emotion from that kiss. It was better than you could’ve ever imagined. He pulled back way too soon, showing that special smile that only a few have had the pleasure of seeing. You smiled back, the small curve on your lips turning into a full-on grin.

“Do you need an explanation for that or do I need to do it again?” He said cheekily while holding your face with his large hands, both of you now laughing at his statement.

“I don't think I quite got that, you may need to do it a few more times” You giggled again, linking your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to kiss him again, only this time being interrupted by cheering behind the door.

“Fucking finally” You knew that had to be Sam, who probably brought everyone else to see what was going to end up happening.

“Shut up dickhead” Bucky yelled from your embrace, trying to sound stern, but you saw the small smile on his lips.

I think we could finish this in the bedroom, don’t you think, I may still need help understanding what you meant” before you could even finish your sentence, you were lifted in the air, your legs latching around his waist, while he tried to get through the herd of ‘supporters’ outside the supply closet. Both of you were laughing, trying to get to the bedroom before someone followed you, knowing that someone definitely would.

“Remind me to tell F.R.I.D.A.Y not to let Sam near our room” You giggled in his neck, nodding slightly as he gripped your thighs more, leaving a small kiss on your temple.

tags: @especially-obsessed | @leyannrae | @becca-e-barnes

#Bucky Barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x poc!reader #james buchanan barnes #soft bucky #bucky x female reader #bucky x you

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 3 years ago

Text

Trees Are Stupid.

There are some things in life that people learn without ever having to experience them. For me, one of those things really should have been ‘do not sneak out of a second story bedroom window if you have a broken leg’.

In my defense, I’d never had any trouble with the window before. The peach tree in our neighbour’s backyard was broad and healthy and one of its thick, strong branches was within easy jumping distance from my room. I’d silently slid the window open, checked to be sure that I was in the poorly-disguised undercover policeman’s blind spot, and was halfway out before I realised that balancing on the sill might be a little difficult with my right foot and calf encased in plaster.

I gripped both sides of the window frame and balanced as well as I could on my left foot. I’d always been small for my age, looking closer to eleven than fourteen, so the jump wouldn’t require very much strength. The branch, barely visible in the fading light, seemed to wave in time to the gunfire and screaming wafting up from my parents’ movie downstairs.

I leapt, and smacked right into the branch. It was a jump I could normally make without thinking about it, but the broken leg had thrown me off; I smacked chest-first into solid wood and instinctively wrapped my arms around it to keep from falling. The pain rushed through my ribs all the way to my spine, then faded, lingering for an extra moment in the little scar just to the left of my breastbone that I always tried to ignore. Not that I’d be able to ignore it any more, after the accident.

No, not accident. After the attack.

The back porch light was on. Most people would take this to be an accident, but I knew it was my parents’ plausibly deniable polite concession to the undercover police officers we were all pretending not to notice. They needed a clear view of the back door to make sure I was staying in the house like a good little boy. The light clearly illuminated the word WITCH that somebody had spraypainted across the back of our house, but it didn’t reach me in the tree. After a few seconds of stillness in which I waited for someone to move or shout, I felt it was safe to continue.

Arms and knees around the branch, I slid along it over the fence bordering our yard and towards the trunk of the tree. Our neighbours were still awake; light was visible around the kitchen blinds. This wasn’t unusual. It wasn’t all that late.

Normally I’d just drop to the ground and go ring the doorbell, but there was the issue of the police. Something else gave me pause, too; the small wreath of holly and mistletoe hung on the back door. That hurt more than hitting the branch had. Contrary to myth, neither holly nor mistletoe had ever stopped me from entering a building – I wouldn’t be able to enter most shops or cafes if it did – but the Nebits weren’t to know that. They’d always made a point of not warding their doors, and the fact that they’d done so now… well. I couldn’t really blame them, could I?

I switched to another branch, one stretching towards the Nebits’ house. The window I was aiming for wasn’t all that far from my own; it seemed like an awful lot of work to reach it by treeclimbing. If we’d been on the ground floor, I’d almost be able to reach it from my own window.

I couldn’t quite reach it from the tree, though. Again, this was a jump I’d made dozens of times, but it had been hard enough jumping into the tree with a broken leg; even I wasn’t going to try to jump out of a tree at a closed window when I couldn’t even safely stand up. I could envision the result – me slamming face-first into the wall below the window, and the Nebits coming to investigate the noise and finding a broken, bleeding body under their peach tree. Not an ideal situation.

Instead, I plucked a peach from the tree and threw it at the window. A moment later, it opened.

Melissa was sihlouetted in her bedroom light, so I couldn’t see much more than the halo of brown hair she was in the process of brushing, but I knew she was glaring at me. Melissa has the kind of glare you can feel through lead walls. When she grows up and has kids, they’re going to be the most well-behaved children in the world.

“Kayden, what the hell?”

“Are you going to let me in or not?”

“You shouldn’t be here! You’re under house arrest!”

“I know, that’s why I’m in a tree. But it is Saturday.”

Apparently, Melissa couldn’t argue with this logic. She fetched the usual climbing rope from her closet and tossed one end to me. I tied it to the tree, slid my way over to the window, and climbed in.

“Are you alright?” Melissa asked, checking over my arms for scratches and bruises. I didn’t pull away; Melissa gets focused when she’s worried, and it’s generally best not to get in her way. There were dark shadows under her eyes, I noticed, and her normally rosy, freckled cheeks were pale; had she lost sleep over me?

I shrugged. “They discharged me, so nothing can be too wrong with me. It’s not the first fall I’ve taken.”

“You know what I meant.”

I shrugged again.

“We tried to visit you, you know. They had you in some kind of high security ward and Chelsea almost got caught trying to pickpocket a nurse’s keycard.”

I suppressed a chuckle. “Of course she did. She’s not here yet?”

“She was grounded after the keycard thing, so I don’t think she’ll be able to convince her mum to – ”

Just then, Melissa’s bedroom door opened. “Don’t tell my mum I’m here,” Chelsea said quietly. “I’m grounded.”

Melissa threw up her arms. “Did anyone in this neighbourhood not sneak out of their bedroom window today?”

“Um, you didn’t,” I pointed out.

“Neither did I,” Chelsea said. “I’m not an idiot. I used our bathroom window. First floor.”

“Well la-de-da, Miss Police-Aren’t-Watching-My-House,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Kayden, did you climb a tree in your pyjamas?” Chelsea asked.

I glanced down at myself. “Maybe.”

“You’ve lost a button.”

Chelsea, unlike Melissa and I, was not in her pyjamas. She was wearing a flannel shirt that I was pretty sure was mine. Despite being a year younger than me, we were exactly the same size, and more than once she’d joked about getting me a jaw-length blonde wig and herself a shorter brown one to see how long we could pretend to be each other before someone noticed. Said jokes were getting worryingly serious.

“It’s your turn to hide the tracker,” Chelsea reminded me.

Melissa glared at her. “That stupid tracker game created this mess, and you still expect him to play?” she snapped.

“That’s pretty insensitive, Chel,” I agreed. “Especially since I’ve already hidden it. You think the school roof was a clever hiding spot? Oh, man. You are in for a wake-up call.”

She frowned. “You’re bluffing,” she said. “You haven’t had a chance to hide anything. They took you straight home from the hospi – ” She put her face in her hands and groaned. “You found the tracker before you ended up in hospital. You had it with you. And the only other places you’ve been are your house, and a high security ward in the hospital. And you know better than to hide it in your house.”

I spread my hands. “Hey, the circumstances aren’t my fault. If you want to find it, might I suggest stealing a nurse’s keycard? Oh wait.”

“You’re both crazy,” Melissa said.

“That’s a weird way to pronounce ‘incredibly awesome’,” Chelsea said. “When does the cast come off?”

“In another week and a half.”

“Just in time for school holidays!”

“I’m suspended anyway, so it’s kind of a moot point.”

We fell silent. None of us wanted to talk about the next obvious point of conversation.

Eventually, Melissa asked, “What about after the school holidays?”

I shrugged. “They haven’t set a date for the trial or anything yet, so…”

“So you’ll probably get a super long holiday before you’re found innocent and everything goes back to normal!” Chelsea threw an arm over my shoulders. “I’m so jealous.”

I shrugged her off. “I’m not innocent. My victim – ”

“Victim!” Chelsea scoffed. “You know this is Matt Parker you’re talking about, right? If I’d been up there I’d have pushed him off myself, curse or no curse.”

“You’re innocent,” Melissa said. “You know the law. Accidental consequences of curses can’t be prosecuted, unless the carrier of the curse was knowledgably negligent.”

“Fourteen-year-olds shouldn’t use words like ‘negligent’,” Chelsea frowned. “You sound like my dad.”

Melissa ignored her. “You’ve had that curse stuck in your heart since before you could walk, and nobody could ever say you were negligent. It’s done absolutely nothing for fourteen years. No causing sickness, no turning things to gold, it doesn’t even sour milk. There was absolutely no way you could have predicted it to lash out here.”

“That’s the point,” I said. “I should have expected it to lash out, because I should always be expecting it to lash out. My control slipped, and now everyone knows I put that jerk in hospital. He nearly died, you know. I nearly killed him.”

“Your curse nearly killed him,” Melissa corrected.

“I would have nearly killed him if I got the chance,” Chelsea shrugged. “Don’t even need a curse. I would’ve just hit him.”

“Everyone knows that Matt’s injuries are more self-inflicted than anything,” Melissa added. “Nobody blames you for any of this.”

“Then why is there a wreath on your door?” I asked.

Melissa looked away. “My parents are idiots.”

“No, your parents are scared, and they’re right. Your family have known about my curse since I got it. Your parents never had a problem with it, or with me, until now. But now they finally see what it means, what it can do, and they want nothing to do with me. They think I could hurt you, and they’re right. I could kill both of you without warning. Doesn’t that bother you?”

The two girls stared at me, completely unimpressed. Chelsea rolled her eyes.

“Why would that bother us?” Melissa asked. “It’s not exactly new information.”

“You’ve always known about the curse, but now that it’s active and – ”

Melissa waved me silent. “Not the curse. I mean in general. We’re all capable of killing each other if we want. You don’t need a curse for that. Five minutes ago I threw you a rope to climb in my window; I could’ve untied my end and you could very easily have died. Does that bother you?”

“That’s different.”

“No, it isn’t. I’m not saying your curse doesn’t suck, I’m just saying it doesn’t make you a terrifying monster, and anybody who looks at you differently now that it’s attacked Matt is an idiot for not taking it seriously and getting over it years ago.”

“That’s easy for us to say,” Chelsea said, “but to be fair, people have been kind of freaking out. Your family and mine were the only ones around here who ever really knew about the curse. To everyone else, it kind of…” she shrugged.

“Looks like I lied to them about something really dangerous I was carrying around the neighbourhood?” I asked.

“… Kind of, yeah. But they’ll get over it.”

“What’s the internet look like? The police confiscated my phone and I haven’t been online since the whole thing happened.”

The girls exchanged a worried glance.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Mum turned our wi-fi off. I don’t think she wants me to see what people are saying.”

“You don’t want to see what people are saying,” Melissa said quickly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Chelsea said. “If anyone gives you trouble, point at them and babble nonsense until they run screaming.”

“Yeah, because that would help his court case,” Melissa said.

“Nobody can give me any trouble. I’m not supposed to leave the house. Actually, I should probably get back before Mum and Dad notice I’m missing.”

“Righto. Liss, do you have some rope?” Chelsea headed for the window.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Stringing a rope from the tree to your window. Or did you have another plan for getting back in with that?” She nudged my cast with her toe. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She took a rope from Melissa, slipped easily out the window and within seconds was walking along the tree branch outside.

“I’ll never get how you two can do that,” Melissa remarked.

“It’s easy. It’s just one foot in front of the other. Until you slip and break a leg.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll stick to the ground like a normal person, thanks.”

“Sounds boring.”

Melissa chuckled and shoved me playfully. I grinned, trying to keep the mood light. Trying not to think about the future.

Whether I was found guilty of assault or not, I was dangerous, and now the whole street and the whole school knew it. There was no going back from that.

And I didn’t know what to do.

Story continues here.

#writing #curse words #yeah that's right I'm just fuckin'#dumping chapter 1 here #I'm out of marketing ideas #this is what I have been reduced to

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discoscoob · 4 years ago

Text

New Earth | Loki x Female Reader

Loki (Marvel) x Doctor Who

Loki is officially a member of the TARDIS family and for his first trip the Doctor sets the TARDIS controls to random and she lands on a planet called New Earth and you know what they say ‘New Earth, new you!’

Part One | Part Three | Chapter Index

Words: 7.0k

Warnings: Dub con kissing: reader isn’t control of her own body and Loki isn’t aware

Read on AO3

You quickly learned that the TARDIS was infinitely bigger than you had originally thought. It turned out that the control room was just the tip of the iceberg. It had a swimming pool, a library, an art gallery filled with art the Doctor had collected from across the universe and more wardrobe space than you could ever dream of, full of clothes which the Doctor had granted you unlimited access to, you would definitely be taking advantage of that. It also had the usual like living rooms, dining rooms, kitchens, bathrooms and bedrooms. The Doctor, had confessed that the TARDIS was such a size that there were rooms that even he still had yet to find, despite the fact he had been piloting this ship for over half a millennium.

You recalled how just before all this begun, you had planned to be curled up in bed within the hour, almost 24 hours had passed since then and you had yet to sleep a wink, you also hadn’t eaten. Once all the adrenaline had finally worn off, you felt as though you could have fallen into a coma. You were grateful for the fact that the first thing the Doctor did when he returned to the TARDIS was show you all to the bedrooms, it was on the way that he had filled you with information about the TARDIS and it’s many rooms.

Once you reached the quarters where which the bedrooms were, the Doctor stopped and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and silently handed you, Donna and Loki each a plain plastic bottle filled with goodness knows what and all three of you stared at him speechless waiting for an explanation.

“Aren’t you hungry?” The Doctor asked upon realising you were all staring at him cluelessly. “This will sustain you until you wake up, then you can have a proper breakfast.”

“What is it?” You asked, closely inspecting the plastic bottle.

“Blimey! How big are your pockets?” Donna commented, trying to work out how he managed to fit three bottles into his suit jacket.

“They’re bigger on the inside,” the Doctor shrugged as if it were obvious.

“Of course they are.” Donna muttered to herself in a ‘duh’ tone.

“And it’s like a protein shake. Try it, it’s nice!” The Doctor answered you.

You felt your stomach growl as it demanded nutrients and you were too tired to seek out something else to fill it with so you shrugged and twisted the cap off the bottle and took a quick sip to test how it tasted. You were pleasantly surprised to find it tasted just like a vanilla milkshake and hummed happily as you drank down some more.

After that, the Doctor bid the three of you goodnight and left you to pick your own bedrooms, he assured you they were all practically identical and included en suites so there was no concerns over you squabbling for the biggest room, even if the rooms were different sizes you highly doubted that you had the energy to fight over them, you had already picked the bedroom behind the door closest to you after bidding Donna and Loki goodnight.

Once your vanilla protein shake was all finished and you had changed into some comfortable nightwear which you had found in the wardrobe, you were ready to crawl into the bed for a well-deserved night sleep. Was it even night? You weren’t sure but you couldn’t find the energy to care as you pulled back the thick white duvet of the double bed but before you could climb in and let your tired body rest there was a knock at your door.

You sighed wondering who it was and left your bedside to go and answer it.

“Loki?” You couldn’t disguise the surprise in your tone, he was the last person you expected to see when you opened the door. You took in his appearance and noticed there was no longer any traces of ash or blood on his face, his hair was combed back and still damp meaning he had not long been out the shower, the smell of the products he used filled the air around him and you found yourself breathing deeper to take in the fresh woodsy scents along with hints of vanilla. His sweat and dirt covered clothes had been removed and replaced with a loose dark grey hoodie over a white t shirt and dark jeans, seeing the God in such a casual outfit was almost as startling as seeing him stood outside your door. Your eyes fell to his hands which were clasping the bottle of protein shake the Doctor had gave you all earlier.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you.” Loki spoke, his voice soft, you could hardly believe he was the same man who had trapped you against a wall only seconds after meeting you barely 24 hours earlier.

“No, not at all. I hadn’t got to bed yet.” You assured him and he nodded.

“I just wanted to bring you this,” Loki slightly raised up the bottle in his hand, “you probably need it more than I do, I don’t require nourishments as regularly as mortals do.” He explained.

When you hesitated to accept the drink, due to how stunned you were by the fact he was even concerning himself with thinking about your nutritional needs he continued.

“I haven’t touched it,” he reassured you, allowing you to inspect the bottle by holding it closer to you. “The cap isn’t even broken.”

You couldn’t help the way your heart swelled, endeared by the way he fretted over the idea that you may have worried about him tampering with the drink, when actually that hadn’t even crossed your mind you were just shocked by his kind gesture. You had to pull yourself back into the moment to save him from fretting any further and took the bottle from his hand, your fingers slightly brushed against his as you did allowing you to discover how soft his skin was.

“Thank you, that’s very thoughtful of you.” You smiled sincerely at him and he once again diverted his eyes and clasped his now empty hands behind his back.

“I’ll let you rest now. Goodnight,” he spoke your name and your sleep deprived mind decided that you liked the way it sounded when uttered in his gentle tone. He had already begun walking away when you replied your own goodnight and you noticed he was heading away from the bedrooms, as you softly shut your door you wondered where he was going.

***

Loki had decided that there was no point in attempting to sleep when he wasn’t tired so instead he chose to head to the control room in search of the Doctor. If he was going to be staying under his roof for a while he thought it would be best to learn a bit about him, since they hadn’t really had the opportunity while in Pompeii.

Just as he suspected, he found the Doctor in the control room, his pinstripe suit jacket had been removed, along with his tie and they hung neatly over the railing which surrounded the circular control panel which the Doctor was leant over with his back to Loki. It appeared that the Doctor was unaware of Loki’s presence behind him as he made no effort to acknowledge him.

“Doesn’t this thing come with an auto pilot?” Loki casually initiated conversation as he sneaked up beside the Doctor, who looked over his shoulder at Loki when he heard his voice and straightened his back, letting out a soft chuckle.

“Yeah, it does,” he answered as he distractedly scratched at some stubble along his jawline, while Loki continued to scroll around the console, looking at all the controls, he let his fingers dance over them but he never touched any. “But I like to stay up here and monitor it as much as I can, make sure everything’s in order, look out for any distress calls. That sort of thing.”

Loki nodded to demonstrate that he was listening until he stopped three quarters of the way around the console from where the Doctor stood and finally looked back up at him to find the Doctor was already watching him closely.

“You know you don’t have to treat me like the humans.” Loki stated, as he shoved his hands into his jean pockets, the Doctor mirrored him as he put his hands in his own. “I’m much more like you than them.”

“Force of habit, I guess.” The Doctor shrugged apologetically. “I’ve been travelling with humans for almost...” he squinted his eyes as he worked out the numbers in his head, “50 years now. This is my first time travelling with a God.”

“I’m honoured to be your first.” Loki smiled proudly before he continued to silently wander around the control room while the Doctor returned to monitoring the console, every so often he glanced back up at Loki just to check he wasn’t up to no good, each time Loki would look right back at him and offer him an innocent smile.

“Forgive me if this sounds imprudent, but how old are you?” Loki asked, if he wanted to get to know the Doctor better he needed to start somewhere and this seem like a good place to start.

“I’m 904... I think? I don’t really keep count anymore.” The Doctor explained, as he leaned against the railing and crossed his legs and arms.

“And how does someone who travels through all of time and space, getting themselves into situations like Pompeii and answers distress call, after distress call, make it to 904 years old? Are you immortal or just tremendously lucky?”

“Ha, I’m neither of those things.” The Doctor chuckled ruefully to himself as he pushed himself off the railing to stroll around the console as he explained. “Instead of dying my body regenerates itself. All my cells burn up and I grow new ones. I’m still me but I become a complete different person. New face, new body, new personality. The only thing from my previous form which I do get to keep are my memories.”

“Therefore that would make you a...?” He put his hand out with his palm facing up, offering the Doctor to finish the sentence.

“Time lord.”

The Doctor hadn’t noticed the way Loki’s eyes slightly widened and how the curve of his lip fell into a straight line. A few moments passed and Loki had yet to respond, the Doctor looked up to check that he was even still in the room and found Loki staring at him with a pale, unmoving face. “Loki, are you alright?”

Loki remained still and silent and the Doctor straightened his back and drew his eyebrows together as he took a single step forward. “Loki?” This time his tone was cautious, it wasn’t too gentle but it wasn’t too abrupt, it danced on a line between the two.

Noticing the Doctor come closer encouraged Loki to finally move, he took a step back and tilted his head forward to glare at the Doctor from under his brows, silently warning him to not step any closer.

The Doctor understood and increased the distance between them by taking a few steps backwards and raised his arms, with his palms facing towards Loki, to demonstrate that he meant him no harm.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Just tell me what’s wrong and I can fix it.” The Doctor tried, his voice was assertive yet calm.

“Time Lords maintained timelines within the universe and were in charge of the laws of time.” Loki recited, as he carefully watched the Doctor.

“Yeah...” The Doctor slowly confirmed, though his pitch rose at the end of the word making it sound more like a question as his face grew with intriguing while he wondered where Loki was going with this and why he seemed so alarmed by it.

“But they all died.” Loki continued, it was a statement not a question and the Doctor had to quickly disguise the pain that threatened to show on his face.

“Yeah,” the Doctors voice slightly wavered and he cleared his throat. “I’m the only one left.”

“With the Lords of Time gone there was no one left to continue their work.” The Doctor remained silent and listened, as he wondered where Loki got all this knowledge from. “Until the TVA was founded. They honour and continue the work of the Time Lords. My question is, where does that leave you, Doctor?”

Now it was the Doctors turn to fall speechless, he had followed everything Loki said up until he mentioned the TVA. There was an organisation who honoured Time Lords and continued their work, maintaining timelines and enforcing the laws of time? The Doctor wondered how he never knew about this, he believed he was the only person in the universe continuing the work of the Time Lords.

“The TVA?” The Doctor faintly questioned, his brows tense as he glanced at the ground.

“The Time Variant Authority.” Loki clarified, closely reading the Doctors reaction to try and find any hint of dishonesty.

“Is that who you’re running from?” The Doctor asked Loki, but he remained silent, uncertain of how much he could trust the Time Lord.

“I’m not with them. I had no idea they even existed.” The Doctor told him honestly, looking him right in the eye with his palm resting between his two hearts. “Whatever trouble you’re in, I might be able to help. If the TVA honour my species–“

“No.” Loki quickly rejected the Doctors offer before he could even form a proper plan.

“They might listen to me–“ The Doctor tried to persist.

“No!” Loki repeated louder, “I got away from them, haven’t I? I am already free. It would be foolish to go back and try to reason with them.”

“A life on the run is hardly freedom.” The Doctor argued.

Loki disagreed. Even before the TVA, Loki had never truly known what freedom felt like. Growing up a Prince on Asgard his entire life had been planned out for him, all he had to do was perform the script that had already been written but Loki had no interest in the character which he had been given. All the rules and regulations he had to follow without question made him hungry to take control and live by his own rules but in doing so he fell under the control of Thanos and as a result he was forever confined to one role, one character: the villain.

In an effort to escape he merely moved from one cage to another. Then he was captured by the TVA and his figurative restraints turned literal but it felt no different, confirming that he had been right all along about feeling ensnared in the life which had been chosen for him.

What the Doctor failed to realise was that, the very first time Loki believed he felt what others described as freedom was when you had put your hand on his shoulder and reassured him he was safe and he realised that you truly had no idea who he was. You held no preconceived notions about him, there was no one you expected him to be.

For once Loki had the opportunity to discover who he truly was without the influence of other people’s ideas of him, which he had accepted would never change no matter how much he tried so he gave up trying and became what people saw him as but, you, you saw him as a stranger.

The prospect of meeting someone who didn’t already know who he was was rare in Loki’s life, it seemed everyone had their own images of who he was, which made it hard for him decipher which parts actually belonged to him and which parts others had attached to him from their own imaginations.

Then you offered him the opportunity to stay and Loki felt as though he had finally managed to tear up the script which had been written for him and take the pen in his own hand and for the very first time in his life he had the power to decide who he wanted to be and if that’s what freedom felt like then Loki decided that he was going to cherish it for as long as possible.

***

The sound of bird song and the feeling of sun light warming your face gently pulled you from your sleep. You squinted your eyes as they adjusted to the sunlight and once you could take in your surroundings you paused, forgetting where you were for a moment until the events of yesterday started playing back in your mind.

You were in your bedroom on the TARDIS, however you were certain that window hadn’t been there last night. You rose from the bed and walked towards it, the view showed you a clear blue sky and a vast meadow surrounded by healthy green trees while flocks of birds passed by above. It was a beautiful sight to wake up to, however that didn’t lessen your confusion over it.

Now freshly showered and changed into some new clothes which you found provided in the wardrobe, you were walking through the corridors of the TARDIS, letting your nose lead the way as it followed the scent of a hearty breakfast being cooked nearby. The two protein shakes had sustained you over night but now you were ready for that proper breakfast the Doctor had promised and from the smells that travelled down the corridors and lured you to the kitchen, it seemed like it wasn’t going to disappoint.

Once you turned through the archway which lead to the spacious kitchen which also included a dining area, you were greeted by the sight of Loki and the Doctor quietly bickering, they hadn’t yet noticed your presence so you quietly watched them as you leant against the archway.

“You burnt the toast again.” The Doctor sighed, taking the toast and throwing it into the bin which you noticed already had a pile of burnt toast slices in it.

“I didn’t burn the toast, the toaster burnt the toast.” Loki argued. “I don’t know why you dragged me in here to help you cook for the humans anyway.”

“Did you have anything better to do?” The Doctor asked as he popped some more bread slices into the toaster.

“No.” Loki admitted honestly.

“Then you can pour the fresh orange juice into the serving jug. Everything’s almost ready, they’ll be here soon.” The Doctor instructed Loki, who sighed but still turned to go to the fridge but he paused halfway when he finally noticed you standing under the archway and he said your name with surprise.

“Good morning, Loki.” You greeted him kindly as you moved into the kitchen.

“Oh,” the Doctor said your name after he heard you greet Loki. “Take a seat, it’s almost done.”

You sat yourself down on one of the chairs at the large oak wood dining table and observed Loki and the Doctor in the kitchen.

You noticed Loki had changed out of the casual clothes he was wearing last night when he knocked on your door to offer you his protein shake. He was now smartly dressed in a dark fitted suit, with an olive green waist coat paired with a crocodile green tie which was secured to his white dress shirt with a gold clip. It was the finest you had seen him dress, he looked out of place as he stood in the kitchen pouring juice into a jug.

The Doctor was dressed in pretty much the same outfit he wore yesterday, you wondered to yourself if it was the exact same suit or if he just owned multiple pairs.

“Doctor.” You spoke the Time Lords name to get his attention.

“Yeah?” He glanced up at you from where he was buttering some toast.

“This morning I woke up to a window in my room that wasn’t there last night.” You told him, hoping he could offer you some insight.

“It’s an artificial window,” he explained, “I turn on the feature when I’m travelling with humans, since the TARDIS has no windows some can find it quite claustrophobic but I can turn off the feature if you don’t like it.”

“No, no. I like it,” you quickly told him. “It’s nice, thank you.”

The Doctor gave you a small smile to acknowledge your thanks.

“No one talk to me. I need coffee.” The unmistakable sound of your auntie drew all three pairs of eyes in the room to Donna as she shuffled into the kitchen, she was dressed in a fluffy white dressing gown and slippers and her red hair was pulled up into a messy bun.

“Coffee pot is there, help yourself.” The Doctor pointed to the counter where there stood a pot of black coffee.

“Thanks.” Donna mumbled through a yawn.

Your attention was drawn to Loki when he placed two full plates, filled with a variety of breakfast foods down onto the table.

“You look nice today.” You told him and heat rose to your cheeks when Loki’s eyes met yours and his lips curled up at the edges.

“I’m glad we agree.” Loki stood straight and tugged on his blazer where it hugged him snuggly around his waist. “It took me forever to find something decent in the Doctors closets.”

The Doctor fetched over the rest of the plates and took a seat on the opposite side of the table to you, Donna sat beside him cradling her mug of coffee and Loki moved around the table to take a seat beside you, the same foresty and vanilla scent filled the air around him.

“I could get used to this.” Donna commented as she started scooping food from the buffet in the centre of the table onto her empty plate.

“Don’t, I just haven’t eaten in a while, thought it was about time.” The Doctor warned her around a mouth full of bacon.

“What’s the plan for today, Doctor?” You asked as you picked up a hash brown.

“I was thinking I could set the controls to random and see where it takes us.” The Doctor offered. “A mystery tour! We could end up on any planet, anywhere, anywhen, in the whole, wide universe.”

“You mean, we could end up on an alien planet?!” Donna gasped, and it was hard to tell whether she was excited or terrified.

“Time and space travel, consequently, yeah, I think our chances of landing on an alien planet are relatively high.” Loki sarcastically replied, while he picked at a croissant.

“Can we leave him behind?” Donna directly asked the Doctor.

“Hey, play nice you two.” The Doctor ordered them like a fed up father.

***

“Earth?” Donna whined. “All that just to end up back on earth? And it’s pissing it down.”

You had all eagerly piled out the TARDIS to see what awaited you on the other side of the double doors, the last thing any of you expected was to end up in a rundown alleyway on earth during a rainstorm.

“No, no.” The Doctor smiled, the only one out of all four of you who still looked enthusiastic while you, Loki and Donna all glared at him while the rain poured down on you. “This is New Earth!”

“I don’t care if it’s brand, spanking New Earth, it’s cold and it’s wet and we’re surrounded by rubbish!” Donna complained, as she wrapped her arms around her torso to protect herself from the elements.

“I think I just saw a rat.” Loki added.

Donna let out a ear piercing screech as she leaped into the air in fright.

“Come on! Where’s your sense of adventure?” The Doctor tried to hype you all up.

“Doctor, a cold and wet, rat infested alleyway isn’t exactly what I would call my idea of an adventure.” You told him, and his smile dropped when he looked at all three of you and saw your miserable faces.

“Fine,” he begrudgingly caved in with a sigh. “Get back in the TARDIS, I’ll take us somewhere else.”

You all simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief and began following the Doctor back into his ship one after another, with you following behind last but before you could step foot through the doors you felt an arm grab you around your waist and pull you backwards. You felt a sudden falling sensation, as if the arm had dragged you straight off a cliff edge. From what you could see it looked as though you were falling through a kaleidoscope. All this barely lasted two seconds, as all of a sudden you once again felt the solid ground beneath your feet. Your heart was hammering in your chest like a woodpeckers beak against a tree, as you patted down your body just to make sure everything arrived with you since you were pretty certain you had just teleported.

With wide eyes you looked around the dimly lit basement which had paint chipping off its walls and was filled with an unsettling scent of chemicals. In the background you could hear the sound of a party coming through speakers, you discovered it was coming from a projection on one of the walls. The footage showed a beautiful blonde woman dressed in a stunning silver dress which was accessorised with expensive jewellery, all attention was on her as she elegantly glided around the room while handsome men dressed in tuxedos fawned over her.

“Mistress! I brought you a pure-blood human.” You heard a timid voice, you immediately looked towards the direction it came from to find a small man with patterns on his pale face, hunched over like an elderly person and dressed in white scrubs.

“Don’t be frightened, my child.” You jumped, startled by a second voice, this one feminine and aristocratic, it sounded almost identical to the one that belonged to the elegant woman in the projected footage. For a moment you didn’t realise where it came from but then you noticed the sheet of skin with a face attached to it. The skin was tethered to a metal frame like a trampoline and you gasped in horror at the sight.

“Well done, Chip. You have delivered me a truly fine specimen.” The talking piece of skin praised the cowering man, who you assumed was her servant.

“Come closer, my child. Let me get a proper look at you.” She tried to tempt you towards her but you weren’t an idiot.

“I think I’ll just stay right here, thanks.” You refused, going as far to take a few steps backwards.

“Suit yourself.” The skin smiled to herself before her eyes shifted from you to the projection. “I remember that night, that was the last time anyone told me I was beautiful.”

You watched the footage as a man kissed the back of her hand and you heard him call her Cassandra.

“After that, it all became such hard work.” Cassandra continued. “But I’ve not been idle. Tucked away down here I finally developed a solution to all my problems.”

“And what’s that?” You were afraid to ask.

“Chip, activate the psychograft!” Cassandra ordered her humble servant.

Instantly your arms were immobile as an electric force bound them to a barrier which you hadn’t realised you had stepped into, no matter how hard you tried to pull free, your arms wouldn’t budge.

“Cassandra, what are you doing?” You gasped mid-sentence as a circle of light surrounded you.

“Moving on! New life, new body, new me!” Cassandra cheered and a gold essence evaporated from her skin and travelled through the air towards you.

Your chest tightened as you realised what was about to happen as the sparkling gold cloud reached you, it sank into your chest through your skin and flesh, once it was all inside you the force restraining you vanished and your limp body collapsed to the floor. Your head smacked against a loose pipe as gravity pulled you into it’s hard embrace.

***

You had been right behind Loki when you were taken, which mean he had heard you yelp in shock when you felt the arm wrapped around your waist which made him turn to see what prompted such a reaction, only to watch you vanish into thin air right before his eyes.

He called your name, in the tone of a question, into the now empty alleyway which was useless since you were already gone but it caught the attention of Donna.

“What’s wrong?” She turned to Loki after hearing the confusion in his tone when he spoke your name.

That’s when the Doctor looked up from the ships console, his own brows furrowed with concern as he looked between Donna and Loki.

The Doctor realised you were the only one who wasn’t present and asked where you were, though his question was more of a statement to bring attention to your lack of presence.

“Someone grabbed her and then they vanished.” Loki explained.

“What... what do you mean ‘vanished?’” Donna looked at Loki in disbelief, not trusting the mischievous God, she rushed back towards the doors and stepped back out into the rain shouting your name into the alleyway, her voice reverberated off of the walls.

“It must have been a short range teleport, like a vortex manipulator.” The Doctor concluded. “Nasty and cheap.” He added in a barely coherent mumble.

He was already rushing around the console tempering with all sorts of switches in a seemingly random order. “If I can hone in on its signal, maybe I can follow its last route.”

“Got it!” He announced only a few moments later.

“Donna!” The Doctor yelled towards the double doors of the TARDIS.

“What is it, do you know where they went?” Donna came running back into the TARDIS, freshly wet from the rain.

“I found the signal which was left behind by the teleportation device they used, I set the TARDIS controls to follow its last route. Hold on.” With that the Doctor pulled down the leaver and everyone knew to hold on tight during this part as tremors shook the whole TARDIS.

Loki and the Doctor held onto opposite sides of the console while Donna clung to the railing beside the doors. It didn’t take long for the tremors to subside as a wheezing sound filled the control room signalling that the TARDIS was landing. Once the ship fell silent Donna rushed out the doors without hesitation, ignoring the Doctor as he called her name and ran after her.

Donna cried your name as soon as she saw you collapsed on the floor, then she noticed the creature with patterns on his face crouched over you.

“Get away!” Donna yelled at Chip as she rushed to your side, she fell to her knees beside you and harshly pushed the creature away and he fell on his back before he quickly scurried away to cower in a corner as the Doctor came running out the TARDIS, followed by Loki.

Donna made room for the Doctor as he knelt beside her and scanned his sonic screwdriver over your body, while Donna stroked your hair, her eyes began filling with tears.

“She’s okay.” The Doctor reassured Donna as he studied his screwdriver, Donna let out a sob of relief and wrapped your limp hand between both of hers and held it against her heart.

“Loki, take her back into the TARDIS. I’m going to take a look around here.” The Doctor instructed, while he glanced around the dull basement.

The Doctor moved, allowing Loki to take his place, Donna moved slightly to give him enough room to scoop you into your arms.

“Be careful.” Donna told him, Loki’s brows pulled together, ready to snap at the woman, he was already helping, when he didn’t have to, she didn’t have to make him sound incompetent while he did so but as he turned to Donna ready to unleash his pent up frustration, he saw her eyes weren’t focused critically on him but they were filled with concern over you as they were trained on you unconscious form and Loki realised that she wasn’t nagging him, she was only worried about you. The tension left his brows and his eyes softened as he gave Donna a small nod and secured his hold on you.

Donna held the TARDIS door open and Loki carried you through, once they were both in the control room Loki continued walking towards the corridors which lead deeper into the ship.

“Where are you going?” Donna fret, expecting him to have put you down on the floor of the control room.

“I’m taking her to her room, her bed will be more comfortable than the floor.” Loki explained without stopping, he recalled how uncomfortable it was when he awoke on the floor of the control room, despite the fact you tried to offer him some comfort by resting his head in your lap.

It had sent an unfamiliar feeling through his chest that you had concerned yourself over his comfort. He could count the amount of people on one hand who would ever willingly rest his head in their lap and those people were Thor and his mother, everyone else either simply wouldn’t care or would be far too afraid of him to ever allow themselves to get that close.

Since you had concerned yourself with his comfort and he was aware of how uncomfortable the TARDIS floor was, he thought it was only fair that he, too, saw to it that you were comfortable.

He was never one for concerning himself over other people’s needs, likely due to the fact he always felt as though no one ever cared about his but as soon as he felt cared about by you, he found himself considering your needs, whether it was intentional or not.

When the Doctor had handed the three of you protein shakes he knew immediately that he had no use for it, so he took it back to his room and dumped it on the bed as he went to shower with the intention of leaving it untouched. As he showered, no matter how much he tried to think about anything else, he kept thinking about the way he heard your stomach growl when you were stood next to him in the corridor and how he had something which could diminish your hunger, that he had no use for, so the logical thing to do was to give it to you, since you clearly needed it.

Just because it was the logical thing to do didn’t mean Loki was going to do it, at least that’s what he told himself, but as he started to get dressed in some comfortable clothes he found in the wardrobe, his eyes kept glancing over at the discarded bottle on the bed.

In the end he concluded that since he was planning to talk to the Doctor, meaning he would inevitably pass by your room on the way, he would knock on your door and leave the bottle on the floor for you to find while he quickly made himself scarce.

Of course things didn’t go to plan and he found himself still stood at your door once you opened it.

Once he made it to your bedroom he gently placed you on your bed, over the top of your duvet, making sure your pillow was under your head and then stepped away to let Donna sit beside you.

Loki paused halfway between the bed and the door, wondering if he should stay or go, he nervously fidgeted with his fingers. You had stayed with him when he was unconscious but you already had Donna, she was your auntie, you didn’t need him he decided so he turned on his heel and stepped towards the door.

“You don’t have to go.” Donna offered, when she heard his footsteps, he looked at her from over his shoulder.

Loki considered this for a moment before he finally walked over to an armchair in your room and sat on it with his legs spread and his elbows resting on his knees.

“Moisturise me.” Donna and Loki sat up when they heard you mumble and you began to come around.

“Moisturise? Moister... oh water? You want water?” Donna tried to work out what you meant.

“Moisturise me.” You repeated, still half unconscious.

“I’ll get you some water, don’t worry. I’ll be right back.” Donna promised you as she stood up and rushed out the room, leaving you alone with Loki.

When your eyes finally pushed themselves open, they only saw a plain white ceiling which was far too clean to belong to the basement, which is the last place you remember being, so you came to the conclusion that someone had moved you. You wanted to sit up but when you tried to command your body to move, it wouldn’t, you begun to panic wondering if you had become paralysed but then you sat up without even trying, it was like an invisible force moved your body for you. Immediately you felt a pressure build in your skill, like your brain was being compressed.

You heard Loki’s voice say your name and the invisible force allowed you to see him as he stood from the armchair. You were in your bedroom, on the TARDIS, relief filled you as you looked at Loki’s familiar face and you wanted to smile and run over to him and tell him what happened but instead your body remained sat on the bed.

“Yes... that’s who I am.” Cassandra replied to him, using your voice but you could hear yourself, you didn’t sound right you spoke with a upper-class accent that didn’t belong to you.

“And you’re a tall, handsome stranger.” Cassandra dragged your eyes down Loki’s body with no concern about being subtle and if you were in control of your own body your cheeks would’ve been burning hot by now.

“I’m not a stranger, you know who I am.” Loki responded with a confused tilt of his head.

“Tell me again.” Cassandra prompted him, she made your voice low and breathy as she pressed your palms against your mattress and leaned your body towards the man who stood at the edge of your bed while she innocently looked up at him from under your lashes.

“Loki of Asgard, God of Mischief.” Loki couldn’t resist answering, his own voice growing deeper as he believed his title appealed to you and that’s why you wanted to hear him say it.

“A God?” Cassandra gasped as she made you move onto all fours and slowly begin crawling to the edge of the bed until you were knelt right before the God.

“That’s right.” Loki answered breathily, his eyes never leaving you as Cassandra moved your hands to grasp Loki by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him closer, he moved without protest.

“Does that make you immortal?” Cassandra whispered, your lips almost brushing his from how close your faces were and she continued to peer at him from under your lashes while he looked down at you with hooded eyes which kept glancing towards your lips, Cassandra lifted them into a smirk.

“It does.” Loki answered, his voice so deep it was practically a growl and Cassandra made you moan as she suddenly forced you to tighten your fists around Loki’s lapels and pull him down until his lips smacked with yours. Cassandra moved your arms from Loki’s lapels to around his shoulders and made your fingers dig into his long, dark hair grasping a strong hold so his head wouldn’t move away from yours.

You heard Loki let out a deep moan and his hands grasped your hips and pulled them flush with his own. As Cassandra made you continue kissing him you felt the unbearable pressure in your head begin to disappear.

You hadn’t noticed that the door to your bedroom had opened until you heard the sound of a glass smash.

“What the hell?!” Donna cried, immediately Loki let go of your hips and without his strong hold supporting you, you felt your whole body go weak as you collapsed back onto the bed but you noticed as you fell back you moved your own arm to brace your fall. Experimentally you waved your other arm around in front of your face to confirm you were once again in control of your own movements.

Then reality hit you as you realised what Donna had just walked in on but before you could even begin to try and explain you heard loud footsteps echoing through the corridor as they ran towards your bedroom.

“Donna!” You could hear the Doctor shouting, before you saw him run through the open door of your bedroom.

“Cassandra, get out–“ The Doctor yelled towards you his face full of fury but his foot slipped on the water from the glass Donna had dropped and he went flying to the floor.

“Doctor?!” Donna gasped and rushed to help him up as he groaned in pain from the impact.

“Donna, that’s not your niece!” The Doctor warned Donna.

“What do you mean? Of course, she is.” Donna argued with the Doctor, who was finally back on both feet.

“She’s been possessed by Cassandra.” The Doctor explained, looking Donna straight in the eye as he held his hands on both her shoulders to convey how serious he was. “She’s the last surviving human and she refuses to die, she’s trying to use your nieces body as a vessel.”

“I’m me again!” You tried to explain.

“Get out of her now, Cassandra!” The Doctor ordered.

“She already has,” you attempted to explain again. “She left me after she made me kiss Loki.”

All eyes in the room fell on the God who was checking himself out in the floor length mirror beside your wardrobe. When he realised the room had fell silent and felt everyone’s attention on him, he turned and looked at you all with a smirk and then his eyes landed on the Doctor.

“Hello, Doctor.” Cassandra greeted the Time Lord flirtatiously, through Loki. “Long time no see, and it looks like we both got new faces.”

#loki (marvel)#loki #doctor who #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki imagine #the doctor #Tenth Doctor #tom hiddleston #Donna Noble

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light-yaers · 4 years ago

Text

No Saints: Chapter Four

This content is explicit and is 18+

Warnings: Graphic sexual content, violence, implied effects of PTSD, death and explicit language.

Read on Ao3 here | Fic Masterpost

Word Count - 5.6k

Chapter Four

“You’re angry,” Mando said plainly. He stood in the shop, door closed and obviously locked, a week later. You stood behind your work desk, glaring up at his chrome visor and saying absolutely nothing.

You pointed to the collection of credits on the desktop. Mando followed your finger, seeing what the supposed problem was.

“You’re angry because I gave you my last pay?” He questioned, stepping closer to you at the desk.

“I said I don’t want your credits,” You told him bluntly. “Your money is your money—,”

“That was before you saved my life,” He interrupted, coming to lean down on the desk opposite you. You inhaled deeply, feeling a subtle rush of excitement in your gut at his closeness, despite the scolding you wanted to give him.

“I don’t want your money, Mando,” You stated, staring straight into his visor. “It’s not fair,”

“It is fair,” He retorted. “I haven’t needed information for a while. You’ve given me whiskey, bread, company—,”

“I don’t do that because I want to be paid, Mando!” You erupted. Stars, was this your first fight? God forbid.

He stepped back subtly, almost as if he was trying to figure out your emotions. You could imagine the furrowed brow beneath his helmet, the look of confusion and trying to understand what you fully meant.

“Then hear this,” He began. You heard the tone of his voice as he became sterner, as he’d figured out his words for definite. “If you go bankrupt, what happens then?”

You couldn’t help it, you had to roll your eyes at him. “That’s not your responsibility—,”

He interrupted you with a muffled groan, but instead of a seething anger, you felt... butterflies. When before it had simply been you admitting to your silly wants or desires, he’d finally cracked—he’d finally admitted that something was affecting him. “Without you on this planet, what will I do each time I return?”

You stood up slowly, involuntarily dropping your mouth open from this fucking realisation. Was Mando giving you credits to keep you in business? So he’d still have you to return to between jobs?

You couldn’t help it. All of your anger dissipated into thin air, replaced by the intense longing to fucking hug him, or laugh in his face about being the vulnerable one this time, or take off his helmet with your eyes closed and kiss his actual lips.

None of which you actually did—

Well, apart from the laughter. Soft chuckles escaped your lips, making Mando step back even further. It wasn’t often you were the one laughing at him, but this time was different.

“What?” He let out. You could hear the rising anger in his tone, but you couldn’t stop yourself from chortling. “What?” He repeated, stepping forward to approach you at the desk. You looked up into his visor, cheeks a soft shade of pink, smile shoved all over your face.

You allowed yourself a few seconds to breathe, to calm down, before you finally cleared your throat, getting in close to his visor. “You like me,” You whispered, followed by cascades of laughter once more. You had to grip onto the desk for support, otherwise you were sure you’d drop to the floor, clutching your stomach as your abs started to hurt.

Mando didn’t move, he only looked at you—stars, he was good at looking at you. Stare unwavering, body unmoving, but eyes racing behind his visor as he fought to soak up the entire image of you in front of him.

He let you have your fun, laughing solely at his expense, or maybe just to stop yourself from body slamming him to the floor in a fit of absolute arousal. When you’d slowed to subtle hiccups of laughter, he reached out, grabbing your neck and pulling your face closer to his helmet—

Stars, you ceased to breathe. You flicked your gaze over his visor, from left to right and back again, hoping that maybe you were hitting his eyes beneath. Fuck, what you’d do to see those eyes. You craved to know the colour, the warmth, the looks that Mando actually sent you. You wanted to see him clamp them shut with absolute pleasure, you wanted to see them crinkle when he laughed.

“Annoying,” Was all he said, but you didn’t feel hurt from it. You knew he was fucking deflecting—because you did that often. You settled on sending him a slight smirk in return, but all levels of composure went out of the window—when your name trickled from his lips—

Your name. The one you’d blurted out last week, before he’d fucking put you to bed. You went to move back immediately, but Mando’s grip on your neck only increased. He brought his other hand to settle on the other side, keeping you stuck right in front of him.

“There it is,” He whispered, letting out a few amused modulated breaths. “That blush,”

Stars—you wanted to simultaneously kill him and snog him.

“That blush makes your annoyance tolerable,” You raised your brows suddenly as your gut coiled uncontrollably. His voice was nothing more than a low growl, disguising itself as subtle anger; but you knew the difference. You’d heard Mando be angry, you’d heard him be soft and gentle, but you’d also heard him when he was fucking gagging for it—gagging to put his hands on your body, gagging to have you wrapped in his embrace.

“Does it, now?” You trickled out, the rising feeling of warmth fluttering through your body. It started in your stomach and spiralled outwards, hitting your chest, your arms, your shoulders and your pussy. When it hit that, your brain all but shut down, replaced with only the need—the need to hear him moan again. “What else makes it tolerable?”

Mando immediately started shaking it head. “No. I have to meet with Karga,”

You pouted at him, sticking out your lower lip and sending him a sad frown. You started sniffling overdramatically, wondering if this blatant fake act would actually work on him. He only shook his head again, faster this time, as if he was trying to convince himself not to go there. “Karga may have fallen for it, but I won’t,”

Your face dropped into an actual frown as you sighed. Mando removed his grip from your neck, picking up his satchel and slinging it over his shoulder like always. You walked round from behind your desk, trying not to get sad about how short his visit had been this week—he was a busy man, especially after the lateness of last week. He was probably trying to build up trust with Karga again.

You stood in front of him as he stared down at you, small frown still on your lips and the blush still plastered on your cheeks. “Short visit,” He stated, but it made you smile slightly. At least you weren’t the only one thinking it. “Do you still have that communicator I gave you?”

Stars, if you’d been blushing before, you were fucking red now. Your hand instinctively went to your wrist, where the comm had been since he’d put it on you last week. You hadn’t taken it off. Fuck. This is embarrassing.

Mando noticed your awkwardness, looking down to your hands and seeing that you still had it. For once, he didn’t let out a chuckle, but you figured it was as a kindness to your tomato face. “Good. Keep it,” He demanded softly. “It means I can talk to you as soon as I land,”

You tried not to let out a squeal. Mando hadn’t just admitted to wanting to keep you on Nevarro, for his sake, he’d also just made it incredibly clear that he, maybe, missed you. Missed you enough while he was off collecting quarries to want to speak to you as soon as he landed on Nevarro once again.

This man—this man of steel and metal and cold, of violence, who could definitely snap you in half in the blink of an eye, was one of the most gentle and kind beings you’d ever come across. The Mandalorian.

Maybe that wasn’t saying much, considering the people you’d been surrounded with for your entire life; but you felt the good in him. You felt his kindness, his warmth, his want to be there for you, next to you, with you. Fuck—don’t fall for him completely. Don’t you fucking dare.

If only he’d fuck you soon. That would be the cherry on of everything.

But there was something so quenching and satisfying about the build-up—the tension, the stares, the wonder of what part of your body he’d touch this time round, of which part of himself he’d reveal to you next. Stars, you loved it.

Mando nodded at you once, going to leave the shop, but you stepped forward abruptly.

“I’ll... see you next week?” You let it out in a rush, afraid that he’d dip through the door too fast for you to say a goodbye. No—it wasn’t a goodbye. It was a “see you later”.

Mando strolled back to you slowly, silently, as every step hit you like a brick. He let out a sigh, or a moan, or a whatever—it sounded half-way between pained and lost for words. Before you could figure out its meaning, he wrapped two Beskar clad arms around your shoulders, bringing a gloved hand to the back of your head and pushing you forward to rest upon his chest.

You gasped at his initial touch, not yet being used to this intimacy with him. Stars, you’d wrapped your legs around him before you’d wrapped your arms around him? It was enough to make you laugh, but all you felt in that moment was a softness that almost made you cry. It was an embrace that you hadn’t felt in years; a simple hug.

You’d forgotten all that could be fixed with one simple gesture of arms wrapped around your body. You’d forgotten the feeling of a chest rising and falling, of hearing a subtle heartbeat as your ear rested right over it. Mando’s was no different—it was a soft badum, over and over again beneath his Beskar.

You closed your eyes, guiltily realising that you didn’t want to let go, not anytime soon. But that time was cut exceptionally short, when Mando pulled himself away first. He gently peeled you from his body, extending you to be an arms-length away before dropping his arms.

“See you next week,” He said lowly. And then he was really gone, gently shutting your door from outside and leaving you to stand in the Mando-less silence of your shop.

Stars. This fucking sucks.

The more time you spent with the Mandalorian, the less you wanted him to leave. With every passing, it was becoming more of a battle on your emotions. Get it together. You berated yourself incessantly, telling yourself to get over it, to keep going forward, but with the passing time without him, you realised—

You were thinking more and more about your past.

And that was something that you never liked to do.

Despite the years, the change of perspective, the countless hours of repression and years of work to get yourself away from it, it was becoming impossible. You saw flashes while you worked, when you shot in the firing range, before you slept. It haunted you, seeping into your bones, as if you’d never fucking left it all behind.

Debilitating was a whole different ballpark, but this was debilitating. When you looked in the mirror, you couldn’t differentiate between your older and younger self anymore—behind your eyes, you still saw her; cut-throat, unremorseful, naïve.

What you always seemed to forget were your morals; you’d never wanted to do what you’d done. You’d never wanted to become what they made you, but it was all you knew, all you had, until you’d managed to get yourself out of there.

Maybe you’d picked Nevarro to settle as eternal punishment for your actions. Maybe you’d picked it because the danger, the griminess, the dirt and blood reminded you of the only home you could remember as a child.

You stifled a gasp as you dragged your hand down to your boot, sticking your fingers under the leather to feel the jagged, scarred skin on your right ankle—the mark they’d given you. The mark of your abilities, your absence of mercy, your creed.

Only when you got older did you realise it was never a creed—it was a cult, a gang—and you’d simply been one of many children trafficked to work for their ranks. If you hadn’t grown such a tough skin, you would have died alongside the ones that didn’t make it. So, you grew, you trained until you couldn’t stand, until your stomach ejected its contents, until the agony of the hits you were taking turned to a numbness that you’d learned to expect and persist through.

Fuck. Stop thinking about it. Stop.

You endured. You continued your work, you refused smiles from customers and repaired blaster after blaster, sometimes stopping to stare at the communicator on your wrist that only served as a reminder that he was gone. Stars, don’t get soft now.

It was a week later when his voice rang through the band on your arm. He said your name, and dank farrik, you freaked the fuck out. You shot out of bed, half asleep, afraid that they’d found you—that they’d scoured the universe to find you, to capture you, to torture you for your desertion—

You flailed wildly, picking up your blaster as a reflex and squinting into the darkness of your room. You were alone. “Did I wake you?” His modulated drawl spoke up again. Fuck—it’s just Mando. You clutched your heart painfully, feeling the rapid pulse of its beat throbbing throughout your entire body.

“No,” You replied breathily, trying to calm yourself down. “Where are you?”

Mando groaned on the other end of the line, but it wasn’t a noise of his that you’d ever heard before. It wasn’t strained from arousal, it wasn’t the hungriness you knew he could possess, it was pain. “Outside the city,” He replied, only confirming that something had happened.

“What’s wrong?” You bleated through the comms. “Are you hurt?”

Mando chuckled once, before letting out a colossal groan in agony. Now, you were panicking. It’s not that you thought he was indestructible, but he’d never wavered with his strength, and with all that armour you’d never know how someone could actually strike him where it hurt.

“Do you have any Bacta shots?” He asked, groaning even more. You clambered up immediately, going to check your first aid supplies. You shuffled through them all, throwing gauze and bandaids and surgical tape behind you before letting out a frustrated huff.

“No, I—I don’t have any,” You stuttered, still overcome with the adrenaline you woke up to.

“Sewing kit?” He persisted. You nodded quickly to yourself, before you realised he couldn’t fucking see you.

“Yes, I have one,” You shuffled through the cupboards beneath your work desk quickly, finding the small sewing kit that you rarely used. Weapon repairs didn’t use thread.

“Can you—,” He groaned between words. “Bring it— to the Razor Crest?”

You were already slipping on your sweats and a light jacket, nodding to yourself feverishly, before you managed to stutter out a response. “I’m on the way—be there soon—,”

“Be careful,” Mando forced out. “Sending you my coordinates,”

You followed his coordinates to the outside of the city. You’d never walked around Nevarro after dark much and for absolute good reason. It was grimy and mysterious, with dark alleys and even darker individuals. You had a constant grip on the blaster clipped to your waist as an understandable precaution, grasping it all the way to the outer sections of the city.

When you saw his ship in the distance, you broke into a run. You pumped your arms like you had no other agenda, embracing the adrenaline coursing through your blood and using it to your advantage.

“I’m outside your ship,” You breathed down the comms. His answer was opening up the hatch of the Razor Crest. You jumped in before it reached the floor, looking on the walls to close it right back up again. You stamped the controls and the ramp began to close once more, but you weren’t interested in it—

You were interested in the mound of Beskar on the floor that you recognised as Mando’s chest, shoulder and arm plates. You scanned the darkness of his ship, catching your eye on the subtle light reflection of his chrome helmet.

You rushed forward to see him crumpled on a rickety medical bed, slumped and breathing harshly. “Fuck—Mando,” You let out, approaching him quickly. You placed your hands on his armour-less forearms, but it only made him flinch in pain.

“S’okay, just a stab wound,” He whispered out coarsely.

It’s okay? This fucking idiot.

You looked at him in a panic, knowing that he most certainly wasn’t okay. He was putting on a front, maybe for your sake, or for his. You could tell he was worried; otherwise he wouldn’t have contacted you to meet him on his ship.

“Did you—bring the kit?” He stuttered out. You fumbled with the kit, pulling it from the pocket of your jacket. He only nodded, lying back onto the bed in flinches and staggered movements until only his legs dangled off the end, the rest of him laid down. “Stitches. Needs stitches,”

You stood up straight immediately, spotting a storage box by the cockpit ladder and grabbing it swiftly. You dropped it by the side of the bed, slamming yourself down on top of it and ignoring the shake in your fingers as you flicked your eyes over his body.

He’d taken off all of the Beskar on his chest, leaving on the leg armour. His undershirt was black and thick, but even that didn’t stop you from seeing the unmistakable slick of blood, gushing from beneath a spot on his stomach. Tentatively, you curled your fingers beneath the shirt, pulling it up his chest slowly, exposing the wound—

Stars, it was deep.

It was deep and gushing with red, as every breath Mando took only accelerated his blood loss. You were surprised he hadn’t passed out from the loss yet, let alone still been able to talk and just about move.

“Stars, Mando—I—,” You stuttered out, clutching the sewing kit in your fingers and wondering what the fuck you were meant to do. You weren’t a seamstress, and fuck, you’d never given anyone stitches before.

“I trust you,” The words trickled from beneath his helmet. You only indulged in his confession for a second, before tearing open the sewing kit. You spotted Mando’s first aid kit on the floor by the bed, taking a bundle of gauze and wipes as you fought to stop yourself from shaking.

You wiped down his wound, clenching your jaw as you saw the agonising way he tensed his entire body as you cleaned his flesh, ridding it of all of the blood you could. You picked up a needle then, choosing the biggest and most curved of the bunch, and threading it through with the strongest stuff in the pack. You had no idea if this would hold, but it would have to do until he started to heal, or until he could find a Bacta shot on Nevarro.

“I’m sorry,” You breathed out. “It’s going to hurt, Mando,”

He fucking laughed, spluttering out an agonising groan afterwards. You wanted to kick him, to shout at him to stop fucking doing that. “I know. Just do it,” He let out. You could tell it was through clenched teeth. He was preparing himself for immense pain.

With every groan he let out, you wanted to cry. With every stab of the needle next to the wound, you were sure he was going to slap you; you wouldn’t have blamed him, honestly. You saw the way his entire body was shaking, was going into shock slowly and agonisingly. Yet he stayed awake. You saw the subtle twitch of his fingers with every pull of the thread, with every pent-up breath you let out after another successful stitch was added to the wound.

You alternated with wiping the wound of excess blood and pushing the needle through his skin, making sure to keep it as clean as fucking possible with what you had. God forbid, infection set in afterwards. He would have been better off without you in that sense.

You were sweating profusely by the time you pulled the last stitch through, sealing up the wound as tightly as you could against his painful moans.

“Okay—okay, almost done. Hold on, Mando,” You didn’t let yourself celebrate just yet. You dropped the bloody needle and thread to the floor, picking up the roll of gauze. Stars—you needed him to sit up for you to wrap it around his torso.

Mando knew what you needed before you’d ever said it, as he tilted his helmet in your direction. Stars, you didn’t want him to see you like this. Sweating, on the brink of fucking tears, his blood beneath your fingernails.

“Up?” He let out, but you heard the regained strength in his voice. You nodded at him morbidly, but nevertheless, he did it. It was a fucking struggle; you had to give him your arm and stars, he was fucking strong. He gripped onto your arm and bit through the agony as he hoisted himself up to a sitting position. You didn’t take your eyes off the wound, too afraid that it would suddenly burst, but it held.

His shirt fluttered down his torso, covering the wound when he’d finally made it to sitting. There was no way in hell he’d be able to hold it up himself, not with the core strength it would take him to do it in his exhausted state.

You placed the gauze between his legs, curling your fingers beneath his shirt once more. “I need to take it off,” You gulped. If this was any other occasion, you’d be blushing. Seeing Mando’s hands was one thing, but seeing his chest, the gleam of his sweat, the tan of his skin and the subtle scarring from past battles—you wanted to place your hands all over it.

Fucking hell. He’s wounded. Stop it.

Mando obeyed, helping you slightly to lift the shirt over his helmet. You would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so tense; it got caught over his visor, leaving you with the image of him with his shirt stuck over his head, arms up and chest bare. God—it was sort of funny. You’d definitely laugh about it later, if he didn’t fucking pass out before you were done patching him up.

“This is not—,” He groaned. “How I imagined being—half-naked— in front of you,” The softness of his voice, despite the fucking pain, the agony, the panic that he obviously felt, filled you with a warmth that steadied you for the first time since entering his ship.

He was trying to make you feel better. Trying to calm you down, despite him being the one who should be worrying immensely. You ignored the tiny amount of blush that you felt on your cheeks, picking up the gauze and placing it over his wound gently.

You wrapped it around him several times, having to stand up and over him to wrap it behind him. You wrapped it around him four times, before you felt his fingers find your waist. You gasped slightly, but didn’t stop coiling gauze around him up. Only when his head dropped onto your chest did you stop—

You looked down at him, gauze still in your hands, just to savour this image. You were stood in front of him, while he sat beneath you, utterly encased in the protection of your body. His fingers were gripped onto your jacket tightly, feeling the fabric between his fingers and allowing his thumbs to gently fumble around your waist. His head on your chest was new altogether—the helmet was heavier than you’d ever thought it would be, and stars, you had to stop yourself from imagining his face beneath—

Eyes closed, mouth ajar as he took in gentle, calming breaths, feeling the comfort that the sound of your heartbeat offered him beneath your ribs.

You smiled to yourself, ignoring the pooled sweat that sat atop your cheeks and above your brow. Wrapping the gauze around him once more, you tucked the end back in and tied it securely, testing to see if it would budge easily. You were satisfied.

“Done,” You spoke, letting all of your panic flood away with that single word, before you slumped yourself down on the storage box next to the bed, after Mando removed his grip from you.

Fuck. You felt dizzy.

You felt utterly spent, overcome by the rapid heartbeat in your ears and the feeling of your blood beneath your skin and flesh. All you could feel was the anxiety that riddled your body, despite knowing that you were done, finished, that Mando would be okay with some rest and a few changes of gauze over the next few weeks.

You looked at your trembling fingers, seeing every little spot of dried blood that had turned to a muddied brown. All you could feel was his writhing body, his pain, his groans—

But that stopped as soon as Mando placed his hand on your cheek.

You looked up at him, flittering your eyes over his helmet and travelling them down to his, now mostly gauze covered, chest. God, that chest. You couldn’t believe you’d just touched his chest freely, but not for the reasons that you’d ever wanted to before. Stars, you never wanted to see him wounded like this again, let alone have to sew up his skin a second time.

“I was right to trust you,” He said softly, circling his thumb rhythmically over your warm cheeks. You let out an abrupt scoff, needing to find comedy in this situation before you utterly exploded into tears and cries.

“Stupid decision. You’re just lucky that I’m good under pressure,” Good under pressure. What a blatant fucking lie, evidently.

“No,” He spoke up. “You’re good in general,”

Stars. If only he knew all that you’d done in your life. He would be a saint in comparison.

You allowed yourself to let go, to feel only the touch of his fingers upon your cheek. Those hands, you loved the roughness, the coarseness, the gentleness of the ridges between his fingers and his palm. It was enough to calm you down tenfold, sucking away the anxiety and the fear that had settled within you over the past week.

“It’s late,” You spoke, sending him a small smile. “I should get back before dawn,”

Mando went stiff, so abruptly that you thought something had happened with his wound. You frowned, reaching out to the gauze, but he kept you in place by swivelling himself round on the bed to face you fully. You gasped when he raised his other hand to your face, holding your head in his hands and staring directly into your goddamn soul.

“You could stay,” He whispered it, allowing his voice to penetrate the entire space around you, filtering through your ears and travelling down your spine, causing you to involuntarily shiver. “Till morning, when it’s safe to go back into town,”

Safe. On Nevarro? That didn’t exist. But he was right—daytime in the city is better than the dark.

You tried not to visibly squirm. This was new, this was... unexpected. When before, Mando had been so quick to turn down staying at your shop, he was suddenly offering you the same on a silver platter. But this was different—both of you knew nothing could happen that evening, not with his wound, not with your exhaustion.

The thought of sleeping on the floor of a ship had never appealed to you before, until you factored in the fact that Mando would be there, too. Whether he stayed on the sad excuse for a bed with his legs dangling off the end, or whether he joined you on the floor, you’d be next to him.

It was an offer that you, unapologetically, weren’t going to say no to. But you also didn’t want to reveal just how much his offer had set you alight. You felt it in the tips of your fingers, electricity shooting its way up your arms and out from your chest, igniting all the senses in your body until your hairs stood on end at the mere thought of being this close to him for a night.

When before, you’d stolen time with him between his jobs, lucky to get a few hours with the hunter a week before he had to leave and you were left with the wondering worries of his safety; now? This was a different level. He’d invited you to stay.

And you said the only answer you could think of—

“Okay,”

Before you had the chance to move, you heard something from behind you—it didn’t sound like a person, it sounded like... gurgling? It made you jump out of your skin, forgetting about the comforting touch of the Mandalorian before you. You saw Mando’s head drop in defeat, but you didn’t know what for.

“Click that button,” He said lowly, pointing to a control pad beside a built-in closet space in the hull. You got up tentatively, standing before the doors of the closet, before pressing the button Mando had gestured to—

What met you were the biggest eyes you’d ever seen. Black, deep, and absolutely adorable. Its ears were something else. Huge, compared to the tiny body it possessed, covered in a potato sack of a robe that was far too big for it.

“Stars...” Was all you managed to let out. “What—what is it?” Your brain was struggling to determine whether or not it was cute or ugly, but when it let out the most adorable of gurgles, you ultimately landed on cute—cute as fuck.

“Baby,” Mando replied, as if it was obvious.

“A baby?” You let out in disbelief. “Mando—why the kriff do you have a baby in your closet?” You turned back to him, acknowledging the way he didn’t even seem bothered about the little green, hairy, monster baby in his ship.

You shot your gaze back to the kid when he blurted out a confused laugh, almost as if he was asking who’s this?

“I need rest,” He replied. “I’ll... explain in the morning,”

The morning. Stars, you’d get to see him in the morning. And you’d get to see... his baby. As much as you wanted to object, to know everything right that second, you were also fighting off your own exhaustion. You couldn’t imagine the physical strain that Mando was feeling, and that was enough to get you to stop with the questioning.

You strolled back to his bedside, picking up his bloodied shirt on the way and folding it up, before placing it on the floor by the medical bed. “You take the bed—,” He began, but you cut him off immediately.

“No way, you’re the one with fourteen new stitches,” You scoffed. You looked around the ship, spotting a bundled blanket by some open floor space on the hull. “I’m fine on the floor,”

“Just—,” He went to protest, but you placed a finger over where you assumed his mouth would be on his helmet.

“Don’t fight with me now, Mando. Not after I’ve given you stitches and met your son,”

Maybe he wanted to object further, but at that moment he simply accepted your word. He laid back on the bed, stretching his long torso out until most of his body was being supported by the rickety mattress. He turned his helmet towards the closet, staring at the kid. “Be good. We have a guest,” You ignored the violent blush of your cheeks at his parenting voice. Stars, why was this sexy? “Can you... shut the door...” Mando’s voice trailed off, as you realised the exhaustion and shock was full taking over his body.

You did as he asked, carrying the blanket you saw earlier while you approached the kid once more. You gave him another once over, not being able to help the small smile that appeared on your lips—god, he was cute. He was green and hairy and had wrinkles, but fuck, he was cute. You couldn’t wait to hear this story.

With the click on the control panel, the door was sealed again once more, keeping the kid safe and sound for the night. You settled yourself on the floor of the hull, spreading out the blanket and lying yourself out on it, before wrapping the excess around you like a sleeping bag. Honestly, you’d slept in worse places, and knowing that Mando was mere meters away from you meant you didn’t give a shit.

“Goodnight, Mando,” You whispered, knowing he wouldn’t hear you at all. The sound of subtle snores was already trickling from his modulator.

You knew then, as you settled onto the cold, metal hull of the Razor Crest, that for the first time all week, you weren’t thinking about your past. As you shut your eyes and sleep began to take you, instead of that naïve girl for seven years ago meeting you on the other side—

It was Mando; asking you to stay forever.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #star wars #star wars fic #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #ao3 #wattpad #smut and angst #smut and fluff #no saints #no saints fic #update

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hashtagartistlife · 5 years ago

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ichiruki greco-roman mythology au!!

- Kurosaki Ichigo as an ordinary human who loses his mom at a young age, a la canon - Kuchiki Rukia as the goddess of fate

- At seventeen, Ichigo goes to the local temple dedicated to the goddess of fate and demands she tell him how to alter fate so that his mom can live

- Rukia replies (through her priestess) that fate is not something that is so easily altered, but if he is determined, there is a long quest involved to prove his worth

- Ichigo agrees to take up the quest and sets out on his way

- Rukia, despite being goddess of fate, is quite fond of mortals who wish to defy fate-- she has seen many mortals attempt this quest before, and she's made a habit of disguising herself as a human woman to accompany them so she can see firsthand what drives them to want to rise above the destiny set out for them by the gods

- Of course, nobody has ever managed to finish the quest. (It's just as well, because the final step in changing one's fate involves arriving at the main temple of fate in Olympus, killing the current god or goddess of fate, and taking their place. Rukia didn't see fit to tell Ichigo about that part. After all, nobody has finished the quest in all her years of being goddess; Ichigo is not likely to be any different!)

- (Except Ichigo's Ichigo, of course he is.)

- So Kurosaki Ichigo sets out on the long and arduous quest to shatter fate and Rukia, disguised as a human woman, slots herself into the quest with him, occasionally giving him hints and guiding him in the right direction, and as with every other AU, they slowly fall in love, until-

- until Ichigo gets along further in the quest than anybody has ever done before, and Rukia starts to worry

- She didn't expect this. He's getting so close to the end. What if he really does clear the whole quest? What if he really does reach her temple in Olympus? Will he kill her? Will he be able to? She's seen the way he looks at her-- does she look at him in the same way? She didn't expect this. She didn't expect any of this-- Ichigo clearing the quest, the potential confrontation at her temple, all these feelings--

- She tries to dissuade him from the quest. She tries fighting, yelling, tears, persuasion-- but Ichigo's adamant. He's started this quest, he's going to finish it.

- And while she agonizes about a decision, they eventually come to the final and most dangerous step of the quest, just before her temple on Olympus

- Somehow in this last leg of the quest ichigo almost gets killed, and Rukia sacrifices herself instead without a second thought

- Ofc, she doesn't actually die, being a goddess and all-- the only thing that dies is the shell that she inhabited while she was pretending to be human, and she wakes up in her temple in Olympus, safe and sound-- but in that moment, she realises that she probably loves Ichigo enough that she wants to see him succeed in his quest, wants to see him change fate, wants to see him happy and triumphant-- even if it means sacrificing her life for it

- Having come to this conclusion, she waits in her temple for Ichigo to arrive, because by now she's seen enough of him to know he will succeed in clearing even this last hurdle

- Ichigo, meanwhile, just saw (or thinks he saw) Rukia die in front of him, for him

- He clears the final step in his quest in a haze of grief and rage and makes his way up the steps of the temple of fate, ready to throttle this so-called goddess of fate, whoever the hell she is, first his mom, now Rukia--

- and when he finally arrives at the temple, it's Rukia waiting for him at the altar, but cloaked in divinity-- there is no way to miss it. She's not human. She's a goddess-- and if she's waiting for him here, at the temple of fate, then she must be-

- he falls to his knees in front of her. Rukia steps up to him, wearing a smile.

- 'the final step in changing fate is killing the goddess of fate and taking her place.'

- She curls his hand around a holy dagger, and points the tip of it at her heart. For a second, Ichigo grips the dagger hard, presses the tip of it into her chest, but then his grip loosens and the dagger falls to the floor. Rukia looks at him, asks why--

- "When I saw you here," he says, "I thought-- I should feel betrayed. You lied to me the whole time, kept me in the dark, made me fall in love with you only to tell me that this is the final step in my quest-- was it all just a game to you? Something to pass the time?"

- Rukia starts protesting, that she might have kept him in the dark about this final step but that doesn't mean she didn't mean everything she said and did to him, that she really does want him to succeed and that's why she's offering her life--

- "But none of that mattered. I should feel betrayed-- I don't. The only thing I felt when I saw your face was relief. I was so-- so glad that you weren't dead, that you were still alive, that you still exist--and you think I'll be able to kill you? I can't. I can't, Rukia."

- Rukia, again, protests, tells him not to throw away what he wanted so much just for her, that she can't be the barrier to him getting his mom back and being truly happy, he can't choose her over his mom--

- except she's a moron. Ichigo doesn't even want to bring his mom back from the dead anymore. Sure, his family was torn apart in the aftermath of her death, but they all eventually picked themselves up and kept living their lives, as the living tend to do. They all healed in various ways, it was just him that was stalled in the past with his grief and guilt. Going through the quest with Rukia let him heal from the trauma of losing his mom and towards the end of the quest, he'd decided that, even if he managed to clear the whole thing, he won't ask to bring her back from the dead-- he just wants to see her again, one more time, to say sorry, before letting her go completely.

- And then Rukia died, and he cleared the last leg of the quest solely for the purpose of bringing her back. So how the hell does she think he'll be able to kill her? Rukia thinks Ichigo's just like... throwing away his life's purpose because of her when in reality, she'd been his new purpose and reason to live for a long time now.

- Ichigo tells her all of this. It takes some convincing, but eventually, Rukia comes to terms with it. And then she says, well, alright, fine. no fate defying today. But you did clear that whole quest, which is pretty impressive. I can grant you a wish for that. Did you want to see your mom again?

- And Ichigo says no, I want you.

- Rukia splutters-- you can't just say that, I'm a goddess, what does that even mean-- in what capacity--

- Ichigo: whatever capacity you'll let me have you?

- And then they fuck in her temple against the altar of fate! (Whenever Ichigo thought fuck fate in his younger years he didn't quite expect this outcome but hey, he'll take it.)

- ..... ok that last part is just in there for self-indulgence, doesn't actually contribute to the point of this AU. I haven't thought about how this AU actually ends, either - Ichigo probably becomes some minor god of something obscure and they both live on Olympus happily ever after or whatever. Not important. The main point i wanted to make with this AU was:

- Kurosaki Ichigo, local fate and destiny hater, being brought to his knees when fate comes to him wearing Rukia's smile, being unable to defy the fatedness of Ichigo and Rukia. Ichigo will fight tooth and nail against every other fate that the world presents him with, but when the universe shoves Rukia in his direction and says, here, she's your fate, she's your destiny-- he can't fight that, doesn't want to fight that. The concept that Rukia is the only fate he will accept. Great Concept! The end!

<IR AU: Fate and the Hero> FIN

#bleach #ichiruki #kurosaki ichigo #kuchiki rukia #artist life #bleach art life #bleach fanart #IR x greek mythology #fate and the hero au

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crispyjenkins · 4 years ago

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I wish you’d write a fic where Obi-wan and Jango’s first date is beating the crap out of palpatine—they don’t know it’s him, and they don’t kill him, but it’s a near thing. Later he dies in the most undignified way possible, and it’s due to him attempting to hide his injuries.

*chin in hand*

SO me thinks this starts as one of Obi's first missions without Qui-Gon, as part of preparing him for his knight's trials, where he's checking back in on Mandalore and the duchy. but then there's this mysterious "senator" ghosting around Satine that Obi-Wan doesn't recognise and is always cloaked in shadow and he starts to have Some Thoughts about the danger of someone so dark bending the duchy's ear.

and like. Obi is the council's baby. they love him and trust him and know he's probably been ready for his trials for a while, and give him permission to pursue this lead, ostensibly as PART of his trials, but also just cause they trust his suspicions

so he goes looking and hears some whispers about Mereel's old commandos forming ranks again and Obi-Wan doesn't know if that's a good thing or not, or if they're the ones who sent that "senator" to Satine's court.

obviously the true mandalorians catch wind of a little jedi poking around sundari and keldabe, and nab him in the middle of the night while he's out investigating, and oh, he's not nearly as over his thing for Mandalorians as he'd thought he'd been

anways through details i haven't sorted yet, Obi-Wan meets Jango, Jango thinks it's the Jedi that sent the creepy senator, it's all a mess, and they end up teaming up to both investigate, and if need be, terminate this person that clearly doesn't have the best for mandalore in mind

maybe it's during a botched break in of the glass palace, or maybe they meant to catch him, but Obi and Jango catch palps by surprise and at this point palps hasn't killed his master yet, he's not nearly at full power, AND he doesn't exactly know how to fight off a highly trained jedi and a pissed off mandalorian at the same time, so they manage to beat the crap out of him before he manages to run

Obi-Wan and Jango are a little worse for wear themselves, but hey, nothing like flirting through saving each other's lives, right?

now I haven't quite figured out the timeline, or how much I want JangObi to be able to uncover about palps, but they track him to naboo

where he's just returned after the trade federation occupation (that jangobi had had no idea about for deus ex reasons but also probably cause they were in hyperspace for most of it trying to chase palps around the galaxy)

as the newly elected chancellor

which maybe JangObi don't realise even then

and I'm really not all that good with humor, but I have a few ideas how his death could go:

First, he's refusing help for his injuries because he can't be seen as week so soon into his term as chancellor, and straight up slips down the ramp of the shuttle and punctures both his lungs because jango REALLY likes kicking people in the ribs

Or maybe he makes it all the way to the globe of peace celebration when jangobi catch up to him (in disguises of course) and spook palps enough for him to try and make a run for it where he either a) slips down all those stairs, or b) tries to escape through the crowd and gets trampled by one of the giant fambaa things in the parade

Or maybe he tries to go fight his master while still injured and just like. Gets decimated. To the point Darth Plagueis is sort of ashamed he had been the one to train him. Which still leaves a sith master running around but that's for a married jango and obi to deal with later

#cj answers #wish you would write meme #notactuallyadeviant #to fic

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thewatermelloncat · 4 years ago

Text

Miscommunication (part 1)

Summary: The Hargreeves siblings were made to be rivals, so Ben had never seemed to care much for Five. That is until the day he realises the rivalry was all in his head.

Author’s Note: I really enjoyed writing this - it’s probably a little rough around the edges but I just wanted to post something because I haven’t in a while.

Thoughts on continuing this? I have a few ideas, but I’m open to suggestions for continuing with the next part…

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It was pretty much set in stone that the siblings would be rivals. Luther and Diego were always at each other’s throats trying to prove who was the better leader. Allison and Klaus being the next sequential pairing, were supposed to have a rivalry but Allison would only cheat her way to the top if Klaus cared in the first place.

Ben and Five were slightly different. Where Luther and Diego were in a battle over strength and charisma, they were in a battle over knowledge and wits.

Not to say that Ben doesn’t like Five exactly, but he sometimes doesn’t feel the need to get on with him, they are complete opposites. Where Five is outspoken and opinionated, Ben is shyer and more reserved. And where Five is better at math, Ben is better at literature.

Means to say that he doesn’t go out of his way to spend time with Five outside of their training and schooling. He figures that Five has no interest in being his friend anyway.

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A couple of days ago Five started to seem a little off. Not that Ben had noticed until Allison made a passing comment and Five had brushed it off. But after then he began to notice how quiet his brother was being, sharing his opinion less and not answering as many of Pogo’s questions in their classes. Ben would normally hope that it meant that he was becoming less arrogant and egotistical, but from the way he looked with his paling face, Ben knew it was for a different reason.

Call him a bad brother or whatever, but he didn’t think much of it. People get sick from time to time, and he would enjoy the silence while he could.

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It wasn’t until the week was nearing to an end that it began to dawn on him that Five wasn’t getting any better. Granted that he was still functioning and miles away from death’s door, but surely, he should have at least started to get better by now.

One by one things started to stick out to him more, like his siblings’ passing comments. Just in the last day he’d overheard Luther ask him if he was okay after breakfast, since he’d apparently heard him coughing all through the night. He’d seen Diego unceremoniously lob a box of tissues at him while they were all in the lounge reading for their classes – they’d bounced off his shoulder and Ben can’t remember if he’d even touched them. Allison had tried to sneak a hand to his forehead only to have it batted away. Even Klaus had noticed something was amiss and had dropped a pack of painkillers on his lap after seeing him staring off into space with a pinched expression, a clear sign he had a headache. And no matter how quiet Vanya normally was, there was about a 75 percent ‘bless you’ rate each time he sneezed.

Means to say that Ben felt kind of bad about being so quick to dismiss his brother’s state of health. Then again, he wasn’t sure what to do. Five didn’t normally accept help from others and Ben was sure that he would be the last person Five would accept help from. After all, he is incredibly stubborn.

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Despite the fact that their classes are compulsory he still showed up to them. Sure, he participated less than usual but otherwise it was like nothing was wrong. Of course, aside from the way he looked and how sometimes his respiratory system failed him. In those moments when he could do nothing but shield coughs as silently as possible into his elbow, he always made sure to avoid Pogo’s concerned gaze. Though their tutor would do no more than repeat the sentence he had been saying before he had been interrupted.

Somehow with every worksheet they were given, Five still finished first. Ben couldn’t help but feel frustrated that even then he couldn’t beat Five academically. It got him in his head thinking that Five was intentionally working extra fast just to one-up him in their rivalry. To prove he was better even when he was far from his best.

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Though it was in their training that Five fell behind, and for good reason. Somehow, he always managed to drag himself from wherever he had been in the house and down to the training exercise. Force himself to stand up straight and once again pretend nothing was wrong. However, that was where the pretendences were forced to stop.

Five tired quickly in their endurance training, even more so when he had to use his power which sapped him at over twice the speed. It was a sure bet that their father noticed but he refused to say anything. Only looking down to angrily scribble something in his notebook when Five no longer had the energy to jump.

Still Five never complained and never held back. It made Ben hate him for two reasons: one being that he was stupidly pushing himself too hard when he shouldn’t, and two, because he was sure that the latter had something to do with him.

It wasn’t a secret that weakness wasn’t tolerated in their strange family, so Ben had no doubt that Five was over compensating to disguise it. Ben was just an obstacle in Five’s way to proving to their father that he is superior. That his weak brother can’t even beat him even when he’s below par. The thought almost made Ben feel sick himself.

Yet through all this, Ben begins to feel sorry for him. Sorry that he so desperately feels the need to overexert himself to hold on to their father’s approval.

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The pages of Five’s book are beginning to camouflage into the tissues scattered around his desk. Sighing deeply, he drops his pen and pulls his rubbish bin closer to his chair, figuring that he would work better with a clearer space.

Soon after his desk is cleared, he realises that isn’t the case. His eyes still won’t focus on the page and he can’t remember what to do with the math formulas in front of him, regardless of the fact he knows he’s seen them many times before.

In amidst spinning his pen between his fingers his breath hitches and he drops it to the desk in favour of reaching for a tissue from the box in front of him.

“Huht’nnTSCH!”

He groans as the sneeze loosens the congestion built in his head and surrenders to emptying it in the tissue. After coughing slightly as air gets restricted in his throat, he sniffles in vain before reaching for another tissue. The loosening pressure in his head far from done with him.

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Ben had been minding his own business for most of the afternoon. He’d sat with Klaus and Diego for a bit but had left when they had started arguing over whether noodles were a soup or pasta. Then he’d sat and listened to Vanya play her violin until she stopped to do something else. So, with nothing to do, he wondered the halls of the academy without any mind to where he was going.

As he walks past Five’s room his ears pick up on the sound of light coughing projecting through the door. Even after telling himself for days that he didn’t care about how sick his brother was, he still stops in his tracks. Retracing a few steps back to the door, Ben pulls a face at the idea of interacting with his brother which he really doesn’t want to do, although he knows he really should.

Swallowing down his apprehension, he pushes on the door and steps into the room without knocking.

“Five?” he says as half a question since he’d expected to see his brother in bed rather than at his desk with a tissue held to his nose.

“Ben, I’m kinda in the middle of something” Five’s hands steepled over his nose do no favours in helping the quality of his voice before he resumes his task.

“You’re an idiot you know” Ben accuses, stepping forward as Five drops the tissue into the bin beside him.

“I thought randomly insulting people was more Diego’s thing than yours. But if you want to take a page out of his book you can piss off, I’m not in the mood” Five counters smoothly without turning around.

Ben needs to get a better look at him, because if his voice is any indication of how he’s feeling, he is sure that he’s getting worse. “That’s not what I mean” he corrects as he invites himself further into the room, walking over to the edge of his brother’s desk. “You shouldn’t keep pushing yourself.”

Five ignores him and picks up his pen to begin his equations again.

“I get that you want to prove that you’re the best, but you don’t need to run yourself to the ground to do it.”

Five scoffs out a laugh and drops his pen back to the page. “I never cared about the rivalry.”

Ben had predicted resistance and was about to resume arguing his point before Five’s words sink into him. “Y-you don’t?”

“Of course, I don’t” Five turns slightly more towards Ben is his chair. “Everyone has something that they are good at. I’m good at academics, so I work hard at it. You’re good at it too Ben, but how well I do has nothing to do with you.”

Five pauses for Ben to say something, but for a few moments he can’t find the words. Too shocked at Five complementing him, acknowledging him in something that he’s good at.

“I-I don’t” Ben stammers out before he formulates a random sentence which he blurts out. “You never seemed to want to be friends with me.”

He’s aware that he probably sounds stupid but Five doesn’t seem to notice as he counters.

“In fairness, you never seemed to want to be friends with me either.”

Ben tips his head slightly from side-to-side in acceptance of the fair point. He doesn’t know if he expects Five to smile and make a joke about it – that would be something he could expect from Klaus – thinking that it might make the situation slightly more comfortable. But looking at his brother sitting slumped in his chair like he’s sinking under the weight of gravity, he disregards the notion of staying on the subject any longer.

“You need to get to bed” Ben’s serious tone sounds more confident than he feels about it.

Five sighs and turns back to his desk. “I’ve got homework to finish, Ben. I’d rather not have to do it over the weekend.”

“Can you even focus on it?” Ben raises an eyebrow allowing some sass into his words. A dangerous tactic to take when dealing with Five but he couldn’t help it.

“If you would stop bugging me I would” Five replicates his tone but doesn’t sound annoyed by it.

A slight smile plays at the corners of Ben’s lips, finding that Five is happy to counter back and forth with him as if they are on the same level. But it drops as soon as he sees Five pick up his pen and turn back to his book.

Driven by curiosity Ben steps behind Five’s chair to look over his shoulder as he sets about to start working again. With Five’s brain moving slow it is a fair while before he touches the pen onto the paper.

“That’s not the formula you want” Ben says flatly after reading the beginning of the writing.

Five huffs out a sigh and frustratedly drops his pen to the desk. For a moment Ben thinks he’s going to argue with him, and he might have, but instead he raises his arm to cover a few coughs that shake out of his chest.

“Come on, bed” Ben commands before tapping Five on the shoulder and stepping away. Leaving no room for argument.

Reluctantly Five stands from his chair and Ben decides to push his luck in placing a hand around his back and onto his shoulder, starting to guide him over to the bed.

When his fingers touch onto his arm, Ben hears Five intake a sharp breath and begins to remove his grip, thinking it’s in objection. Instead of pulling away, Five raises his own hand to support himself against Ben’s shoulder, and leans away from him into his elbow.

“Hup'nxtch!” he sneezes congestedly and Ben feels a tug down at the force of it.

“Can you pass me a” – Five doesn’t need to finish his sentence, Ben having already reached for the tissue box before he spoke.

Holding out the box to his brother, they both turn and sit on the bed shoulder to shoulder. After Five takes a few tissues Ben moves the box onto his knees while Five blows his nose.

“Do you want me to get mum?” Ben asks after the tissue had been thrown away.

Five shakes his head before reaching for another, “Hir’shhhoo… ish’uu.”

“Yeah, you made that real convincing” Ben says sarcastically.

“It’s almost dinner, anyway” Five points out.

“Oh, right” Ben muses to himself. How long had he been wondering around for? “Are you even going to make it through it?” he asks after a few seconds of silence.

“Don’t have a choice.”

“Surely, dad wouldn’t want you down there infecting everyone.”

“Hasn’t had a problem with it the last few days” Five pauses to sniffle into the back of his hand. “Sorry if I get anyone sick by the way.”

Ben hums in dismissal before the room succumbs to silence until Five breaks it.

He manages to keep the first few coughs behind closed lips, but the rest he is forced to shield with his elbow, his body pitching forward as he tries to control them. He sounds so awful that Ben can’t help but place a hand on the back of his shoulder while they both wait for the coughs to die down.

“I don’t think you should come down” Ben tells him when Five finally gets his breath back.

“Like I told you, it’s not an option.”

“Then don’t make it an option” Ben puts simply. “If you don’t ask, they can’t say no.”

“It’ll be pretty obvious with a chair empty” Five’s voice is almost completely faded.

“It will be” Ben agrees. “But it’ll either be mum or Pogo that dad sends up to get you and either of them will take pity on you.”

“Neither of them has seemed to care when I saw them last.”

“That’s ‘cause you had a front up Five” Ben tells him honestly. “You can’t deny that.”

Ben takes it as a small victory when his brother doesn’t reply, then he adds “you can barely go a minute without coughing.”

Five sighs deeply before he says, “you should head down then.”

Something inside Ben relaxes as Five gives in. “You need anything first?”

Five shakes his head, “nah, I’m just gonna get some sleep.”

“All right” Ben sighs, pushing himself up from the bed. He makes it halfway across the room before he doubles back to the desk and swipes Five’s homework off the top, not trusting his brother to get proper rest while it is in the room. He doesn’t listen out for a sound of protest as he wishes Five “goodnight” before he steps out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.

part 2

#tua #The Umbrella Academy #umbrella academy fanfiction #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #the boy #the horror #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #sickfic

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poormeowmeowcollector · 4 years ago

Text

We would name our children Jackie and Wilson

Relationship: Loki/Female Reader (Hozier did the gender first, don't @ me)

Warnings: Major Character Death, Mourning, mental health, alcohol.

Summary: Your relationship reminds you of a nice soft song. But things are not always so sweet.

Notes: this is part of a somewhat Collab with @lucywrites02, her part is done and can be found here, read it to soften the pain. I would say that I'm terribly sorry for the pain ahead, but I'm not. Meaning of the song can be found here, I used it for reference

Read On AO3

So tired trying to see from behind the red in my eyes

Loki fights for a deep breath.

It's just your face, you idiot. What are you afraid of? This mean voice from the back of his head asks.

They manage to draw a shaky inhale and puff it out, finally opening his eyes and staring at the reflection.

But those hateful crimson eyes staring back is too much, even though they look at them behind tears.

"Maybe another day…" he sighs and wears the illusion again. But the bloodshot eyes stay, this time not because of the Jötunn form.

No better version of me I could pretend to be tonight

For how long will you hide from the monster you are? This same voice asks in the dead of the night.

Once again, it's not mistaken.

"I can't walk amongst mortals like this. This illusion helps me avoid some of the staring," they respond. It's a beautiful lie, Loki almost believes it.

Still, it will break down. Like everything does.

This argument stays and torments him for the rest of the night.

Soul deep in this swill with the most familiar of swine / For reasons wretched and divine

Stark had suggested another night out on a bar. Loki usually declines, but comes to this one.

Soon enough, everyone is drunk and happy. Alcohol from Midgard is like a beverage for Æsir, and Loki can barely get tipsy. But Loki still decides to drink.

This period had some very successful missions, and the avengers are celebrating it by drinking. Little do they know that Loki drinks for a whole more different reasons…

She blows out of nowhere, a roman candle of the wild

It's late. Loki's surely past the tipsy phase, but still has control. So, they just sit on a bar and watch the others have fun.

"Would you mind some company?" you yell from a part of the crowd. Loki tries not to flinch, loud sounds do no good at him.

Then they see you, all smiling and beaming like a firework, drink in hand as you walk closer and point at a stool beside him.

They have to admit, you look ravishing.

"You're free to sit, if you want to," he smiles back and nods at the seat. You grin and slide there, placing your drink in the bar and having your attention to them.

"Are you not afraid someone might drug the drink?" Loki winders, eyes on the cocktail.

"Sitting beside an Avenger is safe enough, don't you think? And it's rubbish anyways, I probably won't finish it,"

Midgard has different communication patterns, and Loki's inability to catch up in time has made their silver tongue rusty and useless. But you make a conversation with him out of nowhere, like it's the most easy thing.

Laughing her way through my feeble disguise/ And Lord, she found me just in time

A few days later after the night out, the sparks of happiness you casted on Loki's heart have died out. But Thor insists that being out of the four walls of their chambers will do good to him, and Loki gives in. They wear an illusion to hide the mess that he is in and join Thor on their afternoon walk around for some food, mostly.

During the hours long conversation, you didn't mention that you work for Stark, in the Tower. They smile and call your name the sparks igniting inside his heart once again. It gets stronger when you give them this glowing smile and walk closer.

"Brother, will you mind if I get stolen for a moment?" he turns to Thor.

"Have fun, brother," he smiles before greeting you and leaving.

"You know, there's a nice coffee shop with a big tea collection, what do you think?" you beam, knowing it's an offer Loki cannot resist.

It's not far away, and truly a sweet little place, crammed between the offices. You order your drinks and settle on a table nearby. You give Loki the chair with the view on the passers by, sitting so you can only see them and the wall behind him.

"You didn't say you work for Stark," they hum, taking a testing sip of the dandelion tea that caught his attention.

"That's cause I work for the Avengers, technically, not Stark. Mission support agent, Romanov brought me here," you shrug one shoulder. Loki can't hide a smile, they always had a soft spot for humble warriors, for they're so rare on Asgard.

"Odd, I don't remember you in any field," he mutters.

"I haven't gone on a mission with you. I find it insulting for a God to be supported by someone who learned how to tie their shoelaces at age 12," you laugh. Loki doesn't share the enthusiasm for the 'joke'.

"You'll be the best support, if you ask me," they smile, and change the subject. And then, you throw this damned question.

"So, how are you doing?" you trail off.

"Just fine," he scoffs. You see through it like they're the worst liar ever.

"I know we're somewhere public, but you are allowed to be honest," your eyes scan him.

He takes a deep breath and makes an illusion of you and them just talking. Then, he lifts his own.

Your face stays almost unreadable as the green glow reveals the mess of them. Expect for the eyes that speak of sympathy.

Underneath the table, you cup his right hand, your thumb petting it. "If you want to, we can go somewhere more private. Your call,"

"Only you can see this. Don't worry, I'm not making a fool out of you," they laugh without humour, voice almost breaking. You now squeeze the hand.

"You'll have to actively try to make a fool out of me, your highness. It's your boundaries I'm worried about," the playful tone leaves you as you speak.

You've barely done anything, but Loki is already determined to kill for you.

Cause with my mid-youth crisis all said and done / I need to be youthfully felt 'cause, God, I never felt young

"Forget it, I'm not doing it. It's stupid!" he tries hard not to yell at you.

"But it's going to be fun! Come on, you can cast an illusion if you're embarrassed. Didn't you have fun as a teen?" You grin, pleading for them to come.

Little do you know that the last question feels like a knife in the guts.

"No," he whispers.

"Okay then. I'll be there with Sam, you can pop up if you change your mind," you sigh. It takes some minutes for them to realise what you just said.

"Allow me to rephrase it. No, I didn't have fun as a teen, I had to prepare myself for the throne I wouldn't take. And… this park will do nothing but remind me what I've lost. I'm sorry but I can't come nor change my mind," he fights against tears as he talks, your eyes on them. You walk closer and cup one cheek, letting them rest their head.

"Society says that you must have certain experiences at certain time frames. It's wrong, especially for someone who will live for as long as you. There's always time to replace things you've lost, the question if if you'll do it or not,"

Loki gazes at you and takes a deep breath, in, holding it, and out. Almost like he's smoking the air.

"Fine. But don't force me to stay if it's too much," they smile weakly, but it's genuine.

"Have I ever forced you?" you grin and place your forehead against his. "And anything critical to your physical health doesn't count,"

They laugh before nodding a no, a small kiss being blown in your nose.

Lord, it'd be great to find a place we could escape sometime / Me and my Isis growing black irises in the sunshine

Out of all the things Loki expected his fallen heart to do, daydreaming was last on the list.

They're a realist, always have been.

But the image of him and you in a nice stone castle in the middle of the woods is too perfect to resist. How you two would wake up and sleep together, have no one and nothing to make you feel anything but bliss. The two Monarchs in your little kingdom of two residents

Norns, they haven't even talked to you about these feelings. And he's already scheming his retirement with you.

How are you doing this to them?

Every version of me dead and buried in the yard outside / We'd sit back and watch the world go by

"That's it, Laufeyson," he's glaring at the mirror, one finger pointing at the glass, "no more lies. Fuck those illusions and games and just say the damned words!"

They sigh and run their fingers through the hair, testing if the smell of smoke is still in there, after five sessions with the shower. He has noticed that you don't like the smell, when you keep some distance on his bad days. And stinking on a moment like this is the least they want.

"Alright… into the battlefield…" he conjures his weapon, a bouquet of black irises, your favourite flowers. They finally teleport themselves on the field, outside your door.

Goal of the mission: be vulnerable.

He rings the bell, fixing his already perfect posture before you open the door. This smile they know and love so much is on your lips.

"You didn't have to! Come in," you exhale, beaming as you make space for him to walk in.

They call your name, the tone making your smile drop. "I have to tell you something I've been hiding from you for a while…" he sighs.

You nod, the agent face on. A green shimmer makes the flowers rest in a vase on the coffee table, Loki's hands now free to pick on each other.

"I appreciate your friendship, more than you can ever imagine. You're the only person who has reached out to me like this for eons. But, my heart has started to yearn for more. I've fallen for you, hard. And I can't keep the illusion anymore," they recite, eyes scanning your unreadable face. You stay dead serious, making Loki's nerves eat him up.

"Took you long enough," you grin and bring them down to a kiss.

It's nice and warm and slow, one devouring the other while also offering the best you can. Then, a salty taste makes you break the contact and cup Loki's face.

"Love, why are you crying?" you whisper, wiping away the thin paths the tears have crossed. He hasn't even noticed he's been crying.

"You can't imagine how happy you make me… I love you," they whisper.

You barely have time to say anything before he pulls you into the tightest hug possible, tears streaming down to your shirt and those three words coming out of their lips again and again like a prayer.

Loki has no idea how many lifetimes he washed off within just one hug, but a weight they never noticed they carried was gone when you break the embrace and stare deep into his now puffy eyes.

"I love you too,"

She's gonna save me, call me baby / Run her hands through my hair

"I'm telling you, you have to be more careful in the missions. Yes, you are a God, but don't be so reckless," you groan as you rinse them with water and try to remove the blood and dirt from their hair.

Just the right amount of strikes, and he now can't lift his hands enough to wash his own hair. If you weren't so good at it, they would refuse to stoop so low.

"It was supposed to be abandoned. How would I know that it wasn't? I'm a God, not a prophet," he sighs, holding his sides. Even talking is making their scattered ribs pierce him… "And I did call you to save my arse, that's the exact opposite of recklessness,"

"If you say so. But what will I do if one day my baby comes home with something more than a wretched ribcage?" you laugh.

They try to answer but both the pain and the pleasure from your fingers on his hair, massaging his scalp with shampoo, are making his tongue a knot and his throat release one moan of pleasure after another.

She'll know me crazy, soothe me daily / Better yet, she wouldn't care

You walk through broken mirrors and scattered furniture, reached out to Loki, who's hiding their head between their knees.

You don't say anything, you just play with his hair. It's cold, much colder than usually. But you don't care.

"Leave, please. You'll get hurt," their voice is growly from the smoking but weak.

"Forget it. I'm not leaving you alone in this state," you declare matter–of–factly. A sound comes out of his throat, something between a chuckle and a cough.

They snap their head up, blue and scarred cheeks wet with tears and flaming red eyes with blue veins all over them drilling holes in you. "Do you dare say this in my true face? Declare that you care about a monster?" He spits, lips shaking as they try to hold back another crying fit.

You face stone, you grib his cheeks to stop them from breaking eye contact. "I am not leaving you alone like this, because I care about you and I love you. And, I don't give a fuck what others have made you think of yourself, you're anything but a monster," you keep your voice steady, trying to physically pin those words in his mind.

They sigh and lean against your hands, eyes closed and breaths slow as tears start rolling down his cheeks again. They turn to kiss your palm, now the rest of his body relaxing and hands bringing you close to a hug. "Thank you," they breathe out against you, the weakest of smiles forming slowly.

We'll steal a Lexus, be detectives / Ride 'round picking up clues

"Feet off or I'll chop them off and put them in the truck," you snap, eyes on the road as you try to find a place to park.

"Relax, it's not ours," Loki brushes off the threat. You sigh and park the car among some trees on the edge of the road, hoping no one will see it. He tries to mask it, like always, but you can see how the pain is making their features harsh.

"You can drop some spells, we're well hidden," you point out, watching as the pale skin starts melting and dark azure replaces it. Your skin crawls, you don't know if it's the cold or the awe. Loki breathes out, head resting back on the seat. "I didn't know the illusion is so painful," you think out loud.

"When running so low on rest, everything is painful. Now, where are those files…" they mutter and turn around, searching for the yellow case in the back seat. "Here. Do you have any idea?" he asks, giving you the file.

"I'll probably find something to milk. Now get that rest before you pass out on the field," you glare at them with that Look. He grins and nods before laying against the window, a thin layer of frost already forming.

Then, they start laughing.

"What's so funny?" you ask, not looking up from the report you're reading.

"Before I even talked to you, I had the honeymoon trip already planned in my brain, with too many versions to count. This wasn't even on the list," he straightens up and smiles. You laugh too.

"Well, it's not exactly as bad as you make it sound,"

"Norns, are your standards so low or are you so disappointed in me?" They raise one eyebrow.

"Neither, love. Now get rest before I have to knock you out," you smile through threatening him.

"Kinky, might try it later," they wink and lay back down, his breathing deepening some minutes afterwards.

We'll name our children Jackie and Wilson / Raise 'em on rhythm and blues

You're laying against them, smiling like an idiot as he runs a hand on your stomach and feeling this new anomaly.

"Are you sure?" you ask, watching a small wrinkle from between their brows.

"Yes. Two of them. Perhaps boys but I can't tell yet," he whispers, hand still resting there even though the spell is over.

"Twins… we will become parents," you smile, breathing out and laying against their shoulders.

Loki calls your name. You turn around and he rests his forehead against your own. "I love you so much, you know that? All three of you," they grin. You chuckle and close your eyes, accepting the kiss that's definitely coming.

"You know, we'll have to name them something," you point out after they break the kiss.

"Narfi and Vali," he's… quite fast on picking up the name.

"No way,"

"Why?"

You freeze. "It's silly…" you mutter.

They cup your face, glowing green eyes on yours. "It's bothering you,"

"It's the myth… how Narfi and Vali suffered in the myth because of your… because of Loki's mistakes… I don't want this to happen to the little guys," you sigh.

"Then, do you have to suggest another name while I'm trying to think of a second choice?" he smiles.

"It's even more silly," you giggle.

"At least it won't be your mythological dead kids,"

You take a deep breath. "Jackie and Wilson, from the song," you are ready to hear them laughing at you for the suggestion. But he just smiles.

"Jackie and Wilson…"

Cut clean from the dream that night, let my mind reset / Looking up from a cigarette, she's already left

Loki has no idea how long they've been staring blankly at the ashtray, the suit in front of him mocking him.

It's maybe the first time they're so hesitant about wearing all black.

It was supposed to be a small mission, nothing dangerous. You were supposed to be back, safe, within an hour.

You were supposed to raise your sons and retire in that castle in the middle of the forest.

Why was he so foolish to believe that he deserves a happy ending?

"You have to collect yourself. You have to say the farewell, a fucking thank you for all you've got from it, you coward!" they spit at the mirror opposite to them, hand tensing and breaking the cigarette in half.

A deep breath, in and out, a tight squeeze on the wedding ring hanging from his neck, and they stand up to put the damn suit on.

I start digging up the yard for what's left of me in our little vignette / For whatever poor soul is coming next

The funeral is over, the farewell has been said. But there's a small dinner coming afterwards.

Out of all the public appearances, this is by far the worse. Malevolence is something Loki has learned how to deal with a long time ago. But these eyes of pity are unbearable.

The strangers, probably reporters or Stark's acquaintances, coming to express their "condolences" are at least few enough to allow Loki to slip away to the bathroom.

He sits on the cold floor, this numbness drowning him. They hoped you had made it go away, but you just suppressed it. He wants to cry, to scream, to beg to whatever cruel Deity did this to bring you back. But their mind cannot give the order.

He takes your phone out, opening the music app and wearing your earphones. They press play on the last song you listened to, only to hear some familiar chords echo from the small device.

You were muttering this song all the time since you found out about the pregnancy, it's no wonder it's the last tune you listened to. But the upbringing melody of the song and the dark emptiness in Loki's heart are painfully opposite.

He sits there and listens to the whole song in silence, trying to milk some happiness out of it.

But they only manage to whisper along the last two lines, or an alteration of them. Just before he starts weeping at the tile floor until Thor finds him.

"We would name our children Jackie and Wilson, Raise 'em on rhythm and blues,"

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theimprobabledreamersworld · 3 years ago

Text

Finally got another one shot done! This is based very heavily off of a Doctor Who scene which I absolutely adore <3 Hope you enjoy!. Read on Ao3 or under the line!

General writing taglist: @psychedelicships @jwillowwolf @red-imeanblue @lost-in-thought-20 @writerwithtoomanyships (I know you’re not on my taglist @edupunkn00b but you liked the snippet I wrote for a handwriting game, so I thought you’d like to see the whole thing! <3)

If anyone would like to be added to my general writing taglist, let me know! <3

Virgil paced around the small room with anger racing through his veins. The next time he eventually sees his ‘husband’, he is going to have some extremely angry words to say to him. Over the last ten years, he has been kidnapped by Logan’s enemies seven times. Which is fine, it comes with the paperwork when you marry an international and notorious thief with an incredible track record. He just wished that he wasn’t used as leverage by so many people. He could never be sure that Logan would save him, and this time it was certainly not a guarantee because he hadn’t seen Logan for over three years. Virgil received the occasional letter but could never respond to them as he wouldn’t put a returning address. He understands that it’s just to keep him safe, that didn’t stop him from feeling angry at Logan.

Hello, Darling.

Logan/Virgil

Word Count: 2308

Warnings: Very mild cursing and threat.

He couldn’t help but jump slightly when he heard a firm knock on the door and a timid face peered around the opening gap.

“Urm… Hi. I’m Roman. I have to take you down to the office; he wants to talk.” Virgil sighed and reluctantly walked behind Roman as they took a scenic route through the building. He had to admit, this was the most comfortable kidnapping he’s ever been involved in, and when he saw the piping hot tea sitting on an elegant coffee table, it almost felt like it was going to be a polite conversation. There were no weapons this time, which was reassuring, but the several figures lurking in the shadows reduced his confidence significantly.

All of the men stepped forward at once, Virgil gulped before he was encouraged to sit down by the man in the middle. The man smiled and Virgil felt even more concerned now, it was never good when a kidnapper smiled… he knew that from experience.

“Let’s get the embarrassing details out of the way, my name in Janus. This is Patton, Roman you’ve already met and Remus. He’s a pussy cat really, don’t let the menacing face fool you. Virgil looked at each of them in turn and curled into himself a little. He genuinely didn’t know what was happening here. He looked around him for the main exits in case he needed to run away, and he saw another person who wasn’t introduced. A butler, dressed in all black was busy polishing some silverware. This made everything even more confusing for Virgil, but if they were letting the butler stick around, at least hurting or killing him wasn’t top of their agenda.

“Come now, Virgil. I’m not going to harm you, I’m just a friend of Logan’s.” Janus smiled once again, but with a sinister undertone this time and Virgil’s brow furrowed in confusion. He gulped softly before mustering the courage to talk.

“A friend?!” His voice was full of mock surprise and Janus raised an eyebrow in return, almost as if he wasn’t expecting Virgil to engage in any kind of conversation. Remus turned his head towards Virgil growled deeply, so Janus waved a hand nonchalantly and chuckled.

“Alright, alright. An enemy then.” His eyes glimmered with malicious intent and Virgil’s eyes widened at how things had taken a turn so quickly. He put on a pretense of relief and hoped Janus would buy the bravado.

“Oh… which one?” Janus’ smile dropped and his eyes began to cloud over, apparently it was clear that the time for games was over, and Virgil was silently regretting his choices in his mind. Janus slowly spun the chair around and fell into it gracefully. The room began to darken, and Virgil knew that this was where things might get messy.

“Okay, enough games. I grow weary of this. Where is Logan?” Janus slammed his hand down on the table and Virgil realised that he could gain the upper hand in this scenario. He shrugged and darted his eyes around the room.

“Haven’t the faintest idea.” All four men looked at Virgil with an incredulous look in the eye. It’s no surprise that they don’t believe him, but for once in this scenario, he was actually telling the truth. Logan could literally be anywhere. He heard a clatter and remembered the butler who had just dropped a piece of silverware, he frantically picked it up and turned his back to the group.

Janus continued to look at Virgil directly in the eyes, as if he was waiting patiently for Virgil to crumble and break down in front of him and slyly remarks “Come on Virgil, is that credible?”

“It’s truth. Go ahead. Check whatever records you may have about his last whereabouts. You’ll probably find out more than me.” He spoke with a spiteful tone and another man stepped forward with an extremely worried expression.

"B- but you're the man that he loves!" Virgil couldn’t help but laugh at the sincerity of his statement, almost as if he was talking about them like they were some kind of fairytale. He continued to laugh in their faces. The men all looked at each other, and Remus banged in fist against the table, and it brought Virgil back to the task at hand. The longer he was involved in this conversation, the more his insecurities took over and he couldn’t stop his raised voice. "No I'm not! Logan does not and has never loved me." He covered in mouth in shock at the fact that he just shouted a very false statement. Unbeknownst to Virgil, the butler flinched in the background as well.

Patton interrupts again while Janus looks on in confusion. "So my information was correct then. You are the man who loves Logan!" There was an odd mix of confusion and triumph on Patton’s face, there was nothing wrong with what he just said, but the doubt still consumed his mind.

Virgil agrees with a new-found confidence in his voice. "I never denied it. But he's Logan after all. A notorious thief. The most meticulous criminal and the cleverest soul I've ever met. If you think that someone like him is that ordinary, to be staying in love with someone like me... then you have no idea who you're dealing with." Virgil continued to adamantly make his case, yet he still remained oblivious to the butler who had gradually put down his polishing cloth and had slowly made his way closer to the centre of the room.

Janus stands in front of Virgil completely dumbfounded at this point. This clearly wasn’t the way this was supposed to go. Virgil had to admit that he didn’t think he would stay this strong for so long, but it was working. If he bought enough time, maybe… just maybe… Logan might somehow come and save him. "I was assured that you would be the perfect bait! If you were in danger. Logan would come running!"

Despite the small slither of hope Virgil felt, he knew he needed to keep it buried deep down, or he would lose this battle. He needed to keep going, they were starting to crack, he knew it. "Oh, you are a moron then!"

Janus bowed his head and took a deep breath. He regained his composure and looked at Virgil smirking with malicious intent once again before pressing a button underneath the desk. "We both know he's probably already here, he's the master of disguises and this isn't exactly the first time he's had to save you.” He chuckled smugly as a barrage of clicks echoed around the room. Virgil tried to hide the panic in his eyes, he didn’t know what was going to happen now, but the total lockdown of the room was enough to induce all of emotions to come to the foreground and he couldn’t stop what he said next. The butler was now standing directly behind Virgil, and if he had noticed, he would have realised that Janus wasn’t looking at Virgil at all. He was looking behind him that entire time.

"No he isn't. Of course, he isn't! Go on! Look around this place, send your cronies on a wild goose chase. He won't be here! I mean, you can't miss him. Stupid polo shirt, stupid tie and the stupidest pair of glasses you’ve seen. That should be a big enough clue!" He huffed as his chest rose and fell angrily, all the rage he felt when he was first brought to this place bubble to the surface. The butler coughed lightly before calling out timidly, "Virgil..."

"God knows where he is right now, but I promise you, he's doing whatever the HELL he wants because he doesn't give a damn about me!" Virgil shouted out at the ceiling; his arms raised above his head in an aggressive stance. He silently cursed the heavens themselves as the butler tried once again to get Virgil’s attention. He stood right behind Virgil’s ear and called his name once again.

“Virgil!”

He didn’t even realise that his name was being called, he was so consumed by his emotions that he let them flow like an uncontrollable stream of consciousness. "And I'm just fine with that! When you love someone like Logan, it's like loving the stars themselves. You don't expect a sunset to admire you back. And if I find myself in danger, let me tell you... Logan is not stupid enough, or sentimental enough and he is certainly not in love enough to find himself standing in it with me!!"

The room fell silent, the butler had been waiting with bated breath for Virgil to realise that he was standing next to him, but he still hadn’t noticed. So eventually, he took hold of Virgil’s wrist lightly. Virgil took a few breaths before looking once, looking twice, then looking a final time before holding his focus on the butler’s face. Virgil stared into his eyes, and they glimmer with recognition. As he gasps, the butler smiles back softly before finally whispering "Hello, Darling."

“Oh I hate you.” Virgil smirks as he realised that Logan had been in the room the whole time.

“No, you don’t. I have to admit, that was a spectacular performance you did just now.”

“Shut up!”

“I mean, I never knew you cared that much.” Their bickering was interrupted by a timid cough coming from in front of them. Logan and Virgil looked at Janus in irritation. How dare he interrupt mummy and daddy talking?! At least it confirmed one thing in Virgil’s mind, they definitely acted like an old married couple.

“Urm, I hate to break up this touching reunion, but I believe we have business to attend to.” Janus held a hand out sarcastically, motioning for Logan to give him something and he just raised an eyebrow in response.

“Oh, where are my manners? First, get rid of your boys.” Janus raised an eyebrow with a tone that screamed why should he follow his orders. Logan looked around the room, eyeing the exits and planning in his mind. Virgil stepped back and let him work, it was the best thing to do… because they are going to regret messing with Logan.

“I don’t like being outnumbered. It makes for too much stupid in the room.” Janus frowned then nodded at Roman, Patton and Remus to leave. They reluctantly make their way to the only unlocked room in the building which was located behind Janus. Remus refused to move initially until Janus snapped his fingers and Remus growled one final time before going through the door and slamming it shut.

“Well. You’re trapped now, Logan. I have the high ground here. Give me, what I want… and I won’t harm Virgil.” Janus held his hand out once again and motioned for something from Logan. It caused Logan to laugh wildly and wipe a tear from his eye. Janus stepped forward, ready to grab Virgil in order to get what he wants.

“Oh Janus, Janus, Janus. You’ve made a big mistake my friend. There is one thing you don’t put in a trap, if you’re smart. If you value your continued existence. If you have any plans of continuing your sordid little business for many years to come, there is one thing you should never ever put in a trap.” He wrapped an arm around Virgil and began to move him away from Janus, towards the now unguarded door. Janus chuckled while being oblivious to what was going on, he was adamant that he still had the high ground after all.

“And what would that be?” Virgil glanced up at Logan with adoration, Logan smirked before pulling a small device out of his pocket and raising it in front of Janus’ eyes. When Janus noticed what he was holding, he shrunk away and pinned himself against the wall.

“… Me.” Logan pressed the switch, and a thick smoke began to fill the room. Virgil heard Janus coughing as the two of them ran through the unlocked door. The coast was clear, and they kept running through the house until they were hit by bright sunlight. On the main road, Virgil stopped them and wrapped his arms around Logan, and he felt a tight grip around his waist in response. It was almost too good to be true but, deep down, he knew that Logan would have saved him. He kissed his cheek gently before staring into Logan’s ocean eyes.

“Well, after everything I’ve put you through. I definitely owe you a date. Dinner? My treat?” Virgil smiled and nodded. They took each other’s hands and headed to a car that was parked nearby. As Logan drove, Virgil stared out of the window smiling softly.

Despite it all. He wouldn’t change anything for the world. He was the husband of a thief, a thief who stole his heart many years ago… and he always would be.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #doctor who references #ts fanfic #ts fandom #sanders sides fanfiction

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