#they still gave each other support and even though its worse now i can trust them to still give that support | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zester000 · 2 years ago

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[TJoXV] Guren: January 30- Stowaways

Burns. We split the first aid kit, tending to our wounds. The searing pain isn’t just skin-deep- our failing muscles ache. I have to force my hands to move, working against the spasms. We ran until we reached a cliff’s edge. Donavin told me there was a small sandstone cave not far beneath it with a ledge that could catch us. As soon as we landed, we both passed out. Morning arrived.

Dust clings to our legs and lands on our faces, carried by the wandering wind. Exhaustion binds us to the ground. The orange morning light begins creeping into the shadow. I had anticipated moments like these as a result of escaping. Moments of quiet pain. The air carries unspoken words. There are silent, shared fears. Nothing needs to be said to confirm agreement. The feelings are inseparable from the experience.

The pain is the least of it for both of us, even if Donavin’s gestures show he takes it worse than I. I can’t blame him. I run my fingers across the aged, bumpy scar that stretches from my cheek to my chin. He doesn’t have as much experience with burns.

With a labored breath, he tries to stand, using the wavy striped walls to support his back. His knees wobble, and one leg nearly buckles near the site of a hit. The nerves in the area are imprinted on the skin like a red shadow. He outstretches his shaky hand, preempting a fall, then slowly retracts it. He looks at me. “There’s a port nearby, on a plateau. It’s only an hour’s walk away.”

I stare at him blankly. “Can’t we rest for a while?” My hand twitches. “I don’t think we’re ready to leave.”

His focus steps behind the curtain of his eyes. After a still moment, it returns, and he looks at the ceiling of the cave. “They could find us. Our guard is down. There’d be nothing stopping them…”

“You’re right,” I admit. “But… there’s no way we can make the distance the way we are now.”

He stares at the rocky expanse. “If we stay, we need to be ready for them to find us.” His eyes fall to his hands. “And I don’t trust our weapons.”

I stare at our backpacks, discarded on the floor. Slearic batteries spill out of them. An idea forms.

I grab a handful, hobbling over to the ledge. He understands my plan, and comes to my side. Slearic is a dangerous substance. It powers laser weapons with an extraordinary amount of energy. Slearic batteries are explosive and fragile. I set them down slowly and carefully, because if I were to drop one, even from this distance…

When it hits the ground and bursts, it would catch all of the other batteries in its explosion. We’re standing too close to ever escape that blast. Being hit by one Slearic battery is enough to kill an uninjured person.

We were far from that.

I scatter them across the ledge so that they won’t go off all at once. The Crusaders wear electricity-absorbing vests, meaning that the trap would damage them, but not kill them. Force is a last resort.

By the time we both feel capable of making the journey, the sun has reached its apex. Sweat leaves my crimson uniform damp. The Echoes keep all of their training within the walls of their facilities, so my uniform was never meant to see the sun. At least, they weren’t meant to see the sun from Guren. To make things worse, the Fervorous has connections with Echo occupations on Septia, a planet cooled with massive machines to freeze the hydrochloric acid in the rain. We were given thick wool uniforms in preparation for our service there. I have no doubts they’re serving the new alumni well, but you can imagine what it does for me.

I unscrew the cap on a cantine Donavin gave me. It’s a little over half empty.

“The port gets traffic from all over, especially neighboring planets.” That meant tropical Thalassa and urban Denva. “Around Huletineti, though, the trip to Hintite is at its shortest.”

I’m unsure of how to say my question in Amharic so I use my two index fingers as stand-ins for the planets. I mimic their orbit around the sun, bringing them close to each other. “Because of this?”

“Yes, exactly.”

We begin walking.

“We brought Hollens, right?” I ask, laughing. “I don’t want to have to sneak on a ship or anything.”

He feels around his backpack for a pouch bloated with small plastic tokens. He chuckles. “Yep, no need to worry. And I’m certain there will be at least one passenger ship heading to Hintite.”

The stormy planet is anything but a tourist destination, but I’m sure there will be. After all, if the planets are close around now, there must be at least one person trying to capitalize on it.

I frown. “Do you think the people at the port will recognize us? I bet we don’t have nearly enough money to bribe our way past our reputation.”

He waves his hand and shakes his head. “Oh, heavens, no. Word travels slowly here. And the Gurenian traders are probably still at their homes celebrating Huletineti, not off in the ports.”

He remembers what he’s missing and frowns.

“We’re ahead of Magnus Crusader though,” he says, picking back up again, “so there’s little chance the Echoes have made a public statement there to see it.”

“They could have informed the port police by now, via radio,” I suggest.

“But they’re all Gurenians and, once again, it’s still Huletineti, at least until tomorrow.”

“We’re in good luck, then,” I realize. “The offworld shippers are probably too preoccupied with their routes to want to stop us, too.”

“Yep. There’s not enough Hollens to our names yet.”

I smile. Reaching Hintite will be smooth sailing, or, to use a Gurenian idiom, soft rock.

As it turns out, we dramatically overestimated the market for transportation to Hintite. There is not a single passenger ship headed there, only cargo ships, and none headed straight to Stoya.

Concerned, I volunteer to ask the Hintite-bound shippers for a ride on their ships, since my English is better than Donavin’s. There aren’t many that understand (these being Denvans, who speak Chinese as a lingua franca), but of the ones that do, they all refuse.

Forlorn, I continue pacing around the port until I catch the scent of Thalassan sea salt. It catches me by surprise, and I pause. It had been two and a half years since I enrolled at the Fervorous. The scent of my homeworld is somewhat unfamiliar.

There is a good chance that the sailor isn’t Greek, and as such, they won’t know English. But there’s a chance they will.

I approach the ship, where a figure is unloading crates. She turns around to face me, her loose, blonde ponytail shifting as she does. I can tell from her must that she’s the source of the Thalassa smell, and a sailor back home. Her eyes look tired.

“Do you speak Greek?” I ask in English.

In Greek, she answers, “Yes.”

I muster a relieved smile and she replies with a faint grin. Our conversation continues in Greek.

“Where is your crew headed?”

Her voice is strained, likely from fighting against the sounds of waves and machinery. “Ultimately, Stoya. But we’re landing at a nearby village first and using the monobullet to head up to the city.” Her expression shows that she’s unsure if I’ll understand the practice.

I don’t.

“The toll is higher if you land in Stoya directly instead of coming up from the base of the mountain.”

“Ah.”

I notice she’s eying my uniform.

“You’re in no trouble,” I explain. “I’m a runaway.”

“Oh.” Her tone is empathetic. “So you’re looking to hide in Stoya?”

“Until me and my companion have an idea of what to do next.”

She snorts. “You won’t need to do anything else.”

“Really?” I ask, surprised. “I’ve heard rumors of the crime but I didn’t know-”

“The real place is worse.”

“Oh.” I shudder.

It seems like she didn’t mean to scare me. “Only if you’re not careful, you know.” Her voice darkens. “You’re from Thalassa, right?”

“Yep.”

“Well, I grew up in Neo-Ionia. I knew the Promitheftis family.” That name belonged to a once infamous young crime boss. “And to me of all people, Stoya- the abandoned neighborhoods, anyway- are worse.” She slumped over on one of the cargo hatch’s hydraulic lifts, savoring a satisfied smile as a loose lock of hair fell to cover one of her green eyes. She nonchalantly threw it behind her ear.

“Wow,” I mutter. “Does crime just happen to everyone?”

She shakes her head. “No, no. The gangs only target the Echoes and Zencrotes.” Her eyes fall to the insignia on my uniform. “Might wanna find something else to wear before you get there.”

I attempt a chuckle, and the results are shy and shaky.

She rushes to put a hand on my shoulder. “I, I didn’t mean to scare you that bad, I’m…” She sighs, shaking her head. “Sorry. You know how important the truth is.”

“I do.” I clutch my wrist and it hurts. “I’m just a little shaken right now.”

“I understand.” She checks to make sure her captain isn’t around, then asks, “You want to go to Stoya, right?”

“Right.” I throw a thumb in Donavin’s direction. “We can pay you a good deal if that’s what you ne-”

She waves her hands at me. “No, no. There’ll be no charge. I have a way, though you’ll have to be discreet. We aren’t gonna follow our cargo all the way to Stoya, either. Once we land, we hand it over to monobullet shippers. That’s where your free ride will end. But, there’s plenty of passenger monobullets headed to Stoya. Your Hollens will serve you well then.”

She pauses. “Will that work for you?”

I break out into a full smile, hardly believing my ears. “Yes, yes! Absolutely! Thank you, thank you, once for each island in the sea.” The idiom refers to the total of roughly 4,000 Thalassan islands.

“Good. I don’t like to see anyone helpless.” She outstretches her hand. “I’m Elexis.”

I take it, and her grip is firm. “Xavier.”

She grins. “Fetch your friend and follow me.”

The ship itself was rather large on the outside, but only a small portion of that space inside is dedicated for people. The rest is being packed to the brim with shipping containers. I assume they’re full of raw metals, as that’s the prime Gurenian industry.

Elexis explains that the crew is outside, still loading, which leaves the crew area empty and spacious. Benches and collapsible bunks hang from the walls. The edges of the area are littered with cabinets and compartments. There’s a single table and two chairs, pushed off to the side.

“Where are we meant to hide?” I ask in English.

She leads us to a tall closet and thrusts open the doors. Jackets of all kinds hang inside. “It’s far from a comfortable seat, but it’s the most I can give you.”

“It is generous,” Donavin assures her. “Your effort is respected.”

I nod in agreement.

“Thanks,” she whispers, smiling, briefly. “You need to be silent once I close these doors. I’ll do the rest. The captain is a Gurenian Turk, so he’s still celebrating Huletineti at his town. The ship doesn’t leave without him. The pilots are going to come first, then the rest of the crew, once they finish loading the cargo.”

She tosses her eyes over her shoulder. “I’m supposed to be helping them. They will come looking for me eventually.” She looks back at us. “It will be a while before the captain arrives. He stalls.”

Donavin nods, subtly. “I can understand why.”

She nods. “Yeah, can’t blame him either.”

“Elexis!” calls a weathered voice from outside.

“One more thing,” she hurries to explain. “The ship will reach Hintite some time next morning. If you can sleep standing up, do it. Don’t worry about snoring, someone else will probably snore louder. If you can’t… well…”

“Elexis?!”

She sighs. “Tough luck.” She grabs the door handles. “When you get found out, I do the talking.”

The doors shut, and the darkness swallows us.

As my eyes adjust, I can see Donavin’s chin shaking ever so slightly. “What does ‘tough luck’ mean?” he asks, almost inaudibly.

“It means ‘you have to bear it; there is nothing you can do.’”

“Ah.” He shifts to find a comfortable place to stand between the coats and empty hangers. “Then I won’t be sleeping.”

“Neither will I.”

Footsteps begin pouring in from outside. We look each other in the eyes. This is going to be a long trip.

#guren #tjoxv #thejournalofxaviervandus

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earlgreydream · 3 years ago

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rough.

| draco x reader | angst | smut |

enemies to lovers 🖤

anon requested. theyre enemies but deep down theres a sexual tension and one day theyre on vacation and have to stay in one room together

cw: angst, name-calling (degradation), hate-fucking, very slightly dubcon

“I can’t stand you! I don’t want to stay in a room with you!” You shouted, shoving him away from you.

“I’m just as angry as you! I don’t know how the hell this happened!” Draco snapped, pushing past you into your shared hotel room.

You had gone on vacation to America with some of your schoolmates, and due to a mix up in the planning, you and Draco had ended up in the same hotel room. To make matters worse, the room only had one bed.

Draco was your sworn enemy since first year. He’d embarrassed you in front of the Weasley twins, the boys you had a crush on, and you’d retaliated by tainting the love potion he gave to Pansy. It had started seven years of fighting and backbiting, the two of you always at each other’s throats and never seeing eye to eye.

It had become second nature to fight with Draco. Screaming matches with him lit a specific fire in your belly— different from anything else. It burned through you, igniting every nerve in your body. You thought it was anger, though it proved to be more when nothing satiated the rage, and your mind began to wander.

The electrically charged energy between you was hard to ignore. It was like a live wire, blazing everything in its wake, or an oil spill, turning everything flammable.

“Malfoy-” you started, but you were cut off by his sharp glare.

“I was going to suggest that we change quickly and meet the others in the lobby. I was going to ask if I could use the loo, but I was going to give you the courtesy of offering it first,” you hissed, and he shook his head.

“Go, it’s fine.”

You stepped into the bathroom, closing the door. You were desperate for some distance from Draco. You freshened up in the mirror, not taking too long so you didn’t get him even more agitated than he already was.

“What are we going to do about-?”

“We’re going to worry about it when the time comes,” you interrupted, glancing at the one bed.

The bathroom door slammed shut, leaving you alone in the small room. There wasn’t a couch— and the chair simply wasn’t adequate. Ultimately, you both knew the two of you were going to end up in bed together that night, whether you liked it or not.

A deep sigh left your lips, and you grabbed your bag, preparing to meet your friends downstairs. Draco locked the door behind the two of you, and the elevator ride was painfully silent.

“My two favorite people. Sorry about the room situation,” Theo grinned, opening his arms as you walked up to him.

You stepped into his chest, letting tattooed limbs wrap around you. He kissed the top of your head, grinning into your hair.

“If Malfoy’s mean to you, you just let me know, okay? I’ll take care of him,” Theo promised you, finally getting you to giggle.

“Maybe tell her not to be a right bi-”

“Draco, baby, try a little harder,” Theo hummed, kissing Malfoy’s cheek before getting pushed off. You laughed at them.

Seven years, and you still wondered how it was possible for Theo-- the sweetest boy in the world, to be best friends with Draco Malfoy-- the devil’s incarnate.

“Come on, we’ll get breakfast then catch the ferry,” Cedric said, handing out ferry passes to your group: Draco, Theo, Blaise, Fred, George, Hermione, Ginny, Pansy, Cedric, and you.

Hermione took your hand, pulling you from the Slytherin boys.

“It’s going to be fun. And besides, we’ll only be sleeping in the rooms. It’s not a problem,” Hermione assured you, the girls walking ahead of the others.

“Except there is only one bed,” you muttered, and Ginny and Pansy spun to look at you.

“Are you serious?” Ginny giggled, and you smacked her arm.

“It is not funny!”

They held their hands up in defense, though their amusement was clear. You took the subway to the ferry, crowded with American muggles.

“Careful!” Draco hissed in your ear, catching you ask you lost your balance. His hand went around your waist, pinning you to his chest.

“M’sorry, I slipped!” you were thankful for him holding onto you, even if you’d never admit it. You gripped the pole for support, trying not to lean into him too much. He helped you off of the train, and you took Theo’s hand as you boarded the ferry.

“Look at the statue!” you gasped, admiring the skyline and leaning on the railing of the boat as you road to Staten Island.

“Don’t fall,” Draco came to your other side.

“Are you serious? Draco, I’m not a child!” you snapped.

“You’re leaning on the railing, and we can’t be using magic to drag you out of the water!”

You shot him an indignant look, and climbed up to stand on the railing. Even Theo looked anxious at your actions.

“Get the fuck down, right now.” Draco’s grey eyes were wide, and you stared back at him, daring him to touch you.

“We’re going to dock, and it’ll knock the-” Theo was interrupted before he could finish his sentence. The boat stopped suddenly, and as you caught yourself, Draco grabbed your waist, pulling you off of the railing.

You shrieked, struggling away as he pulled you down. He refused to let go of you, and you tried to shove him off.

“Knock it off. And quit doing dangerous shit,” Draco swatted your ass through your denim shorts, making Theo choke on his water bottle. You immediately stilled, staring at him in horror.

“Did you just spank me?” You gasped, startled.

He let go of you, answering with only a cold look. You shook your head and went to join the others, Theo and Draco falling into conversation with Cedric and Blaise.

“What happened back there? We heard you yelling,” Hermione asked, grinning behind her oversized mirrored sunglasses.

“Draco just being an ass. It’s fine,” you said, stealing her sunglasses and putting them on.

“Come on, let’s go have some fun.”

You spent the day sightseeing, walking around Staten Island before going back to Manhattan. The sun was warm overhead, the summer heat getting to your minds. You’d managed to avoid bickering with Draco most of the day, but now the sun was hanging low in the sky, casting a golden-orange glow over everything. You were drinking cocktails at a place near Times Square, tired from being on your feet all day.

“Tomorrow we’re going to the MET,” Theo said, checking the plans.

You stayed out late, talking and laughing until the lights of the city had drowned out the ink-black sky. You were tired, a little buzzed, overly hot, and you wanted to sleep.

“What the hell was that on the ferry? Do you think you can just-?” Draco grabbed your arm, cutting off your rant that you’d saved until you were in private, not wanting to fight in front of your friends. Your back hit the hotel room door, Draco’s chest pressed up against yours.

“Do I think I can just what? Knock that bullshit little smirk off of your face?” Draco seethed.

“Tell me what to do!” You pushed his shoulders, though he didn’t move.

“It’s clear that you can’t be trusted to make good choices on your own.”

“That’s rich coming from you-” you hissed, feeling the familiar burning spread through your abdomen.

“You should learn a little respect,” Draco’s hand wrapped around your throat, the rings on his fingers cold against your warm skin. A moan escaped you before you could stop it, and his eyebrows shot up.

“Is this what you need? Do you just need to have the bitch fucked out of you?” You squirmed, gripping his wrist and trying to pry his hand off of your throat.

You were seething, the energy between you becoming intensely sexually charged. You hated yourself for growing aroused, but you couldn’t keep the heat from spreading through your body, and you were becoming keenly aware of your throbbing sex.

Draco pushed his knee between your thighs, and you shook your head.

“No, no.”

“No? You aren’t horny and desperate? I know how much you hate me, and I know you’ve been dying to release all that pent up energy. You’re going to be sleeping in the same bed with me tonight, trapped under the sheets with my body. If you don’t act now, you’ll have to go untouched for the next week of this trip...” he smirked, knowing he had leverage, able to see how desperate you were.

Truly, Draco was desperate for you too. You made him so angry, but you managed to turn him on as you got under his skin. He was aroused now, growing harder as he watched you squirm in pure need. He was waiting to hear you say yes, to give in. He may have hated you, but he wasn’t an animal.

You bit your lip so hard you tasted metal, trying to hold in a scream. Your chest heaved with heavy breaths, your eyes narrowed into a glare. His thigh was pressed against your sex, and you fought against the urge to grind against him, desperate for friction.

“Fuck,” you swore, and Draco squeezed your throat, making you whimper.

“Is that a no, Y/N? Do you want me to let go of you? Let you go finger yourself in the shower?” he mocked you.

“I hate you.”

“I know. It’s mutual, love.”

“Alright, Draco. Please fuck me. But this doesn’t mean anything!”

He smirked, letting go of you and tossing his shirt aside. You rid your own clothes with his, freezing as your eyes lingered on his naked body. The need and arousal pulsing through your body was overpowering, and just the sight of him was making you falter.

“Do you need me to do everything for you? Get over here,” Draco’s hand wrapped around your elbow, tugging you toward him. He ripped your panties off, the veins in his hand flexing at the display of strength.

“Draco!”

“Save it.”

Draco hauled you to the bed, bending you over the edge. You struggled, trying to sit up. He shoved your head back down, pressing your chest against the duvet.

“Are you serious?” you snapped as he gripped your wrists in one hand, holding them at the small of your back.

“You’re going to lay here and be good or you’re not going to get fucked at all,” Draco threatened, and you burned in shame. You stopped straining yourself to look at him, residing to resting your head on your side, ceasing your struggle against his hold.

A choked groan left your lips as Draco slammed into your cunt all at once. He buried himself deep enough to where his hips were pressed to your ass, his body bent over yours. Draco slammed into you, frustration powering his rough thrusts. You writhed under his strong grip, moaning and squealing as he tore into your tight heat. Even with how wet you were, your body spasmed at the force.

It felt primal, rough, and dirty.

Fucking Draco was scandalous, even for you. The two of you getting so angry that the energy had to be channeled into sex felt deviant, Draco’s cock tainting your innocence with every thrust.

You felt better than Draco had imagined. Your noises were erotic, encouraging him more than the momentum he was gaining. He kicked your legs further apart, shoving himself deeper into your sex. Your moan was muffled by the duvet, squeezing your eyes shut. It felt like he was tearing you open, and you couldn’t get enough. Your head was spinning, and your fingers flexed, the only part of your body you could move freely against his hold.

“You’re fucking divine,” Draco breathed, reaching his hand under the two of you. His fingers found the area where your bodies connected, sliding upward through your folds.

“Draco, fuck, please!” you cried, arching your back as he pressed against your nerves.

“Please what, love? Are you going to quit being contrary?”

“Yes, I’ll do anything, just please touch me there,” you begged, abandoning your stubbornness.

You buried your face in the bed and screamed, your back curving into a bow as he fucked into you in time with the circles he was tracing with skilled fingers.

Draco swore as you pulsed around him, squeezing his cock as you cried from euphoria. Electricity shot through your limbs, your orgasm ripping through your body. Draco was quick to follow, pulling out and coming over your ass, watching you shudder and throb around nothing.

As his memories being frustrated with you returned, he continued his assault on your clit, pinching you harshly to watch you writhe and scream.

“Draco, Draco, I’m sorry, I’ll be nice, just stop!” you squealed, trying to kick him as he overstimulated you.

He released you as you asked, taking in the sight of your absolutely wrecked body. Your arms were shaking as you brought them under you, trying to push yourself up onto your elbows. You heaved in deep breaths, still trembling as you came down from your high.

Draco wiped down your skin for you, finding some decency.

“Hey, look at me. You alright?” Draco held your jaw, tilting your face up. You nodded, and he slid boxers up his leg before digging for something in his jacket pocket.

“Y/N. Come here,” Draco’s voice was low and husky, his back to you.

You forced yourself to stand up, your legs weak as you stepped toward him. You followed Draco onto the balcony, where he sat down on a lounge chair. Ringed fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling you to sit sideways on his lap.

His touch was no longer aggressive or harsh, but instead moving you with authority. You held a blanket loosely around your body, shielding you from the cool night air.

Draco didn’t speak as he pulled a cigarette from the box, putting it between his lips. He lit the end before setting the box and the lighter on the table, leaning his head back and taking a drag. He held your jaw, pressing his lips against yours before exhaling the smoke into your mouth.

He turned, watching the city lights glitter around you. He offered you the cigarette, and you accepted, sharing with him.

“Our secret?” you asked softly, and his silver gaze connected with his.

“Our secret.”

“Do you still hate me?”

The corners of Draco’s lips pulled up, and his fingers brushed over your bare back, his hand resting at the base of your spine.

“Only when it serves me, I suppose,” he murmured, and you fought off a smile.

“You’ll not bite me in my sleep then?”

“Full of questions. I make no promises, I’ve found I rather like how you taste.”

He kissed you then, under the city lights, tasting like smoke and sage and secrets.

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years ago

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Another Warlock?

Leon cries a lot, Merlin is protective, and Arthur has to confront the cruelty of his Kingdom’s justice system.

To say that Gaius was surprised when Sir Leon burst into the Physician’s chambers late one evening, pale and sweaty and shaking, one hand shielding his eyes and one hand supporting himself on the door frame, would be a VAST understatement.

He goes to rush forward, not able to recall a single time he’s ever seen the normally incredibly put together man look so shaken, but the way Leon almost falls back in his effort to keep his distance stops him in his tracks.

His breathing is deep and dangerously fast, but before Gaius can call for help or demand the knight tell him what’s wrong, his voice comes out, rushed and cracking and desperate:

“Merlin?? Gaius, where’s Merlin, I... I need Merlin.”

In his shock, both at Leon’s whole terrified demeanour, and the tears he can now see dripping down the other man’s cheeks, he answers without thinking:

“At this time he’ll be in The King’s chambers. My boy are you sure there’s nothing I can-”

Before the physician can finish, Leon bolts from the room, the door swinging shut behind him as he stumbles his way down the corridor as quickly as he can, thinking of nothing but how much he needs Merlin.

His brain fails to make the connection between “The King’s chambers” and “Arthur”, and the knight sprints through the halls, bruising shoulders and elbows on doorframes as his sight is blurred by tears and a shaking hand.

Gaius considers following to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself, but the man is very private, the type to never share his troubles. The physician decides to check in on Arthur’s chambers in a candle mark or so, just to make sure that no one needs any treatment or enforced bedrest; he settles back onto the bench, resuming his previous task with half his mind focused on how terrified Sir Leon had looked, and trying not to worry too much.

Arthur was sat at his desk, forehead resting on his hand as he tried to force himself into reading just one more page of the month’s food inventory report. It was boring stuff, but he was King, this had to be done. Uther had never bothered, but Arthur’s head had been filled with ideas on how to better redistribute food since long before he became King, so he never gave up an opportunity to double-check the reports.

Merlin was settled at his dining table across the room, carefully polishing each of Arthur’s many blades. His sword was the first to be done, but Arthur had rather pettily demanded that Merlin also see to the various daggers and knives that The King usually kept hidden around his room, despite the fact that none of the had been used in the three months since Merlin had last cleaned them.

Frankly, Arthur had started to find Merlin’s quiet grumbling a pleasant background noise; he always seemed to be able to concentrate better when in the other man’s presence. Despite Arthur’s boredom and headache, and Merlin’s exhaustion and aching hands, there’s nowhere else either of them would rather be.

The King had just about given up on getting anymore work done; it was late, and he had to give in to the idea that his headache was only going to get worse, so he organised the papers into rough piles on the desk and lent back in his chair, hands folded in his lap as he blinks up at the ceiling. He looks down just in time to make eye contact with Merlin, and he returns the man’s soft smile before he can stop himself.

Merlin raises an eyebrow, almost certainly about to say something scathing about Arthur’s Kingly Mask slipping in the evening, but before he can utter even a word, the main door slams open with a crash, bouncing off the wall loudly.

Arthur stands quickly, tensing when he realises that the sword normally hidden under his desk is currently on the other side of the room with Merlin. The servant already has a dagger expertly held in one of his hands as he moves around the table to see who had burst in, and Arthur makes a mental note to make sure Merlin knows how to use it properly at later date.

The King goes to rush around the desk, but a sharp intake of breath from Merlin as he drops the knife on the table and holds a firm hand out to him, undoubtedly telling him to stay where he is, stops him in his tracks. Arthur trusts Merlin, despite not being able to see whoever it was that had practically broken the door down.

Arthur blinks in surprise when he sees an unarmoured Leon stumble round the corner, hand over his eyes and shaking as he calls Merlin’s name, his voice cracking as tears stream down his pale cheeks. Arthur gulps and goes to move towards him, but finds himself frozen when Leon collapses to his knees, both hands now clamped tightly over his eyes as his sobs become audible. Merlin rushes to him, falling to the floor in front of the knight and taking his wrists in soft hands, not even bothering to look to Arthur as he focuses all of his attention on the distraught man.

“Leon? Leon you need to tell me what’s wrong, I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Arthur marvels at the way Merlin’s voice wavers only slightly, though quickly reminds himself that the now fully-fledged physician was used to dealing with panicking patients, it’s just Leon that he’s not used to panicking.

Leon’s breathing is deep and uneven, and Merlin moves one of his hands to the back of the knight’s head as he stutters out a frantic:

“Merlin, I... please- I need help... please make it stop, I don’t- I don’t know how to make it stop, please.”

Merlin frowns, trying to calm his own breathing as he runs his desperate gaze over the knight’s body, trying to figure out what was wrong, but it’s Arthur’s sharp gasp and muttered "what the fuck...” that has him look up.

What he sees makes it decidedly harder to keep calm.

The pillow that Arthur had thrown at him that morning was floating a few feet off the ground, as was a vase of flowers by the (thankfully swung shut) door. The flames in the lit hearth were colourful and jumping, filling with odd shapes and seeming to shiver in time with Leon’s panicked wheezing, and the curtains were shaking in a wind that wasn’t there.

Merlin gulps and curses to himself quietly before looking back down to Leon, grabbing his wrists and trying to pry his hands away from his eyes:

“Leon, I need you to look at me. Everything’s going to be ok, but I need you to look at me right now.”

Arthur is still frozen in place, hand twitching by his hip as he subconsciously reaches for his absent sword.

Merlin still ignores him, rubbing his thumbs over Leon’s wrists softly as he carefully pulls his hands forward. Leon finally gives in, letting Merlin hold his hands close to his chest, shutting his eyes tightly and struggling to draw breath:

“Open your eyes, Leon. I promise that you're safe, ok? I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you, but I need to see.”

Leon shakes his head slightly and whimpers, and Merlin glances over the knight’s shoulder as a loud pop sounds from the fire. The servant moves one of his hands back to Leon’s hair, stroking slightly as he asks him to open his eyes again, trying to keep his voice soft even in his panic. The older man finally complies, and Merlin clenches his jaw to stop himself from gasping at the gold of Leon’s irises.

Merlin glances behind him briefly, but is grateful to see Arthur’s bewildered gaze focused on the floating pillow rather than Leon, and looks back to him with a soft smile on his face, laying the knight’s hand flat over his chest as he speaks:

“I need you to calm down, ok? Everything’s going to be ok, there’s nothing wrong with you, and I won’t let anyone come anywhere near you. We’ll figure it out, but I need you to take deep breaths ok? Can you manage that?-”

Leon nods slightly, leaning forward and pressing his hand into Merlin’s chest as he pushes his forehead into the servant’s shoulder. His breathing slows slightly, and Merlin is grateful to feel the hitches in his breath grow less erratic:

“-That’s it, just one breath after another, ok? You’re absolutely fine, Leon, I’ll keep you safe, just breathe.”

It takes a few minutes of Merlin’s soft words and quiet encouragement, but he’s grateful to see the fire die down to a normal size, the curtains stilling, and everything that had been floating drop to the floor. He’s relieved when the vase lands softly, knowing that a loud crash at this point would probably just set the shaking knight off again.

Though he definitely tenses at Arthur’s outburst:

“What the fuck?!”

Leon falls back onto his hands, scrambling back and staring in terror over Merlin’s shoulder towards the befuddled King. Arthur recoils slightly at the fear on Leon's face, but before he can react, Merlin jumps up, leaping forward to grab Arthur’s sword from the table and twirling it expertly in his hand as he moves in to a defensive position in front of Leon’s still-cowering form:

“I won’t let you hurt him, Arthur. You'd have to kill me before I let you lay a hand on him.”

Leon stands on shaky legs, desperate to stop Merlin from putting himself in any danger, but his fear stops him from doing anything other than grip the back of the servant’s tunic in shivering hands. Arthur just looks even more confused, his wide-eyed stare moving between the terrified knight and angry servant:

“What are you talking about?? Will one of you please tell me what just happened?!”

Leon sniffles quietly, tugging on Merlin’s shirt lightly, but Merlin just holds a hand out to the side, gesturing for Leon to stay behind him and keep quiet as he strengthens the grip on his sword:

“It would seem, Sire, that Leon was born with a touch of magic, and it’s just made its first appearance. Like I said, You’d have to kill me before I let you hurt him just for existing.”

Arthur takes in a sharp breath and Leon whimpers slightly, but Merlin just squares his shoulders even more and adjusts his grip, glancing to the other weapons on the table. He knows he probably couldn’t take Arthur in a swordfight, but he rapidly comes to the conclusion that he would happily out his own magic if it was the only way to protect his friend.

Arthur holds his hands out placatingly, but doesn’t make any moves towards the table or Merlin and Leon, speaking slowly, despite the clear worry and suspicion in his voice:

“Merlin, you can’t be born with magic. So just explain what’s happening, the truth this time. If he’s been cursed or something, then we’ll fix it, no one’s going to hurt him.”

Merlin snarls slightly. Before, when Arthur’s backwards views and misunderstandings about magic had just affected him, it just made him sad. Now they were putting Leon in danger, doing nothing but making his friend even more scared, he found that they made him angry:

“With all due resect, Arthur, are you really going to trust whatever shit Uther told you about magic?? Has it never occurred to you that any and all information on sorcery in this Godforsaken Kingdom is censored, or just straight up wrong? I’m telling you, it is entirely possible to be born with magic.”

Arthur’s expression morphs to one of anger, and Leon pulls on Merlin’s tunic again, trying to get him to step back. The servant just reaches behind him, squeezing Leon’s wrist briefly and holding his position as Arthur grinds out:

“Magic is evil, Merlin, it corrupts.”

Merlin just rolls his eyes harshly, tightening his grip on the sword once again as he argues:

“Yeah? Well this magic has been inside Leon his entire life. Do you think it possible to be born evil? Do you think Leon was born evil? Do you think he’s been evil all his life and just not known it? Or do you think he suddenly, a few minutes ago when his magic first manifested itself, made the switch from good to evil? Look at him, Arthur,-”

Merlin steps to the side slightly, gesturing vaguely at an almost-hyperventilating, still-crying Leon behind him:

“-he’s fucking terrified because his head has been filled with lies and he thinks one of his closest friends is going to strap him to a pyre just for existing. At which point I feel the need to remind you that if you want to burn Leon, you’re going to have to burn me right alongside him.”

Leon’s teary eyes widen and he tugs on Merlin’s shirt again, his voice quiet and cracking:

“Merlin, no, you can’t-”

Merlin shakes his head, not looking away from the shocked King as he strongly says:

“I can, and I will. I promised you I would keep you safe, and that’s what I intend to do. I think it’s time Arthur learns the truth.”

Arthur is taken aback at Merlin’s protectiveness at first, but quickly bristles at his words, tensing and narrowing his eyes as he says:

“And how would you know all about magic, Merlin, you’ve never seemed to take an interest in it before, never bothered correcting me before.”

Merlin looks at The King like he’s an idiot, eyebrows raised and mouth open, freezing like that for a moment of two before he speaks incredulously:

“Are you serious?? I grew up outside of Camelot, where accurate information about magic is far more readily available. I know a hell of a lot more about sorcery than you, I just don’t talk about it because your head is full of lies and you’re a stubborn prat.”

Arthur takes in a deep breath, his face falling into a worrying mix of confusion and sadness. His eyes dart around slightly and his hands twitch as he thinks, obviously trying to come to some sort of conclusion that makes sense in his head.

He looks up suddenly, freezing once again as he stares at Leon, only just now seeming to notice how terrified he looks. How terrified Leon, the only swordsman Arthur has ever met who can consistently beat him, one of his closest friends and most trust advisors, a man seven years his senior who had always supported him and offered advice... how terrified that man looks. Of Arthur.

Merlin relaxes his posture slightly, lowering the sword as he stares at Arthur with a slight suspicious frown on his face. Leon breaks Arthur’s stare, gaze darting to the weapons on the table before he glances briefly to the door.

Arthur’s face falls even further, looking just a tad horrified that Leon thought Arthur was going to attack him, that Leon though he might have to make a run for it. The King finally looks over to Merlin, his eyes wide and tears gathering as he takes a staggered step back, his voice barely above a whisper:

“How... how was my father so....”

His words trail off and Merlin lowers his sword fully, letting out a gentle huff of air as he raises a mournful eyebrow:

“Wrong?”

Arthur nods, and Merlin takes in a deep breath, sighing as he tries to decide just how truthful to be:

“Magic... magic killed his wife. He ignored the warnings, didn’t consider the consequences, and was blinded by fear and hatred and a need for revenge, a need for someone to blame.”

Leon takes in a surprised breath at the same time as Arthur, and The King takes another step back, leaning tiredly against his desk as he stares at the floor, muttering:

“The apparition of my mother was real, then?”

Merlin shakes his head, taking a step towards him but still keeping his distance, hyper aware of Leon still stood behind him:

“I don’t know whether the apparition was real or fake, but it... it was telling the truth, I think.”

Arthur nods absent-mindedly, frowning at his feet for a few moments, the silence heavy and tense on everyone’s shoulders. Merlin can’t help but feel a spark of hope in his chest; was this it?? Was this when things changed?

The King looks up again, hands clenched tightly and tears still gathering in his eyes as he stares at Merlin:

“Merlin... how many- if people can be born with magic, if it isn’t actually evil, if it just... is, how many... how many innocent people have died, have been hunted, burned?-”

Arthur takes a few steps towards his friends, letting out an incredulous, almost manic laugh as he runs his hands through his hair roughly:

“-How many innocent people have I killed, just for existing?”

Merlin sighs and shakes his head, finally dropping the sword back onto the table and closing the gap between the two of them, putting a strong hand on The King’s shoulder:

“You can’t think like that, Arthur, you were just following orders, you didn’t know any better.”

Arthur meets Merlin’s gaze, rapidly blinking away the tears as he mumbles:

“You managed, Leon evidently managed.”

Merlin frowns again and shakes his head, looking back to Leon in confusion:

“Hmm. I grew up outside of Camelot, remember. Leon however... the magic inside Witches and Warlocks tends to manifest in the teen years. I mean, it can happen earlier or later, but you’re, what? Thirty?”

Leon gives him a weak smile and raises an eyebrow:

“Thirty-five.”

Merlin’s frown just deepens as he looks Leon up and down. The knight drops his smile and gulps, not understanding the problem as Arthur sidesteps the servant:

“Witches and Warlocks?”

Merlin hums absent-mindedly, still staring at Leon:

“People with natural, instinctive magic. Sorcerers and sorceresses are people who study it, they’re taught it from scratch, like you were taught how to use a sword. Witches and Warlocks are born with an innate ability.”

Arthur nods, but finally notices Merlin’s confused stare and Leon’s uneasy frown:

“What is it, Merlin? Is Leon... ok?”

Merlin shakes himself out of his stupor, blinking in surprise and looking between the two concerned men:

“Oh! Yeah, I’m just... why now?? For your first outburst, that was pretty weak, especially considering how freaked out you were, so you obviously don’t have all that much natural magic, so why did it take an extra twenty years to make itself known?”

Leon just shrugs his shoulders slightly but Arthur blinks his eyes in surprise and steps away slightly:

“You really do know a lot about magic, don’t you?”

Merlin nods again, looking just a little embarrassed as he shrugs and runs a hand through his hair before turning back to Leon and pushing him to sit at the table. Merlin sits next to him, twisting in his chair slightly to face the still tense knight, and Arthur sits slowly opposite him, clearly waiting for some sort of explanation or... something.

Merlin continues to stare at Leon, evidently trying to figure something out, and he takes a deep breath before slowly mumbling:

“Something must’ve changed.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow, gesturing vaguely for Merlin to continue:

“I mean... magic has strict rules, even seemingly random instinctive magic works in specific ways. There has to be a reason that yours has suddenly decided to come out and play. So... what changed? Why did your magic stop hiding?”

Leon scoffs slightly and sits back in his chair, all of a sudden realising how tired he is but still being unable to untense:

“I... you talk about... magic, as if it’s sentient.”

Merlin smiles slightly, fondly almost:

“It is, in a way. Not so much for regular sorcerers, but for people with instinctive magic, you don’t... control it, you ask it, you work with it. It will react to your needs and wants and emotions, it’s part of you, but it’s also... separate. It will try and protect you and the people you care about, without you even realising sometimes. Maybe... maybe that’s what happened.”

Leon fiddles with his hands in his lap roughly, picking the skin at his nails as he gulps:

“What do you mean, maybe what happened?”

Merlin smiles, taking Leon’s hands in his own and raising a disapproving eyebrow at the blood just started to seep through old scabs:

“Maybe it was protecting you, keeping you safe. Held itself inside until... I don’t know, it was safer?”

Arthur finally pipes in then, interrupting Merlin’s verbalised stream of thought:

“But it wasn’t. Granted, I haven’t executed many people, but I’ve been King for years, and up until five minutes ago I was still under the impression that magic was evil.”

Merlin shook his head:

“No, not safety from you... safety from Leon.-”

Leon recoils slightly and Arthur frowns in confusion:

“-Something about you changed. Your... views on magic?”

Merlin tilts his head as he says it, obviously asking, and the knight bites his lip, gaze darting between the two men nervously. Arthur just gives him a smile and nods encouragingly. Leon shuffles in his seat uncomfortably, not making eye contact with either of them as he quietly speaks:

“A few months ago I... saw someone do magic, in the castle. I was angry at first, but it seemed so... innocent. It didn’t hurt anyone, it had no consequence, it was just... it looked natural.”

The knight finally looks up again and Merlin nods knowingly, making a mental note to find out who was stupid enough to use magic in the-

...

He notices the pointed way Leon is looking at him, and he scraps that mental note in favour of making a new one, reminding himself to thank Leon later for not immediately killing him.

Merlin bites his lip and Leon rolls his eyes slightly, but before either of them can say anything, Arthur leans across the table, patting Leon on the shoulder comfortingly before sitting back and nodding to himself. He clears his throat and bites his lip as the two of them look to him nervously:

“I’m... curious. Of all people.... why Merlin? You had no idea that he knew so much about magic, you discover that you have magic, and the first person you rush to, you trust, you believe will protect you in a Kingdom that would see you burn... is Merlin. Why?”

Leon gulps, his gaze darting to the young servant, and Merlin widens his eyes slightly before setting his face into well-practiced neutrality and looking back to Arthur:

“Well, like I said, I grew up outside of Camelot’s propaganda.”

Arthur tilts his head and furrows his brows:

“Yes... but so did Percival and Gwaine and Lancelot. And he grew up with Elyan and Gwen, so...”

Merlin clenches his jaw, his brain running through all the possible lies he could tell. Depending on how the rest of this conversation goes, now may or may not be the time to out his own magic:

“Well... look at me-”

He throws his arms up loosely:

“-I’m one of the only people he knows who couldn’t actually do much damage to him if I turned on him. He’s a Camelot Noble Arthur, pretty much all of his friends and family would run him through in an instant if they found out what was happening to him.”

Arthur frowns mournfully, but his nod is understanding as he stares at the table for a few moments. He squares his shoulders and looks up again, his voice strong and Kingly:

“We have some laws to revise. Tomorrow, the three of us are going to visit the Druids, we can leave Leon there for a little while so he can learn to control it at least. I’m sure we can come up with some sort of excuse.”

Leon nods, but Merlin takes a deep breath before shaking his head:

“That... that won’t be necessary.”

Arthur just frowns at him in confusion, but Leon’s eyes go wide as he stares at the servant, taking his wrist in a tight grip; a clear warning. Merlin just gives him a weak smile before sitting up straight and looking to Arthur, his face blank:

“I can teach him.”

Arthur just looks even more confused, before he huffs and rolls his eyes:

“Merlin you may have an odd amount of knowledge in that big head of yours, but it would still be better for someone who was born with magic like him to help.”

Merlin doesn’t even hesitate in his response:

“Exactly.”

Arthur looks up at him sharply, taking in a deep breath and straightening his back when he notices the gold of Merlin’s eyes. It takes him a few moments to respond, and Merlin’s eyes have faded back to their bright blue before Arthur sighs and nods, not looking away as he mumbles:

“I think... that somehow I should’ve expected that.-”

The King leans forwards and puts his head in his hands, leaning his elbows on the table; he lets out a short, humourless laugh, and Merlin and Leon share a worried glance. Before they can say anything, he looks up again, a disbelieving smile on his face:

“-I’m desperate to be angry, furious, even. But after everything I’ve said, done, directly to you and in general, I really don’t think I have the right.”

Merlin shakes his head, anxiety and guilt swelling in his stomach:

“No Arthur, I lied to you for over ten years, you’re allowed to be angry.”

Arthur shakes his head again, but before he can say anything, Leon pipes up, his voice strong and no longer cracking and shaking, despite his obvious nervousness:

“That... No. With all due respect, Sire, you’re right.-”

He turns to a dumbfounded Merlin:

“-You lied because it was the only way to protect yourself. By Camelot’s laws, you- both of us, should have had death sentences from the moment we were born. Lying to save yourself torture by pyre... that isn’t selfish, or cruel, it’s... justice.”

Merlin looks like he wants to argue, but Arthur just shrugs his shoulders and nods, giving his servant a pointed glare before going back to looking curiously confused, and settling an assessing gaze on Leon:

“Can you... feel it? The magic?”

Leon shuffles uncomfortably in his seat, and squeezes Merlin’s hand in his subconscious search for comfort:

“Uh... yeah sort of. Honestly, I’m trying not to, it... it scares me.”

Merlin squeezes back before swivelling in his seat and pulling Leon to do the same, so they’re sat facing each other; Arthur leans forward so he can see what Merlin was fiddling with. The servant cups his hands and rests them under Leon’s own cupped hands, looking up to the older man with a smile:

“It’s not something to be afraid of, Leon, it’s a gift. Let go, feel it. I promise I won’t let anything bad happen. Just... feel it.”

Leon gulps, but lets out a breath and relaxes as he closes his eyes. Merlin’s grin grows, and Arthur stares in wonder at the golden glow of his eyes, his gaze darting to Leon’s face when the man begins to softly smile. Merlin’s next words come out as barely a whisper:

“Open your eyes, look.”

Leon takes another deep breath before opening his golden eyes and looking down at his hands, letting out a surprised laugh when he sees a miniature blue flame, floating a few inches above his palms. He can feel it’s warmth, feel the new odd sensation in his chest feeding it, sparking down his arms and into the flame, mixing with something that feels so very... Merlin. He looks up at the grinning servant, not able to persuade himself to look towards the King even when he hears the other man mutter, his voice quiet and full of wonder:

“A gift indeed.”

THE END!!!

Ok so I might write a part 2 to this, basically about Merlin teaching Leon in secret (with Gwaine and Lancelot getting jealous because how the fuck did boring, rule following, 8 years older than him Leon end up becoming Merlin’s best friend??) and a visit to the Druids and a ban repeal and a proper reveal.

BUT it isn’t a definite, and if it does happen it won’t be any time soon, so I guess just consider this done?

I hope y’all enjoyed it!! Same as always, you wanna write it up, let me know and credit and tag me!! :D

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hurricanes-art · 4 years ago

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i am interested in your hades au, would you mind giving some details about it? 👁 it looks really interesting

[This AU is from these drawings!]

*cracks knuckles* Ok! I actually got enough sleep last night so I'm finally feeling up to explaining this au lmao

Also I hope that by “some details” you meant “way way too many” because I am nothing if not long winded. Also @hades-hellsite asked for context too, here you go

The central premise is that, after he dies, Achilles manages to make an arrangement with Hades that allows both him and Patroclus to stay in Elysium together. He's not employed to work at the house and he never becomes Zagreus's combat trainer.

Hades makes a few attempts to find Zagreus a different teacher among the shades of great warriors, but being skilled does not make someone able to teach. And being able to teach one way doesn't mean someone will be good for every student. When Zagreus doesn't learn well with the few mentors Hades tries, which he barely gives a chance to breathe anyway, he's quick to decide that he must have no martial ability and declares Zagreus a failure in that as he has about so many things.

This has two major effects on Zagreus before his escape attempts begin. One, without any chance to actually grow into aptitude in combat, he's left without anything substantial to put his energy into and, more importantly, he's left without anything he feels good at and that gives value to his efforts. Two is that, in Achilles' absence, very few people in the house give him any care and support untwisted by the politics of the house and the judgment of his father. There is Orpheus, kind to him before Hades locks him away for refusing to sing, Hypnos, willing to put the house to sleep so he can find the truth though jumbled up in his own problems, and Nyx.

Nyx is the only one to aid Zagreus when he decides to try to escape. She contacts Olympus and weaves careful lies to win their support and blesses his departure. She's also the only one who believes that Zagreus has the slightest chance of escaping. Already in canon, most everyone tells him there no way he'll make it out, but here, it's so much worse. He doesn't know how to fight, his initial attempts are pitiful and his progress negligible, and near everyone lashes out at him to get back in line and stop making things worse.

He doesn't even have the Infernal Arms. Achilles is the one who brings them to him in canon; here Zagreus takes a simple bronze sword from one of the house's many displays of weapons from wars long past. He thanks the Fates that the Styx restores it the same way it does his body when he dies because he nicks and dulls the edges every time.

Despite all the disadvantages, Zagreus throws himself into escaping with unshakable determination, bone deep stubbornness. He picks up his sword and will figure out how to use it himself. Experience will be his teacher. He dies over and over and he watches his enemies and learns how they move and how he must react, mimicking their attacks for his own use and adjusting and adjusting after each failure. And contrary to Hades' adamant belief, Zagreus is very intelligent and learns brilliantly when allowed to and he grows stronger and stronger.

There's no teacher more savage than experience in something like this, though. The pursuit is agonizing and the cost is enormous and adjusting to this ceaseless violence feels impossible.

Much of my interest in this idea is how the added strain on his circumstances and relationships affects Zagreus and his mental state. At his best, Zag looks a lot like he does in canon, with his laurels unfurled and vibrant, and his feet glowing hot, but he rarely feels his best here. His laurel leaves curl in dry and crisp, muted like the leaves of autumn. Flakes of ash and soot build up over his legs and encase more and more as he suffers. So deep is his feeling of failure and being trapped that it affects him physically.

Not always, though. His flames respond to his emotions, burn brighter in his passion. Enthusiasm, love, fervor, bliss, anger set him glowing.

After a brutally drawn out span of time, Zagreus meets Achilles and Patroclus in Elysium and tbh, the rest of my interest is really in how the altered circumstances change the evolution of their relationships with each other. The pair of warriors were never separated for an extended time and Achilles is less downtrodden and resigned and Patroclus is less bitter and abrasive when Zagreus stumbles upon them.

They don't fight him, which Zagreus counts among his greatest blessings, although Achilles still seems to have an interest. It makes him twitchy and he jumps when Achilles finally lifts his spear and swings it around in his third time in their little glade only to bump the flat of the blade against elbow and tell him to keep it in more towards his body. Zagreus blinks rapidly at him before adjusting his arm.

Achilles helps him here and there, tips and tricks and valuable advice, but he never gives anything near the thorough instruction he did in canon. On one hand, he doesn't need to. Zagreus is a self made fighter and it leaves him with weaknesses but it is also a powerful thing. He is unpredictable and incredibly adaptable and he only continues to improve.

On the other hand, there's no room for it. Achilles is gentle with his guidance, but Zagreus is rubbed raw by all the fighting he's done and all that still depends on it. He doesn't want to always focus on the weapon in his hands. Patroclus notices and curbs Achilles' input when it exceeds its bounds. He sits aside and observers carefully when they spar. Zagreus doesn't need another's direction which is fine by him, who's lost all desire for combat. He gives his aid through his assortment of trinkets that carry Zagreus further to the surface.

Zagreus barely knows what to do with himself in the face of their care. He's so unaccustomed to such generous and genuine support, interest devoid of expectation or blame. As familiarity between the three of them grows, their interactions grow warmer, more tender and comfortable. Their care lays on a foundation, not a hinge, and Zagreus grapples with understanding that he really can lean on it. It all leaves him so uncertain yet so desperate because he wants more than anything to have joy and conversation and company with others where he doesn't shoulder heavy guilt from unspoken accusations over his escaping the house and to have a place he feels he belongs without being an intrusion.

He does at first believe he's intruding, though. Intruding on their time together in the peace of Elysium. It takes them time to convince him that they value his presence immeasurably. The opportunity to stay together in the Underworld has been invaluable for Achilles and Patroclus, but the peace of Elysium is a deceptive thing. It wears away and prickles at them, pressing down in odd warping ways. Patroclus is beyond pleased to have the war behind him and that it can never force him to fight again, and despite Achilles retaining an interest in competition and combat, he does feel the same way. Having a cause though, something to believe in and worth devoting their efforts towards... They didn't realize how deeply they missed it until Zagreus. It is revitalizing. They thrive in his genuine, boundless kindness and long to support him.

The drawings of Orpheus arguing with Hades and Zagreus fighting with Nyx is from one of my plot point ideas. Later down the line, together, Hades, Persephone, and Nyx agree to forbid Zagreus from seeing Achilles and Patroclus at Nyx's behest. Similarly to how she talks about Dusa in canon, she sees mortal shades as beneath his station and that it's highly unbecoming for the prince to be consorting with them. Zagreus fights against the idea ferociously and is only smothered by the threat that, if he seeks them out anyway, Hades will void Achilles' agreement and have Patroclus moved to the proper plane of the Underworld.

It crushes Zagreus. He loves them and cares about them so much and being torn apart from them is a wound that cuts so deep. But even more than that, what breaks him open most, is the fact that it came from someone he cared for and trusted most. Nyx was the one person in the House he could depend on most and this betrayal at her hand is devastating. And for such a worthless reason as propriety and godly vanity. It's not her place to force those upon him. It hurts Zagreus to the core.

Orpheus is the only one willing to stick up for him in this, deeply empathetic to the grief of being separated from loved ones and well acquainted with the fact that such punishments will only damage, never correct. After all, his stint of punishment in Erebus didn't revive his desire to sing, it was Zagreus's dedication and vibrancy that did that. One of the many invaluable gifts Zagreus gave him, including reuniting him with Eurydice, making him happier than he'd been since her death. Orpheus can't keep biting his tongue when all these gods refuse to see any of this.

It all comes to a head dramatically and painfully and I've thought of a few variations on how it would play out. I'll leave it for now though, I might draw it or write it later >:3c Also this got really long lol. Hopefully the idea is at least somewhat interesting!

And here, have the lines from these two drawings because I like the way they look

#hades game #hades supergiant #zagreus #achilles #patroclus #nyx #orpheus #god of ash au #which is a tag i might not use again lol #my art #my writing #i guess #this is so long please forgive me #i had one thought of achilles not working at the house and it drove me to madness #apparently

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munsnz · 3 years ago

Text

TRICKS OF LIFE — STEVE HARRINGTON

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢𝐢. — 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠?

Tags: @itsnottilly

Summary : after the troubling interrogation, Y/N sets back off, possibly created contact with an ex-friend, a bully, a douche bag. Learning the conflict and grudges, tension is brought to them.

Navigation — Mixtape

“Y/N, Y/N. Y/N!” A shout flickered the girl back to the futile, cold office, accompanied by the principal, chief, and the officer, who seemed slightly worried about the girl who seemed to have dozed off into the abundance of memories and thoughts overflowing her own emotions, a sense of guilt welling up on her, “Are you listening?”

Her eyes blinked, watching the concerned adults, who were looking back at her. She shakes her head, her brittle hair moving from side to side, trying her best to hold back tears, not wanting to know of the possibilities of Will not being safe. Remembering a bit of the event that carried on last night, she spoke forward, “I-I only remember leaving early, since I had to be home by six. Will was with the party, so I don’t know much from there.”

Callahan cleared his throat, taking the seat next to her, “Do you know what street he usually takes to go home?”

”Mirkwood,” Y/N fixes her jacket, watching her dad rolls his eyes, remembering the fuss the party made while they interrogated them about a few hours ago. She looks around, the diplomas displayed on the back, tears slightly welled up in her E/C eyes, feeling a pit in her stomach, “I-I’m sorry. Is there any way I could help?”

She snapped.

Heavy streams of tears dropped onto her pale cheeks, now one of her responsibilities of whom she had promised to take care of was gone. If she should’ve stayed a little longer, just an hour more, she could’ve prevented it. It’s all her fault, all her fault. No wonder she was a failure, maybe those dorks from years ago were right. It was all her fault her mom ever divorced Hopper. It’s everything, all her fault-

“Y/N,” A large hand rubbed her back up and down, making her try to feel better, the girl that had her hands buried into her face, looked up to see her dad, sitting beside her, “You just have to keep a brave face, and no investigating okay?”

Her heavy eyes drift towards the bearded man, watching her sternly beside her, she frantically nods. Later then, she provided a bit more information about Will and his family, now that she’s been with them for five years now. Ever since that broad decision was made, it would become one of the most treasured moments in her life, the strong bond brought them together.

Excused from the staff, she strolled back to the hallway, barging through her cluttered backpack to try to find a fresh pack of cigarettes, but none were to be found. She sighed loudly, to swing her backpack to its default position and pacing along the hallway. The realization kept hitting her, her eyes burned, while she quivered, biting her lip. That same feeling inside the principal’s office, the guilt. What was there to be guilty about anyways?

“Oh, won’t you look who it is!” A cocky tone appeared from afar, Y/N gave no shit to turn to the voice but instead continue watching the shiny floor, reflecting the lights above, “I guess Hopper is weeping for her mommy. Oh right, she doesn’t have one.”

Furious at the remark, her eyes darted across to find a brunette, with ‘perfect’ hair, leaning against the metal lockers. Steve fucking Harrington. This boy had it all against the girl, ever since those harsh words being repeated over and over, like a broken cassette, threw her into the lowest state. Y/N’s expressions turned bitter, her nose wrinkled, and pursed her lips, “Stop acting like you’re ten, Steve.”

”I see you’ve been listening,” He raises his eyebrows, snarlingly commenting, shifting his hands to his pockets in his khaki jeans.

“So?” Y/N spoke back, slowing her pace down to be able to talk to him although feeling like the need to ignore back again. Why was she going to bother her time with him?

Oh right.

Steve, her old friend. Accidental friends after he was helping his mom bringing in the groceries on a cool December day, back in her elementary school years. After the kind offering Y/N gave during a small ride around town, it evolved to an odd friendship, one to which Y/N had been too attached. Steve might have found it odd that a girl, a girl, like Y/N Hopper would be around him so much. Clingy, was the word he gave her, was it offensive?

Maybe.

But due to stereotypical construct, you would’ve guessed everyone calling them annoying names, couple names, like two romantics although they were only like, twelve. From “When are you going to marry her?” and the “Where’s your girlfriend?” Honestly, no one else was surprised by Y/N’s small reoccurring crush on him. Stuck like glue, Steve didn’t like this bubbly, excited Y/N anymore, she was pushy. Sick of the repetitive comments to him and meeting new friends, who were dickheads in the girl’s eyes, he wanted to push her away, she was annoying, bratty, and clingy. He listened to those kids, these kids that Steve considered ‘friends’ were total assholes, persuading him to become sort of like them. Only the beginning of the 6th grade. They were stupid, naive, reckless, are what other parents claimed to be, couldn’t they move on.

To this day, she still reckons why she ever told Steve, why was she so dependent on someone with who she’d only been friends for months? Why Steve? Why out of all the friends she supposedly had, why him? It seemed like an utter dependency she had for him, she even knows she must’ve scared him off for being well..... her. Y/N was young, it was one mistake to tell a secret to someone you somewhat knew would tell everyone, right?

”Can I tell you a secret Steve?” Y/N crossed her legs in front of him, playing with her fingers nervously. Awaiting for a bit of truth to be let out. As everyone has supposedly known, Y/N had a supposed mother and sister who were alive, and together. Everyone believed that the Hopper’s were the happy family, her sister was alive along with her mom that was still with them. Truth was, Sarah was dead, Diane divorced Jim when the girl was eleven years old. A broken family, from papers to fighting for custody, it was all crumbled to pieces, unlike close and tight-knit families.

Steve looked up from the ground to meet the girl’s eyes. He slowly shuffled closer to her, “Yeah okay tell me.”

Y/N breathed in and out, before leaning into his left ear, “I don’t have a sister nor a mommy.”

”What?” His chocolate eyes widened, scooting away from her, getting up rapidly to avoid contact, “That’s weird! Everybody has a mom! You’re a freak!”

Frazzled, Y/N sat still, watching him running away, feeling a bit hurt due to his reaction. She thought maybe she trusted him with her life although he didn’t feel the same, she thought that he could’ve been more supportive. What if he was right? Anyways, it was ok, it was his first reaction, it’s normal, right?

Nope, it wasn’t. After finding such intimate information about this girl he wanted to get rid of due to popularity, he set off to tell every single kid at school. Maybe this was for the best, he would get her out of the way to focus on his supposed friends. Creating such influence in the school, he somehow got ahold of everyone to turn their backs on Y/N. Oh, what entirety of hurtful words that they targeted poor Y/N with. Everyone excluded her, the freak, weirdo, dumb girl that didn’t have parents and a dead sister. Everybody no longer liked the lonely Y/N, just a bit of trust would be one to ruin a life. It consequently grew worse, it wasn’t even verbal teasing, it became physical. Steve being stupid and reckless had ruined her life, and for what? Just getting rid of her. Realize, how the effect of one's words to make a benefit can create a rumble over people, they were young and stupid..... can’t that be a proper excuse to move on?

Everyone knows Y/N. Y/N Hopper, the stubborn, tired and selfless girl who held grudges against everyone. They all knew she wasn’t going to move on anytime soon. Subtle changes to herself and her personality, she became quiet, reserved yet so outspoken about her opinions. Everyone seemed to have moved on, back into high school, more mature and old enough to hold responsibilities, but Y/N. A slow hatred burned inside her, even though it was years back, everyone liked Steve. That stayed the same for sure, he was more prissy and above it all, unlike Y/N. It may have seemed like........ they never knew each other. Strange, maybe it was better that they stayed apart.

Gallantly watching her feet stay still under her, she looked back at him cheekily smiling as if nothing had happened. Why did he forget everything? “Shouldn’t you be in class, since when has the Y/N Hopper been so rebellious?”

”I was called to the office,” Y/N mumbled, shrugging her shoulders, trying to drift off into the narrow hallway, “What about you?”

”Thought I could skip, Mrs. Wyatt doesn’t do shit.”

Without spatting anything back, the annoyance of the school bell rang for the third period, students piled out of the classrooms in the crowded hallway. Girls and boys trudged along the place, like birds migrating to their destinations automatically, it may seem like a normal fall day in town, but it would be a life changing experience for some. No one knew Will Byers, why would they care anyways?

Before Steve could look back at the girl, she disappeared into thin air, never to be seen for now, back to the boring classes, but with a small change of Will’s disappearance. One disappearance that could change the whole fate of small-town Hawkins, Indiana.

#Steve Harrington #steve Harrington x reader #steve Harrington fanfic #steve harrington series #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington angst #Steve Harrington fluff #Stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfic #steve Harrington x you #steve Harrington smut

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thegracelessfaceless · 3 years ago

Note

*slithers in*

Can I request some Helen headcanons? Just like general dating him and maybe some nsfw if possible.

@mutat-ad-astra , ₐᄂᵣᵢg𝓱𝚝 yₒᵤ'ᵥₑ 𝚍ₒ𝚗ₑ ᵢ𝚝 𝚗ₒw. ᵢ'ᵥₑ 𝚋ₑ𝚌ₒᗰₑ ₐ 𝘴ᵢᗰ𝐩 fₒᵣ Hₑᄂₑ𝚗 . W𝓱ₐ𝚝 𝚍ₒ yₒᵤ 𝓱ₐᵥₑ 𝚝ₒ 𝘴ₐy fₒᵣ yₒᵤᵣ𝘴ₑᄂf??

(づ￣ ³￣)づ

ꇙꄲ ꇙ꒐ꋊꉔꏂ ꓄ꁝ꒐ꇙ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ꉔꋬꂵꏂ ꄲ꒤꓄ ꇙꄲ ꒒ꄲꋊꍌ, ꒐'ꂵ ꍌꄲ꒐ꋊꍌ ꓄ꄲ ꅐꋪ꒐꓄ꏂ ꋬꋊ꒯ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ꁝꏂ꒒ꏂꋊ'ꇙ ꋊꇙꊰꅐ ꒐ꋊ ꒐꓄ꇙ ꄲꅐꋊ, ꍌ꒒ꄲꋪ꒐ꄲ꒤ꇙ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ❤

ᕼᗴᒪᗴᑎ ᗝ丅Ꭵᔕ/ᗷᒪᗝᗝᗪƳ ᑭᗩᎥᑎ丅ᗴᖇ ᖇᗴᒪᗩ丅ᎥᗝᑎᔕᕼᎥᑭ ᕼᗴᗩᗪᑕᗩᑎᗝᑎᔕ

(With a fem!SO)

♡Let's just get canon out of the way real quick.

♡Helen is very calm and quiet

♡He isn't very expressive and doesn't speak much, but when he does, he's always the picture of the perfect gentleman.

♡If something doesn't concern him, Helen is pretty apathetic towards it. However, if it's something he cares about, Helen will be very passionate.

♡His parents treated him as a pet or toy, and this caused Helen to have repression issues.

♡He won't show emotion towards a person unless they show emotion first, then he will reciprocate. This is essential to remember as Helen's significant other; you'll have to make the first move every time.

♡Helen's a Libra. His birthday is October 1st

♡Helen's parents were so excited when they found out they were going to be parents. That night, Helen's mother dreamed that she had a beautiful baby girl with delicate features, the deepest blue eyes that she had ever seen, and coal black hair so fine that it looked like dark lace against the baby girl's alabaster skin. She woke up certain that she was pregnant with a baby girl that looked just like in her dream. Mrs. Otis went into labor and delivered a baby that indeed looked just like in her dream, but it was a boy. So they decided to continue on and name him Helen, and raise him as they would a little girl.

♡This treatment continued until he started school at six. Then his parents decided to dress him as and refer to him as a boy in order to not draw attention.

♡Helen still suffers from body dysphoria because of this. For a long time, Helen couldn't reconcile whether he was male or female in his mind, so he existed in a chaotic state of one, the other, both and neither all at the same time. Now- after years of therapy, and a great deal of time building his trust with Reader, Helen identifies as agender preferring he/they/it pronouns and a refined but masculine aesthetic.

♡Reader is the only person allowed to call him Helen. And even she doesn't do it often, only when she's serious. He prefers Reader to call him darling, love, honey, dear, and, if he's feeling frisky, Sir 😍. All others may refer to him by his surname, Otis.

♡Helen can be quite manipulative and his intelligence is obvious

♡While in "working" mode, Helen is very cautious of the scene he his creating, and presents every body as if it were a canvas to bear his work.

♡His fascination with blood stems from his childhood. He had always had trouble making friends, only managing one at a time and spaced distantly apart. His only childhood friend had been murdered by bullies in the park, rocks thrown at him for being friends with that "weird sissyboy kid" until one struck his temple, killing him instantly. The bullies had hurriedly buried his friend in the deep snow from the night before. Helen knew this, he had told you, because he had watched it all from his perch in a tree. After the bullies had fled, Helen had uncovered his friend and stared at his body lying in red stained snow, and the bullies later blamed Helen with his friends death. Ultimately, he had been cleared, as there had been a witness in the park.

♡The false accusations of murder didn't stop there, much to your displeasure.

♡In high school, a classmate of Helen's, one who happened to be Helen's only friend, fell from the building and died. A witness said that Helen had killed him, but no concrete evidence was found.

♡Not to say that Helen is an angel. You know he's far from that, too.

♡Later, the same year, as a freshman at university, Helen killed 17 people from his dorm building, and wounded 5 on Devil's Night (October 30th).

♡Helen was found insane by the courts as a minor and received 6 years of inpatient treatment before being released back into society.

♡He started "his work" again three years later, and then met you two years after that.

♡Helen smokes cigarettes (though not as much as Tim) and unwinds after "work" with music and a rum and Coke or whisky on the rocks.

♡Helen enjoys lofi hiphop; classical music; instrumental and instrumental covers of songs; music from the early 1960's like: Frankie Valli, The Big Bopper, the Animals, and the Zombies; and indie rock like The Flaming Lips, Harvey Danger, Dinosaur Jr, and The Smashing Pumpkins.

♡He loves discovering new music with you, listening to playlists you make him for hours. But you're gonna listen to some of his music, too and he makes playlists for you to play according to mood.

♡Helen's love languages are: quality time, acts of service, and words of affirmation. But the love languages he craves are: all of them except receiving gifts! Getting a gift is uncomfortable for Helen, especially if he has no gift to give back. He wants you to feel just as appreciated as you feel, if not more.

♡Helen thought that he was completely asexual before he met you. No one he had met had ever... Moved him in that way. And he was fine with that. Why should he mourn something he'd never even wanted?

♡And then he met you at an antique art showcase of pieces by and inspired by René Magritte. (Example here: ◎▼◎) After you spent hours together at the show, exchanging witty banter, and eventually, phone numbers, Helen found himself thinking about you that night, alone in bed. And then his mind wondered something it had never thought about anyone else. He wondered what you looked like naked. What your skin would feel like. How would you taste?

♡He frowned to himself, confused by the foreign thought for a moment before he realized that he felt sexual desire for you.

♡It still took him a long while of dating you before he felt comfortable enough to even kiss you in a sexual way. The two of you were practically engaged when he gave you his virginity.

♡Bonus wholesome content headcanon/drabble: Once you convinced Helen to bleach his naturally blue black hair. Not wanting to disappoint you, and telling himself that it was just hair, he consented and you happily set to work. An hour later, he emerged from the shower with a shock of platinum white hair 😱. He had to support himself with a hand on the back of the couch because his knees started shaking when he caught a glance of himself in the mirror over the fireplace. A long, thin fingered hand with a fine tremor lifted to cover his mouth. You knew without him telling you that he absolutely, 100%, no doubt, undisputedly hated it. His already porcelain skin had paled even more, now trembling chalk instead of bone China. His midnight blue eyes held a sort of flinching terror in them as they tried to look anywhere but the vicinity of the mantle mirror. You approached him gently and pulled the towel thrown around his shoulders loose and used his shoulder to balance you as you went up on tiptoe to finish drying his now shockingly white hair.

♡You leave Helen waiting shirtless in the living room to deal with putting his shoes and socks on and you pull on a light jacket to guard against the chill that manages to never be around when we need it during the daytime hours as you enter yours and Helen's shared bedroom. You find Helen a clean black tee shirt and pick up one of your beanies from the coatrack behind the bedroom door. This one was black with a tree frog leaping over the words Frog Leap Studios done in a typewriter font in white thread, a circle of bright blue making the frogs eye stand out.

♡You take the shirt and beanie to Helen and he pulls the shirt on. You feel a little sad that he's covering up, but there would be time to enjoy his body later. Helen sits on the couch so you can slip the beanie over his baby fine hair easier than going up on tiptoe to match his 6'2" lean frame. The bleach may have stolen its darkness, but it couldn't steal its softness. Helen's hair was probably the softest thing you'd ever touched.

♡Hair sufficiently covered, you and Helen get into your car and head to the only place open at the hour of 3:24 in the morning. Walmart. Your sleep schedule had never been normal and Helen didn't help you normalize it at all. In fact, if anything it had gotten worse, the two of you wrapped up in your own hyperfixations, leaned up against each other back to back, or one of you holding the other as one of you writes while the other draws.

♡You feel Helen's hand find your thigh and squeeze it, letting you know he's not upset with you. You reached down and covered his hand with yours, returning the squeeze and you finish out the short ride more relaxed now that you know Helen isn't mad at you. Helen follows you to the beauty section once you're inside the store. He patiently watches as you pick out boxes from 4 different companies.

♡An amused Helen watches you as you quibble with the four boxes. You shuffle through them, running through them over and over like a person considering their hand while playing cards.

♡You end up with him bending down slightly again so you can compare the dyes to his eyebrows. He thinks it's the sweetest thing that you're going through such a clear effort to fix his hair. Obviously you feel responsible for the mistake and he hates that.

♡Gently taking the boxes from your hands, he picks a random red and black one from the four you were debating between and puts the rest back on the shelf.

♡Then Helen pulls you into his arms and holds you tight and close, burying a kiss on top of your head. You smile into his chest, breathing in the scent of paint, paint thinner, lavender shampoo, and jasmine soap. On anyone else, the paint thinner smell would have made you sick. But on Helen, it just smelled like home. You two stay in your embrace, Helen swaying slightly to a beat only he could hear. A stolen moment, a stolen dance, to help ground yourselves.

♡Helen broke the hug after a few moments more, but kept hold of your hand. You walk to the checkout line and pay almost $10 for the dye. The price gave you a mild case of sticker shock, but you shook it off and smiled at the older cashier, who was beaming as her eyes moved between you and Helen. The two of you seemed to get that reaction from older people. That look of pure hope that more people got to experience the love that shone between you. You both thank the cashier repeatedly as Helen payed her the money needed.

"You two have a good night" she smiled at us, "the world needs more couples that look at each other the way you do. You look, at each other like you're reach others entire worlds."

"She is" Helen says softly, pulling me into a hug and a quick kiss, "She's my whole universe."

♡You're pretty certain that the woman's smile could not get bigger. But you didn't really want to find out, since you were starting to notice that her teeth were huge and you were starting to get squicked out by it. Helen must have picked up on your discomfort because he led you away in the protective half circle of his arm.

♡"My knight in shining armor" you croon at him as you walk back to the car, "Thank you for saving me. I am forever in your debt. However could I repay you, Sir?"

♡Helen took in a sharp breath and chuckled as he slowly let it out, "I can think of a few things."

♡"You'll have to show me when you have the time" I teased as Helen opened your car door for me. He'd taught you that chivalry was not dead, and you'd realized that it would be easier to let Helen be a gentleman than it would be to convince him that you could open your own doors.

♡You drove home and locked the doors behind you. You headed straight for the bathroom and Helen borrowed a stool from the island bar to sit on so you could reach all of his head.

♡Twenty minutes later, you threw dye covered vinyl gloves in the trash and settled an old towel around Helen's shoulders and neck to keep the dye from dripping on him. You'd clipped a pillowcase over his hair and you had just finished hitting the dye with heat to assure his hair took the dye well, absorbed it.

♡Helen smiled contentedly up at you from his spot on the stool.

♡You tilted his chin up to kiss him. He kissed you back and then sent soft kisses across your cheek and jawbone, and then kissed and nipped down your neck. Helen focused his kisses back on your lips, kissing you like the kisses would magically cure everything, would keep you alive.

♡The timer you'd set so Helen would know when to wash the dye out of his hair went off, and Helen stood

♡Having already taken off his shirt, Helen unfastened his jeans and let them slide down his legs, stepping out of them as they pooled around his feet, leaving him completely nude, comfortable.

♡instead of getting in the shower, Helen pulled you closer to the shower and used his nimble hands to liberate you of your clothes. Before you could protest, or even decide if ypu wanted to get in, Helen had pulled you under the spray of the shower and he stood in it now, extra dye streaming in lines

♡You turned Helen's back to you and massaged his scalp as the water rinsed the excess dye down the drain. When the water ran clear, you massaged some of the color protect conditioner that came with the dye and Helen switched places with you, his hands never leaving your hips so he could catch you if you slipped.

♡Helen washes your back for you and then your hair, lathering up a clean washcloth with jasmine soap and making sure not to miss a spot. Then he rubbed some lavender scented shampoo into my hair. Then he rinsed it and repeated the process before leaving some conditioner to sit in my hair.

♡Finally Helen worked some conditioner into your hair that matched the shampoo. You help Helen rinse everything from his hair and you condition his hair with the rest of the conditioner that came with the dye.

♡Showers with Helen always end up with him bathing you, his hands and keen eye not missing a single millimeter of your skin. Showers rarely turned sexual between the two of you, instead the two of you focused on the intimacy of showering together.

♡After all the soap and hair products are rinsed from both of you, Helen turned off the water and wrapped you in warm towels, quickly drying himself off and slinging a towel around his hips.

♡Helen obviously felt better once his hair was back to its natural inky darkness.

♡You could tell from the mischievous grin he wore as he escorted you to the bedroom.

AN: so I wrote on this well into the night... Fell asleep in the process a few times 😅. If you see continuity issues with the POV, let me know so I can fix it. I kept wanting to write in first person 😂

#creepypasta #helen otis #bloody painter #bloody painter headcanons #helenotisheadcanons #helen otis x reader #bloody painter x reader #tw mental/emotional abuse #tw mention of disregarding someone's gender

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writingtoforgetreality · 4 years ago

Text

I Remember (Malcolm Bright x Reader)

Request: uM hi saw ur request post while i was scrolling through malcolm bright x reader tag lol so may i request an x reader w malcolm where reader's gil's niece or smth so she and mal know each other before he joined the team- and one day where mal was being a dumbass and reader was told to drive mal home and when she was securing his restraints he jokingly asked her to sing to him aNd she did sing and fell asleep on the bed by opposite mal aND he got a good amount of sleep like no night terrors and next day he accidentally slipped that reader ''slept'' w him and gils just like excuse me wtf?? Djkdkdlsjsjs idk i got this idea when i was staring at the ceiling at 4 am instead of doing my essays that were due in the morningxD sorry its p long. Thanks and have a good day/night (by @iwillboilyourteeth), [Prodigal Son-Masterlist]

Summary: Malcolm got hurt again. What a surprise. And, as always, you were right there to take care of him. Tonight, though, things took a turn. For the better or for the worse? Only the future would tell.

Words: 2,142

Warnings: language, love me some sarcasm, fluff, so much fluff, I love writing for Prodigal Son (keep the requests coming)

Song used: “I Remember” by Jason Manns

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

You were sitting in your apartment when your phone started ringing loudly, interrupting your movie marathon. Sighing exaggeratedly, you checked who decided to annoy you at this time. It was not too late but you liked your alone time a lot. Gil. Oh no. That could never be good.

“Uncle Gil. I hope whatever you’re about to tell me is more important than Harry Potter.” pausing the movie you were currently watching, you did not even give him enough time to greet you. A loud sigh could be heard over the phone. One, that made you laugh.

“(Y/N).” his voice was stern & you knew better than to mess with him. Yet, you could not help yourself.

“Yeah, that’s me. You called me, after all.” joking to ease the tension, your giggling was cut short by his next words.

“Malcolm is a dumbass.”

“What a revelation.”

“He’s hurt.” Gil stated. Throwing your head back in frustration, you knew he only called you if he knew it was not too bad. But bad enough to need your help. “I need you to come get him.” it was not even a question, more like an order. Immediately, you grabbed the stuff you needed & headed out of your apartment towards your car.

“Can I yell at him for being reckless?” opening the door, you got inside but before you started the engine, you waited for the call to end. Could not risk getting youself hurt. Malcolm was the stupid one, not you.

“I already did that but I’m sure he’ll appreciate to hear it again.”

“Good.”

“Drive safe.” Gil noted.

“See you in ten.” & with that you drove to the precinct where he would most likely wait for you.

Growing up, you spent a lot of time at Gil’s. Malcolm was there almost always, so you got to meet each other pretty early on. Deep down, you cared for him. More than you should care for a friend. And because of him being a profiler, you were sure he picked up on that as well. Malcolm was just nice enough to not comment on it. Besides, he would tell you that he was too broken anyway. The thing was that it never scared you away. It did the exact opposite, actually. It only made you want him more.

Did you ignore almost every speed limit? Possibly. Your knuckles were white because you had gripped the steering wheel so tightly. One of these days, you would kill Malcolm. He kept getting himself hurt & you were tired of being the one to drive him home afterwards. Of course, you knew Gil only called you because Malcolm trusted you enough but that did not change the fact that you were exhausted.

“What happened?” approaching Gil, your eyes looked around for a sign of Malcolm. “And where the hell is he?”

“Bathroom.” his finger pointed over. “He didn’t call backup & thought dealing with it alone would turn out fine.” Gil was, you could tell, almost as tired as you. Not only of Malcolm acting recklessly but also because of a long day at work.

“What a surprise.” your sarcasm got the best of you. But it helped you coping with your feelings sometimes. “Uncle Gil?” his head snapped up when you said his name.

“Yes?”

“Go home & get some sleep. I got it from here, promise.” your sweet smile was convincing enough & with a nod, he turned around & walked away.

“(Y/N)?” Malcolm noticed you when he walked out of the bathroom. His face was covered in bruised & by the way he was limping, you were sure that his entire body had to be sore. “Where’s Gil?”

“I sent him home.” shrugging as if it were nothing, you gave Malcolm a look. He knew what it meant but apparently, he wanted to play dumb.

“What?” his head tilted slightly & if it were not for his damn puppy eyes & for the fact that he was hurt, you would be the cause of his bruises. Not quite literally but still. Rolling your eyes at him, you crossed your arms over your chest.

“You’re stupid, I hope you know that.”

“I do, but we caught the killer, so it was worth it.” he casually stated.

“Is it really worth risking your life, Mal?” shaking your head shortly, you were not in the mood to discuss this any further. A simple gesture of your hand was enough to show him that you wanted to get going. “Come on, I’m gonna bring you home.”

“You’re mad.” Malcolm noted when the both of you walked outside back to your car. Sighing loudly, you stopped for a brief moment.

“Yes. I’m mad because I can’t even count how many times we’ve been in this exact situation anymore. And it sucks. Because every single time Gil calls me, I think he’ll tell me that you didn’t make it out like you always do.” Malcolm’s eyes widened when you explained how you were feeling. Your body brushing past his made him turn around & follow you without another word. It was silent between you two until you arrived inside Malcolm’s apartment.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” he spoke up, his voice much softer now. When you saw him struggling to pull off his coat, you walked over to him to help him out.

“You don’t owe me an apology, Mal.” your back faced him when you went to put his jacket away.

“I do. You always take care of me when shit like that happens. And I wanted you to know that I don’t take that for granted. If I were you, I would’ve stopped caring a long time ago.”

“You know as much as I do that this won’t ever happen.” & it was true. Malcolm could mess up over & over again. Could get himself hurt & all that. But you would always be here to catch him, no matter what.

“I don’t deserve you.” his eyes bore into yours & by the look he gave you, you knew he was not talking about you taking care of him when he was hurt. He was referring to you as a person. Basically, he wanted to make you understand that he was not worthy of your love. Which was bullshit to you.

“You deserve so much & it hurts that you don’t see it.” the conversation dropped for the time being. Navigating your way through his apartment, you looked for something he could wear to bed. Soon enough, you found something suitable & when you walked back into the room ,you found Malcolm already sitting on his bed, head hanging low. He stopped you when he noticed your hands grabbing the shirt he was wearing. Sending him a confused look, your eyebrows raised in question.

“I think I can handle it from here on.” taking the clothes from you, he went to strip himself out of his workwear. Surprisingly, he could not move his body enough to achieve anything.

“Yeah, I can see that. Come on, don’t act like that, Malcolm.” it was not the first time you had helped him undressing. As mentioned earlier, the two of you had been in this situation too many times to count.

It did not take long & he was wearing comfortable clothes. After asking if he needed anything else, you went straight to his restraints & helped strapping him in. It amazed Malcolm how you were not weirded out by the fact that he had to be held down in order to have at least a few hours of sleep.

“(Y/N)?” his voice was barely above a whisper but your humming let him know that you heard him. “Can you sing something for me?” it was meant to be a joke, he simply wanted to ease the tension between you guys. Thinking about it for a second, you came to the conclusion that it would not hurt to do that. Maybe it would help him fall asleep? Malcolm eyes widened when you actually started singing quietly. It was soothing & he closed his eyes to focus solely on your voice.

Hey you, when I saw you walk in there

And I couldn’t help but stare

At the way you move your hands

‘Cause it’s the little things you do that drive me crazy

And now, let’s forget about the crowd

And just concentrate on us

So that you can know what I want you to know

I remember how it started

You had everything I wanted

I was helpless to resist

But I didn’t want to

Only if you would hold me tight

As we talked all through the night

About those things you won’t tell no one else

I know that we’ve got long ways to go

But I want you to know

That I’ll be there till the end, so don’t you worry

I remember how it started

You had everything I wanted

I was helpless to resist

But I didn’t want to

‘Cause I fell in love with you-ou-ou

After you finished, Malcolm still had his eyes closed, he just laid there for a while, recalling the words of the song. He knew what you were trying to tell him but if he had to be honest, he was scared. If the two of you were to try something, he thought you would leave him the moment you realized his demons were too much for someone to handle. Malcolm did not hear you leave his apartment, neither did he feel a movement. Opening his eyes slowly, he found you sound asleep right next to him. Your peaceful form made him smile brightly. Contemplating if he should wake you up, he decided against it in the end. Deep down, he knew you would not judge him he if he had a night terror next to you. And if he were honest, having you with him made him incredibly calm. That night, he fell asleep almost immediately, without any nightmares invading his dreams. The reason for it was you. Only you.

Malcolm woke up early the next morning. Work called. Okay, maybe Gild had told him to take a few days off but everyone who knew Malcolm, knew that he did not listen to such orders. Or any orders, in general. You were still asleep when he loosened his restraints. He left you a note behind before leaving his apartment for work.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay at home?” Gil questioned the second Malcolm entered the office where the rest of the team was already up & working.

“You did but I’m fine.” Gil rolled his eyes at his words. Usually, whenever Malcolm insisted on being fine, he was everything but. Examining his face closer, Gil was shocked to see him so…well rested?

“Wait. How much did you sleep last night? You look unusually awake.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s because I slept with (Y/N) last night.” Malcolm spoke casually & went to examine the pictures that were displayed on the table in the middle of the room. Gil’s eyebrows raised at that. Dani only sent him a weird look & JT almost choked on his coffee at Malcolm’s confession. There were some things he did not want to know & his love life was one of it.

“Excuse me, what now?” Gil was the first one to press the topic further. Everyone knew how protective he could get when it came to you, his niece. When Malcolm turned around, he found three pairs of eyes looking sternly at him. Wait, what did he say? Realization washed over his face & he only now noticed how wrong his words sounded without any given context.

“No, wait…That came out wrong.” closing his eyes briefly, he prepared an explanation for his confused co-workers. “(Y/N) drove me home yesterday & she helped me with my restraints & all. She fell asleep & I didn’t wanna wake her up.” Malcolm’s hands gestured wildly, not wanting to give them the wrong impression of last night’s events. JT pretended to understand what he explained even though he had no idea & frankly, he did not care too much. Malcolm had lost Dani’s interest a while ago, she continued working on the next case. Only Gil was left. He gave Malcolm a knowing look, went over to him & patted him on the shoulder.

“You better take care of her, Bright. Or you have to deal with me.” his threatening smile creeped Malcolm out but he knew Gil was only trying to keep you safe. Maybe you were the right one for him. Last night was proof enough. It was scary to take that next step but on the other hand, he wanted to take that risk. He wanted to give it a try. For the both of you.

Published (04/20/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @octopus5555 (thanks for your support <3)

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miraculouscontent · 3 years ago

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where do i even begin

The focus in this episode is all over the place and also on none of the right things.

Let’s just start with the obvious: they didn’t even bother showing Alya's reaction to Marinette being Ladybug. We got nothing. Marinette revealing her identity to Alya is supposed to be a big deal, but the episode brushes it under the rug and even seems to lowkey blame Marinette for not telling Alya sooner, to the point where it outright lies and has Alya claim that Marinette’s secret was responsible for all of Alya’s Lady Wifi appearances.

It’s not like I’m surprised anymore when the show blames Marinette for like--anything, but the fact that this season seems to brag about its continuity by being on a firm timeline and then keeps going against continuity is really irritating.

And speaking of continuity, the Adrien pictures are back on the wall with absolutely no reason given. Narratively speaking, the show put them there so Alya would see them and think of bringing up Adrien to get Marinette to take a break, but the show can’t just do that if it wants to imply that it has continuity. Worse still is that this is the episode featuring “Charm Bug” (does her form have a name? I just call it Charm Bug and continue to do so), meaning that “Gang of Secrets” (where there were no Adrien pictures) has to take place before this and “Furious Fu” (where there are also no Adrien pictures) has to take place after.

At this point, they might as well just confirm that “destiny” is a real force and the ladybug miraculous is messing with Marinette’s room and twisting her emotions to make the love square endgame because--yeah, that’s all it is at this point.

The other thing is that Alya shoos Marinette away from her guardian duties so Marinette can go comfort Kagami (let’s be honest, the best part of the episode was Alya being like, “but what about Adrien?” and Marinette was basically like, “what about Adrien?”), which sounds great, but then it all goes back to Adrien, because of course it does.

Not only that, but the episode mocks Marinette for worrying about Kagami. Not only does Alya doubt Marinette’s concern, but Kagami isn’t at all affected by the break-up and isn’t even touched by Marinette’s worry.

The thing is, I get where Marinette’s coming from, because this is the Kagami who told Ladybug in “Heart Hunter” that she (Kagami) and Adrien were perfect for each other to the point where Kagami prioritized her potentially getting together with Adrien over her friendship with Marinette. Also keep in mind that Marinette is Kagami’s only friend, and it makes total sense that Marinette would expect Kagami to be devastated by the break-up.

But because it’s Miraculous, the show makes Marinette look like an idiot for being concerned for Kagami, as if saying, “Silly Marinette! Kagami’s not like you! Kagami is a strong independent woman!! You’re just so over-emotional and you were ridiculous for being sad about your own break-up! You should be more like her!”

I also don’t like it because it presents Kagami as this character who really does feel nothing due to the show not letting her. She was angry at Adrien, obviously, but she was also immensely upset and it made sense when she put so much effort in trying to get him to return her affections.

Buuuut no. Kagami is just annoyed by Marinette’s efforts to try and get her back together with Adrien (it’s not that her anger isn’t warranted, but that’s all they let her feel instead of any genuine sadness over the break-up).

And of course, there’s no mention about Marinette literally trying to help get Kagami back together with Adrien and how selfless that is on Marinette’s part. Obviously I don’t agree with Marinette disregarding Kagami’s feelings (I do hate though how the episode refused to have Kagami explain why Adrien upset her, which would help Marinette understand because she seems to think there’s a misunderstanding/Kagami doubting herself), but the episode refuses to acknowledge Marinette’s good intentions because it’s Marinette and because she’s supporting Adrimi and not the love square, so they’ll make her look as bad as possible. This led to the fandom talking about Marinette and her oBsEsSiOn with Adrien instead of saying UM HI YEAH MARINETTE IS DOING A “HEART HUNTER” 2.0??

(The show also does this consistently, by the way.)

Another thing the show won’t acknowledge is that what Marinette does with Kagami is extremely similar to what Alya does with Marinette. Alya has ignored Marinette’s agency, physically pushed her towards Adrien, and locked her in a room with Adrien no matter how many times Marinette has told her no and that she doesn’t want that.

But because it’s Marinette and because what she’s shipping is Adrimi (i.e: a ship that interferes with the love square), the episode absolutely tears her apart for it. If Alya’s meddling was treated the same way - where she’d be constantly put in the wrong and punished for it - I wouldn’t say a word about this, but we know that’s not the case from “Reflekdoll” (where Reflekta targeted Marinette and Rose of all people) and “The Puppeteer 2″ (hey, remember when Alya did all of that and then it was the museum staff who did nothing wrong who got the worst of Puppeteer’s wrath?).

And this isn’t even taking into consideration that, once again, Marinette has learned something from someone else because they were never called out or punished or learned (originally being Adrien/Bustier where she “learned” to trust Chloe and see where that got her???), and then she’s the one who gets the heat for it.

Might I also add how insulting it is that the episode before this had Marinette saying that she “didn’t want to focus on love,” and then immediately afterwards, Alya is pushing for Adrienette and the episode itself won’t let anyone shut up about Adrien?

Like, this is the episode where Marinette does guardian stuff, gets an upgrade in Charm Bug, and yet the episode hyperfocuses on Aaaaaadrien. He doesn’t even do anything; he’s just a black hole that inhales all available attention and magically pulls all the characters towards his general location.

Then the episode keeps breaking its own continuity as an excuse to make things more about Adrien and also more about the love square, like saying that Marinette carries her disguises everywhere when it’s really just an excuse for Marinette to conveniently have the umbrella so that they can recreate the umbrella scene (by the way, the line from Marinette about “recreating Kagami’s moment where she fell in love with Adrien” is both incredibly forced and incredibly obvious because we’ve never even seen how Kagami fell for Adrien).

And when you already know how the show goes, it all becomes so predictable, which is a huge problem. By the time you hear Marinette say that she “didn’t want to focus on love” last episode, you already know what’s going happen. This episode reaffirms Marinette’s crush on Adrien, which is weird because it’s not as if there was ever any doubt in the first place? The show didn’t even try to convince its audience that Marinette was actually trying to move on, which gives the scene no impact when it happens. We already know that Marinette isn’t really in denial (she’s not stupid) and is very likely saying that she’s not in love with Adrien because admitting it hasn’t gotten her anywhere and she’s repeating something to herself is an attempt to make it true (which is a common coping mechanism for people with self-esteem issues/anxiety), so the scene is just for shipping fuel.

We’ve seen future episodes that show that Marinette hasn’t made any actual progress, hence being another piece of evidence towards my theory that the show does it on purpose to get the Adrienette fans to freak out when anything happens even if it’s reversed in the end. It’s particularly frustrating because it denies Marinette of agency yet again, with her saying something and the show then going lol okay but what if--

It’s gross, and made more so by Kagami watching Marinette and Adrien from a distance and saying that they’re “made for each other.” I’ve talked many times before about how the show is too lazy to have actual chemistry between the love square so they’ll just have characters say that they’re meant to beeeeee, so I won’t go into that, but really, actually think about what Kagami’s saying here.

This is the guy that, in her eyes, abandoned her repeatedly on dates and lied in order to get away from her. She stated outright that Adrien had disappointed her to the point where all of her feelings for Adrien seemed to have completely disappeared and she didn’t even want to be friends with him anymore (at least for now).

Yet, the show had Kagami not only say that line, but told Marinette directly that Adrien was perfect for her. This means either one of two things, neither being good:

- the show intentionally had Marinette do all this so that Kagami would feel embarrassed for Adrien and thus fix all of Adrimi’s relationship problems without Adrien having to do any work to earn her trust back (notice how Adrien in this episode is an “extra good boy” this time around, probably even more than they usually try - keyword: try - to portray him)

- Kagami’s opinion on Adrien hasn’t changed at all and she’s essentially saying that Marinette belongs with this guy who has hurt Kagami, betrayed her trust, and will probably do the same to Marinette

And obviously the show doesn’t think about any of that. It just wants to push for the love square. The only reason there was any focus on Kagami at all was to have a reason to get Marinette to go to Kagami, for Kagami to get angry at Marinette because - as we all know - Marinette “has to mess up and learn in every episode,” so there’d be a reason to go to where Adrien was, and so Kagami could become the next local shipper for the love square.

Marinette didn’t even get to figure out the magical charms by herself; Rena Rouge gave her the answer. It was like the show saw her doing guardian work and shoved her out the door because the only thing she’s good for is being part of the love square. Alya gets seconds of time shown with her looking over the grimoire to figure out the trick, which makes the whole thing underwhelming and rushed when Rena comes up and tells Ladybug that it’s essentially “just been about her” the whole time, meaning it’s just the show yet again being like “see, Marinette? If you’d just figured this out bEfORe...” (note that the episode never tells Marinette that she’s unnecessarily guilting/blaming herself)

But yeah, despite the episode not giving Adrien anything to do, characters talk about him constantly, Marinette somehow doesn’t get the spotlight she needs despite getting a power-up form, and the episode feels the need to constantly railroad Marinette exactly where it wanted to go, not for her, but for the love square, which has always been about not her. It’s already bad when the episode itself is bad, but when it has so much to throw in and delivers on absolutely none of it, it just makes it all the more painful.

#category: salt #episode: Mr. Pigeon 72 #other: ml spoilers #other: ask and answer

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tossawary · 4 years ago

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Because my brain does NOT stop even when I’m grounded, today my brain told me, “Hey, I figured out how to make a Hobbit Fusion AU work.” And I was like, “Great! We’re working, though.” And my brain was like, “I’ve figured out how to make it a Pre-Canon Canon Divergence AU for Moshang.”

And I was like, “...I’m listening.”

The Hobbit is another one of my Comfort Media and it got brought up when I was asking about that, but I was feeling kind of “eh” about mixing Tolkien mythology with SVSSS. I mean, the mental picture of Dwarf Mobei-Jun is extremely funny and Shang Qinghua would make a great hobbit! But that interpretation felt a little too direct for my AU tastes.

So, hm, now I have another potential Big Bang contender. My love for The Hobbit is very, VERY strong and looking at my current outline, I have to be like, “Yeah, this could be 50,000 words, no problem.”

It’s a very good outline!

After saving Mobei-Jun, Shang Qinghua bailed A.S.A.P. because he honestly thought Mobei-Jun was going to kill him. He psyched himself out of sticking around before Mobei-Jun woke up. Mobei-Jun didn’t get enough information to track Shang Qinghua down.

Shang Qinghua (who isn’t SQH because he isn’t the Peak Lord) decides that he can’t fucking take it anymore and bails from Cang Qiong Mountain Sect too. The System objects, but also falls into line when Airplane shrieks at it. Airplane is going to go become a humble merchant and inventor and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop him!

It turns out that Shang Qinghua’s presence or help was actually crucial to stop some Emperor of the Abyss from taking over the Ice Palace and the Northern Desert. Airplane is like, “Oh, yeah, I remember… offhandedly writing something about that happening in the past off-screen?” It was one of those things that he just threw in there because it sounded really cool, and it gave Mobei-Jun another reason to “owe” Shang Qinghua and not kill him immediately, but he never got to elaborate on it because he was too busy writing stallion novel bullshit.

So, borrowing the lore from my “Horns” one-shot, an extremely powerful Emperor of the Abyss escaped the Eternal Abyss. This is some devouring horror being from the depths of the abyss, which ate everything in its vicinity in the abyss itself and crawled into the Demon Realm to eat more things. The Emperor of the Abyss was attracted to Mobei-Jun’s father. They fought. Mobei-Jun’s father should have won, but didn’t, because he was too fucked up (thanks to his own hedonism or something) to fight properly. What an asshole.

Mobei-Jun’s father was killed and devoured by the Emperor of the Abyss, which has made it… exponentially powerful. It’s now… basically a calamity. The desolation that it leaves in its wake across the Northern Desert is unspeakable. Mobei-Jun and his family, their allied clans, and pretty much all demons in the Northern Desert have had to flee.

Mobei-Jun is currently essentially a “guest” of the Sha Clan. He’s homeless. He’s lost the power of his ancestors. He’s a “king” without a kingdom. It’s humiliating. He needs to kill the abyssal creature to retrieve: his title, his ancestors’ power, and his kingdom.

While working for other demon clans to support his family and people, Mobei-Jun crosses paths with Airplane. Airplane has become a relatively successful merchant and inventor, and he calls himself Shang Houhua. He lives a very comfortable life and does his best to ignore anything resembling the plot. He’s pretty successful at ignoring the plot.

Mobei-Jun is never in a good mood these days, but he’s especially pissed off to see that human who abandoned him all those years ago. Airplane tries to argue that Mobei-Jun told him to fuck off, but Mobei-Jun is too angry. Airplane makes lots of offers in an effort to get Mobei-Jun to spare his life, one of which ends up being a claim that he can help Mobei-Jun kill the Emperor of the Abyss and make him a king again. Mobei-Jun pauses, now even more pissed off than before, and Airplane just starts babbling desperately to save his own skin.

Mobei-Jun was already forming a company to take on a Quest for the Northern Desert - in the hopes of slaying the Emperor of the Abyss and retaking his homeland. Part of the issue has been that forming the company is difficult. Mobei-Jun wants people who are loyal to HIM and ONLY to him. He won’t owe anyone else anything or promise them pieces of his homeland.

(Airplane is like, “Bro, I don’t know if you can afford to be so picky, but okay.”)

So Mobei-Jun is like… “I still want to kill you, but fine, you can come on our quest and help us.”

So Airplane ends up on the Quest for the Northern Desert, led by his very angry future murderer the “king without a kingdom” Mobei-Jun, to fight the calamitous Emperor of the Abyss who killed Mobei-Jun’s father. Fuck.

Some details beyond this opening premise:

Airplane and Mobei-Jun fall in love over the course of the quest, obviously. They have their own hijinks like each chapter of The Hobbit (equivalents to the trolls, to Rivendell, to Goblintown, to Beorn, to Mirkwood, and to Laketown, etc.).

Oh, damn, I just realized that making a pre-fall Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang the Beorn equivalents would be so fucking funny.

The Emperor of the Abyss is a horrifying Smaug equivalent. It can totally talk because Airplane having a conversation with a draconian horror sounds incredible. I would love to have Airplane outwit the Emperor of the Abyss in some fashion.

Mobei-Jun and Airplane somehow manage to successfully kill the Emperor of the Abyss together. Like, together. Probably using some plot device whipped up or some clever plan devised by Airplane on his feet. Mobei-Jun trusts Airplane at a crucial moment and it all works out. Airplane actually gets Mobei-Jun his kingdom back.

I’m tempted to just skip over the Ring and not having a Ring equivalent. BUT if I made this into a longfic instead of a one-shot, I would have a Ring equivalent (if it was a one-shot, I would ditch the Ring equivalent). I think I would make Xin Mo the One Ring equivalent. During the Goblintown equivalent event, Airplane falls either into the Eternal Abyss or into Bing-Ge’s dimension, where he proceeds to successfully take up Xin Mo because he knows the trick and portal himself out of the Eternal Abyss, or he proceeds to outwit Bing-Ge in some fashion and uses the Xin Mo sword to portal himself back to the right dimension.

So then Airplane is stuck with this super powerful sword that he doesn’t want to use again because he KNOWS that it will fuck him up. He KNOWS that it will FUCK HIM UP. So Airplane has to go through the rest of the quest ignoring the temptation of the Xin Mo sword that he is absolutely not supposed to have and can’t possibly let anyone else have.

(Oh, man, imagining the influence of Xin Mo giving Airplane extra horny thoughts about Mobei-Jun on the rest of the quest is very funny. Like, Airplane was already hot for Mobei-Jun, but now it’s worse and he might never have a normal thought ever again.)

Bagginshield Movie Hug when Airplane turns up again, for sure. Mobei-Jun thought he was dead. Mobei-Jun smiles and everything, until he remembers to frown again.

I’m feeling like I don’t want Airplane to use Xin Mo to help defeat the Emperor of the Abyss, but it makes sense if he does. Him not using it doesn’t make much sense. I do like the idea of Airplane dealing the killing blow and Mobei-Jun’s pride being hurt by Airplane being the one to kill it. I also like the idea of Mobei-Jun being a little smitten by Airplane just… loyally handing him his kingdom and restoring the power of his ancestors. I also really like the idea of Airplane just… not having some super powerful plot device up his sleeve on the quest.

Like, instead of Airplane’s Author God knowledge totally setting him up to deal with this thing no problem, Airplane had NO FUCKING PLAN when he set out with Mobei-Jun. He was talking completely out of his ass when he said he knew how to help Mobei-Jun. That this all worked out at all is almost completely due to luck and improvisation.

That feels MUCH more true to both Shang Qinghua and to Bilbo Baggins. Lucky lads of fast-talking, complaining, lying, not knowing what the fuck is really going on, thirsting after kings with tragic backstories, and somehow not dying despite winging it all the time.

Instead of goldsickness, Mobei-Jun is forced to deal with some side-effects of consuming the Emperor of the Abyss to regain the power of his ancestors. (Demon cannibalism rituals. Yeah.) He starts acting really scary and out-of-character and forceful, until Airplane loses his nerve and runs away. Maybe under the influence of the late Emperor of the Abyss, Mobei-Jun actually tries to kill him? I could see Mobei-Jun trying to kill Airplane for the Xin Mo sword which dealt the finishing blow on the Emperor of the Abyss.

(I need a better name for this thing. If I can’t come up with something that actually sounds good, I might just call it “The Calamity”, but that’s giving me BOTW vibes so I don’t like it. Maybe I’d call it “The Desolation” or something? Ehhhh, I don’t really like that either.)

I want to have a Battle of the Five Armies equivalent, if only so Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang can swoop in as benevolent helpers as the Beorn equivalents. Currently, I’m seeing three options. 1) The orc army equivalent are neighboring demon lords who want to strike while the new Mobei-Jun is getting established. 2) The orc army equivalent is Linguang-Jun trying to kill his nephew and take power at the last minute. 3) The orc army equivalent is Bing-Ge here with an army and he’s pissed off and wants his sword back.

On one hand, 1 and 2 would be SO MUCH EASIER to pull off. I could be really lazy about the whole thing. On the other hand, 3 would be much fresher (more surprising and links back to the Xin Mo element), more challenging and the idea of pre-fall Tianlang-Jun facing off with Bing-Ge delights me. Kick his ass, Tianlang-Jun!

(Su Xiyan gets involved? My brain says YES. Kick his ass, Su Xiyan!)

Also, I was sad about there being no Fili and Kili equivalents, because Mobei-Jun has no friends, and I’ll have to make up a company pretty much from scratch. (Sha Hualing is too young and Luo Binghe hasn’t been born yet.) BUT then I was like, “Where’s Linguang-Jun in all this?” And I would absolutely have Linguang-Jun be a part of Mobei-Jun’s Company. Instead of nephews, Mobei-Jun has a sketchy uncle who might be trying to kill him. Keeping Linguang-Jun out of it might be easier, but actually doing some character-building with him sounds fun and challenging, and I’d rather limit the number of OCs if possible.

Mobei-Jun manages to shake off the goldsickness equivalent somehow, probably through “the power of love” (and/or straight-up “dual cultivation” with Airplane?). Moshang makes up while Mobei-Jun is apparently mortally wounded from fighting Bing-Ge and Airplane thinks this is all his fault. But Mobei-Jun doesn’t die! It’s all good!

It’d be pretty funny if there was a “Returning to the Shire” equivalent where Airplane leaves because he thinks Mobei-Jun hates him now and never wants to see him again. So then Mobei-Jun has to track his man down like, “Get back here and marry me. (Also I am so sorry for trying to kill you. Please forgive me. I hate myself so much for that.)”

And they all live happily ever after!

Holy shit, this wasn’t in Proud Immortal Demon Way.

#svsss hobbit fusion au #tossawary updates #tossawary svsss #moshang #mobei jun #shang qinghua #comfort media fusion aus #fic ideas

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themaribatpit · 3 years ago

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Jasonette July Day 12: Dare

Written by: The Maribat Pit @jasonette-july-event Prompt: Dare Rated: T (Drink responsibly my friends) A/N: Maribat fangirl went to Uni in the UK. Most people thought they could outdrink the Americans, and that American beer tasted horrible. DC fanboy isn’t much of a drinker. Also we planned this earlier, but I saw this blog post from @ritacrow-blogrequesting something similar a few days ago, so here you go. I don’t know if you’re a fan of the in vino veritas/drunken confession trope, so feel free to skip it if you aren’t.

“So, why are we doing this again?” Tim asked hesitantly, as they gathered in the Wayne Manor lounge. “Because Pixie Pop here issued a challenge, and I don’t plan on letting her win”, Jason explained with a smirk. “All she said was ‘American drinking laws are bullshit’, and it’s not like you don’t know the name of every single bar in Gotham that doesn’t card.” Tim retorted. “She also said American beer tastes gross, so I don’t know why you brought Budweiser of all things”.

“She dared us to try and drink her under the table, and I’m sure as hell not backing down.” Jason hissed, and Tim decided that it was pointless trying to argue. The whole reason Tim and Steph were even involved was because they had just turned 18, which meant they were allowed to take part in this little drinking competition. Alfred was in the corner of the room keeping score, someone had to, considering the night they were about to have.

After they all gathered in the lounge, it was time for the challenge to begin. Barbara quietly sipped her glass of wine, curling into Dick’s side as she watched the movie playing on the TV. Jason and Dick had downed a bottle of beer each, waiting for Marinette to finish her first glass of wine. Marinette rested her back against Jason’s arm as she watched the movie play out, the night had just begun and she wasn’t about to let them win. She wouldn’t be able to look any non-American person in the eye if they knew she got out drunk by them. Marinette took in the soft glow of the lounge, alternating between leaning on the sofa or Jason’s leather-clad shoulder. It almost reminded her of her home city at night. She looked around at the people she had come to know, fairly certain she had the dopiest smile on her face at that moment.

She had arrived in Gotham City not long ago, and she was surprised to find that some of them welcomed her with open arms. Not all of them, obviously, some were a bit more welcoming than others. Bruce didn’t really trust her as a magic user, and Damian usually kept to himself. Preferring to be alone with his pets, Titus and Alfred (the cat). The others assured her not to take it too personally, that they are like that with everyone. With Jason, it was hard to tell what he thought about her. Dick was like an older brother to everyone, and in some ways reminded Marinette of Chat Noir, alot. While Barbara, Steph and Cass were like the sisters Marinette didn’t have. Tim was at least somewhat curious about her powers and how they worked, hard as he tried to fight it in the beginning.

With Jason, it was much harder to tell at times. He wasn’t quite as closed off as Damian, though sometimes she found him in the Wayne Manor library reading by the window. They had each other’s backs in a fight, and the fact that she was much smaller compared to him earned her the nickname “Pixie Pop”. They worked well together on missions, and there was plenty of friendly banter between them. There was almost a veneer of sarcasm and bravado.

The only time it showed any sign of falling was when his pit madness took over. Even then she was more focused on asking Plagg and Tikki for help, seeing as it was their magic causing this. There was no fixing it, but they had managed to help get it under control. Marinette was almost frustrated when he woke up to find her waiting at his bedside, after working around the clock to keep the madness at bay. The sounds of him screaming and thrashing around were still ringing in her ear, and the most that he could muster was “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you there, Pixie.” he drawled.

“Pixie, you there?” Jason gently poked her on the shoulder and she realised that she had been staring into her wine glass for a moment. She took a large gulp before setting the glass down on the table, the night had just begun.

As the night went on, Tim was not impressed with how beer tasted. “People actually drink this stuff for fun?” he muttered. He was starting to think Marinette might have a point about how American beer tasted. Sadly the old adage of “liquor before beer, you’re in the clear” meant that it was too late to try Steph’s approach. Steph was nursing a Jack Daniels and coke as she watched the film, letting that light of the TV screen dance in front of them.

Later into the night, Tim was getting tipsy at that point. Considering this was his first time drinking, Marinette gave him a smile that said “you get points for trying”. If Steph wasn’t drunk now, she was going to be feeling the effects very soon. She mostly drank spirits chased down with soda and juice. Barbara had already left after a couple of glasses of wine, deciding to leave the rest of them to this game. Jason and Dick had beer bottles lined up in front of them, almost as if they were competing with each other first. Marinette continued to leisurely sipped her wine, knowing that she was their final boss at that moment.

In the end, only Marinette and Jason were left in the lounge. Steph left had already left, and Tim followed not long after, Alfred helped get Dick into bed after he nearly passed out on the coffee table. “It’s you and me, Poxie Pip” Jason slurred, Alfred occasionally came in to check on them.

Marinette, who at this point was slightly tipsy, leaned in close and whispered in his ear “What’s the matter? Afraid you’ll lose?”

“There’s worse ways to go, Pixie, trust me.” he laughed, Marinette gave him a very sad smile. He finished the last of his beer bottle before laying down on the sofa, resting his head on Marinette’s lap. Marinette was certain she could feel her face heating up, she could hear her heart pounding in her chest as she looked down at him.

“Are you sure my teeny tiny legs can support your big head?” she joked. Great, now she was doing it too. she looked away in hopes that he couldn’t see the blush on her face. She didn’t get Asian glow, but now she was really hoping she had that as an excuse.

“I’ve seen you lift goons twice your size and throw them across rooms,” he laughed “besides, this feels kinda nice.” he mumbled.

“Yeah but that was me as Ladybug, it’s also what keeps me from tripping over air and landing on my face.” she explained. She didn’t think her heart would be able to handle looking down to see one of the few times she saw him completely at peace. She was used to people who preferred her as her alter ego anyhow.

“I guess you win this round,” he slurred, Marinette still hadn’t moved his head from her lap. If anything, her free hand was working its way through his dark locks of hair. He smiled, letting himself be lulled to sleep by the simple yet kind gesture. “Serves me right,” he yawned, “getting drunk with a fairy princess.”

Marinette turned her attention back to the last of her wine, “there he goes again, making silly jokes like that.” she thought. “Especially with one as pretty as you,” he laughed. Marinette was about to get up at that moment, now he was just being ridiculous. “I like you...” were the last words he said before letting sleep take him.

It was everything Marinette could do not to drop her wine class on the floor in shock. Marinette thought she heard wrong. She shook her head, what did it matter? I mean, she had called her friends pretty loads of times before, it’s not like he said he loved her or anything. These were things that you said to friends all the time, right? At that moment, there was a knock on the door, Alfred came in and saw Jason asleep in Marinette’s lap. “I was just about to leave could you maybe help Jason get back to his room? That would be great thanks Alfred.” she quickly spluttered before dashing out of the lounge and down the hallway in search of an empty guest room to sleep in.

Jason tragically awoke the next morning with a hangover and a vague memory of what had happened the night before. He thought this was probably the very reason why Bruce did not drink. Alfred came in with a tray of chilli dogs and water, to nurse the hangover. “Thanks Alfred,” Jason groaned, “do I even wanna know what happened last night?”

“If you must know Master Todd, you won second place in last night’s drinking competition.” He explained, Jason sighed, Marinette wasn’t going to let him live that down. He still had to admit he was impressed with her. “Miss Dupain-Cheng seemed rather flustered after you compared the experience to ‘getting drunk with a fairy princess’ and confessed your admiration and affection for her.” It was all coming back to him now, and he was about to be sick. He told her that he thought she was pretty and that he liked her. He wasn’t wrong, but it probably didn’t sound as romantic coming from someone who was probably very drunk. He reached for the chilli dog, hoping that he would be able to keep it down. “In vino veritas indeed, or in birro veritas in your case”, Alfred quoted. Jason took a sip of water, still too stunned to speak. “If you still hold such affection for Miss Dupain-Cheng, might I suggest telling her when you’ve sobered up?” he suggested, giving Jason a slight sympathetic smile.

“I’ll try, thanks Alfred” he replied as Alfred left the room, leaving him to his thoughts.

A couple of days later, Marinette was sitting in her studio, drinking a warm mug of hot chocolate. Jason hadn’t called her or spoken to her since the party, and she had hoped that he had just drunkenly forgotten his little drunken confession. It wasn’t that Marinette didn’t reciprocate his feelings, it just felt like there was no point in putting stock in something he said while he was so very drunk. It almost made Marinette laugh a little at the thought. Her phone buzzed, it was a message from Jason: “Hey, you busy today? I’ve got something to tell you. Sober, this time”. Marinette smiled, maybe this time there was truth in the foul tasting American beer.

BONUS: The next morning in the Batcave... Tim: That tasted like actual vomit. Dick: It's an acquired taste, Baby Bird. Tim: Which is to say you were peer pressured into liking it.

#jasonette #jasonettejuly2021 #ml x dc #maribat

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keilemlucent · 4 years ago

Text

a weary head

(r18+)

hawks || takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~2.5k

Keigo fucks you senseless, literally. But, he cleans up his messes well.

warnings: dom/sub, aftercare, subspace, hawks literally concussing the reader by accident, sex accidents in general, vomiting, panic attacks

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Your legs are wrapped around Keigo’s waist that you can feel muscles beginning to pull. It almost hurts enough to ask him to stop— almost.

“Holy shit, you’re really this much of a slut, huh?” Keigo’s squeezing at your windpipe again, forcing your lungs to starve and your vision to haze up. “I can feel you clenching down on me, babe!”

You try to spit, wretch, turn away, anything to get away from his gaze.

It’s feral, the way Keigo is staring down at your slick body as he pounds into you. You’re already so bruised, thighs and hips colored purple and black with his biting grip. Your cunt is gushing slick, lube, and old cum. It’s dripping to the floor, slicking the hardwood beneath you, making finding purchase all that much harder.

Keigo’s eyes are still piercing yours as you turn your head away, trying to focus on anything but the obsidian stones set where his pupils should have been.

“Oh, so that’s your game now? Is that really smart?” Keigo chides, rearing back to slap you across the face, forcing your face back to him. He grabs your cheeks, nails biting into the soft skin of your jaw. “Open up, birdie.”

“You’re disgusting,” You spit back, but it hardly matters. Keigo has two fingers in your mouth, forcing you to keep your lips open for him. He leans forward to spit into your mouth, drool globbing into your mouth. You know better than to bite him, no matter how much you want to. The punishment that follows from biting the hand that literally feeds you was too great and too damaging.

Instead, you just choke as Keigo laughs at him, regripping your thighs with raking nails.

And he starts back up at an unforgiving pace, not a single ounce of him holding back on your ravaged cunt.

You’re screaming, fully, and with your entire chest. Your arms, tied expertly behind your back are bruised and sore beyond feeling. They were hardly holding sensation as they were beaten into the floor beneath you.

You sob as Keigo grabs one of your tits, purposefully sharpened nails driving into the squishy flesh. You screamed, trying to kick at Keigo, but you were so effectively pinned.

“Be a good little fucktoy and maybe I’ll let you come again,” Keigo sneers, squeezing to the point of breaking your skin. Your chest was already covered in scratches and thin lines from his talons. You’d be aching the next day, even if he tended sweetly to them.

Keigo’s getting close, pace downright frantic as you sob over and over. You can’t tell pleasure from pain as Keigo drills into your deepest parts. Drool leaks from the side of your mouth as Keigo somehow manages to speed up.

“You’re gonna come when I tell, right cocksleeve?” Keigo is just fucking cruel at this point.

You manage to nod, breathing getting a little too fast.

Keigo’s hand, slick with sweat moves to the front of your throat, squeezing at the sides.

The muscles of your shoulders and neck had been straining for so long, all through Keigo’s relentless fucking. How many rounds and orgasms had they had to hold your head up with your arms for leverage?

“Cum for me,” Keigo growls down at you, free hand taking to slap your across the face.

It didn’t matter, really. The muscles supporting your head and upper body pulled painfully and gave out. The strain on your neck had finally made you go limp.

With each thrust, Keigo is moaning and crying in ecstasy. He’s fully within rapture as he bruises your insides, making them match the outside,

You, on the other hand, are having a very odd orgasm that wasn’t all that pleasant. It is half-hearted, body so used up and spent that it was hardly holding together. It’s mainly interrupted by the rhythmic slamming of your head against the floor that Keigo was fucking you into.

Your vision is swimming by the third impact, breathing coming in painfully fast gasps.

By the fifth, your brain is mush and you were having trouble staying conscious.

By the sixth, your perception was being warped.

There’s stillness, but only for a moment. You can vaguely here Keigo’s breath change, but it feels like you’re underwater. Every part of your body is thrumming with a fucked up mix of adrenaline and endorphins. You felt like you were swirling and ungrounded.

Keigo gasps and curses above you.

“Oh, fuck,” It’s Keigo’s voice, disembodied. “Oh, fuck, (Y/N).”

There’s some activity, you guess.

Your head is starting to hurt.

The tension on your arms is released. You can’t feel them very well.

“Hey, hey, can you talk to me?” Keigo’s voice is firm, but there’s an edge of nervousness to it.

You make a small, weak noise from the back of your throat as your eyelids scrunch. Your body buzzes and twitches, making your head hurt even worse.

You could feel one of Keigo’s hands smooth over your cheek, “Can you use your words?”

Oh, it takes all of your effort to push anything from your lips. Your vision is still fucked though you can tell Keigo is doing something. Maybe.

“C-can’t.” Your voice is hoarse, rawed along with your body. The face-fucking earlier really shredded your throat.

There’s something cold on the back of your head, where it had been hitting the floor. Your body moves on its own, away from the sudden sensation, but something (someone, Keigo) catches you and forces you to stay put as he applies the lightest pressure.

“I didn’t realize I was hitting your head, I’m so, so sorry angel,” Keigo’s voice is so sad.

“S-s’okay,” You slur. Your breath is still coming too fast, but it’s slowing down. “Happens.”

Keigo doesn’t reply, but you can just feel that he doesn’t like that response.

“Angel, I’m gonna pick you up and take you to our room, okay? Get you somewhere nice and dark,” Keigo doesn’t make you reply, but rather scoops you up and carries you off.

You’re becoming more lucid, slowly. There are weird strikings of fear in your heart, like odd jolts over your mind in its beaten state.

Keigo pulls out your specific aftercare blanket, a soft, baby pink fluffy thing. He slides onto the bed, against the pretty headboard, sending a flurry of feathers to do his bidding. He situates you in his lap, the blanket pulled over the two of you.

Despite the fact that being next to Keigo felt incredibly good, but the position made your stomach swirl and head pound even more.

Being upright is awful, you decide. You want to be on the mattress better.

“Can I lie down?” You try to blink, your vision a little clearer as you turned to look at Keigo better.

He shook his head, smoothing over your sweaty hair, “I’m sorry angel, but you gotta eat or drink first. Then I wanna look you over.”

You feel crushed, your chest hurts. You hurt so bad and you just want to lie down.

You must’ve started crying because Keigo is cooing at you a moment later, rubbing his thumbs at your cheeks.

“It hurts,” You manage to say before pressing your aching head to Keigo’s neck.

“Oh, angel,” Keigo squeezes you, pressing the gentlest kiss to an unbruised part of your skull. “I know, but I need to help you first. Can you trust me to help you? Then, we’ll get you laid down.”

You sniffle. You don’t like the answer, but you do trust Keigo with your life, literally.

Your nod is weak against his sweaty collar.

Some of his feathers must’ve returned because Keigo is resituating the two of you. Your back is supported on the headboard and he’s sitting in front of you. He’s wearing boxers and helping you into a soft shirt. It’s one of his, smelling like his nice, spicy cologne and sweat. It helps dull the pain of wanting him close, but it certainly doesn’t quell it fully.

Your vision is nearly fully back, perception almost proper, but everything truly does hurt. Even your teeth feel like they’re rotting in your skull.

“Kei’, I-I don’t feel good,” You whimper at him, moving to your knees, rubbing at your face. “Help.”

It’s not a request you’d ever make outside of a scene or subspace, not so bluntly anyways. Keigo is immediately running kind hands up and down your arms, regarding you with the softest, most loving gaze. It’s laced with concern, moreover. There’s a pull at his brows and a bad quirk in his lips.

“You did so well, angel. I’m so, so proud of you,” Keigo is shaking as he pulls you into him, rubbing up and down your bruised back. “You took it all so well. You’re so good. So, so good. I love you so much.”

You press into him. With your eyes shut and pressed to his sticky chest, the world is duller and your head hurts worse, “Can I go to sleep?”

You ask again, hoping for a different answer.

“No, love, I’m sorry. You gotta trust me, okay? Let’s start with some water,” Keigo is pulling away and you hate it. You want him touching you. It feels like you’re burning alive if he’s not.

“NO!” You shriek, grabbing his arm as it goes for a condensation-covered bottle laying on the bed.

Keigo freezes.

You tug.

“Angel,” Keigo’s voice has dropped, far deeper than his usual, pretty, high baritone. It’s a tone that you know too well when he chooses to assert himself. He moves to grip your jaw, where he had earlier, but far softer. “You are going to listen to me, understand? I love you, and I’m helping.”

You’re crying again because everything hurts. Your head and body are aching and Keigo is being mean to you and you just want to lay the fuck down—

And then you’re scared.

And then you’re panicking.

And then you’re choking on air.

Your lungs won’t fill fast enough.

Keigo rushes to wrap you in his arms, wings, and legs helping to press down on you. You are both familiar with the helpful nature of weight during moments like this. His lips are at your ear, breathing slow to encourage you to do the same.

But it hurts so much.

Your stomach is churning to the point of intense nausea.

“Keigo,” You manage to push out, giving him a desperate look. A hand is wrenching into your hair.

You’re lucky Keigo knows you so well and has a near-supernatural intuition. There’s a trash can in front of your face. You stick your face fully into it and you wretch. You’re sobbing as you vomit up everything in your stomach, bile, acid, and all. Keigo holds your hair, rubbing at your back.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Keigo is so soft but almost grief-stricken as he rubs at your shoulders. “Get it all out, okay? I’ll take care of you. Just get it all out for me.”

The notion is comforting, but the feeling quickly lost as another wave of sick leaves you.

Finally, you’re just coughing and spitting. You're still crying and your whole face is burning in addition to the migraine you’ve fully developed.

Keigo gently pulls you upwards, feathers taking the waste away. There’s a soft, warm cloth running all over your face, it pays extra attention around your mouth and nose.

It covers your nostrils and you freeze up.

“Blow, (Y/N),” Keigo urges, nodding with a soft smile.

In most other situations, this would be fucking humiliating. But, now? You did exactly as you were told, feeling somewhat comforted as much as your body hurt.

Keigo disposes of the washcloth, grabbing the water bottle from before and giving you a clean cup, “Rinse and spit as much as you need. Then, drink as much as you can, okay, angel?”

You nod, weakly, doing just as he said. It hurts, drinking so much water. It hits your tummy harshly and you stop after only a fourth of the bottle, looking at Keigo helplessly.

Keigo pressed a kiss to your forehead, pulling out a bowl of somewhat warm rice, “Cold, huh? Let’s get something else in you.”

“The only other thing I want in me is your fat cock,” You manage to crack a joke quietly, weakly, very much kidding, but it manages to get a bark of laughter (a little too loudly) from Keigo.

“There’s my girl,” He’s still laughing a little as he presses some of the rice to your lips. “Eat as much as you can, okay? You don’t have to finish it all if you can’t. Tell me if you feel like you need to throw up again, okay?”

You nod weakly, opening your mouth for the bite of food.

You eat painfully slowly, stomach tolerating food to some level. Keigo is patient, offering words of encouragement as your brain slowly rises from the hellishly low section of subspace it was in.

You manage to finish it all, earning loads of praise and kisses from Keigo.

“Thank you,” You offer him as you finish the bowl. He beams you with the radiance of some divine being. His wings have been folded politely to his back, but you can see them fluff up with his joy. Keigo is kind, leaving tender, feather-light kisses wherever he can reach. Your body is still aching and your head fucking hurt, but it is soothed by Keigo’s comforting and distracting presence.

You’re so distracted, it takes you a moment to realize Keigo has pressed a handful of pills into your hand, another water bottle at the ready.

“They’ll help with the pain, we just needed something in your tummy before you took them,” Keigo soothed, running a soft hand over your shoulders.

You down them wordlessly and with a nod.

Keigo proceeds to lay you out on the bed, pulling off your shirt as he does. You don’t like being so exposed, but he calmly explains he needs to clean you up and deal with any other wounds he made.

Oh, right.

You’re leaking like four loads of cum right now.

Marathon sex with Keigo usually ended with you destroyed, but this instance was a lot.

There aren’t too many deep wounds, luckily. Just a few scratches that wept a bit too much blood to be left alone. Keigo cleans and bandages them, talking to you softly. You don’t say much in reply. You know that part of Keigo’s aftercare is letting out the remnants of his energy about the scene vocally.

He presses a kiss to the last bandage with a smile, looking up at you as you slowly put your shirt back on.

“You okay?” You ask him, eyes softening. “That was a lot.”

“It was, but it was very fun. I am very okay. I’m far more concerned about you.” Keigo’s eyes softened as he strokes at the bruised skin of your thighs. “I feel awful. I didn’t realize I was hitting your head like that. I’m very sorry and it will not happen a second time. New rule, pillows for your head for floor sex.”

You groan, “That takes away so much of the allure, though. You know I like getting roughed up like that Kei’.”

“Angel,” He gently pushes you down to the bed, guiding your now somewhat soothed skull with a tender palm. “What you’re not gonna like is when I have to take you to the doctor tomorrow to check if you have a concussion.”

You grumble and snuggle into him.

There’s sweet silence for a minute.

“Thank you, Keigo. You did well too,” You kiss his jaw a few times. “But, if you don’t take the day off tomorrow to take care of my ass, I will personally come to your agency, sit under your desk, and give you head until your balls fall off.”

“Oh, baby,” He nuzzles into you with a throaty laugh. “Say less.”

You’re not sure which option he means, but you suppose its the one where he’s tangled up in you.

#mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks x reader #reader x hawks #reader insert #this is unbeta'ed so if there's silly grammar issues its definitely on me #also present tense??? who knew #salem writes

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discoscoob · 4 years ago

Text

Your Judgement | Loki x Female Reader

Loki (Marvel) x Doctor Who

Loki loses control in more ways than one and secrets are revealed, leaving you with a decision to make.

Part Two | Part Four | Chapter Index

Words: 6.6k

Warnings: angst, threats, blood and injury (this makes it sound a lot worse than it actually is)

Read on AO3

Loki despised feeling out of control. Everyone had always told him how to behave, what to say, what to do, who to be and he thought he had finally escaped all that, he had found the power that he had always sought after, he finally felt a sense of ownership over himself and it was so quickly snatched from him right under his nose in the worst possible way.

Sure it was suffocating on Asgard and yes he was being influenced by the mind stone on Midgard but he had never lost control quite like this before. Every movement he made wasn’t his own, his limbs moved with an invisible force, even the words coming out of his mouth weren’t his. He had been turned into a living and breathing puppet, to be used as a vessel to preserve the life of a deranged mortal who refused to die.

He was humiliated, how could he let a weak, insignificant Midgardian possess his body? He was a God and a supreme sorcerer, she should be no match for him but he struggled to force her out, she stubbornly clung on tight.

The pressure in his head was intense, due to the fact his brain was being compressed to make room for Cassandra’s consciousness. For someone like Loki, who always preferred fighting with his mind over his fist, shaking someone out of his head should’ve been child’s play but the compression on his own mind was making it weaker which made him more vulnerable to her control.

“I’m getting jealous ex vibes. I swear to God, Doctor, if my niece got possessed because you’ve got a jealous ex.” Donna warned the Doctor who looked like he was about to choke on his own saliva.

“Her?” The Doctor screeched.

“You should be so lucky.” Cassandra made Loki glare at the Doctor.

“Let him go, Cassandra.” The Doctor ordered the consciousness possessing Loki.

Cassandra made Loki pout. “And why would I do that? I finally found the secret to immortality.”

“The psychograft you used is banned on every civilised planet, including this one, what you’re doing is illegal. All I need to do is take you into the city and hand you over to the authorities.” The Doctor warned.

The force inside Loki’s mind made him laugh wickedly. “Oh Doctor, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Why not?”

“You can’t hand me over without handing Loki over too.” Cassandra explained before she suddenly gasped as if finding out a secret. “Oh, he really doesn’t want that.”

Suddenly Loki’s body jerked, as one would when you hit the emergency breaks and he quickly slapped his palm against the wall to steady himself as his breath came out in heavy pants.

“Get out of my head!” Loki growled, he held his eyes shut tightly which caused his eyelids to crinkle as he clenched his teeth and brought the tips of his fingers up to his temple. He strained as he tried to maintain in control of his own mind, while Cassandra fought to regain dominance.

“Loki? Listen to my voice. You can fight her. Hold on.” The Doctor encouraged Loki who let out a frustrated cry as he attempted to force Cassandra out of his head.

You could see the pale golden mist slowly surround him like a halo as he continued to strain, you could see how much it was exhausting him, his already compressed mind was being pushed to its limits.

“That’s it, Loki, you’ve almost got her out.” The Doctor continued to encourage him, as he was really starting to struggle.

Before he could completely expel Cassandra, Loki’s mind succumbed to the fatigue of using powers while being compressed and failed him as the gold essence sunk back into his skin and he collapsed to the floor. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he panted from the exhaustion.

“That was a very foolish thing of you to do, Loki.” Cassandra addressed the God using his own voice which sounded tired from the strain of trying to force her out. “Don’t forget, I’m inside your head. I can see everything. There are things in here that I am sure you wouldn’t want your new friends learning about, so I’d advise you to behave.”

The Doctor, Donna and you, glanced at each other wordlessly, as the atmosphere instantly changed. Cassandra knew she had caught everyone’s attention as she flicked Loki’s hair out of his face and watched you all through his eyes as she forced the corners of his lips to lift into a wicked smirk.

“What do you mean?” The Doctor took the bait, and Cassandra made Loki’s smile widen in twisted delight.

Your chest tightened with anxiety as you worried about what Loki was hiding. You weren’t daft, you were fully aware that within the two days you had spent within the company of the God, it wasn’t enough time to properly know him and it definitely wasn’t enough time to trust him. However you couldn’t deny the fact that you had developed an attachment to him and the prospect of that potentially being cut short left a feeling of despair that was difficult to ignore.

“Let’s just say, the God of Mischief has been up to a lot of mischief.” Cassandra made Loki chuckle at her own joke as she forced him to climb back up onto both his feet.

Without warning the laughter abruptly cut short and with an unexpected jerk, Loki regained control. This time he moved without hesitation or delay as both his palms filled with glowing balls of green smoke and with a loud growl that caused you to startle, the light from his palms turned into an aurora which flowed halfway across your bedroom. The golden mist evaporated from his skin more rapidly this time, as it chased after the green light. You watched on, completely captivated as the gold and green swirled together and began to intertwine. Your focus was torn away when you heard Loki collapse to the floor, completely drained after focusing all his energy on removing Cassandra from his mind while using his magic at the same time.

“Doctor.” You heard Donna whisper and you looked up at the pair to find your auntie rapidly tapping the Time Lord on his upper arm to get his attention, while she stared across your room, the Doctor’s eyes widened when he saw what she was looking at and you looked over to see what had grabbed their attention.

“How clever!” A figure identical to Loki, spoke with wonder as it patted itself down to check it was a solid form. “I suppose this solves all our problems.”

“Oh this isn’t a solution,” original Loki spoke with a heavy sigh as he was still trying to catch his breath and you turned your attention back to him. “You think I would let you remain in my form forever?”

“Well, there are worse people to spend eternity with.” Cassandra, who you realised was in control of the Loki clone, shrugged.

“I’d throw you into the nearest burning sun before I let you stay by my side for the rest of eternity.” Loki threatened his possessed clone, his tone harsh and abrupt. “You’re an insignificant and wretched mortal who has deluded herself with the notion that she is worthy of immortality but you are nothing but a worthless creature. You don’t even have your own form to sustain you and so you live off others, like a pathetic parasite, and if you think I will allow your revolting existence seek life support through my Godly form for a whole day, much less an eternity, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Loki had stalked towards his carbon copy, as he spoke his monologue with such a threatening force that it had even sent shivers down your spine, despite the fact that it wasn’t even directed towards you.

“You best pray that the Doctor doesn’t send the both of us away, because as soon as you’re alone with me no one will be there to protect you, and since you have been inside my mind, I am sure you are fully aware of the things I am capable of doing to you.” Loki finished, once he was stood mere inches in front of his double, who was now visibly cowering away from him.

The light of your bedroom reflected off the moisture which had built on the waterline of the duplicates eyes, as they stared into the Gods face with pure terror.

The cruel things Loki had said and the intimidating manner of which he had delivered them in, struck fear through your chest. His voice had dripped with pure threat and menace, even the tone he had used when you first met him and he had trapped you against that secluded wall, paled in comparison to the one he had just used towards Cassandra.

Loki had unleashed a side of himself that you had yet to see, or even knew existed, and you would be lying if the things he had called Cassandra didn’t sting, of course he could’ve been speaking to her as an individual but what if he held these views towards all mortals, were you merely viewed as ‘worthless creatures’ by the immortal God?

“Loki, that’s enough.” The Doctor had sternly told him and you weren’t sure if you imagined it but could have sworn that you saw regret flash in Loki’s eyes as soon as he turned and saw you, the Doctor and Donna all staring at him. It seemed your presence had slipped his mind while he had succumbed to his more sinister side and now he was realising you had all just witnessed it first hand, on top of Cassandra revealing that he was hiding secrets which he didn’t want any of you to discover.

Loki opened his mouth to try and say something but nothing came out, eventually he gave up and let his lips form a thin line as his head tilted downwards to avoid all your eyes.

Silence laid heavily over the room as no one wanted to be the first one to break it, what could anyone possibly say after that? After a short period of time you heard footsteps softly tap against the floor and you looked up and saw Loki lower himself into your armchair. He rested his elbow upon the armrest and cradled his chin in his hand, covering his face from the nose down with his fingers as they anxiously rubbed over his lips. It appeared as though he had a million thoughts racing through his mind, you couldn’t help but wonder what they were.

“I think, I would like to leave now.” Cassandra eventually announced.

The Doctor had explained to her that he could take her into the city where they would provide her with a skintank for her consciousness to live in and she was more than happy to go anywhere the Doctor took her as long as it was away from Loki.

“I thought you of all people, Doctor, would be careful with the kind of people you let travel with you.” You heard her quietly comment, as she made her way out of your bedroom, the Doctor paused under the doorway and looked at Loki, while he considered what Cassandra had said before he silently turned and followed her to the control room.

“Are you coming?” Donna looked at you, ready to follow behind the Doctor.

You had noticed the way the Doctor looked at Loki and you realised he was considering whether or not he should allow him to stay on the TARDIS, before you turned your attention back to Loki, observing the way he seemed lost in his own world.

The way he had lost his temper had startled you, however you didn’t believe his reaction towards Cassandra was unwarranted. You knew exactly what it felt like to have her inside your mind, controlling your body like a puppet. It felt violating. You weren’t sure whether or not his threats toward her were empty, you were sure that was something you didn’t want to find out, but either way Loki hadn’t actually laid a single finger on her, so it seemed as though his tactic was just to frighten her. It may have not been the most conventional approach but it had worked and as a result the Doctor was now taking her to the city.

“I think I’ll stay here.” You decided.

Donna didn’t say anything but she glanced over to Loki, who was still slumped in your armchair, his gaze unmoving from the floor, and you understood that she was nervous to leave you alone with him.

“I’ll be fine.” You assured her, despite the fact that you couldn’t say for certain that you would be, but you wanted to try and talk with Loki. You knew that there was a lot that the Doctor would want to discuss with him after he returned from the city and if you could talk with Loki beforehand, one to one, maybe you could help him.

“If you’re sure...” Donna sighed, clearly not happy about leaving you alone with Loki but she knew that you were an adult and responsible for your own choices and she respected that. After leaving a kiss on your temple, she reluctantly made her way out your room. Pausing under your doorway she looked between you and Loki with a sigh and you could see the worry all over her face but you gave her a reassuring smile, which she returned, before she finally disappeared down the corridor to join the Doctor.

You weren’t even sure if Loki was aware of his surroundings anymore as he had hardly moved an inch since he collapsed into that seat. He didn’t even seem to notice that it was only you and him left in your room as you cautiously made your way towards him. Once you were stood around a meter in front of him you stopped and he still hadn’t registered your presence, if he had, he wasn’t acknowledging it.

“Loki?” You softly spoke.

The God slightly jumped as his gaze caught yours, he looked startled before his eyes bounced around the room and then finally rested back on you.

“Where is everyone?” He asked, his voice small, it was the softest you had ever heard him speak, you almost couldn’t hear him.

“The Doctor and Donna have left to take Cassandra into the city.” You gently explained.

“They left you alone with me?” Loki looked at you with disbelief and you looked down for a moment, realising Loki was more scared of himself right now than you were of him.

“Loki, we need to talk.” You stated, your tone was still gentle but you tried to sound stern to make him realise you weren’t offering him a choice.

“What is there to discuss? As soon as the Doctor returns he will hand me over to the TVA and I will be erased from existence.” Loki dismissed your proposal to talk.

“You don’t know that.” You tried to reason, this time you crouched down, so you were balanced on the balls of your feet and you could talk to Loki from a more equal level. “I don’t know what the Doctor will decide to do when he returns but if you talk to me and explain everything, I might be able to persuade the Doctor to trust my judgment.”

Loki seemed to consider it this time as he glanced at you, a frown formed over his face and his dark brows shadowed his eyes, which appeared to be filled with sorrow. He finally broke his eye contact with you to look down at his hands as he fidgeted with them between his spread legs.

“Okay.” Loki agreed.

You drew your lips together and looked around as you considered what you could address first and it was hard to ignore the one thought that was dominating your mind.

“The things you called Cassandra... is that how you view all mortals... is that your view of me?” You asked Loki, now you were the one avoiding his gaze as you rubbed your eyebrows with embarrassment and kept your eyes on the floor.

Due to the fact you weren’t looking at him, you missed the way Loki had instantly looked at you with eyes full of remorse, he hadn’t even realised that you might have connected his words towards Cassandra to yourself after he had addressed her as a mortal. His jaw was slack as he didn’t even know where to begin telling you how wrong you were and how you had singlehandedly gave him the power he needed to feel in control for the first time in his life.

“Gods no!” Loki rushed to answer, mindful of the fact that if he allowed the silence to settle too long after you finished your question, it might have seemed like a confirmation that that was truly what he believed you were.

When you continued to avoid looking at him, Loki sighed as he pulled his palm down his face. He slid himself off of the armchair to make your heights more equal as he sank to the floor and sat with crossed legs, before he continued, determined to rectify your belief of how he perceived you.

“Listen to me, you hold so much power. You have done more for me in two days than anyone else has in my thousand years of existence and you don’t even realise it. I think what... daunts me the most about you all learning the things which Cassandra had mentioned I wouldn’t want you finding out, isn’t that the Doctor might end up taking me back to the TVA. It’s the fact that you will see me as everyone else does, validating that they were right about me all along, and when you inevitably do, it will strip me of the control I have felt over myself these last few days, because you were the one who bestowed it upon me. Someone who holds that much power could never be a worthless creature.” Loki confessed and you furrowed your brows as you lifted your head to look up at him, processing what he was telling you because it was a lot to take in, you weren’t even sure you understood what he meant. How could you have been the one who gave him his sense of control over himself, what had you even done?

“How... how did I do that?” You asked in disbelief.

“Everyone I have ever known in my life has always decided who I was before even getting to know me, but you had no preconceived notions about me when we met. For the first time I had control over who I could be and who someone could see me as, you gave me that control.” He explained to you.

“Loki, that sounds like manipulation.” You realised with alarm. “You can’t just control which parts of yourself you decide to let someone see and expect their perception of you to be an accurate one.”

The God paused, seemingly taken aback as if he was realising this for the first time and once it sunk in he looked genuinely ashamed.

“You can control who you are, but you can’t control how people see you and how people see you, doesn’t control who you are. Does that make sense?” You tried to explain to Loki, who was staring at nothing in particular as he attempted to grasp what you were telling him.

“But if everyone shares a certain view of me, how could that not possibly be who I truly am?” Loki argued.

You paused for a moment, as you pondered over his question.

“Do you believe this view people have of you to be true?” You asked Loki.

He shrugged after he allowed himself to think about it for a moment.

“Do you want it to be?” You asked instead.

This time Loki didn’t need any time to think about his answer as he immediately shook his head.

“Then, that must not be who you truly are, if it is not who you want to be.” You concluded.

Loki looked at you with hopeful eyes before they fell to his lap as he thought about what you said.

“I think you should tell me what it is that Cassandra said you didn’t want us learning about you.” You decided. You didn’t promise Loki that it wouldn’t change how you viewed him, that would be unwise since you had no idea what he was about to tell you, but whatever it was, you would allow him the opportunity to explain himself so that maybe you could understand.

Loki swallowed nervously as his eyes fell to his hands and he focused on picking at some loose skin near the side of his nail. You observed him closely and you were astounded by how a powerful God could appear so vulnerable and so... human. When you saw his brows pull together with frustration as he was unable to figure out where to begin, you gently put your hand on his knee and gave him a small smile of encouragement.

“I killed my father.” Loki finally confessed, just straight to the point as if he were ripping off a band-aid, “my biological father.” He added, to clarify.

Loki hadn’t delivered his confession with much emotion, however his chest and shoulders did fall ever so slightly, as if a weight was being lifted off of him.

As soon as the words fell from his lips, you retracted your hand from his knee and Loki lifted his eyes to watch your reaction, apart from breaking physical contact you tried to not react, keeping your expression as neutral as possible.

“Why?” You eventually asked, sticking with your decision to let him explain.

“To prove my loyalty to Odin – my adoptive father, and to Asgard.” Loki explained, before elaborating. “Laufey, my biological father, was the King of Jotunheim and an enemy of Asgard. The realms were on the brink of war after my brother, Thor, lead an attack on Jotunheim, as a result, Odin banished him to Midgard as punishment. During the attack, I had discovered my true heritage as a frost giant while fighting by my brothers side. When I confronted Odin about it, he told me he had found me abandoned in a temple on Jotunheim, during one of his attacks and he took me with the plan to use me to unite the two kingdoms and form an alliance. Suddenly everything made sense, why he had always favoured Thor, how could a frost giant ever be worthy? Much less the King of Jotunheim’s unwanted, bastard son.” Loki’s voice dripped with disgust and you saw moisture gather in his eyes but he quickly blinked it away before continuing. “After I confronted him, Odin collapsed and fell into Odinsleep. With Thor banished and the King in a deep sleep, Asgard was vulnerable. I knew it was my chance to show Odin that, despite my Jotun heritage, I could be just as worthy as my brother. So I tricked Laufey into believing I had betrayed my adoptive father by luring him to Asgard with the belief he could assassinate the King as he slept, but I killed him as he was about to plunge his spear into Odin’s chest.”

Loki hadn’t planned to share so much, especially to someone he had only known for two days, but he found that with each word that poured out of his mouth, he felt lighter and before he knew it he couldn’t stop.

Except for sometimes his mother, he had never really known the privilege of being listened to. He didn’t know how you were going to react to what he told you but you had listened and he hadn’t realised how much he truly needed that until now.

You were stunned to silence by everything you had just heard Loki tell you. What flooded your heart with so much sorrow that it weighed heavy in your chest, was the way Loki had spoken about himself being unworthy and unwanted, you had decided in that moment that you couldn’t let him be kicked off the TARDIS and abandoned again. After learning about the kind of example Odin set his two sons, you thought Loki’s actions were hardly surprising and despite what Loki had said about Odin favouring Thor, you couldn’t help but think about the fact that Odin had punished Thor for leading an attack on Jotunheim, when he himself had done the same. Instead of holding himself accountable and teaching his sons to not make the same mistakes he had, he let them follow in his footsteps and then punished them for doing so. He raised Loki to see his own father as an enemy and he kept the truth from him, and you imagined that he probably never would’ve told Loki about his true heritage had he not discovered it for himself.

You struggled to gather together the words which felt right to say in the moment, wondering what words of wisdom, which you had collected over your 20-something years, would be worth something to the centuries old God. Despite not knowing what Loki might have needed to hear, you knew of something that he needed, and that was a place to belong.

“I’m going to talk to the Doctor as soon as he comes back and I’ll make sure you get to stay.” You promised him, as you once again returned your hand to his knee and offered him a reassuring smile.

Loki’s brows pulled together and his lips fell slightly apart, as he stared at your hand before his eyes travelled up your arm and connected with yours. He studied your expression carefully, trying to find any hints of fear, disgust or doubt. Being the God of lies, he could sense when people were lying or trying to deceive him, but you looked at him with nothing but sincerity.

Loki’s eyes dropped to your hand again and he was conflicted. He was in a state of disbelief over the fact that you still wanted to support him after everything he confessed, however you failed to realise that there was still one secret remaining to be divulged. You had assumed he revealed everything, he could have easily gone along with it and increased his chances of maintaining his place on the TARDIS. He would be lying if he said that wasn’t tempting, deceiving people was second nature to him, however when he looked back into your eyes and saw how much compassion they held towards him, compassion he was certain he didn’t deserve, he couldn’t find it in his heart to deceive you.

Unlike almost everyone else in his life, you had shown him an unlimited amount of kindness and understanding. Most times when he tricked, double crossed or misled people, he believed they deserved it but to do that to you would just be cruel and it was not a level of cruelty which Loki possessed.

So, reluctantly Loki took a gentle hold of your wrist and removed your hand from his knee and returned it to your side.

“I can’t let you promise me that.” Loki rejected you.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t promise something which is beyond my control but–“ You misinterpreted what he meant.

“No,” Loki quickly cut you off, “I can’t let you because there’s still one more thing I haven’t told you and I think once I do, you will change your mind.” Loki explained.

You remained silent, though you felt anxious about what he might confess, you were also struck by the fact he chose honesty. If he wanted to, he could have easily played along, let you believe he had confessed everything and secure his place on the TARDIS, yet he put it in jeopardy just to ensure that you weren’t misguided and you couldn’t help but admire that. You believed it was a testament to his character which you decided you wouldn’t let go unnoticed, while you nervously waited for him to reveal his final secret.

“After everything that happened, Odin rejected me and I fell into the hands of a mad titan. I was without purpose, he used that to his advantage and I didn’t need much convincing to join his cause. He desired to posses more power than even the mightiest of Gods, with the use of all six infinity stones. He provided me with an army and instructions to deliver him the tesseract and in return he granted me access to the mind stone. It influenced my feelings and increased my desire for power and need to prove my worthiness, and so I used the army to attack New York city, in an attempt to take over Midgard and rule it as my own.” Loki confessed.

You should’ve been horrified, part of you definitely was, but it was heavily diluted by your confusion.

“I... I don’t remember any of this ever happening.” You admitted, you were very certain that you would recall a God invading one of the most famous cities in the world with an army.

“It hasn’t happened for you yet.” Loki explained.

“Time is confusing.” You nervously laughed before you fell silent as you let what Loki told you really sink in.

He had attacked earth and attempted to rule over the human race. The way he spoke about it, implied that he didn’t succeed and surely if he was the King of Midgard he wouldn’t be sat on the floor opposite you right now.

“What stopped you?”

“My brother and the avengers. They captured me but I got hold of the tesseract and used it to escape, I didn’t get very far before the TVA found me.”

You had no idea who the avengers were but you assumed they were some sort of military organisation who were able to defeat Loki and his army, you imagined having the help of Loki’s brother on their side would’ve been a massive help. You considered the fact that when Loki spoke about being captured by them, he didn’t sound upset or angry about it, almost as if he didn’t really care that much about his plans for world domination. You recalled what he had said about the mind stone and how it had influenced his feelings and desires and you wondered how much it was responsible for his actions on Earth.

“Do you think you would’ve still done it without the mind stone?” You asked him, because you considered this to be very important in judging whether or not you would advocate for his place on the TARDIS. If he believed he wouldn’t have done it without the influence of the mind stone, then his actions weren’t completely his own and therefore you wouldn’t expect him to take total blame for them.

“No,” Loki furrowed his brows. “but I am a God, I should have not been so easily influenced.”

“Loki, you might be a God, but you’re still a complicated and complex living being. You’re allowed to be vulnerable at times, you’re allowed to have flaws and make mistakes, you’re allowed to feel emotions and they will get the better of you and control you sometimes, it happens to all of us. Being a God doesn’t make you immune to it.” You told him, realising that Loki had a lot of work to do when it came to accepting his vulnerability.

Loki remained silent, but it did at least seem like he was considering what you told him as he had a contemplative look on his face. Deciding to leave him in peace to think about it, you pushed yourself off the floor and began to make your way towards your door, but the broken glass, which Donna had dropped earlier, caught your attention.

You crouched down to start cleaning it up, the bottom of the glass was still some what in tact which allowed you to gather all the broken shards inside it. As you were dropping one of the last pieces into the base of the glass, the broken side of the base pierced the palm of your hand.

“Shit!” You cried under your breath as you quickly retracted your hand and cradled it close to your chest with your other. Blood was pooling in your palm and began running in singular drips down the side of your arm.

Loki gasped your name and rushed over to you as soon as he noticed you were injured. Once he reached you, he lowered himself to his knees and held out his hands beside yours, but he didn’t touch you yet.

“May I?” Loki politely asked for permission to look upon the damage caused to your hand.

Reluctantly, you granted him access as you placed the balled up fist of your injured hand into his waiting palm. You hissed as he gently prised your fingers open and he mumbled a quick apology as he finally examined your wound.

“Come on.” Loki encouraged you to your feet, with one of his hands under your elbow and his other still gently cradling your hand.

You silently allowed him to move you, your eyes focused on him with wonder as he guided you into the en suite of your bedroom.

Once he sat you down on the closed lid of the toilet, he left your side to run a fresh flannel under the faucet. Your eyes didn’t leave him once, as you watched every move he made. After wringing out the excess water of the flannel, he returned to your side and started tenderly cleaning up your cut. With all the blood cleaned away, Loki could properly inspect your wound.

“It’s not too deep, I used to inflict much harsher wounds on my brother when we were children, a bandage should do.” Loki casually commented as if it were nothing, when he noticed your alarmed face he simply laughed.

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle and he gave me his fair share in return. We’re much more resilient than mortals, it was the equivalent of human children pushing or kicking one another.” He assured you, as he opened the cupboard below the sink and searched for a first aid box.

Your alarmed expression relaxed into a some what fond smile upon learning young Loki wasn’t actually inflicting grievous injuries upon his brother, as you imagined the siblings play fighting as children.

“Are you close to your brother?” You asked Loki, as he returned to your side with a bandage and started wrapping your hand. For a few moments, silence fell between you and you began to think he wasn’t going to answer.

“We used to be,” Loki finally answered, avoiding your eyes as he focused on bandaging your hand. “I admired him a lot, I still do, but I fear I have irreparably ruined our relationship.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” You carefully argued.

“I tried to kill his father.” Loki reminded you and your lips fell shut defeatedly.

“If he is immortal, he will have plenty time to get over it.” You lightheartedly added, trying to avoid the tone of the conversation becoming too serious.

“Maybe in 5,000 years or so.” Loki estimated as he tied off your bandage, you inspected his work while he tidied away the first aid supplies back into the cupboard.

“I haven’t changed my mind.” You admitted to him while his back was turned to you.

Loki immediately paused his actions after hearing you, you caught his reflection in the mirror above the sink and watched as his expression filled with disbelief before he glanced at you from over his shoulder.

“About... me?” He hesitantly checked, certain he had misinterpreted what you meant.

You simply nodded and Loki looked downwards as a shy ever so slight smile curved on the corner of his lips.

***

“So technically it’s New New New New New New New New New new New New York.” You heard the laughter of your auntie and the Doctor as the entered the TARDIS, and you made your way around the console.

The Doctor stopped when you caught his eye and said your name, surprised to find you waiting in the control room, while Donna smiled at you from beside him.

“I have to talk to you about Loki.” You told the Doctor.

Donna’s smile instantly and was replaced with worry as her eyes dropped to your bandaged hand.

“Did he hurt you?” She fretted, as she stepped towards you.

“No,” You immediately assured her, glancing at your injured hand. “No, I cut myself on the glass you dropped.”

Donna looked down with guilt as she realised your injury was caused by her accident.

“I think we should let him stay.” You immediately returned to your original point, deciding there was no need to dance around it.

The Doctor sighed your name, as it seemed like he was about to disagree while Donna looked at you as if you had grown a second head.

“Please, you can trust my judgment.” You gave your auntie your best puppy dog eyes and she tilted her head in contemplation before looking towards the Doctor, who seemed to be considering it as well.

“What do you think?” The Doctor turned to Donna, “if you’re not comfortable with it...”

Your auntie sighed in defeat after giving it some consideration.

“Your judgement better be good.” She pointed her finger at you, and you smiled.

“It is, I promise!” At least, you hoped it was.

***

Just like the night before, there came a knock on your door just as you were about to climb into bed and just like the night before, you were greeted by the sight of Loki when you opened the door.

“Is this going to become a nightly occurrence?” You joked.

“If you would like it to.” Loki played along.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Loki’s features dropped into a more serious expression and he took in a deep breath.

“I realised that earlier I never got the chance to apologise.” Loki began, his hands were held behind his back, hidden from your view, so you couldn’t see the way he nervously played with them.

“Apologise?” You questioned with a slight tilt of your head, wondering what he felt the need to be sorry for.

“I know how violating it felt to have Cassandra inside your mind–“

“That wasn’t your fault.” You cut him off before he could finish.

“No, I know, but I kissed you,” Loki’s eyes were trained on the floor as he spoke and your mouth fell in the shape of an ‘o’ as you realised that is what he came here to apologise for. “And you weren’t in control–“

“You weren’t to know,” you quickly reassured him, as heat rose to your own face as you both acknowledged what happened between you. “She kissed you first, you don’t have to apologise.”

“Even so, I would like to,” Loki finally lifted his gaze to look at you, “I’m sorry, if you felt uncomfortable or...”

You couldn’t admit it, but uncomfortable is not a word you would use to describe how kissing Loki had made you feel. Once the pressure had began to slip from your mind and your lips were still attached to his, you felt a wave of pleasure flush through your stomach while goosebumps rose on your skin leaving a tingling sensation in their wake.

You pulled yourself back from the memory as you nodded and offered Loki a smile and accepted the apology which he felt he owed you, while you tried hard to push your desire for the kiss you shared to be repeated, to the back of your mind where you hoped it would soon be forgotten.

#loki #loki (marvel)#doctor who #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki imagine #10th doctor #tenth doctor #donna noble #tom hiddleston

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