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xxsycamore · 8 months ago

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❝ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬? ❞

╰┈➤ ⁉️ Everyone is acting so strange today, and Sebastian seems to be the only one noticing it.

Sebastian, Comte, Napoleon, Theodorus, Vincent, Mozart, Jean, Arthur, Isaac, Leonardo, Dazai • rating: G • tags: April Fools' Day; Pranks and Practical Jokes; poor sebas; Humor; Crack • wordcount: 1,682 • masterlist

a/n: HAPPY APRIL FOOLS! After Dazai pranking everyone and then everyone pranking Dazai, it seems like this year's target is Sebas…

It's not every day that Sebastian allows himself the indulgence of enjoying a drink with his masters, even when they so generously invite him to the table in the game room. The events of last night are but a blur in his memory now, as he's not the best at holding his liquor and neither has their immunity to hangovers. But a butler must be prim and proper at all times! While he's on duty, that's it. So that's why he allowed himself the fun of last night, but is readily up and out of his bed early in the morning today.

He enters the kitchen, humming the tune to Mozart's Turkish March in this tranquil moment of being the only soul awake in the whole mansion, on his way to begin preparing breakfast-

"Oh, good morning Sebas. I'm already done with some things here, figured I might help you."

"My! What a nice surprise Monsieur Napoleon, thank you."

Huh.

"M-M-M-Monsieur Napoleon what are you doing here????"

"Helping you with breakfast."

"No, gods, I was wondering why are you awake at such an early hour-"

Napoleon looks at him dumbfounded. And so does Sebas, mirroring him. Granted, there are dark circles under his eyes but that hardly does anything about the vigor with which he moves the frying pan and multitasks with the preparation of another ingredient at the same time.

"Is it that strange that I felt like waking up earlier today?"

Well, yes it is! That's what Sebastian wants to shout at the top of his lungs, but he can only blink mesmerized instead. Fearing that he might offend him in some way if he keeps this up, he saves his confusion to himself and gets back on track with his task.

The breakfast preparation goes on swimmingly with Napoleon's help, even if he strangely seems to have forgotten how to cook all of a sudden so he needs some serious memory refreshment... Sebastian blames it on his lack of sleep, of course that would be the reason.

Soon the dining room begins filling with the real early-bird residents that pose no surprises for Sebastian, and the plates are already waiting in front of them like clockwork.

"Pancakes again? I'm starting to get tired of this. You got something else for me, Sebastian?"

The sound of pots and pans falling to the floor greatly concerns the van Gogh brothers at the table after the younger one's question, but soon after the butler emerges from the kitchen with a haphazardly pieced-together English breakfast. He places it in front of Theodorus who asked for the change, waiting. Waiting to see if he's going to eat it at all.

"Here you go, master Theodorus. Do you need extra jam, or-"

"No need, looks more than enough to me. Why are you staring at me like that? Is it poisonous?"

"Gods, no, how could it be! I'm merely...surprised is all."

Vincent chuckles a little at the exchange, preparing to dig in on his portion of...pancakes, fortunately. But he pauses.

"Theo, would you hand me the syrup? I feel like eating something sweeter today!"

"Stand up and take it yourself."

Sebastian's eyes are about to pop out of his eye sockets.

"Messieurs, is everything alright with-"

The door opens with a bang that belongs to no gentlemen living in this household.

And certainly not to Le Comte de Saint-Germain.

"'morning."

"M-monsieur le Comte, what are you wearing?"

Comte's casual walk to his place at the head of the table with hands in his pockets is rivaled only by the even more casual look he sports today, with a halfway-open shirt and a pair of checkered trousers that don't really match. To finish off the look, his hair is a mess. He lands with a thud on his chair, raising his feet to rest crossed on the table.

"What am I wearing? Since when did you start asking so many questions?"

"I'm terribly sorry."

Comte sighs and snaps his fingers repeatedly in the air. "Coffee. Now."

"I already brew a pot of your preferred morning tea-"

"Don't make me repeat myself, butler."

"I got it."

On his way to the kitchen, Sebastian overhears Comte slamming his fist on the table telling everyone that from now on, they'll be paying rent.

Sebastian must be sleeping. This has to be some kind of nightmare. There's no other logical explanation.

When he returns to the dining room the door opens to welcome another couple of residents - Jean and Mozart.

"Good morning Herr Mozart. Good morning to you too, Monsieur Jean, what a surprise!"

Mozart and Jean both turn to Sebastian...and they give him their brightest smiles. Imaginary flowers bloom in the air around them. They greet in a cheerful voice together as one, and it's the most beautiful melody. "Good morning, Sebastian!"

"We decided to grab a bite before our trip to town today."

"Your... your what?"

"That's right, I'll be taking Jean in town with me. The carriage is already waiting at the gate."

Mozart going to...town?? With a carriage?? With Jean??

"Aha! The trace of this bloody delicious smell seems to have led me to this dining room!"

Now what? Sebastian turns in the direction of Arthur's voice albeit it sounds a little different than usual, as if he's playing a role... and there he is, having just entered the dining room... with a looking glass in his hand and a pipe in his mouth.

"Good morning, Master Arthur. Your observation skills are on point as always. What's with the curious accessories?"

Sebastian doesn't know why he asks anymore.

"Why, I'll be going on a Sherlock Homles book fair later today! You know it's all the hype these days, I figured it's the best place to learn something about my beloved character that I don't know. You know my methods, Watson. Haha!"

Thank god, Sebastian is not the only one about to faint right now. Given how normal everything else was taken by his housemates. Theo says the one thing Sebastian couldn't bring himself to say.

"This idiot has reached rock bottom in his search for skirts he hasn't yet fooled around with."

Arthur looks...grossed out. As if he's been made fun of by Dazai, or something similar. Actually, there haven't been a great deal of chances to see Arthur sporting this expression. It's definitely strange.

"Theo, could you not be so foul-mounted, please? You know I hold no interest in the fair sex."

"A-Are you feeling well, Master Arthur? Maybe when you drink your coffee-"

"Ah no please, tea it is for me!"

"Are you feeling well, Master Arthur?????"

"Sebastian seems really uptight today. Are YOU feeling well, Sebastian? Why don't you sit with us for a while?" Jean smiles at him again. It's a smile Sebastian wants to protect. It should be automatically making him feel better but it only serves to increase his confusion. He even sat next to Comte. Comte doesn't deserve this! At least not with his current behavior. Oh how strange of a thought that is.

"I appreciate your concern, but, I just need to know what is happening with all of you today. I can't be calm until I ensure that you, my masters, are alright, and I demand you tell me what is happening this instant!"

A near dozen pairs of eyes blink at Sebastian as if he's indeed the crazy one. He sits down on the offered chair, then quickly stands up again. "No, please tell me what is-"

The door opens yet again and this time it's Leonardo and Isaac who enter. Sebastian paces left and right, trying to spot empty plates to take to the kitchen before he can witness anything weird again-

"Isaac, mio amico, can you please not smoke in here? You know I can't stand the smell..."

"AAAAAAAGH!" Sebastian yells, breaking his professional image and running straight towards the door. He can't do this. It doesn't matter if he escapes now. It's just a nightmare. Just a nightmare-

He nearly crashes into the person entering at the same time.

"Hello Sebas-kun~"

Through the DOOR?

Sebastian breaks. Like a stone statue slammed by the pressure of a cataclysm despite the decades of stoicism, even if he thought he'd seen everything...

He falls to his knees in defeat.

...

"APRIL FOOLS'!"

Before he has a chance to remove his hands from his eyes where he tried to block the world, a wave of residents quite literally falls over him, each embracing him and laughing.

Okay, NOW he's confused.

"April fools? But- But my calendar said it's-"

"Someone had a little too much to drink last night and had to be carried to his room... let's say we meddled a little with it. Sorry, Sebas." Napoleon pats his shoulder. "Okay, can I go to sleep now?"

Sebastian laughs, and despite what he predicted for himself just a minute ago, it's not out of descending to madness. It's a genuine laughter, one he hasn't had in a while.

"I would never guess you could be capable of doing such a thing! Every one of you! My god, you got me quite well."

"Heh, guess you don't know us well enough then, eh? Remember this well, some of those guys are going to remember it for the rest of their second lives." Leonardo says, finally lighting that cigarillo. Good thing they didn't have to put on the act for longer than that.

"Indeed. I hope we weren't too harsh on you, Sebastian. My residents are always such naughty boys." Comte consoles, suspiciously looking as if it was his idea all along.

Sebastian chuckles some more, then he stands to his feet, dusting off his uniform and letting out a small cough behind his fist.

"My masters, that was indeed too naughty of you! I appreciate seeing you have fun, and I have to admit, you got me well. But that doesn't mean I won't find it fitting to flick some foreheads."

"Sebaaas, can we please have our usual breakfast now?"

"Why yes, coming right away!"

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @judejazza Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

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deliverusfromevillll · 10 months ago

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A Sticky Situation [Mammon/F!Reader]

❝ What fuckin' nonsense have ya' been telling y'reself this entire time? ❞

warnings ⨾ blood, descriptions of gore, guns, gunshot wound, choking, swearing, arachnophobia (the irony), established prior connection, soft mammon, sexual content, unresolved sexual tension, resolved angst

terms ⨾ ❝ Drakon ❞ the Latin word meaning "dragon." ❝ Bogan ❞ Australian slang meaning (in negative connotation) someone who's a bit of a nerd or geek, holds no dress sense and/or has poor social skills.

notes ⨾ I am very much not Australian so when I looked up slang and could not find ANY concrete definitions for anything: I was in major pain. Anyways quick thing because [F/n]'s lore might seem confusing. I created an entirely different race of "humanoid" dragons that acted as the knight/official guards for the Ars Goetia incase of extermination/assassination attempts. [F/n] retired from her position as knight for an unnamed Goetia. This entire chapter was originally 13K words but I felt as though the plot arc with the Goetia drifted way too far from the original point of this fic since it was so, so needlessly lore heavy for a reader insert and made this 100x more angsty like you have no idea. Especially since this is only meant to be two chapters. This chapter was cut down for your reading pleasure! If you would like to be part of the process in between me brainstorming and posting ( as I am currently looking for beta readers ) and/or generally would like to see WIPs feel free to join my discord ( NgT88bybyY ).

[02]

As always minors DNI.| 6.3K words

[F/n] and Mammon's relationship is unique.

He was her boss, and she was his secretary.

Running the errands, info graphing, and scheduling his business appointments when due. But it wasn't so simple.

With his artificially friendly attitude in public, behind the scenes he was nothing but cynical— snarky and demanding. Hardly surprising for the king of greed.

[F/n] was no fan, she made it clear.

Despite the lethal glares and threats she managed to shoot a quip or a snark in return each time. It initially prompted a warning hiss or a growl, an insult or a threat.

Then he resorted to shredding through his confined costume to intimidate her one time after they both seriously got into it. Neither party was satisfied in not having the last word.

Despite however many threats were hurled nothing ever came about them.

[F/n] desired the experience the job gave her and Mammon found her too entertaining to simply let go.

[F/n] and Mammon's relationship is undeniably unique.

But damn, there was no shying away from the fact [F/n] did her job exceptionally well. The best in all of Hell. And that's another one of the handful of reasons why he tolerated her.

"Y'er getting on my nerves lizard." Mammon seethes with a false smile.

He sulks leaning away, poisonous puff of green air seeping though his teeth.

[F/n] raises a brow at him, eye roll following. "I need you to work with me here, asshole." [F/n] adjusted herself, turning towards him.

"If you wanna reduce the immediate damage Asmodeus and his little lapdog made we need to start advertising the twins asap. What's bothering you right now?"

Mammon huffed. "The leftover Fizz merch— sales are declining incase ya' haven't seen mate. I'm losin' money."

[F/n] clicked her tongue.

"Whatever doesn't sell now we can resell in a few weeks as vintage or some other bullshit with a higher price tag. You have any idea how much these loser collectors will pay to get their hands on discontinued merchandise?"

That's all it took for Mammon to light up, snatching [F/n] with his top hands in excitement.

"Y'er a bloody GENIOUS!" He shakes her, dropping her instantaneously. "We could double —no— TRIPLE our profits thanks to these degenerates! Ahh I taught ya' so bloody well!"

Mammon splays his hands towards the imaginary dollar signs in the air, clapping eagerly.

"And that's why I love ya' doll!" He shouts with a hefty grin, giving her a final charmed glance as he turned to make way towards the awaiting camera crew. Robo-Fizzies chasing after him with lighting sticks and microphones.

[F/n] catches herself after his stare, the spines on her tail rattling flustered. Her posture eases before anyone else can see as she flicks her tail in response.

Damn did she hate whenever he said things like that.

It's almost as if he knew the effect he had on her, doing and saying things that would purposefully rile her up. [F/n] refused to acknowledge any part of it, counteractive to the very obvious blush on her completion.

Through the commotion, Mammon smiled charismatically in [F/n]'s direction as their eyes met again. This was going to be a long shoot.

"That went better than I expected." [F/n] mumbles. Mammon appearing in a green cloud next to her. Bells chiming happily.

"Why'dya say that? Doubted me?" He rung.

"Well for all the years I've known you— Accepting you got fucked is definitely not something you're known for... You're taking losing your star clown better than I thought."

Mammon chuckles in amusement.

"Star clown? I am the star clown. With or without him I'll still make a fuck ton o' money." He nudges her. "With y'er— uh, our ideas and my reinforcement I don't see any issue mate."

[F/n] looked very, very, unconvinced. Mammon thinks for a moment before shrugging.

"At the end of the day you are my most valuable asset after all."

"What a way to make a girl feel special Ammo." Her eyes roll.

Mammon only giggled for a moment, attention immediately stolen upon taking in a familiar scent.

The smell of coffee meets his nose as they walk before the café in his estate. It takes him no time to decide he's in the mood for another cup of coffee.

[F/n] could already tell by the expression on his face. However unconvinced about giving the bug even more caffeine after his last.

Mammon playfully puts on a puppy-eyed expression as he bends town to her level.

He shoves his face in front of hers, frowning, the green glow of his pupils becoming brighter. "C'mon doll, ya'd say no to my lil 'ol face?"

His smaller spider eyes make a show as he frowns with an exaggerated pointed lip.

She sighs, gently pushing his face away. "Enough with the eyes. I'll be right back... Not like you'd let me say no anyways asshole."

Like a cat that ate the canary, Mammon smiles triumphantly as he took a moment to get seated on one of the empty tables outside the shop.

He enjoys the smell of coffee beans while searching in her direction through the large glass windows. He watches her make some hand motions towards the menu.

Letting out a big yawn, he blinks blearily. He could use a nap after all this.

Exploiting his employees was hard work after all.

Mammon observes her pull out her wallet, swiping her card. His smile becomes gentler, enamored at the idea of her willingness to spend her own money on him.

He became increasingly aware the expression he wore, quickly clearing his throat to look more serious.

It takes the café worker a second to hand her the single cup of coffee alongside a paper bag. He waves her goodbye with a bold wink, [F/n] unable to hold her laugh.

Mammon gritted his teeth. He conditioned his employees not to unnecessarily pester him, or her, especially when they were out together. Seems like one of them hadn't learned this yet. He took a mental note.

He was about to get up from his seat until [F/n] audibly shut the door behind her with a small jingle. She takes a seat across from him as he leaned forward and snatched the drink from her hand.

"'Bout fuckin' time cunt." He grumbles.

Mammon takes a sip of the cold coffee, ignoring his irritation as the sweet contents hit his tongue.

Or at least he tried to, the sweetness of it tasting rather dull part in due to his thoughts.

"Was this made by that fuckin' bogan?" He wonders.

His hand tenses, squeezing the drink at his palm slightly.

"I got you this." [F/n] mumbled, scooting the bag towards him.

Mammon snaps his attention towards back towards her, pausing to glance between her then the baggie before fishing through it. He pulls out a small box, opening it to reveal a cream colored pastry.

It takes him a moment to collect his thought.

Confused, he asks, "Why the cake, doll? Ya' know all I wanted was my coffee."

"You were feeling like shit earlier." She puts it simply.

Mammon shifted from the cake to her in his peripheral vision.

She was worried about him. Had him in her mind. Considerate about how he felt, albeit she wouldn't admit it out loud.

He couldn't help but grow a fat smile, genuine smile, as he scoots closer towards her.

"I'm starting to think ya' actually care about me, love." [F/n]'s eyes widen for a second.

She looks away from him, scoffing.

"Don't overthink it. I don't want to deal with you when you're in a mood."

Mammon takes a small bite, savoring the even sweeter taste. Humming with delight, he takes another portion of it with the plastic spoon, leaning forward to bring it to her mouth.

[F/n] glances between the cake and Mammon, who's unashamedly eagerly watching her.

"I-I don't—"

"Ahh don't fuckin' be like that mate. It's good, try it!"

The dragon takes a bite, flushed, as she ate the piece in silent agreement. Her tail sticking to her leg somewhat embarrassed.

He was right, the pastry was fluffy and flavorful. Not that she expected any different, that was the reason why she bought it for him. She would've never anticipated this however.

Another spoonful reaches her lips, she accepts it without complaint this time. Expression easing. Her tail wags behind her in satisfaction.

Mammon carefully scoops more, bringing it to her face once again.

[F/n] quickly swallows the bit already in her mouth, shaking her head this time.

"I bought it for you, I'm eating more of it than you are. You're being a little bit too charitable."

"Yeah but who's to say I'm not getting anythin' out of feeding ya', love?" He dotes.

[F/n] felt the tips of her ears warm, tail flicking.

Mammon soaks in her flush, turning to take another sip of his coffee. His eyes follow the direction of his lips for a glance before returning at her image.

He freezes for a moment, brows furrowing. Mammon checks the cup again to ensure he saw it correctly. [F/n] immediately notices his expression drop and leans over to see the source.

A phone number was written just under her name with a heart.

"Aw how cute!"

Mammon gags. "Cute?!"

"Yeah, first time someone has done that for me. It's kinda sweet!" [F/n] reaches for the cup, Mammon hisses as he holds it further away.

"Doll, there's no bloody way you're actually interested in this cunt. He's some fuckin' nobody workin' below minimum wage!"

"Oh please, you sound jealous, he was really n—!"

Mammon immediately crushes the cup in his grip, indifferent feeling the coffee spill onto his glove and trickle to the table. He reaches over to grab [F/n]'s extended hand to move it away as he leans towards her features.

His face was centimeters away from hers, sharp breath tickling her features.

"I ain't the sharing type." Mammon growled.

The cup gets engulfed in a green cloud, vanishing as the smoke dissipated. [F/n] glared at the spider, brows furrowed in uncertainty.

He was acting like this again.

"Fucking hell, I didn't want any of your coffee. I just wanted to see the goddamn number."

Mammon blinks, head tilting. He mutters something under his breath as he stands, breaking eye contact.

She thought he was upset over sharing a drink? Far from it, but he wasn't going to clarify if that's the conclusion she came to.

Still holding onto her hand, he strings her up as he gets out of his seat.

"Better ya' don't. This cunt wouldn't even be able to take care of ya'." [F/n] rolls her eyes. Though it didn't go unnoticed, as Mammon grimaced.

"It's impossible to find anyone at all when you scare everyone off." She growls lowly.

"Don't fuckin' hiss at me doll. I'm savin' ya from the embarrassment."

"The embarrassment of what exactly?"

"Of goin' out with the lower class, hells y're considered a knight for the Goetia ain't ya'? Y're not gonna get anythin' worthwhile in some random mutt."

[F/n] swats her tail very irritably, yanking her wrist back forcefully.

A loud tear following in the process.

"I can be with whoever the fuck I want and feel like, I'm not some goddamn princess."

Mammon looks at his glove, seeing as the motion of her pull had tore through the material. It was a reminder of how sharp her scales were.

It wasn't deep enough to cut his actual skin. But the damage on his glove was done. A rush of anger at her defiance.

He sneers, looking between the café and her short figure. A cloud of green exits through his teeth as he grips her by the neck, lifting her effortlessly to his face.

[F/n] grabs his wrists, squeezing equally as hard, as her wings flutter behind her to give herself some leverage and room to breathe.

She looks genuinely shocked for a moment, though it only took a second for her to regain composure to glare at the sin with bared teeth. Scales began to form on her complexion.

Mammon stares deeply into her eyes with a menacing smile. His miniature eyes emitting a soft glow.

"REMEMBER Y'R PLACE BENEATH ME BEFORE I REMIND YA'."

He let's her go, watching as she wobbly lands on her feet.

I gust of wind hits his face as she flapped her wings to soften the fall. The scales that covered her face immediately erase as the tension breaks with a longer sharp inhale of air.

They had instantly gained the attention of everyone around them if they hadn't already, silence deafening.

[F/n] felt humiliated. Hurt. Used.

Defeated, for once.

"I don't fuckin' pay ya to run 'round with y'r bitch hormones. I hired ya' to serve me and me only."

[F/n] bites her lower lip, her claw reaching up to feel where his met her throat.

That was the first time he'd ever grabbed her like that. Sure he'd scream and threaten her before, even swung at her at times however each time he did so slow enough to miss.

He'd chuck random items in reach sometimes knowing she could just dodge or fly out of the way.

It never crossed further than that.

Now to be grabbed by the neck? That was new.

The trace of his hand lingered warningly as she tried to sooth over her bruised skin.

She looked up at him, tail tucked in between her legs.

He would only ever harm people he saw replaceable. His subordinates. The realization came crashing down on her incredibly hard.

He could've just as easily killed her in that moment, snapped her neck and that would've been it.

Did their history mean nothing to him?

What changed?

"Fuck you..." It came as a whisper.

Unsure of whether he heard that or not, he chose to ignore it either way in favor of her tail.

He pointed at it, releasing a laugh as if it was the most amusing thing he'd seen.

It felt nauseating. One moment he was warm: the next, cruel.

Despite all the time spent, she concluded he never saw her as anything further than another form of entertainment.

An animal he can poke and prod for a reaction. Even in her state of shock all he did was laugh. The sound echoed in her head.

A familiar tone rings, buzzing. And Mammon instantly snaps out of his laughter.

He fishes through his pocket to pick up his phone.

His alarm was going off.

"Ahh fuckin' bitch— meeting is about to start." He groans, recovering quickly.

"C'mere." He demands, forgiving the glare she shot at him as he pulled her arm so forcefully she knew she'd bruise.

Mammon teleports the two of them into his office.

The jiggles of coins chime as he lands into his web, [F/n] perched beside him.

Her eyes widen slightly, trying to adjust herself in a better position. She tugs on one of her wings stuck into the webbing with an irritated scowl. He quickly removed the damaged glove and snaps a new one in its place out of thin air.

Mammon, who's busy with a drumstick he seemingly pulled from nowhere, nonchalantly untangles her wing in a simple swipe.

He stops chewing for a second to give her a toothy smirk: [F/n] returning a huff.

"Oh come off it will ya', ya' bitch?"

"We need to talk."

Mammon, who doesn't give it any thought, takes another bite of his food.

"More bitchin'." He imagines.

"Some other time."

[F/n] looks away from him, curling her tail around her leg to try and provide some sort of self comfort. She felt disappointed.

Despite all the breakthroughs made in their partnership, he still treated her like an object. His object. Something he was free to do whatever he wanted to. Truth be told, it stung deeply.

It was the only thing she could think about lately.

There was no denying Mammon grew incredibly on her, she only wished he felt the same in return. Maybe then he wouldn't be so needlessly mean.

Was it something she did? Something she didn't do?

There was no point in even thinking about it, [F/n] didn't want to be embarrassed again. She refused.

Security open the doors of his office, and in come a small group of incubi.

The one leading the group takes a quick bow before the two, tipping his hat while smiling on his way up.

Both watch as they fill the room, trotting with some briefcases in hand. The thumps of their boots semi-absorbed into the carpet they walked on.

"What an honor to see Mammon and his little butterfly, even more so present our wonderful idea to." He starts, slowly pacing left and right.

"We all know about the massive, massive, slaughter that came of the drakon specie during the first war with heaven. Terrible thing really." He smirks.

[F/n] raises her brow, crossing her arms further.

"A bigger shame would be to allow the fun of them go." The incubus pulls out his phone to project a screen before them.

[F/n] and Mammon look less than impressed.

"I present to you the dragon dildo, made with real dragon scales! The synthetic crap can't compare to this." He chuckles, arms extended either way.

The incubi look impressed by their own work. "Dragon scales are the hardest material in all of hell. This thing would be fucking indestructible! It's every horny sinner's dream!"

Mammon yawns, waving a finger.

"And how exactly are ya' going to farm real scales? There's hardly a handful of drakons in all o' hell left mate n' the survivors are all considered royalty."

"Well my good sir, that's where we were hoping you would come in. Seeing as you already possess one of them. I'm sure the king of greed wouldn't mind parting with it in turn for a greater profit."

[F/n] leans out of her seat, seething at the disrespectful implication. "Are you stupid or suicidal?"

The incubus hands one of his partners the briefcase, who held it sideways.

"Oh but my dear, you are very valuable. Your title as knight is only a benefit you see. You can be a brand on its own with how infamous your status was."

He starts unclipping the handles of the case.

"My title was granted to me because of how efficient I was in fighting angels. You— I'd MOP the floor with you."

Mammon tugs her back onto his side. His expression doesn't say much, however, the hand planted around her thigh possessively said it all.

"Y're gonna die for wastin' my time." He snarls, grinning wildly.

Mammon snaps his fingers and in rushes his security of robot Fizzarollis.

[F/n] felt him squeeze her thigh as he presses her deeper into his side. Her initial anger melting as her heart beats faster in reaction. [F/n] stares up at him, his image burning into her mind.

Her hand rested on his chest— able to feel his warmth, his breathing, it felt too intimate.

She felt his heartbeat at her fingertips, beating a tad bit faster than usual.

Then, she remembered. She thought his claim over her was nothing more than superficial, for looks, all this to keep her obedient and lull her back into his claws until the next time she slightly agitated him.

She looks back at the group, frowning.

"Shame, really. I was hoping you'd cooperate for your sake." The incubi frowns.

He opens his briefcase, incubi's devilish smile doesn't go unnoticed.

[F/n], unable to say anything in time, connects two and two as a familiar glint reflects off the metal brandished.

Breaking out of Mammon's grasp, she straddles him and extends her wings— covering as much of him as she possibly could.

A glowing bullet hits [F/n] directly the bend of her wing, the jolt of pain sucking the wind out of her as she slips onto Mammon's stomach.

The incubi's angelic revolver smokes at the barrel.

Security tackles the gunman.

They struggle to get each of his henchmen into cuffs, but with increasing numbers it quickly becomes apparent the gunman along with his goons has no chance.

Mammon immediately moves to shield [F/n] with his body, placing her onto the web. They both look at wound, [F/n] hissing as she tries to stretch her injured wing.

"Fuck— A-Are ya' alright? I didn't think..."

"I'm fine Ammo, he just nailed my joint. That's it." She interrupted, groaning.

His face turns between her injury and her expression several times. He looked worried. His eyes glossed.

[F/n] frowns.

Electricity flies off of Mammon, turning to look at the commotion behind him. Panic quickly turns into rage as he bursts out of his confined costume with a deafening yell.

The room fills with green.

Sounds of screaming immediately follow.

Mammon smashes some of the incubi into the floor, completely crushed under his weight. He makes sure to smear them in, grinning like a Cheshire cat as he does so.

Those unfortunate enough not to cease on impact were left wailing in agony: taking a fistful of the carpet in a hopeless attempt to pull themselves away with a gaping hole going through their back to their stomach..

It was messy.

The blood from their bodies popped similarly to that of water-balloons. It was a gross, alleviating sight. [F/n] could take comfort knowing sinners like these wouldn't be able to come after her again.

After having his fun, Mammon darts his head towards the remaining incubus.

His mini spider eyes radiated a toxic green as he slinked over. The two robo-fizzies who had captured him meekly raised him towards Mammon: who instantly snatches the man and brings him towards his eye level.

"PLEASE N—"

"B̴͍͚̀E̴̯̘̊G̴͈͍͝ ̸̯̩̌F̸͖̗̈́Ò̸͉́Ṛ̶̪͆ ̶͓̑͒Y̷̥͌͂Ŏ̴̖̩̒U̷̲̳͆͌Ṙ̶̟̂ ̸̦͓͂L̶͍̺̈́Ḯ̸̬F̶̨͓͋̅E̵̩̦̋."

Before even giving him the chance, his please come strangled into whispers as Mammon squeezes him in his fist.

He exhales a large green cloud onto his pitiful expression as he attempts to gasp for air, coughing violently in response. A crack erupts.

Mammon drops him to the floor, watching as he contorted with a deafening scream. Observing him cry for a moment: he does the same as he dealt with the ones previously, popping him like an unwanted pimple.

His breathing labored, the high coming down upon realizing he was the last of the group.

Mammon raises one of his bloodied spider legs out of a fresh carcass, inspecting it, grumbling something under his breath.

The security group of robo-fizzies seem unsure on how to proceed, each of them timidly watching awaiting orders.

"The fuck are ya' looking at? Get this cleaned up NOW!" He roared.

The robots scrambled, tumbling over each other as they struggled to organize themselves.

Mammon slinks back towards [F/n], expression instantly softening.

She lets out a whine, yanking out the glowing particle as the pain of it courses through her back. "Gods fuck that hurt..." [F/n] bit her tongue, aimlessly tossing the bullet at the floor.

"Shit, let's go get ya' patched up beautiful." He mumbles, taking her carefully into his arms as if she'd shatter entirely at the slightest bump.

"Fucking— OW!"

"Ahh can ya' fuckin' hold still for a minute mate!?"

Mammon quickly wraps a thick webbing around her wing, using a splint to keep it straight in place.

[F/n] squirms, suppressing the acid-ball forming at her throat. Mammon makes his final wrap as he sticks the web onto itself, hands gently caressing her wing.

He sighs.

Neither of them say anything for a moment. The silence deafening as the reality of the situation sinks in.

He frowns, gently letting go of his work.

Moving to cup her cheek as he turns her expression towards him even gentler, afraid he would somehow shatter her.

"Why the face? What's the matter beautiful?"

There it was, again, the rapid beating of her heart over his artificial pet names.

"Nothing. Just... I can't fucking believe I got shot right in the elbow." She mumbles, sparing a glance at his handiwork on her wing.

"Normally my scales are able to tank angelic bullets... Maybe I'm becoming weak." [F/n] sighed.

"I, uh, well ya'know... That bullet would'a sent me to the bloody hospital. Cunt aimed for my head." Mammon swallows.

He drags a finger under the fabric of his neck, pulling on it momentarily.

"And honestly... I think y're the only bloody demon crazy enough who'd ever do anything like that for me."

He strokes the webbing gingerly, feeling the material brush against the rest of her scales. He paused.

Mammon tenses slightly as he rehearsed his next sentence in his mind dozens of times, feeling awkward as the very unfamiliar phrase leaves his tongue.

"So —uh— I appreciate ya' more than ya' think..."

It falls silent as her face hues.

Though it doesn't bother him remotely, continuing to massage around the bend of her wing.

If only he were consistently like this. Then it would make the signs so much more visible.

Visible he actually wanted her.

[F/n] swallows thickly, doing her best to calm the trot in her chest. She knew despite everything if she could go back in time she wouldn't change the outcome of it.

Even in the chaos of it all she cared too deeply about him to imagine him hurt. With that, the wave of knowing she completely lost to him finally came crashing down on her.

Their game of chess was finally concluded, he won, and that's why she needed to get out.

"Mammon we really need to talk."

Her wing pulls away from his petting, curling back into its usual space. He seemed disappointed as the warmth of her injured limb left his grasp.

"What about?"

Her lips quiver, the frown on her expression breaking through the poker face she tried to maintain. Her eyes water, tail curling.

She thinks of all of their mishaps together. To when she first agreed to work with him, their first banter, their first success together, how they progressively got more and more comfortable with each other.

She went from someone behind the scenes to being his only companion. He was a hothead, but so was she. But their differences felt too great: the hot and cold treatment was driving her crazy.

"We need to end our contract."

Mammon blinked. Frozen.

He slowly clenches his fists impossibly hard.

"Why? Was it because o' that fuckin' incubus? Y-Ya' watched me kill 'em. I promise next time I—"

"It's not that. None of that."

"Then what is it? Fuck changed?"

"Mammon as much as I love being here with you and working alongside you, I just can't be around you anymore."

It was obvious he didn't understand, his pause with unsure searching eyes sought to try and read the static expression she did her best to maintain.

"I'm sorry."

Mammon felt himself burn. He felt his insides ignite with such intense desperation with a feeling he didn't entirely recognize.

Even knowing her more basic tasks could be given to someone else to fill just as easily did nothing to reassure him.

Hells he didn't feel this lost when Fizz quit his position. He got over that so insanely fast. It was deeper than that.

This was the only person he remotely cared about in all of hell resigning.

The idea felt so unreal.

"I'm so sorry." [F/n] repeated.

The click of her boots echo as she walked towards the double doors of his bedroom. Like a whisper, she faded.

Mammon watches as her tail hovers just above the ground. Immediately noting how she didn't just drag it as she normally would. The low rattle it'd make was erased, as if she wanted to create the least bit of noise possible.

Why? Did he scare her?

Nonsense. She was the only one who wouldn't cave to his ridiculous disrespect despite his threats. And though it did get in his nerves initially, it grew on him and made everything in his life new again.

He enjoyed hearing her voice.

Hearing her talk about frivolous, nonsensical, shit. Enjoyed observing the smallest things about her.

Like the way she would hide the joy in her expression but unable to maintain the same façade in her eagerly wagging tail.

Or the way her wings would flutter for a second whenever she was blushing.

Or when she would get too excited her hair would pulse the color of her element. And how whenever she's extremely upset her clear complexion starts forming scales as if she were ready to morph.

Or how she sometimes has difficulty not tearing clothes due to the sharpness of her claws. She would always let out a loud groan and a few swears before deciding if it were salvageable.

He felt electricity course through his body. His eyelid twitching.

[F/n] hugged herself, shutting the door behind her as she power walked through his manor.

She used her sleeve to wipe away the tears before they could spill. Quietly whimpering to herself to alleviate the ache in her chest.

She doesn't get very far however, before snapping out of her emotions as a loud bang interrupts her.

[F/n] points her gaze backwards, watching the doors fly open while cracking at the force of his push.

"OUR CONVO AIN'T OVER!"

She backs up hesitantly as Mammon runs at her. The thumping of his soles grew louder, seemingly indifferent at the idea he may trample her.

Clouds of swamp green smoke exit through his teeth. He halts just before her, punching a hole through the wall next to them to release his rage. Chips of brick and dust recoil along with his fist.

"You— YA' THINK YA' CAN JUST JOG OFF?" He growled, leaning down as he stared at her.

"Whatever idea ya got in that pretty lil' head o' yours, toss it. I won't break our contract. You are MINE."

[F/n] sighed, eyebrows furrowed as she shook her head at him.

"You don't get it." Her disbelief erases as her head comes to point towards his.

She snaps her fingers and out manifests a golden sheet between them with both their signatures held within the bottom.

"It's written agreement in our contact that only requires the consent of one party to break it."

Mammon felt a drop of sweat come down his neck.

He froze. The pain grew.

And she was right, the section she was referring to glowed faintly among the rest of the text as she highlighted it. Demanifesting as she withdrew her hand.

"A rule you imposed since you were initially skeptical about my performance in your estate."

"I- I... Fuckin'..."

It goes silent.

The rush of anger evaporated from his body with the sparks. Feeling at a loss on what to say, Mammon swallows thickly as he blinks.

He reaches a hand to clutch the material over his chest, squeezing it.

His gaze eventually trails back to hers.

His mind returns to the thought of massive their height difference was. She was so small compared to him. It made his heart chirp. His hand comes up to erase the flustered look looming on his features.

Mammon recollects himself as best he can in a pathetic attempt. He brushes his hat shakily, the bells chiming as the material bounced back.

"So then tell me why—?"

[F/n] growls, pressing her claws into her palm.

"STOP!" She shouts at him, quickly wiping away at the corner of her eyes. "D-Don't make this needlessly complicated."

Again with the tears, only this time she couldn't prevent them.

Mammon frowned, reaching out to her. He wanted to console her, wipe away those tears. It pained him knowing he was the source.

The tip of his index finger brushed against her cheek unable to get far.

[F/n] swatted away his hand. And that hurt him.

"You fucking... g-goddamnit you fucking dumbass... Can't you see what's going on?" She hissed stomping a few steps away from him.

"I fell so hard for you, and it fucking blows because I can't just have you." She turned towards him.

[F/n] gestures to herself angrily through her cries. "Do you fucking get it now?! I'm in LOVE with you— that's why I need to get the hell away from you. I want to be something more to you but you'll only ever see me as your subordinate."

She shouted, adrenaline coursing through only heighted by her emotional outburst.

Mammon grabs her despite her struggling with his lower pair of hands, leaning over and forcing her to allow him to clean her face.

He absorbs her tears through the material of his upper pair of gloves with gentle strokes.

She grips his wrists with enough force that'd dislocate them if he were any other sinner. He felt her tremble against him.

How could he not notice her pain before?

How long ago did she start feeling this way?

There was a pool of regrets swimming in his chest and among them the biggest was not erasing her doubts sooner.

"What fuckin' nonsense have ya' been telling y'reself this entire time? I'm smitten with ya' dollface."

"You're a king sin— hell you outed Asmodeus for dating someone beneath him, how am I any different from that? People would think you're a hypocrite."

"Ya' think I give a remote fuck about what these cunts think? I'm the richest fucker in all o' hell, I didn't get here caring about what some bitch thinks o' me. I don't really give a flying shit about Asmodeus fuckin' some circus imp."

[F/n] immediately becomes less resistant to his advance. [E/c] eyes staring up at him in disbelief.

She searched desperately for any indication he was lying.

Mammon cups her jawline.

"I dunno how ya' haven't realized how obsessed I am with ya'... Thought it was reaaal obvious: I mean for fuck's sake I don't wanna be anywhere without ya'. Everything I do is with you." Mammon sighed nervously.

He lifted her in her arms, bringing down his face to gently set his forehead onto hers.

He didn't entirely recognize it before, but now that the cat was out of the bag it was so painfully apparent.

Everything he did was by her, to her, and for her. He found himself more temperamental and bored in the situations he had to exist without her. The cogs in his head finally spun, blushing for a mere moment as he finally admitted it out loud.

"I'm obsessed with ya princess. I'm fuckin' crazy over you."

If her heart pounded any faster she was sure she'd pass out.

Her eyes glued to the tiny white slits in the sea of bright green within his eyes.

They both glance down at each other's lips then back at their gaze.

Immediately realizing what the other was doing, they both smash into each other desperately. Mammon felt a firework go off in his head. She was putty in his hands. A little butterfly caught in his web.

He growled.

[F/n] caresses his features, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks and pulling him closer.

A surge of electricity runs through his expression and tickles hers affectionately. It courses her hands and down her arms eagerly.

Mammon drags his bicolored tongue across her lips, pushing himself in at the slightest gap.

Their tongues dance and with no protest Mammon explores his new territory. Their teeth clatter, Mammon doing his best not to pierce her.

The taste of coffee and pastries still lingered strongly on his saliva. Their tongues dance, aching. It's as if they couldn't get close enough to one another, both feverishly pushing into each other craving every bit of contact the other could provide.

Pleased with her submission, he makes way back into his room.

Massaging her ass with his upper pair of hands and grabbing onto her heels with the other. [F/n] releases a muffled moan.

Mammon breaks the kiss first, glancing at the spirit trail that still connected them. He licks the drool from his lips, savoring their long overdue tension-breaker.

He steals a few more pecks before taking a seat on his bed, holding onto her. He brushed a strand of her [h/c] hair out of her face.

Mammon chuckled softly, enamored with the bright hue on her complexion: gaze hungry.

Mammon stares at her. Unmoving. As his breathing very audibly becomes heavier.

It takes him a painful few seconds to snap out of his own trance.

"As much as I wanna fold ya' in my bed and have ya' take care of my stiffy— y're injured and need to rest princess."

"Oh come the fuck on Ammo, I'm fine!" [F/n] pouts, huffing while trying to feel him up through his clothes.

She slinks downwards to attempt and grind against the growing tent underneath his layers of clothes to entice him.

Mammon with every bit of self control in his body, has none of it, interwinding her hands into his instead with force as he pulls her back up to steal another peck.

"I love y're excitement but I will hurt you."

"You're no fun."

"You'll fuckin' get what you want later... Needy whore."

He scoots closer into bed.

Mammon snaps his fingers. A puff of green surround both of them, clearing quickly to reveal he had changed them into their sleepwear. He smiles softly.

His blanket flies over them as he adjusts more comfortably, plopping [F/n] on his chest.

[F/n] coils into a ball, purring happily while nuzzling herself into the crook of his neck. She quickly settles. His hand reaches to pet her hair lovingly, listening patiently as her purring gradually became more distant overtime until she drifted off entirely.

Mammon sighed with satisfaction, captivated, only then closing his eyes. "Y're gonna stay mine forever."

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss mammon #mammon x reader #helluva boss #Helluva boss mammon x reader #Helluva boss x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #mammon x you #mammon x y/n #mammon helluva boss #mammon apologist

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bloopitynoot · 3 months ago

Text

Reading SVSSS: Chapter 8

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

I am back! I know it's been a few days, but this week has been the absolute pits at work. Semester start up, new students, ramp up in projects, and alarm testing; it has been A Lot.

I am back though! I'm not going to lie, I am kind of scared that this chapter is titled "death". I may not be emotionally prepared.

No cat pics this week, Charlie has decided to abandon me- but I did break out the pumpkin mug for some pumpkin tea :'3

Here we go!

I love how Shen Qingqiu seeing this fight and an out of place person is like "only one type of person is like this" and then just doesn't say anything about who/what they are. p143

Wait, why does he toss the cat in there LOL 144

I am actually so glad that Little Palace Mistress got slapped twice! no one knows who actually slapped her- I do wish it was Ning YinYing, but it doesn't say who? (Is this revealed later? or just like left to the imagination?) pp144-145

oh shit! Another sower?!?!? p146

I feel like anytime this guy (shen qingqiu) tries to save himself Without a Cure really just ends up doing him dirty. p147

omg not his right hand again (re: touched by the sower) p148

and now he's (SQQ) being blamed again for yes another death he did not do (Re: toxic demonic poison and the disciple in the water prison). p149

oh no. did Luo Binghe kill Gongyi Xiao too??? I actually liked him (him being Gongyi Xiao) :( p150

oof. again I am so mad that these sects are quick to persecute SQQ without literally any proof. I am once again having flashbacks to MDZS. p152

Oh bless Liu Qingge to the rescue (reluctantly lol) p152

and shit, we have Luo Binghe here to snatch his man once again p153

Does Luo Binghe not know Gonyi Xiao is dead? I totally thought Luo BInghe killed him? I am confused- maybe this is revealed later? p153

why do I feel like there is another plot happening Like I get this vibe that Luo BInghe did not actually kill all those people in the Water Prison or those 100 disciples. we'll see I guess? p154

and Luo BInghe is letting him go??? p154

oh gosh! Luo Binghe pulled his sword?!?!? everyone knows about the demon things now. p156

okay now they are going to attempt to "resolve" things. I'm so nervous - these two better talk. It feels like they're always having two different conversations p157

I mean I get it Luo Binghe, If that was my life I too would say "fuck fate" p157-158

wait

oh no

oh no oh no

self detonation??? My heart :'0

why am I crying right now omg

"for all that has passed, I repay you today" p159

what the fuck :'((((((((

omg the amount of pain that just happened

this boy is fully breaking down and then Ning YingYing stands in to speak up

she really has grown on me as a character. Her evolution in this is so good. Good for her for standing up to literally everyone and talking some sense. pp162-163

oh gosh, it gets worse. And then here is Luo Binghe hearing from his old sect siblings about how distraught and lost SQQ was when they all thought Luo BInghe was dead. p163

Sweet baby boy Luo BInghe, just having an entire breakdown pp164-165

Well fuck.

Fucking hell, is this fool really dead?? Where was the system in all of this- we didn't even hear from it. No rescue or usage of points :(((((

I need it to be tomorrow so I can see what happens next.

#bloopitynoot reads svsss #svsss spoilers #mxtx svsss #svsss #I was correct thinking I was not ready #this book already made me cry #my heart #luo binghe #scum villain #shen qingqiu

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oxygenbefore1775 · 1 year ago

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am i wrong giving my all making you stay tonight

➥zeke x fem!reader

➥tags: canonverse, the year is 850 just before zeke is deployed to paradis

➥cw: major mentions of hatred towards eldians, star-crossed lovers and forbidden relationship trope, zeke is a narcissist and a dick here, the reader is also not that nice tbh, twisted marriage proposal and all that comes with it, zeke has some morbid fascination with his death, derogatory treatment from zeke (it's hella toxic); nsfw! (mdni) but it's at the very end so don't hesitate to scroll all the way down if you wanna skip all the explanation to them fucking, rough fucking, man handling, prone bone, kinda dacryphillia, talking during sex, one instance of hair tuggung

➥wc: 8.4k — no beta we die like my sleep schedule while writing this

➥summary: the night zeke tells you about his upcoming mission on paradis doesn't go without its consequences.

➥a/n: so i have this huge-ass zeke fic that i'm writing in my mother-tongue and because i'm sooo original w my content on tumblr rn i'm just gonna translate some parts of it here with some alterations - prepare for some incoherent shit, i warned you, that's like the most delulu zeke i have ever written

He is not to be trusted.

There's a deceit lacing his each word.

Cold and cunning, he was nonetheless charming. You would be lying if you denied the scorching languor that the ice of his blue eyes kindled in you.

Fleeting sentiments filled your mind in his presence, renderring you deaf and numb to your own thoughts. Not to mention his words, their poison failing to fill your absent body as you often lost the thread of the conversation. A lopsided grin curled his lips whenever you found yourself confused and unable to answer his simplest of questions, yet again, your thoughts a molten and twisted mass. You knew no end to his teasing for your frivoulness that he elicited from you with naught but a look.

Who were you, compared to the War Chief Yeager? Neither wits nor status was on your side to rebuke his taunts. Courage was failing you, fleeing at the mere sight of the red gracing his left arm. Retaliatory jabs never landed, the harsh words melted at the tip of your tongue before ever reaching him. How he reveled in seeing you like this, feeble and helpless. Just some stupid Eldian girl, that's what you were in his eyes. Unfit to be by his side.

And yet, he yearned for it nonetheless. Otherwise there was no other explaination to the slight arrogance bleeding into the way he spoke to you, leaving no other interpretation but that of a hunter taunting a mortally wounded beast. A whim, display of power, oversaturated and evident.

Occasionally he would condescend to your polite and humble requests, presenting them in a way that painted him as virtuous, as if you should be overflowing with gratitude and praises for his mere consideration of your proposals. He, however, never stooped to an open request himself, whether it be willful ignorance or inability to put thoughs into words. In such cases you were left to rely blindly on your own insight, forced to navigate through the murky water of his genuine intentions.

But witnessing this facade of complacency that masked his features most of the time disappear never failed to amuse you. How easily it could be shattered with a simle act — merely increasing the distance between you by a few steps during your routine strolls or better yet vanishing entirely from his line of sight amidst the crowd. That's all it took for the cold arrogance to crumble away and give way to a barely palpable unrest as he sought to bridge the unfavourably long gap that had grown between you unbeknownst to him. Not too close, though, being wary of avoiding the contact between your bodies.

The game he played to you was cruel yet he persisted in subjecting you to it, time after time. The true nature of his motives eluded you. The shadow of pleasure he took in poisoning your thoughts was hard to deny. Until he inhibits you whole, there would be no stopping to the suffocating hold over you. You were keep falling victim of this, though, the torment gnawing at your body and mind.

His unbroken gaze was the image etched in your memory for eternity. As well as the burning need to keep you near, by his side. Like you not staying at his apartment for the night could cost him his sleep. Like not laying his eyes one you could cost him his peace.

He remained oblivious to the fact that you noticed all of this. How could he possibly entertain those suspicions? A stupid Eldian girl would never. And still...

His gait lacked definition for someone who got the military drills beaten into him from the young age. Strange — even the deepest of thoughts usually failed to lure out a reaction from his body. Always static and phlegmatical, now he paced up and down the room, forgetting you were here in this room with him altogether.

With quick glances, you attempted to read his expression whenever he would pass your form curled up on the couch, and all in vain. His features remained an unpenetrable mask robbed of any emotion. Maybe it was the coffee. Shifting your gaze to the table covered with dirty mugs, your assumption had some reasoning behind it but you quickly brushed it off. He'd been like that long before resorting to the caffein.

Hesitation coursed through your every movement as you struggled to come up with a proper reaction. As intriguing as it was to find out what exactly had been plaguing the mind of steadfast War Chief, you couldn't muster up the insolence of striking up a conversation first. Who were you to inquire, anyway.

"One could hear your thoughts from a mile away."

His voice shook the cushioned silence of the room, bearing the same shadow of amusement he usually graced your way, as if the last hours weren't filled with restless pacing. Looking up to meet his gaze, a spark of amusement melted the cold of his eyes. The chance to divert his churning thoughts towards such a trivial remark seemed to bring him a little relief.

He prompted you with a quirk of his brow. "Speak what is it you have on your mind, or else you might burst."

There was that grin again, dark and painting his features in shadows. You shifted on the couch, nails digging into the flesh of your palm. At this point, each word you were going to say hardly veiled any obscurity since he'd already knew the nature of her question. He liked being proven right.

"Nothing really," your voice lacked the lively rebuke that usually sounded in your constant bickering back and forth, his unrest had seemed to rub off onto you as well. "You just seem off."

Your overtly careful choice of words elicited his soft chuckle. For a few moments he looked down on you, pondering just how much of information he should tell you. If he should tell you. After all, it was the knowledge not meant for the likes of you, civilians.

The light-hearted tone of his voice bore a stark contrast to the atmosphere and the words he was saying. "They're sending me to the island." His lips pressed into a thin bloodless line once he fell silent, his unbroken gaze on your face.

A deep line etched between your eyebrows. Still puzzled, you looked up at him searching for some sort of visual purchase.

The island of devils — any warrior would be elated at the prospect of proving their worth to Marley in battling the spawns of Paradis. Yet this sense of pride never captivated Zeke. More than anything, frustration seemed to have bled into his fair features.

Question, perhaps stupid in its naivete, plagued you so you let it leap off of your tongue. "Is this good or bad news?"

"And what do you think?" He retorted, pained playfullness still lingering in his voice. "When you send four Titans to an important mission and this is followed by five years of silence, how good can those news be?"

The air in the room became thick with smoke and smell of tobacco — Zeke must've lit a cigarette without you noticing. Your nose wrinkling, you slid to the other side of the couch where the gray thick cloud couldn't reach you. Uncanny thoughts soon started festering in your mind.

You cringed at your own way of thinking yet you couldn't help but to ask once more. "Are you—" unflattering crack snaked its way into your voice. "Is it going to be for a long time?"

He must've found your seeming worry endearing. His shoulders trembled in a fit of silent laughter, taking amusement in you. Like a pet who suddenly pulled a trick unbefitting of their intelligence. Artificial light cast dark shadows on his face as he neared the kitchen table, taking a sip from one of the half-empty mugs.

"I can only imagine." He stole a gaze at you, eager to capture the row of fleeting emotion painting your features. "Those four must've done a gravely mistake and now fear to face the punishment or died a long time ago. Now they expect me to clean up after them." Benevolent grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "Warrior children, what a joke to Marley's army."

You shunned the way you had received the news. The insolence to fear, to assume the worst when you'd come to imagine him away on his mission was unacceptable of you, stupid Eldian girl. Your mind shouldn't be a harbor for such doubts. Zeke Yeager is a powerful warrior, the strongest in the unit. The red armband akin to the blood he'd spilt as an honorary Marleyan, a testament to hsi long service for the country. The island devils would be a little challenge for someone like him as his strength a prowess doomed him to imminent success. Your eyelashes fluttered as you sought solace in embrace of your arms, hiding your face in between your knees, away from his piercing stare. And yet you had the worries and you let them slowly eat away at you.

A temper tantrum would hardly influence Marley's decision and rid you of your predicament, but it didn't make you backtrack on your blind desire nonetheless. And he'd be thrilled to see your tears, especially if he was the cause of them.

Solitude started to weigh over your head like a dark stormy cloud. To be apart for such a long time rang so foreign to you. Foreign and cruel. Being at Yeager's side bore its benefits which you didn't hesitate to reap and now that the threat of those upsides being ripped away from you hung in the air, you felt... annoyed. You smiled to yourself at the fact that you'd finally been able to pin down your emotion. Annoyed sounded about right. And nothing else.

Noticing your downcast look, he decided to seal off your state with another barbed remark. "Spare Liberio your distraught sentiments. You weren't supposed to know about this in the first place. And I'd like to keep it that way in the eyes of the other people."

The ice in his gaze was persistent as he locked eyes with you. Not persistent enough to prevent the lopsided grin from twisting your lips.

In a fit of distorted glee, you inquired, your voice barely above whisper, "Why did you tell me about this then?" The words dripped with a mix of curiosity and spite, as if you had unraveled a hidden agenda beneath his carefully constructed facade. Your eyes bore into his, searching for a glimpse of vulnerability or truth amidst the web of deceit that surrounded him.

He was never easy to nail down so you didn't believe your luck when you caught a glimpse of emotion, as weak and light as the candle's flame, flicker in his eyes. And you didn't care for the nature of it — be it the amazement at the precision of your question or the anger with your insolence — it pleased you as long as it wasn't the usual cold spite. You found comfort in the knowledge that he, just like you, may be subservient to something other than his logic. That you're not the only one affected by the news of departure. The satisfaction was short-lived though as his features quickly acquired the same expression as before, a blank canvas you couldn't read.

The nicotine must've cleared his senses seeing as he scoffed at you in a condescending rebuke. "So that you won't make any fuss once you find the house empty." His hand reached to rest under your chin but you didn't accept the gesture, turning your head the other way. Stubborn behavior befitting the image of a stupid Eldian girl he painted you as in his mind. "It's still very much a secret mission so only limited number of people are allowed to know."

His touch rejected, he returned to the table, from which he continued keeping his unwavering gaze on you.

Did his remark suggest that his family was included in this selected group? Meaning, he went out of his way just to tell you? And for what? For you not to worry? Watching him form the corner of your eye, you couldn't help but to adore the stark discrepancy between his words and actions.

"I'll consider this your act of courtesy towards me." You shot back meekly, the tone of your voice suddenly growing more humble. At least you would have the satisfaction of having last word even if it meant resorting to your obsequious self.

Now, after a cigarette or two, he appeared utterly unfazed as if he weren't gambling with his own life by venturing onto the island of devils. When it came to his life, he never seemed to hold it at great value. You were the one to do it in his stead.

Curiosity took the better of you as you turned your head to face him, a hint of concern seeping through your facade. "How dangerous will it be? If the other Warriors had been on the island for five years, then those devils must be strong enough to pose a threat." You couldn't help but shudder at the thought of the mission potentially stretching beyond five years for Zeke. As capable and talented as he was, five years to his life were something that he just didn't have.

Zeke leaned back in his chair, the lazy twirling of smoke rising up out of his cigarette in contrast to the sharpness of the sneer that quickly appeared in the depths of his eyes. "For someone so uninvolved in the military campagns of Marley you seem to have too many questions about this mission. What's with the constant inquiries?" His words dripping with misleading benevolence.

His question momentarily silenced the room, knocking the air out of your lungs. Perhaps you indeed asked too many questions for someone of your station, someone who's supposed to be in a strictly comradely relationship with Zeke. You felt the tension growing more palpable the longer you kept him waiting. The glint in his eyes spoke volumes, a mix of amusement and knowing, hinting at the fact that he'd already got himself a satisfactory answer to his own inquiry. Part of you sensed that he'd guessed it right.

Nonetheless, you rushed to state the opposite in a futile attempt to undermine his own conclusion. "I think it's only logical of any Eldian to take interest in this mission." You pursed your lips before speaking again, feeling how artificial your words sounded leaping off your tongue. "The fate of the whole world depends on its outcome, does it not?"

At this point you'd grown too weary of him, his presence already intoxicating as it is. Why'd he brought you into his house? Just to tell you about his leave, take joy in seeing you shedding a shred of worry towards him but to mock you later for expressing those? Your drilled, bordering on automatic, response didn't win any favour with him yet managed to amuse him to some extent, evident in the way a mischevious grin split his face as he stood up from his chair.

His steps rang louder and louder with him approaching the couch you were sitting on. You let out a relieved sigh, cradling the hope that he'll finally grant you with leave, having had his share of playing games with you.

His eyes told otherwise. "No." He simply shook his head, denying you the last opportunity to leave his house. "I'll argue that there's more to it."

With that, his voice took on more sweetness that he usually allowed himself whilst talking to you which surprised you. At this point of your conversation he'd usually stoop down to tasteful taunts, a stark contrast to the moderation he was currently excercising, making your mind teem with thoughts.

"All the correspondence is forbidden for the Marleyan warriors whilst on the mission. Were you aware of that?" Still lacking a full comprehension of his motives, you nodded your head, your eyes big and doe-like. Nonetheless, he accepted your curt response, elusive benevolence seeping through his features. "Not if it's meant for the close family members, though. Also honorary Marleyans, like me. On that front Marley had been exceptionally allowing."

Again with the obscureness, as if expressing his thoughts in straight sentences would rob him of his last breath. Still, you continued to look at him, your eyes fixated on the enigma that was the fleeting chain of emotions lacing his features. The tips of your ears burning, the supressed frustration at having to sit here and listen to him welled up inside you. His monologue had just took off yet he was already dousing you with mental excercises you were unwilling to solve at this late hour.

Feather-light touch grazed against your temple, his fingers tucking an unruly strand behind your ear, bringing you back to the sound of his musings. "Wouldn't you be worried not knowing about my whereabouts on the Paradis?"

You rushed to deny his groundless assumptions but you found your lips too heavy to utter a word. Thus, he continued, a sliver of benevolent amusement in his tone. "Who knows, perhaps I would be captured or even killed and you would have no idea of my fate?"

The words sounded strange coming from him. He never paid any mind to the morbid consequences that may happen to him whilst on a mission and now that he was shedding light to it in front of you, it filled you with more confusion.

Still, you leaned in closer, intrigued by this newly discovered oddity of his, wanting to her what else he had to say.

"Aren't you?" He called out to you yet there wasn't a hint of condescention to his voice. As if he genuinely took interest in your answer, waiting for you to respond.

And you did answer, with a shallow "yes" whispered in the room. Usually you refrained from such vulnerability as this was often followed with barbed taunts, punishing you for the display of affection to someone as unfeasible as him. But this time, he seemed to had welcomed it.

The spark in his eyes was warm, an exception of his facade you rarely got to see. "Well, I just might help you to get rid of your worries. Would you like that?" You let him touch under your chin, lifting your gaze to see his.

In that moment, the fog of confusion clouding your mind began to lift, revealing glimpses of his true nature. Your eyes widened in surprise as you finally captured what was lurking behind the blue irises. He captured your gaze, too, as well as the sudden recognition, hence the smile, soft and warm, melting the curve of his lips as he opened his mouth to speak. You didn't have to listen to him to know what he was about to say yet it didn't substract from the surrealism of the situation.

"Be my wife."

Out of all the blows, this was by far the most cruel and perverted. The idea seemed too far-fetched, too out of reach for it to have any meaning behind it. You had grown accustomed to his teasing, his banter and the way he seemed to enjoy keeping you on your toes. Can this be another one of his games? Another way to rattle your composure?

Your gaze quickly turned skeptical. You couldn't risk remaining vulnerable in his presence and at this moment. You kept waiting for the mask of pretense to slide right off his face, for him to announce that he had indeed tried to trick you. Yet it stayed all the same, as if the expression was genuine, eyes brimming with inviting warmth like before. Still, doubt lingered within you.

Why should this day be a precedence? An upcoming operation on Paradis couldn't possibly cause this shift inside him. He'd been on other missions before and never before had his unwavering level-headedness left him.

He is not to be trusted. The words that were still echoing in your head are not to be trusted. The mantra sealing your lips, you tried to ward off the terrible temptation to give into what he was saying. He wouldn't hesitate to drag you through the mud if he finds out that you'd fallen prey to his words.

"You can't mean that." It was your final verdict. If he wasn't the one to aknowledge it then you had to be.

The smile on his lips gave way to a lopsided grin, as if your response didn't come as surprise to him. So it had been a game after all, you mused as you allowed yourself a mental praise for your own foresight.

"But I can." The rebuke remaining soft, he kept looking at you, waiting for your eyes to meet again.

It was of no use to you, though. All that you would see in the icy pools would be either that inviting warmth again or a blind wall. And neither of those would cast any light on what had been truly driving his actions all along.

The air felt silent and still. This — all of this — wasn't happenning to you. No night being spent at his house, no awkward pause between you two, no twisted words of proposal. It was all too much for the likes of you, common Eldian girl.

Regardless of your thoughts, he rushed to crush them, bringing you to the undeniable and inevitable reality.

He called out to you again, "So what?" the grin that seemed to appear on his features so often suddenly faded. "Will you be my wife?" You could only chuckle at his courtesy to having finally asked you, instead of bluntly stating his wishes.

With that, he sanked down on the sofa cushions, sitting next to her. The knowledge of his taunts, sometimes ruthless in their nature, implored you to momentarily refrain from answering his question and allowing him to continue, instead. The sincerity had no place in the words he was directing towards you. His statements were not to be held at face value, you had to remind yourself.

Nevertheless, you succumbed to the temptation that had been gnawing at you for a long time as you let your head fall onto his shoulder, the precise movement leaving no room for interpretation of your intentionall gesture. He would be hardly angry with you for such a display of weakness. Quite on the contrary, as your begrudgent vulnerability flattered him immensly.

The weight of the gone day suddenly crushed over you in waves, robbing you of any strength. "A lovely young captain's wife." The saccharine in his tone started to taste bitter. "Mrs. Yeager who would wait for her husband to return from military operations, her body and and soul devoted to him only. Who would meet me with joy and every evening after a working day take off my boots for me."

Wrinkling your nose, you otherwise didn't let your momentary disgust become apparent to him via your posture.

Alerted by your silence, he turned his head in your direction. His breath, hot and tart with tobacco, seared your face. "What do you say?"

Wife. The time had long come for you to forget this word. At this moment and in your position, it was an unthinkable thing for you. Who were you in comparison to the prized asset that Zeke was to the country? He was also no exception, even if the red armband signified otherwise. Bound by his service to Marley, he would never be allowed to dedicate even a sliver of his attention to something not pertaining to his warrior duty.

But on rare occasions you granted yourself the indulgence but also the freedom to your own dreams and you intended to do it today as well. Even if it was the first time for you to voice your hidden desires to someone else, let alone someone who figured in your dreams so often.

The warmth slid along her thigh where he ran his palm across your skin in a thoughtless caress, his touch radiating with heat. Just as thoughtlessly, you caught his movement, taking two of his fingers into your palm.

Being an Eldian in an internment zone, your fate had been sealed long ago yet you found comfort in the knowledge. With your future set in stone, you had all the freedom to fantasize about your chimerical impossible life.

Soon enough you started speaking, your words bearing the same bliss that his were. "Then your huge bath would be all mine and I would bathe in it every day. Definitely with bubbles. And you wouldn't be able to tell me anything against it."

Your ears caught a faint chuckle escaping his lips, accompanied by a subtle exhale.

The prospect of sharing a life with the captain held an irresistible allure. Despite all the taunts lacing his words, a grain of truth resonated within them. This was perhaps the best outcome an Eldian from the internment zone such as yourself could ever hope for. A sharp-tongued and occasionally unbearable husband aside, the advantages of such a union far outweighed the disadvatages. As the capitan of the warrior unit, his duties would often take him outside of Liberio, leaving you to revel in the opulence of your home for many days and even weeks to come.

Contrary to his words though, you would hardly harbour any sentiments over him not being by your side as he had teasingly described to you. Your heart would be unlikely to languish in lamenting the frequent separation, seeing as the luxury of your home would occupy your whole mind, sparing not a single thought for your warrior husband. Even in your sweetest dreams the love that typically exists between the spouses was conspicuously absent in your marriage. Such an emotion was barred for the two of you, as you remained essentially strangers to one another.

Your eyes dropped to the entanglement of your fingers from which he was in no hurry to free himself.

You started to forget yourself, as the most sincere of words weighed heavy on the tip of your tongue. "But also the coffee that you would brew every morning. I really like it."

His lips momentarily twitched, as if your timid praide had either amused or touched him.

A casual impudence found its way into his retort. "Oh no. After I get married I won't go into the kitchen at all so it will all be the responsibility of Mrs. Yeager." He dragged out the last words a little. "I don't want a wife who can't even make me coffee."

The warmth of his body enveloping you, you pulled your knees to your chest and settled into the comfort of your position. Usually, neither of you was insolent enough to seek proximity in each other's presence in this way. Besides sex, your bodies rarely touched, but at this moment it was all too tempting to mind your self-restraint. And yet, your move didn't provoke irritation in him. Instead, it seemed to have awakened a temporary surge of affection within him. He even opened his arms wider, as if embracing you more deeply. However, you couldn't ignore the subtle stiffness in his gestures, a reminder of the hopeless underlying truth about your relationship. You two were far from being a married couple and the likelihood of you ever becoming spouses seemed increasingly remote.

Possible or not, the illusion was sweet enough to numb the cynicism of your predicament.

Yet another breath of his scorched the shell of your ear. "But will you teach me? How to make coffee?" Your inquiry laced with naive politeness, you smiled as you felt his chest, a barely audible hum rumbling the air. "Will my husband have any other expectations of his poor tireless wife?"

In a feigned attempt to challenge him, your palm closed around his fingers even tighter, as if she wanted to attract even more of his attention to her.

This ploy of yours appeared to be succesfull, seeing as his hold of you grew closer. "Your husband would like you to spoil him with your cooking every day." He said with a soft chuckle. "Not that I have tried your food but that is all trivial. My regeneration can withstand the effects of any poison so your cooking would hardly deal any damage to me, no matter how disgusting it may be."

You fell silent at the lack of a proper rebuke, letting yourself get lost in this moment that you doubted you would see again any time soon.

And you were proven right. Just as you began to embrace the newfound comfort of your position, your hopes to have this moment last a bit longer were swiftly shattered. The warmth in his voice dissipated, replaced by a chilling tone as he leaned in to whisper into your ear. "Why deceive yourself?" His words dripped with cold determination. "I know all too well why someone like you would like to meddle with someone like me."

With no further explanation, he presented you with his armband, bright red fabric carelessly thrown onto your hand. The shift in his disposition was so sudden that you took a second to even register the feel of rough cloth against the skin of your palm. Disturbed by the intrusive nature of his inquiry, you tried to pry yourself away from him yet he didn't let you, his fingers finding their place under your chin to turn your face to him. The pools of his blue eyes were colder than ever, studying your expression, not losing sight of each fleeting emotion painting your features, as if the silent observation would provide him with more answers instead of just asking you directly.

Yet you didn't feel fear. In all the time that you had known each other, he never gave you the reason to be afraid around him. This surely had to be attributed to his charms since his each action, no matter how twisted or condescending, held a certain allure over you. Even now as you were pinned down in your place and forced to continuosly look back at him, all you could feel was frustration welling up inside you.

Your exasparetion started to overflow, evident in the way your brows knitted together. "You're hurting my neck," you voiced your discontent in a soft manner, only to be met with his unamuzed gaze.

He only got closer to you, your bodies pressing up against each other, his lips so near to yours that your mouth began to water at the bitter taste of tobacco dancing on your tongue.

Your protests were heeded, and he released his hold on your chin, seemingly satisfied with gazing at you. Another whisper, hot and sibilant, flowed into your ear. "It was hard not to notice, you stared at it too often." Instinctively, your hand tightened its grip on the red fabric, drawing it closer to your chest. "But I can understand your fascination with that thing. What is it that you want exactly?"

Considering all his past actions, his question sounded almost too caring, too soft and too thoughtful for someone like him. Were you a bit more perceptive in that moment, perhaps you would have been touched by his genuine interest but instead you couldn't help but to feel exposed. Maybe you did stare at it too much, as hardly a conversation with him went by without your excessive attention being drawn to some piece of fabric instead of the person it belonged to. You hoped that he hadn't been awake during the nights when you dared to harbor enough insolence to take the armband from his nightstand and pose with it in front of the mirror, the reflections of you with a red ring circling your left arm looking so dreamy and beautiful.

Hardly any Eldian in the internment zone didn't want to be an honorary Marleyan, and you were no exception. In fact, you were the most trivial showcase of this bold desire. It can give you a better life and safety and freedom, most of all. Freedom to go beyond the stone walls of the internment zone, even if for just a while.

In all your life you never came to think that the armband could be attained through the means Zeke had proposed to you not so long ago.

You were thankful to him for still keeping his composure. At least one of you had to. "So what is it? Everything, I assume?" You felt his breath hitch as soon as you answered with a curt nod. "Then everything it is. And I will give it to you."

The right words were coming hard to you yet you couldn't wait any longer to voice them. Pulling away, you finally put some distance between you two, finally free from his suffocating warmth. "Are you hearing yourself right now?"

Your attempts to reason with him were quickly put to rest with a single gaze he graced your way. The intensity in his eyes made your words falter on your lips, as a knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Right now, each of my word has weight so listen to me while I'm still talking."

Surprisingly, it worked. But it wasn't for his concise argument but rather the oddly familiar expression in the depths of his eyes. As you gazed deeper into those pools of blue, you saw a reflection of your own yearnings, a crack in his flawless facade. A pained smile bent your lips as you reveled in the realization that Zeke had given way to the same sentiments as you. And you thought once that he was insusceptible to this. A dark chuckle escaping your lips, the gravity of your predicament started to set in. Fools, both of you.

In a haste you took off his glasses before kissing him. You didn't want the metal frame to poke you in the eye again should the angle be not right.

His lips felt dry against yours, the tart taste of tobacco doing little to prevent you from sliding your tongue into his mouth. He smiled into the kiss as he felt you settling back into his embrace, the cushions collapsing under the collective weight of your bodies.

Your aggressive initiative was a welcome dynamic, with you quickly straddling his lap as he was left to take in the feel of your body. The coil in your stomach began to wind up with each painstakingly slow movement of your hips. The sloppy sounds of kissing rang loud in the room, interrupted only with your breathy whimpers whenever you grazed your sweet spot.

It took him all his strength to pull away, fake and long-soiled paragon of self-restraint lacing his tone when he spoke to you. "The couch would be too narrow for this." The voice barely above whisper.

With that, he grabbed you under your knees, drawing your legs closer to his body for a better purchase. Instinctively, you wrapped your hands around his neck and leaned into his chest so you wouldn't fall when he picked you up. His fingers sank into the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he carried you into the bedroom, your body barely a burden for him. A curt laughter rose from your chest and got lost in the tussels of his fair hair. You hadn't thought him to be so strong outside of his Titan form.

The springs of the mattress wailed as he let go of you, initiating your short fall. He looked down on you, his movements suddenly lacking resolve but his eyes still transfixed on your form. Reluctant to give any more thought to the ponderings teeming his mind, you didn't intend on waiting idly for him to join you. In the growing heat of the room your clothes became a nuisance, just another one of the barriers standing between you two.

Your fingers untypically spry for the state that you were in, you reached for the rows of buttons on your clothes, unburdening yourself layer by layer all the while watching him watch you.

Evidently, the sight of your naked form helped him come to his senses quickly as he stepped closer to the edge of the bed. In a bout of anticipation coursing through your veins you extended your arms towards him in an alluring invitation, starving to taste the tobacco on your tongue again.

All the same dark grin of his told otherwise. Instead of granting you the satisfaction of having his mouth on yours, he grabbed the hold of your hips to flip you over, tight grip sure to leave marks on the skin in the morning to come.

His weight came crushing over you, knocking the air out of your lungs and pinning you in place. Although he was using both of his hands to support his body, with each at the either side of you, it brought you little relief.

"Like I was saying," his lips pressed against the shell of your ear, you felt as if the reverberations of his voice reached your brain. "Marley allowing me to marry is more real than you think. Don't think they would refuse their most valuable asset in such a trivial matter. Maybe I'll even start winning more wars for them."

Your mind refused to give any more attention to his words, demanding a tangible satisfaction instead. You tried to arch your back in hopes that the sudden contact of your pelvises would make him forget his musings, forcing him to stoop down to the same level that you found yourself on, but it was all futile. Under the immense pressure your lower torso was rendered immobile, as if fused with the plush mass of the mattress.

The skin on your shoulder tingled with faint prickles where he rested his chin. "The armband, as significant as it may seem, is not the solution to each of your problem in the internment zone. A glorified scrap of fabric signifying that you're just a bit less miserable than all the others, that's what it is, really." he spoke, his voice tainted with sullen knowledge.

You absolutely hated how he remained so stationary while in arguably the most compromised position and how you lacked the power to change it. "Then why are you willing to go through the trouble of giving me one?" You hissed into the cradle of your palms, tone brimming with impotent dissatisfaction.

The next moment you felt him grabbing a fistful of your hair, with a violent tug forcing your head to turn to the side, your neck almost snapping from the sheer power of the motion. You were met with his gaze, angry yet at the same time seemingly insulted by your insolence to question his motives again. You responded in kind, your eyes watching his lips in anticipation of yet another one of his countless self-serving musings to be voiced. But you didn't hear any. He let go of your hair just as suddenly, nudging you to face away from him.

Sitting up straight, his body weight shifted towards your thighs as he was straddling them. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his shirt falling to the ground. The sound of the belt buckle coming unfastened was the next thing you heard, the soft clang of the metal clasp filling you with thrill.

His hand snaked its way to your abdomen, pressing against the small of the belly to make you raise your hips and you felt happy to oblige, displaying yourself nicely to him. His touch lingered on you for quite some time after that as both of his hands traveled to the back your thighs, absentmindedly caressing the supple flesh in lazy broad strokes. A surge of goosebumps cascaded across your body, each wave driven not only by his scorching touch but also by a sudden flash of realization.

He must have noticed how shamelessly wet you were. The positioning of your hips left barely any room for his imagination and presented him with the delectable view of your slit, slick covered and pulsing with heat. Exasperated, you bit down on your lower lip to supress a desperate moan all the while he took his sweet fucking time to revel in the way your cunt flutterd around nothing begging to be filled. As much as you wanted to feel him inside you, you kept your pleas to yourself, left solely at the mercy of his self-restraint which you hoped had started to diminish already. You'd rather die than make your weakness for him known again, as if your body wasn't enough of an indicator already.

Eternity might have passed but he eventually moved, shifting some of his weight back onto his arms as he mounted you.

You couldn't help but gasp at the way your walls enveloped him, struggling to take his girth at first. A drawn-out raspy fuck emitted from his chest once he entered you, his motion slow yet persistent as he slid his cock deeper inside you. Careful not to harm you, he halted whenever your breaths became too shallow and frantic from the stinging of the stretch, not moving any further without your leave.

Minutes later you felt him reach the deepest part of your cunt, the immense pressure from his continuous thrust built at the bottom of your stomach, so unbearable that it rendered all the other sensations non-existent. There was no way he couldn't feel your body tensing up below him. Nonetheless, he kept on pushing, as if trying to break you. Even as you tried to get away from the uncomfortable feeling, he stopped you, putting his palms over yours as another way to pin you down. The weight of the pressure bore down on you relentlessly, within mere seconds, tears began to bead on your lashline, threatening to cascase down your cheeks and fall onto the sheets.

The skin of your nape grew hot where he doused it in kisses. Twisted sense of comfort welled up inside of you in hopes that his caresses, so out-of-place yet so warranted, would at the very least provide some relief to you. It seemed that he would persist until you fully succumb to him. A whispered praise poured into your ear once all the struggle left your body and your flesh became pliable to him.

Only then did he back down. Letting you catch your breath as one of his hands traced its way to your face, brushing a strand aside to get a better look of your eyes glistening with tears.

Little did you know that it would be the final act of gentleness he bestowed upon you for a long time, leaving you yearning for more. You didn't even had the time to savour it as he set a new unforgiving pace.

Beyond the tingling sensation of his cock dragging against your walls in a brutalizing manner, sharp hissing grazed your ear. "Why in hell would I go through the trouble of giving you one," he tantalised, each of his thrusts only adding to the mockery. "So you won't forget that you're mine while I'm be away".

"Mine and safe," he murmured then, confident that you won't hear him.

It wasn't his voice. It sounded so unlike him in this moment, frail and vulnerable, but you were the only people in the room so it must've been him.

A jolt of pleasure railed through your body with the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot over and over again, driving you wild. Your pleasure became apparent to him as well, his motions gaining more precision to increase the blissful sensation for you.

Struggling to form words you nonetheless tried to, your lips and tongue heavy. "So this is what comes with being your wife?" You couldn't believe the tenderness lacing your tone at this moment. The sentiments were a cruel thing, not something you were supposed to have towards him, nor he towards you.

His reply was overtly eager, as he leaned closer to you, your bodies pressing together almost seamlessly. "Pretty much," his voice rang in your ear. "You must admit that you're very fortunate."

You craned your neck to face him, curiosity sparkling in your eyes. Taking in your alluring look, he couldn't resist the glowing skin of your shoulders, so transfixed on tasting the salt of your sweat on his lips that he ground to a halt inside you.

All you could do was rile him up even further, a chuckle escaping your lips. "Oh yes, the prospect of having you cater to my every whim sounds like a remarkably enticing endeavor on my side."

As your words hung in the air, a mischievous glint danced in your eyes, reveling in the effect they had on him. The corners of his mouth curled into a sly grin, mirroring your own playful demeanor and growing heavy with somber tone. With that, his hold on you became tighter, his hand groping at the fat of your thighs.

His hips snapped against yours with such a force that you nearly mewled, feeling the reverberations of his thrust echoing throughout your body. "Enjoying it while you can." His voice dropped to a low, husky timbre, tinged with a hint of challenge and sneer. "You've got only five years left for that."

This level-headed bordering on indifferent demeanor in a blind disregard of his own words struck a nerve with you. You gulped some air, desperate to conceal the outburst within you.

You wished he hadn't remind you of the imminent futility of your secret musings. You wished he would just carry on with pounding into your leaking heat with no thought to it. As he moved inside you, sinking his cock inch by delicious inch, the pleasure of it faded even if your own body continued having visceral reaction to the process, your gummy fluttering around his girth. Now, only lament had residence in your mind. If it wasn't for your unfortunate fate of having been born as Eldians, perhaps you could have a chance at a normal life. Without the constant thoughts of him slipping away.

His resolve undying, he pressed your body deeper into the mattress, the pressure of his hands driving the air out of your lungs all the while his cock kept winding the coil in the pit of your stomach.

"Widowhood would suit you so good."

His voice remained just as mocking as before, as if the life that was put on the clock wasn't his. You, on the other hand, were precisely the one not entertaining such remarks. "Tell me." You could barely make out the words amongst the squelching sounds. "Tell me, will you mourn me? Funeral would be hard to organize, admittedly, with no body left for you to bury, but-"

You rushed to hide your face in the sheets. You heard enough. You didn't want to hear anymore of his taunts.

The words still reached your ear. "Will you cry for me like a good wife should for her husband?" He came to a halt deep inside you yet again, ready to break you should you not answer. "I've never seen those eyes cry before. So will you or will you not?"

The satisfaction wouldn't come so easily to him as you remained motionless under him. Only your shoulders quivered with subtle tremors, betraying the hidden distress that stirred within you. As simple thing such as breathing brought you a lot of struggle so you could only hope that your poise would last through all of this.

"It's not like I've taken your tongue away," he mocked.

A gesture of feigned compassion, you felt his fingers card through your hair, lulling you into false sense of security in hopes of luring out a desired reaction out of you. The sweet tone of his voice came off as cruel and mocking as he coaxed you for an answer, his fingers toying with your clit only adding to the torture.

Sick twisted pleasure, that's what he was getting from all of this. Your answer to his inquiries evident to him, he nonetheless wanted to hear it falling from your lips, dry and bitten at.

Yet, when he spoke again, his voice shed all its malice, barren as it trembled slightly. "At least remember me after I'm gone, would you do that for me?" He called out your name and it sounded vulnerable coming from him, his tone etching deep within your memory.

With a lump forming in your throat, you struggled to find your voice as well as enough air to form a response. There was no purchase for your mind as a scorching wave of orgasm coursed through your body, your face contourting in pleasure and your cunt squeezing in around him. With that, the last bit of poise left you and you broke down completely.

"Yes!" you pushed past your lips, hot tears streaming down your cheeks and your shoulders shaking with each sob.

In this moment you suddenly grew unaware of your surroundings, deaf to his whispers pouring into the ear and numb to the tingling stretch of your core as he was chasing his own high.

The skin of your inner thighs soiled with his seed, you would normally rush to the bathroom to wash away the stench of sex but this time you thought against it, curling up on the bed instead once he rolled off of you. Only now you began to feel the weight of your confession. Why did it have to be you alone to crack under the surge of sentiments that held immense power over you?

He decided to stay in bed as well, watching you struggle to come to terms with what you had just said, complacent grin plastered across his face. Evidently, you made him very happy this night.

"When are you leaving?" you asked in a raspy voice, watching him as he watched you in the enveloping darkness.

His fingers reached for a stray strand, sliding it behind your ear. His tone was thick with mindless glee. "In a couple of weeks, plenty of time for me to convince Marley to green light the marriage." The kiss he left on your lips acquired a bitter taste with time. "What will you say?" At the lack of suitable words, you just nodded dumbly.

He is not to be trusted.

There's a deceit lacing his each word.

But as you gazed deeper into his eyes, glinting in the dark shroud of the night, you let him deceive you yet again.

(phew)

#zeke x reader #zeke yeager x reader #zeke x you #zeke yeager x you #zeke smut #zeke yeager smut #aot smut

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sneakyboymerlin · 5 months ago

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Can I ask for you to talk more about what you said in the tags of this post? Morgana went evil because she was classist and not because she was hurt? Can you go more into depth on that? I feel like Morgana's arc and her motivations are really hard to decipher because of the way she was written. Like one episode it seems like she just wants Uther dead, and then the next she wants Arthur dead too and she wants the crown and she's going after Emrys and that shift always confused me a little.

I always thought the interpretation that Merlin could have helped her more was valid. Like, yes I am completely in agreement that the entire point of 2x03 is that Merlin helped her when no one else would. But he also took back that help as the season went on, and betrayed her when he poisoned her. There WAS more he could have done, I think. He could have been honest about himself, but he wasn't. He could have simply told her that he suspected that maybe she was the center of the sleeping spell in the Fires of Idirsholas, but he didn't. He could have tried convincing Gauis to help her on his own, without bringing Merlin into it, but he didn't. (Even Katie McGrath said that she blamed Merlin for what became of Morgana.)

And yes, I know why these things didn't happen. Because the dragon told him not to and Gauis told him not to. But in the end these WERE Merlin's choices. And maybe if he had chosen differently, so would have Morgana.

Like, yes I agree that Morgana's choices were her own. But I don't think she made those choices in a vacuum.

As to the bit of her being classist, I think I understand what you mean? But I'm still confused because I wouldn't exactly call Morgana from season 1-2 or even season 3 a classist person. She was good back then, shared values with Arthur about what a better world would look like.

I'm just so intrigued by what you might mean, and I'm always looking for new ways to look at this story. It's lovely that after all this time there's still more to discuss.

Lot to unpack here.

For one thing, Morgana feeling hurt didn’t encourage her to kill or allow the killing of random uninvolved people, but especially the Druids + their sympathizers who were arrested in 2x03. She ignored her kin’s plight in favor of her own comfort, even though she is granted protections that those people couldn’t dream of. She’s very much a class traitor from the start, because she tends to be thinking more about how she feels than how others do. She’s more blatant in her self-loyalty later on, but it’s always been a theme with her.

As for Merlin, 2x12 was a mutual betrayal between him and Morgana. Morgana betrays him first in this episode by endorsing the fever spell that Morgause casts on Camelot. While she’s not fully informed at first, 1) Merlin has no way of knowing that (especially since she has formed similar alliances in 1x12 and 2x11), and 2) Morgana embraces Morgause’s plan after the fact (explicitly so in 3x01/2). Merlin then poisons Morgana in order to end the fever spell on Camelot, choosing the greater good over her as an individual. To clarify point 2 here, Morgana is aware long before 3x01 that Merlin poisoned her because everyone in Camelot was slowly dying, but she makes it clear that she understands this in 3x01.

I also fail to see how Merlin revealing his own magic would have changed anything. Morgana already knows that Merlin is pro-magic (also discussed in 3x01), they simply have different methods by which they aim to achieve that goal. Both are flawed, as Merlin’s relies on tyrants like Uther changing their minds, and he places blame on the oppressed group (even if he’s a part of it) for not demonstrating that magic can be good, when it doesn’t matter how well this is demonstrated, since magic is not banned for any logical reason.

Morgana’s plan is also flawed because she prioritizes herself over anyone else, meeting Uther’s tyranny with more tyranny. This is where the classism comes in. Morgana’s sense of entitlement is rooted in her status as a noblewoman. As 2x03 demonstrates, she values her own safety above the safety of her people, and when her descent is portrayed more openly, the first changes we see are in her mistreatment of Gwen, her maidservant. In 3x01/2, she also finds the townspeople to be disposable (including the Druids & sympathizers she knows live among them) and blackmails Merlin using her status as a noble. She also tries to kill Gwen because she can’t stand the thought of a “mere servant” taking the throne. She’s good to Gwen as long as Gwen functions as her underling, but as soon as Gwen is set to outrank her, everything that makes her appear distinctly better than other nobles disappears.

But ultimately, it’s Morgana’s actions that tell us this. These actions aren’t bad because she was hurt, or because she has magic. Every bad thing she does is bad because she is classist. The harm she does comes from a place of entitlement and inflated self-importance. While she may justify these actions with the hurt she’s suffered, being hurt did not make her do those things. Classism is the reason she becomes a tyrant, and it’s the reason she mistreats the “commoner” class. Again, her dismissing random civilians, especially the Druids & sympathizers, as disposable to preserve her own comfort? Comes from a place of classism. Her getting Gwen arrested on false charges and blackmailing Merlin using her power as a noble? Acts that are motivated by classism.

But back to what Merlin could or didn’t do. Morgana knew that Merlin was pro-magic, but she would never have agreed to his methods, as we see in 3x02, because she did not have faith in Uther or Arthur changing for the better (understandably so, and she’s proven correct). Whether Merlin is just pro-magic or has magic himself does not change this outcome, because it is about methods, not identity. Even when she finds out that Merlin is a sorcerer in 5x12, this does not change her mind.

And again, as far as Merlin knew in 2x12, Morgana was very much in on the plan with Morgause. He even tests this by asking Morgana why she reacted the way she did about Morgause and catches her in a lie. If he tells Morgana that he suspects her involvement, with the information he has (that she is allied with Morgause), then what? It makes no sense to bring it up. He never tells Agravaine that he suspects the man’s involvement with Morgana, either, because he doesn’t suspect that Agravaine could somehow be innocently/unwittingly doing these things. One could argue that Morgana could have confided in Merlin about her earlier interaction with Morgause (when the curse was cast) since she trusted him so much, but alas, she did not. And that’s understandable, too. Also, if you’ll recall, Merlin did try to get Gaius to help Morgana. They had a whole argument about it. Gaius concluded that gaslighting her about her powers was helping her. Merlin had to give up and go to Kilgharrah, and then when Kilgharrah wouldn’t help, either, he searched out the location of the Druids on his own and sent Morgana to their encampment. What Katie McGrath thinks about it means very little since she is just one (1) opinion against the visible canon facts. Merlin too blames himself for what Morgana became, but that doesn’t make him right.

The fact is that Morgana is her own person and her mind isn’t going to be passively changed. She’s always been fiercely independent, opinionated, and actionable. The desire to blame everyone but Morgana for her own actions also has a lot to do with her being a rich white woman. People assign a ~delicate, passive~ demeanor onto her, even when she shows her ruthlessness (whether that is simply standing up for her beliefs or torturing people). Morgana did not just get passed around and manipulated by everyone. If anything, 2x12 seeks to establish that it is Morgana herself who can make these decisions and change the future, rather than sitting around passively watching it happen. And by choosing to join with Morgause, she changes everything. The rest of the series is a chain reaction to this one crucial moment when she makes up her mind.

#morgana pendragon #morgana critical #fandom critical #bbc merlin #merlin meta #asks

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medusapelagia · 6 months ago

Text

Seeds of Dreams, Seeds of Truth 4\11

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Tags: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Magic, Regent Prince/King Steve Harrington, Knight Eddie Munson, Prison, Sick Steve Harrington, Vomiting, Attempted Murder, Poisoning, Double povs, Panic Attacks, Magic,

Read it here or on AO3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, l Part 5, (soon Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11)

WC: 2023

When Steve comes back to his senses the first thing he notices is the smell, the familiar mix of sweat and metal that always follows Eddie around.

“Ed?” he calls, confused and not daring to open his eyes after all those awful dreams that he had, but a warm hand closes around his hand.

“Hi, Stevie.” The familiar voice replies and finally Steve finds the courage to open his eyes and meet the big dark pools he loves so much.

The Regent Prince lifts an arm, caressing Eddie’s face, doubtful. “Is this… is this real?” he whispers, not daring to hope that he is finally free: there are no prison bars, no little sky square to look at, no moldy blankets or cold floor. He is lying in a bed, maybe not as comfortable as his royal one but still way better than the cold stones he slept on in the last few nights.

“This is real. I’m real, Steve.” The knight replies with a sad smile, kissing his knuckles, and Steve feels a pain in his soul seeing how sad his lover is. He tries to lift himself, failing miserably, and needs Eddie’s help to sit up in the bed.

“Are you ok? What happened after the coronation? Are you hurt? And the others? Where are they? Gareth? Have you seen Gareth? And those in the castle? Are they safe? I saw Joyce once and she told me that people were disappearing!” Steve shoots one question after another without even taking a breath. His heart beats so fast with worry that it feels like it’s going to jump out of his chest. Eddie puts a hand on his shoulder, with a little pressure to ground him while he keeps talking to him in a soothing voice, trying to calm him down.

“I’m fine. Gar is fine. We are ok. Just try to take a deep breath. For me. Come on… Just one… Close your eyes and follow my voice.” Eddie insists, and Steve closes his eyes, letting the voice of his lover guide him. “Deep breath in… and out. Again. In… and out.”

Slowly, one breath at a time, Steve regains his composure. “I’m sorry…” he whispers, lowering his eyes, but Eddie lifts his chin.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. You are worried for your people, and that’s exactly what great kings do. I'm so proud of you, Steve. You handled a horrible situation so well. Thanks to you no one was injured during the coronation, I promise. We stayed back, as you ordered, even if it broke my heart let them take you away from me.” Eddie confesses, brushing away some hair from Steve’s face. “I would like to ask you to promise me you’ll never give me an order like that again in your life, but I know it’s not something I can ask from you.” He says, but when Steve lowers his eyes Eddie pinches his chin and makes him stare into his eyes. “You are a great king and you care about your people and I respect you for that.”

Steve tries to turn away from Eddie but his tight grip doesn’t let him go, and when their eyes meet again he finally confesses, “I’m sorry that I ordered you to stay back, but I don’t want to imagine what would have happened if I wouldn’t have given you that order…”

Eddie nods in silence; if Steve hadn’t ordered his guard to stay back, the Sacred House’s floor would have been tainted with blood and it would have been the beginning of a civil war. Neither of them would want that for their people.

Steve coughs and Eddie is quick to offer him some water. When he regains his breath the prince turns toward his personal guard. “How did you make me escape?”

Eddie smirks. “You know me, Stevie, I have my ways. It wasn’t hard to blend in with the other guards and let myself in, I know the castle better than anyone. We have spent years playing hide and seek, finding secret passages, and running from one side of the castle to the other unnoticed. It was good training.” Eddie replies with a wink, helping Steve to lie back. “Joyce helped us. She put some sleeping drug in the guards’ rations and we got in and out. A piece of cake.” Eddie winks, but somehow Steve doubts that it was so easy.

“My father will be furious; you know his temper. We have to get back before something awful happens.” Steve begs, but Eddie shakes his head.

“It’s not him you have to worry about, Steve, but you !” Eddie replies, looking concerned. “When I saw you in the dungeons for a moment I thought… I thought… Fuck! I’m sorry, Steve! I’m so sorry I didn’t come to get you as soon as they took you away. Please forgive me.” He begs, holding Steve’s hand and kissing his knuckles.

Steve shakes his head, softly, “There is nothing to forgive. I trust you with my life and you have nothing to be sorry about. I just wished you didn't have to risk your life to save mine.”

“You are our rightful king, my life and my soul belong to you.” Eddie declares, lowering his face and kissing Steve's lips. It’s just a peck, sweet and soft, but it’s all Steve needed.

“Where are we?” he asks, turning around to look at the little room that has nothing to do with his castle.

Eddie scratches his head in embarrassment, “Do you remember the stories… those about the mages that live at the end of the woods? Well, they aren’t stories at all. There is a little house at the end of the woods that is protected by many enchantments, only those in need might find it. And… Well. We were in need. So here we are.” He explains quickly, lifting his hands.

“What? How?” Steve blinks a few times, trying to clear his mind. “Are you telling me… are you telling me that stories are real? That there are mages here?”

Steve’s nanny has told him many stories about mages, enchantments and dark forces, and how his predecessor fought bravely and freed the kingdom, but that’s all the were: stories.

Eddie nods seriously. “There are and they saved your life.” He explains, “Your father was poisoning you. If we would have waited another day to rescue you… well, let’s say that I don’t think that there would have been anything to rescue.” Eddie replies harshly, biting his cheek.

“That’s not possible.” Steve protests, “My father is a stern man, but he is not cruel. I’m sure he was just holding me in prison before a regular trial.”

“Steve, he put you in a cell without even talking to you. Do you really think he was going to give you a fair trial?.”

Steve lowers his eyes. He knows that Eddie is right but he can’t believe that his own father tried to kill him. “Why would he? I’m his only son.”

“You are, but you ruled for the last three years and there are people ready to fight for you. I think that killing you was the easiest way to … to…”

“To get rid of you.” A tall blond woman says.

Steve turns his head toward the tall woman: she’s dressed in black and has numerous crystals around her neck, but what betrays her origins are her eyes: they are as green as the spring grass, with little golden flakes that shine in an unhuman way even in the dim light. He has never seen a mage in his life but if the stories are true, as they seem they are, mages have traces of old blood in their veins.

Steve is still staring at the mage when a cute little blond girl, holding a tray with a bowl of hot soup, comes into the room. She has the same golden flakes in her blue eyes, and her ears are softly pointed on the top.

“You are awake. That’s good news.” She says smiling brightly, her eyes so blue that Steve could swear that he hears seagulls when he looks her in the eye.

“Who are you?” Steve asks, surprised.

“That’s no one of your business,” the tall woman replies abruptly, and when Steve turns his head he sees that she is standing right in front of him.

“Those are the mages that saved your life.” Eddie explains, “But they are very jealous of their privacy. They gave us shelter but won’t tell us their names.”

“There is power in names, a power that your people forgot. You gave them away too quickly.” The woman says, “But if you want a word in common language to identify us, I’m Robin, and she is Chrissy.”

Eddie frowns. “I tried to get a name out of you for days and you never told me!” he complains, but the woman winks.

“You didn’t ask nicely.” She replies, ,moving closer to Steve, grabbing his chin with no gentleness, and staring into his eyes. “Uhm… your eyes look almost clear. Did he throw up again?” she asks Eddie, who shakes his head.

“No. He had some seizures during the night and sweated a lot like you said he would have, but no more black goo stuff.”

The woman nods, pleased. “Good. That’s good. You are stronger than you look, princeling.” She declares while Steve observes her, his confusion written in big letters on his face. “Open your mouth.” She orders, getting a vial with some green liquid that smells disgusting and Steve’s mouth remains stubbornly closed. “I’ll give you an easy choice: do you want to live? If the answer is yes, open your mouth.”

The taste is even worse than the smell, but the woman is quick to close Steve’s mouth with her hands and make him gulp down everything.

A couple of tears escape from Steve’s eyes, and at that moment the girl removes her hands. “That’s called Crocodile Tears , can you guess why?” she asks amused, then offers him some water, which Steve swallows to wash away the terrible taste from his mouth.

Eddie grabs Steve’s hand, holding it to his chest. “But he’ll be fine, right? You gave him the potion and…”

“Yes. He will survive.” She responds, taking her vials and disappearing again, while the cute blond girl remains in the room.

Steve’s head turns to follow the jingling of the numerous crystals and almost doesn’t notice that the other girl is still in the room.

“Don’t judge her too harshly.” She says in a whisper. “She lost her family during the purge.”

Steve frowns, confused, “The purge was ages ago.”

“I know. But some of us are blessed with a long life. If you can call it a blessing. Someone would call it a curse.” The girl murmurs, almost to herself, but when she turns toward Steve she is gleaming, “I’m glad you are feeling better, your Majesty.” She says, making a little bow that would have had Steve’s father horrified by its sloppiness, but that in Steve’s eyes looks so sweet.

“Thank you for saving my life.”

She chuckles, hiding her beautiful smile behind her hands, “It was an honor.”

Steve turns toward Eddie, looking for answers, but his personal guard seems as puzzled as he is.

“Eat as much as you can,” she points at the tray, “you’ll need your strength back.” She says, before leaving the room.

Eddie helps him eat the soup, feeding him spoon after spoon like he was a baby. Steve tries to complain, but from the way Eddie’s hands shake while holding the spoon he understands that Eddie needs this more than him. So he relaxes and lets Eddie feed him, until his eyes start to close again.

“No more?” Eddie asks, taking away the bowl.

“Sorry…” Steve whispers in a drowsy voice.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” Eddie replies, tucking the blankets in around him and kissing his forehead. “Don’t worry your pretty head. All you need to do is rest.”

tag list: @katyawriteswhump

#medusapelagia fanfic #medusapelagia #my fanfic #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Steddie #Steve x Eddie #Stranger Things Fanfiction #Steddie Fic #Steddie Summer Exchange #Seeds of Dreams Seed of Truth

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larluce · 5 months ago

Text

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @star-rie , @error-username-not-available , @dogberryrowan , @jamieweasley13 , @tansyuduri , @tercais , @robynnemrys , @evadne01 , @serasvictoria02 , @hairdryerducks , @hopeaha , @curiously-lazy , @ harriettesthings , @andrealux16 , @wacko-weirdo , @greatdonutenemy , @yougottobekittenme , @anxiousosaurus

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 , PART 11 , PART 12 , PART 13 , PART 14 , PART 15 , PART 16 , PART 17 , PART 18 , PART 19 , PART 20 , PART 21 (You're here), PART 22

I forgot I never showed how Arthur and Lancelot became friends again so here it is:

After the events of "The Poison Chalice". Lancelot in the dungeons.

Lancelot: (lying on the floor, thinking) The luck I have. I came to become a knight and somehow, as soon as I arrive, I end up offending the Prince of Camelot himself (sighs) Maybe that dream didn't mean anything after all. Maybe I'm not fit to be a knight… But then why were the prince and that boy in my dream?

Gwen: (arrives with a plate of food) Uhm... Hello?

Lancelot: (stands up quickly) Oh.. hey! 😅

Guard: (opens the cell)

Gwen: (enters, blushing a little) I...uh... brought your food.

Lancelot: (laughs softly) I can see that (takes the plate) Thank you, my lady.

Gwen: I'm not a lady and don't thank me, it's my job. Well not really, I'm Lady Morgana's maidservant, but Merlin asked me to make sure they were feeding you, so, uhm, it's actually a favor. Not to you! But to my friend Merlin, that is. (thinking) Oh, gods! 😳 Why did I tell him all that?! 😫🤦‍♀️

Lancelot: Merlin?

Gwen: The boy you saved.

Guard: (urges Gwen to get out of the cell with a gesture)

Gwen: Right, sorry. (gets out of the cell)

Guard: (closes the cell)

Lancelot: (stops Gwen before she leaves) Wait! You said "saved". You mean he is alright?

Gwen: (smiles, touched at his worry) Safe and sound. He was just under the effects of a paralizing poison, but it was not letal. He can move now.

Lancelot: (sighs in relief) I'm glad... wait, then why am I here?

Gwen: (confused) what?

Lancelot: For how the Prince reacted I thought I was being arrested for murder! Does the Prince still think I tried to kill him? Hasn't your friend explained to him what happened?

Gwen: (laughs without being able to help it)

Lancelot: (confused and a bit offended) I don't believe my disgrace is funny, my lady.

Gwen: (still between laughs) No! it's not-Sorry, it's just... (turns to the guard, scolding him) You didn't tell him why he was arrrested?

Guard: (shrugs) That's not my job.

Gwen: (sighs and turns to Lancelot) You see-uhm... sorry, what's your name?

Lancelot: Lancelot.

Gwen: Lancelot, the prince didn't send you here because he thinks you murdered someone. He's keeping you here because you touched his manservant.

Lancelot: ...

Lancelot: What? 😧

Gwen: Merlin, the boy you saved, is his personal manservant, but also the token of his affections if you know what I mean and you were found in... a very compromising position.

Lancelot: I was just holding him!

Gwen: For his highness that's compromising enough.

Lancelot: But I saved his life! Shouldn't I be rewarded instead?

Gwen: Yeah, but that also means you stole him the chance to be the hero. Merlin has been defending you, of course, but apparently that just infuriated him more.

Lancelot: Oh...

Gwen: Yeah, you might be here for a while.

Lancelot: (scared) He is not going to execute me, is he?

Gwen: (with a comforting smile) No, he wouldn't go that far. (thinking) He is not King yet. (says) I have to go now. (starts leaving)

Lancelot: (shouts) I didn't get your name!

Gwen: (turns and smiles softly) It's Gwen, short for Guinevere.

Lancelot: (smiles back) Nice to meet you, Guinevere.

Gwen: (blushes and leaves)

Lancelot: (thinking) Suddenly life in prison is not so bad.

Time skip after Merlin moves to Arthur's antechambers. In Gaius's Tower

Merlin: (enters) Gaius, did you call for-What happened?! 😨 (Goes to Lancelot worried, who is being bandaged by Gaius)

Lancelot: Nothing.

Gaius: The prince and the knights decided to use Lancelot as a practice dummy.

Lancelot: More like a practice bag. 😓

Merlin: Wait, that was you?! I thought it was an actual dummy. You weren't moving at all.

Lancelot: It's worse if I defend myself (streches a little). It's no so bad though. I've learned a couple of new fighting technics today! 😊

Merlin: That's still not right. I'm going to talk to Arthur. (Makes a move to leave)

Gaius and Lancelot: (Shout so loud Merlin startles) NO! 😱

Merlin: (confused) Why not?

Gaius: My boy, Arthur is taking it out on Lancelot as bad as it is. Trying to intervine is just going to make things worse.

Merlin: I just don't get why he is treating you so badly. I always talk him well about you.

Lancelot: (grumbling) That's the problem.

Merlin: Uhm?

Lancelot: Do me a favor, Merlin. Talk him bad about me. Maybe that will work.

Gwen: (enters with small package) Good morning, Merlin, Gaius, Lancelot.

Lancelot: (straightens up inmediatly and smiles) Good morning! (smiles, but winces a little at the sudden movement)

Merlin: What brings you here, Gwen?

Gwen: Oh, I just came to bring Lancelot his food.(goes to Lancelot and gives him the package) I know the Prince has been giving you a hard time

Lancelot: (blushing) Thank you, my lady. But I'm not in the dungeons anymore, you don't have to-

Gwen: Still not a lady and it's no problem really. Sometimes there are leftovers in the royal kitchens and I hate to see food going to waste, so you're actually doing me a favor.

Lancelot: By eating the food nobody wanted?

Gwen: Yes.

Uncomfortable silence.

Gwen: Uh... Lady Morgana must be looking for me.

Lancelot: Right, sure. Send her my greetings. (thinkings) "Send her my greetings"?! 😳 Really?! 😫🤦‍♂️

Gwen: Goodbye. To all of you. (leaves quickly as red as a tomate)

Merlin and Gaius: ...

Merlin: Alright, what is going on? 🤨

Lancelot: I don't know what you are talking about. (unwraps Gwen's package) Uhmm... It smells good.😋

Merlin: Yeah, like it's been recently cooked despite it being leftovers that normally by this hour are, you know, cold.

Lancelot: (takes a bite of his food) Uhum.

Merlin: And isn't smoked pigeon Gwen's especiality?

Lancelot: Really? I didn't know. (takes another bite)

Merlin: (takes Lancelot's food from him rughly)

Lancelot: Hey! 😠

Merlin: (accusing) Have you been courting Gwen? 😠

Lancelot: What?! No!

Merlin: Well, she's definitely courting you!

Gaius: (scolding) Merlin! (takes the food from him and gives it back to Lancelot) What's the matter with you? What's wrong with Gwen showing interest in Lancelot?

Merlin: (raises his voice in desperation) That is not how it was supposed to be!

Gaius and Lancelot: ...

Gaius: Merlin-

Merlin: I have to go. (leaves)

Another uncomfortable silence.

Gaius: Aaand I never got to tell him the errands I had for him... (sighs and looks at Lancelot's food) Can I have some-

Lancelot: Mine 😠 (brings his food closer to him, protectively)

Time skip. Merlin in his new chambers watering his lily.

Merlin: (thinking) I shouldn't be this mad. Is not like Gwen is being unfaithful to Arthur. They are not together yet and they haven't shown any interest in the other either. And Lancelot has always loved Gwen, that's not a secret. I want Lancelot to be happy. He's my friend, but... Then who will be Arthur's Queen?

Arthur: (from the door that conects their rooms) You're going to drown it.

Merlin: (stops watering his lily and turns to Arthur, confused) What?

Arthur: The plant. (walks to him) If you give it too much water you can kill it.

Merlin: Oh, right. Sorry. (blushes)

Arthur: You should fertilize it too. Plants don't only live of water, you know?

Merlin: (laughs a little) Since when do you know so much about plants?

Arthur: (his smile wavers) I... read. (Composes himself and jokes) Something you should do more often if you even know what that is.

Merlin: ...

Arthur: Okay, what's troubling you?

Merlin: Uhm?

Arthur: No snarky reply, no insult. It seems serious.

Merlin: It's nothing. I'm being ridiculous.

Arthur: It's not ridiculous if it's bothering you.

Merlin: You wouldn't understand.

Arthur: Try me. (takes Merlin to a nearby seat and sits next to him) Come on, you can trust me.

Merlin: (sighs) Gwen and Lancelot like each other.

Arthur: ... Oh.

Merlin: I should be happy for them. I know I should but I didn't expect Gwen to fall in love with someone so soon! (thinking) Someone that it's not you. (says) And Lancelot is a good man and his feelings are sincere. I know he would make Gwen happy, but... (thinking) She was supposed to be happy with you.

Arthur: Merlin, are you... jealous of Lancelot?

Merlin: What? No!

Arthur: Of Gwen?

Merlin: No! She's my friend. They are both my friends. It's nothing like that.

Arthur: Friend's jealousy perhaps?

Merlin: Maybe? I don't know. I guess I'm just afraid of change. (thinking) And how this will change EVERYTHING ahead.

Arthur: (sighs in understanding) I know that feeling.

Merlin: And how do you feel about this?

Arthur: (confused) What?

Merlin: How do you feel about Gwen and Lancelot having feelings for one another? I mean, Gwen's been Morgana's maidservant since forever. You know her longer than I do.

Arthur: I... don't know. (Thinking) I know I was relieved to know Lancelot was after Guinevere instead of you, but I was also furious with Lancelot for making Guinevere cheat on me with him before. But I'm not mad at him for wanting to be with her now.

Merlin: But it doesn't bother you, does it? (Thinking) If you have feelings for her in this life too I'll intervine, but if you are okay with it I won't. Just tell me.

Arthur: (thinking) It should bother me, she was my wife after all, why doesn't it bother me? (Says) It's her life, Merlin. She can do what she wants.

Merlin: (sighs in relief) You are right. Thank you, Arthur. (Stands up and goes to the door)

Arthur: Wait, where are you going?

Merlin: (from the door) To give the new couple my support! 😊

Arthur: And your chores? Merlin! 😠

Merlin: (already gone)

Arthur: (sighs and keeps thinking) I loved Guinevere, I know I did. I should be at least upset about this and yet I'm not. I decided I would court Merlin instead of her before I traveled back in time. I already had Gwen in my other life and it wouldn't be fair to either of them if I went after both, but... It was easier than I expected. I haven't thought of Guinevere until Merlin mentioned this. (looks at his ring finger with a sense of nostalgia) Guinevere...

Arthur's flashback.

Arthur in his chambers writing a speech on his desk.

Gwen: (enters, in a cheering tone) Hey! They told me you were hiding here.

Arthur: (not looking up from his papers, in a bored tone) I'm not hiding, I'm writing a speech.

Gwen: For tomorrow's ceremony, I know. (gets closer) I can help you with that. Give it a feminine touch as you would call it. This way you'll finish this sooner... (hugs him from behind seductively) And his majesty can concentrate in something more... exciting.

Arthur: (doesn't react at all at her intend) I rather do it myself. Thank you, Guinevere. (keeps writing)

Gwen: (her smile falls and separates the hug, but composes the smile quickly) I was thinking on visiting my father's and Elyan's grave today. (her smile turns sad)

Arthur: (hums in acknowledgement, eyes still on his papers)

Gwen: I haven't done it in years since Morgana... you know... It's silly cause is not like she can harm me now, but I still have this... fear sometimes.

Arthur: (doesn't even hum now, eyes still on the papers)

Gwen: But I can't live with fear forever so I'll go today. I just... don't want to do it alone.

Arthur: (finally looks up from his papers) You won't be alone.

Gwen: (hopeful) Really?

Arthur: Of course not, you are the Queen. You can take all the knights you need. (looks back at his papers)

Gwen: (her face falls) Right... Yes, I guess I'll do that.

Arthur: (keeps writing in silence)

Gwen: (walks to the door but stops midway and suddenly grabs candelabra and throws it at Arthur in full rage)

Arthur: Ow! (Brings a hand to his head) What the- 😨

Gwen: (grabs a vase nearby and throws it at Arthur too, screaming in rage)

Arthur:(dodges it barely, still very startled) What's wrong with you?! Guinevere!

Gwen: (keeps throwing random things at him)

Arthur: (yells) Stop it! (goes to her, being hit or dodging objects constantly) What are you doing?! Guinevere! (holds her wrists to stop her)

Gwen: (shouts, histerical) NO! (frees from his hold and shoves him furiously) I CAN'T STAND IT ANYMORE!

Arthur: Can't stand what?

Gwen: You! This! (points both of them) Us! If there was even an us to begin with!

Arthur: What are you talking about? We are fine.

Gwen: (laughs dryly) We are NOT fine. But of course you haven't noticed! You don't pay attention to me at all! You don't care what I do, you don't care how I feel! You wouldn't even notice I'm gone!

Arthur: That's not true!

Gwen: Really? When was the last time we intimated? Even better, when was the last time we share a bed?

Arthur: ...

Gwen: You don't remember. Why would you? It was so long ago...

Arthur: Guinevere-

Gwen: But you didn't realise it until now, did you?

Arthur: (full of guilt) I'm so sorry. You are right, I've been a terrible husband-

Gwen: Husband? (laughs dryly again) Oh, Arthur, we have long stopped being wife and husband.

Arthur: (heartbroken) Don't say that.

Gwen: Don't pretend you are hurt now. Everyone in the castle knows you stopped loving me years ago. Or maybe you just pretended you loved me all this time.

Arthur: (angry) Who said that?

Gwen: Everybody! The servants, the nobels, the dogs even! It wouldn't surprise me if all Camelot knew!

Arthur: But someone must have told you this rumor-

Gwen: Is not a "rumor"! They told me that to my face!

Arthur: (very offended and angrier) They can't do that! You are their queen! It is a grave lack of respect-

Gwen: You think they respect me? I'm a peasant possing as Queen that can't even give them the heir they want. For them I'm no more than your little experiment at best.

Arthur: I had no idea-

Gwen: Exactly, just like you had no idea Morgana had me echanted for WEEKS until Merlin pointed it out. But you did notice when he left your side for more than 5 minutes, you noticed something was wrong with him before you left for Camlann and you noticed when he didn't smile for 3 days!

Arthur: (confused) Why are you bringing Merlin into this?

Gwen: I just don't understand! (tears run down her eyes) Why? Why did you marry me? You went against the council, the law itself just for what? To have me as some decorative queen?

Arthur: Of course not!

Gwen: THEN WHY?!

Arthur: BECAUSE I LOVED YOU!

Gwen: ...

Arthur: (realising his choice of words) I LOVE you. I meant to say-Guinevere! (Stops her by the arm when she starts leaving)

Gwen: (frees herself roughly and slaps him) Don't touch me! (Cries)

Arthur: (utterly shocked) ...Gwen-

Gwen: I should have run away with Lancelot when I had the chance! (Leaves closing the door behind her with force)

Arthur: (touching all the spots where Gwen hit him either with objects or her hands, feeling sudden pain) She's stronger than a give her credit sometimes. (sits on the bed) And does know where to hurt. (puts a hand on his chest, feeling hole in his heart)

End of Arthur's flashback.

Arthur: (thinking) Oh, gods... It's not that I didn't love her, but I stopped loving her way before I did the ritual. And she knew before I knew. (goes to the window and spots Gwen walking with the laundry) Guinevere, I know we were happy at least at the beginning. But even in our best days you weren't as happy as you could have been, were you? You never asked to be queen, you never wanted the title and the responsability. You just wanted a partner that adored you and respected you til the end, and I couldn't even give you that. You always loved Lancelot more... just as I always loved Merlin more. You told me before leaving that you just wanted me to be happy. Even when I made you miserable in our last years of marriage, you wished for my happiness. (sighs as Gwen goes out of sight) You also deserve to be happy.

Time skip. Lancelot at the stables.

Merlin: (enters) Hey... Sorry for how I reacted before.

Lancelot: (gives him a smile that doesn't reach his eyes) It's okay, Merlin-

Merlin: No, it's not! I was rude and mean and you didn't deserve that. I'll understand if you don't want to be my friend anymore.

Lancelot: (laughs) Merlin, I was thrown in the dungeons for you and that didn't stop me of wanting to be your friend, did it?

Merlin: No? 🥺

Lancelot: Of course not. (smiles) And I understand why you reacted that way. Gwen has been your friend for longer than I have and... I'm very aware I'm not the best match there is.

Merlin: Don't say that! You are more than worthy of her.

Lancelot: Really? She is Lady Morgana's maidservant and the blacksmith's daughter. I, on the other hand, don't even have a proper job and I came here with nothing because I have nothing for myself, much less to offer. And I met her when I was in the dungeons! what kind of good first impression is that?

Merlin: Good enough. She does like you. I can see it.

Lancelot: Gwen is a wonderful woman and I'm lucky she has any interest in me at all. But she deserves better than just... me.

Merlin: I think that's for her to decide. Don't you think?

Arthur: (enters) There you are. Lazing around as always.

Lancelot: (nervous) No, I wasn't, Sire! I-

Merlin: Relax, he's not talking to you. (aproaches Arthur) Need me for anything, my lord?

Arthur: No, but Gaius does. Apparently, there are some errands you should have done hours ago.

Merlin: (facepalms himself) Ugh, I forgot.

Arthur: What a surprise.

Merlin: On it! (leaves running)

Arthur: (turns to Lancelot with a serious face)

Lancelot: We were just talking I swear!

Arthur: (throws a sheathed sword at him)

Lancelot: (catches it in reflex) ... Sire?

Arthur: Not bad.

Lancelot: (still confused) Would you like me to sharpen your sword again, sire?

Arthur: Don't worry. I have my own. (points his sheated sword in his belt) What I'd like is for you to kill me.

Lancelot: (even more confused) Sire? 😥

Arthur: Come on, don't pretend you don't want to. Hell, if I were you, I'd want to. (unsheates his sword)

Lancelot: (unsheates his sword carefully)

Arthur: (smirks) Come on!

*insert epic sword fight*

Arthur: (smiles) Not bad indeed. (sheates his sword and puts it aside) It's a shame the Knight code doesn't allow commoners in the calvalry.

Lancelot: (nods sadly) Merlin informed me of that, Sire.

Arthur: I can make an exception for you though.

Lancelot: (hopeful) Really, sire?

Arthur: You just have to do me a favor.

Lancelot: (very happy) Anything! I'm so grateful you are giving me this chance, sire! I am forever in debt with you!

Arthur: Do you know Guinevere?

Lancelot: (confused at the sudden change of subject) Yes, she is lady Morgana's maidservant.

Arthur: Such a beauty, isn't she?

Lancelot: (frowns) She is.

Arthur: I know you two are close.

Lancelot: Oh, we are just friends, but yes. We have grown really close, sire.

Arthur: That's perfect. Then it will be easy for you to do what I'm going to ask you.

Lancelot: Which is?

Arthur: I want you to convince her to join me on bed tonight.

Lancelot: ...

Lancelot: (any trace of kindness on his face gone) What?

Arthur: I would ask her myself, but I want discretion, you see. And since you are so close to her, I'm sure you would have no problem-

Lancelot: No.

Arthur: Excuse me?

Lancelot: I won't do that, sire.

Arthur: Oh, it's a real shame. (sighs) I'll ask someone else to do it then. (turns to leave)

Lancelot: (blocks his way) No! I won't let you dishonor Gwen like that!

Arthur: (laughs) Like she has any honor to defend.

Lancelot: (unsheates his sword pointing it at Arthur's throat, furious)

Arthur: Lancelot?

Lancelot: Take it back.

Arthur: Lancelot, you are threatening your Prince.

Lancelot: (raises his voice) You are NOT my prince! How dare you speak of a maid like Gwen like that! I don't care that you are the Prince of Camelot or of all Albion! I rather die by decapitation for regicide than let such a dishonorable man taint her!

Arthur: (smiles proudly) You are right. Gwen deserves a man that treasures her and defends her of everything and everyone... just like you are doing now.

Lancelot: ... What? 😧

Arthur: Well done, Lancelot. You have my blessing.

Lancelot: Your... blessing?

Arthur: To court Guinevere.

Lancelot: ...

Arthur: You can put the sword down, you know?

Lancelot: (sheates the sword and puts it away, blushing) Sorry, Sire.

Arthur: So, when will you start courting her?

Lancelot: (still pretty confused) I wasn't really planning on it, sire.

Arthur: Don't tell me you don't have feelings for her. You were about to kill me for insulting her just a minute ago.

Lancelot: It's not that!

Arthur: Oh, you think she is not good enough for you? 🤨

Lancelot: No! It's me who is not good enough for her!

Arthur: Because you are a poor country peasant that was arrested as soon as he laid a foot in the citadel?

Lancelot: ...Yes?

Arthur: It may sound ridiculous for me of all people to say this, but titles and possessions don't actually define your value, Lancelot. My father believes that nobelty is defined by blood and the family you were born. I, however, believe nobelty is defined by the actions of men and what they have here. (points Lancelot's chest) And I can tell you for certain you are the noblest man I ever met.

Lancelot: (looks at Arthur in awe)

Arthur: So court her! Fight for her! Even if a lord or a prince or even a king shows interest in her, because they might have riches, but not what really matters.

Lancelot: (nods, emotional) I will. Thank you, Sire.

Arthur: Don't thank me. I can't actually make you a knight, Lancelot, not until I'm king. But I can give you the training meanwhile if you allow me. In exchange of that I do need a favor of you.

Lancelot: You... want me to ask Merlin to join your bed?

Arthur: (blushes furiously) What? No! I would never-

Lancelot: (laughs)

Arthur: (laughs too) Alright, I think I deserved that. No, what I want is for you to protect him when I can't. He tends to get into trouble constantly as you could see and I can't always be around to protect him myself as much as I'd like to.

Lancelot: (smiles) You can count on me, Sire.

Timeskip. In Morgana's chambers.

Gwen: (enters with a couple of flowers in her hair)

Morgana: (compliments) Nice touch.

Gwen: (shyly, blushes) Thanks.

Morgana: Wait, I know that face. (gets closer to Gwen) Are they from someone? 😏

Gwen: (blushes more)

Morgana: Don't tell me. Lancelot?

Gwen: (nods, smiling brightly) He gifted them to me.

Morgana: I can't believe it! Finally! (hugs her) It was about time he made a move. (pulls away) I'm so happy for you.

Gwen: We barely just started courting. It may not last.

Morgana: It will. He'd be a fool to let a wonderful girl like you go. (caresses her face fondly) You know what? You can have the rest of the day off.

Gwen: But you-

Morgana: Will manage on my own just fine. Have a date with your man. You earned it.

Gwen: Thank you so much, my lady. (about to bow)

Morgana: (stops her) Morgana. Just Morgana this time.

Gwen: Morgana. (hugs her) thank you. (pulls away) I'll tell you everything when I get back! (goes to the door)

Morgana: I want every detail!

Gwen: (leaves closing the door behind her)

Morgana: (her smile falls as soon as Gwen is gone) It's fine. (goes to her bed and sits) She's happy. (smiles again, but her eyes water) Gods, I've never seen her... (sobs without being able to help it) so happy!

...

The events of this part happen just before the events of "Lancelot" for which I already wrote a small fragment and I don't plan to write more on that episode really cause basically the only thing the changes is that Lancelot kills the griffin when it first attacked Merlin since Merlin echants Lancelot's weapon sooner and that's when he properly discovers Merlin's magic (though he already suspected it). I will write a bit more of "Excalibur" though and extend myself in "The Moment of Truth" and "The Labyrinth of Gedref" because there are gonna be important changes there. Once finished with that I'll full on go with Series 2 (where most of your requests are). So enjoy Series 1 :D!! cause series 2 is when everything will go to hell

#merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #merlin fanfic #merlin fic #merlin prompt #merthur fic #merlin and arthur #arthur and merlin #merthur fanfiction #merthur fanfic #merthur prompt #Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

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alrightbuckaroo · 1 year ago

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Thanks for the tags @jesuisici33, @strandnreyes, and @reyesstrand!

Rules: Share what you wrote this year! It can be works you posted to Ao3, Wattpad, Tumblr, or anywhere else! You can share everything you wrote or just the ones you're most excited about.

Bear with me, this is a long one, most are listed under the cut

January

wedding bell blues

“I mean, how do we even bring it up?” Marjan asks, eyebrows furrowed. “Hey, sorry your engagement fell apart, by the way we brought Catan.” She shrugs. “Seems a little less than empathetic.”

leave all your worries on the dance floor

“Oh my god,” TK’s eyes widen. “Do I have two left feet?”

Carlos smiles sympathetically, “Baby, I thought you knew.”

you go your way I'll go your way too

“You sure you don’t want anything else to eat?” TK looks down at the bottle of water in Carlos’ hand. Carlos is sitting across from him, they’re in the sleeping quarters away of the firehouse away from everyone. Carlos hasn’t stopped thinking about it; he’s barely thinking about anything else right now. It’s at the forefront of his mind, begging to be let out. “Yeah, I’m fine, I already ate.” He doesn’t realize his slip up until he sees TK set his bag of chips down. “So you weren’t here for lunch.” TK’s using the voice he uses when he’s not mad, just confused.

February

we’re a match, in every way that matters

Carlos and TK are made for each other; they always kind of have been. Even if they didn't realize it at first.

when you wake up in the morning and think you have nothing; remember this.

TK wakes up and Carlos isn't there; he doesn't know how he's lived like this before.

here comes a feeling you thought you'd forgotten

Carlos had spent years suppressing the feeling he never had a name for. Then he met TK Strand.

your love is sweet like sugar

TK wakes up to Carlos making breakfast. It's his first time waking up in Carlos' apartment, but he hopes it's not the last.

what is a promise if not your hand in mine?

TK might not wake up, and Carlos can’t even hold his hand. TK might not wake up, and all Carlos wants to do is hold his hand.

a shoulder to sigh on

Carlos has always carried it well; but that doesn't mean he has to carry it alone.

March

the music stopped but we went on dancing

Carlos has waited and waited for a day like today; but of course, something had to go oh so wrong.

you can count on me; i'll be there

Carlos is dealing with the stress of trying to become detective; TK becomes his biggest cheerleader any way that he can.

will you bee mine?

Carlos is teaching his third grade class when he gets stung by a bee; now it seems he has no choice but to finally visit the new school nurse, TK Strand.

some like it hot

TK is determined to win the fifth annual chili cook-off; the only person standing in his way is his long-time culinary rival, Carlos Reyes.

you drive me wild

TK has to ask Carlos if he can borrow the thing most precious to him. His car.

our love’s a protective poison

Gwyneth Morgan loves her son; that is an uncontested fact. Tyler Kennedy Stand is his father’s son; that is also, an uncontested fact. Gwyn loves her son, even though he has a tendency to act just like his father. Gwyn loves her son, even when he has a tendency to act just like his father.

i love you; i want us both to eat well

“How do you tell someone you love that they’re not good at something?” Carlos asks Nancy and Mateo. “I don’t know,” Mateo shrugs. “Nancy’s good at everything.” “Aw,” Nancy croons. “Babe, you’re so good at telling the truth.”

April

you've made so very happy

TK stabs his fork into a leafy green. “That was my friend, Cash. We’re having our high school reunion next month and one of the planning committee members dropped out last minute. He asked if I could fill in.” “You’re going to your high school reunion?” Marjan asks, wiping her fingers on her napkin. “You have a friend named Cash?” Paul is quick to follow up, both clearly focused on different things.

home is wherever i'm with you

Carlos says, “I love you” in so many different ways, and TK loves each and every one of them.

when life gives the lemons

Carlos starts, "So, I was in the neighborhood." TK’s eyebrows furrow, confused by what his husband is doing. “Carlos we’re married, we live together, this is our neighborhood. Why wouldn't you be here?” “Just go with it, babe.” Carlos says through a tired smile or TK is helping Jonah sell lemonade during a hot summer day. They're not having any luck with customers until Carlos decides to walk by.

this side of paradise

“It’s just, it’s our honeymoon.” Carlos explains. “Oh,” He can hear Grace perk up on the other end. “Where did you two decide to go? Cancun, Bali, Tuscany?” Grace draws out the y of Tuscany, hoping that’ll be the answer. “That’s the thing,” Carlos admits, “We haven’t.” “Oh.” He can hear Grace slightly deflate on the other end.

all my blood for the sweetness of his laugh

TK laughs and it sounds genuine and true. Carlos can’t help but smile, he feels like the sun has cracked open inside him. He feels a warmth inside himself that’s hot to the touch.

hooked on you

“Nancy,” Nancy looks up at the call of her name. TK is standing in front of her, both hands on his hips. Nancy releases a thin sigh. “Oh no.” Nancy knows what that pose means. TK’s upset. After finishing off the last sip of her coffee, Nancy asks. “What’s wrong?” “I’m upset.” TK announces as he takes space in the empty seat next to her.

May

i'd wait a million years for you

If you had told TK Strand that he would be marrying the love of his life in a place like Austin, Texas, he would have looked at you like you’d grown a second head. If you had told him that he would propose in the middle of the night, bed head and all, he would laugh and ask you, “Who do you think I am?”

June

anger has told me her real name is grief

Carlos is letting his grief manifest into anger; no matter how much he doesn't want it to.

a little taste of love

TK Strand, a florist working for the renowned flower shop, Bloom With a View, can't take his eyes off of Carlos Reyes, a baker working at Cake My Day, the bakery across the street.

July

as cute as a button

Andrea is taking TK down memory lane and they come across a koala named Kique, who happens to be missing one button eye.

we're a batch made in heaven

Carlos misses TK; so he does what he always does. Makes cookies.

August

all's fair in love and lizards

Love comes in many shapes and forms; and sometimes, that form is a stuffed novelty toy at a carnival game

summer slipped us underneath her tongue

TK Strand is a freshly heartbroken art history student who's been given the opportunity of a lifetime; studying art in the heart of it all, Paris, France. However, he thinks it's a cruel taunt from the universe. He's studying what he loves so much in the city of love but is stuck thinking there's no one out there who loves him. Carlos Reyes is a career driven culinary student studying at Le Cordon Bleu. He has hard time maintaining relationships, an even harder time of detaching himself from his work and and has an awful habit of doubting everything about himself. After a night out that they end up sharing with each other; they agree to keep any and all things casual. Well, like most things, that's easier said than done.

November

29 Going on 30

During a trip to New York City to celebrate TK turning 30, TK and Carlos stumble upon a list of things TK always wanted to do before he turned 30, all of them being references to romantic comedies he loved so much growing up. While TK is fine with leaving the past in the past, Carlos thinks there's no better time than the present. He thinks that TK deserves to feel the same type of love he loved watching on the silver screen, so he devotes the rest of their trip to just that. Told through a tale filled with everlasting love, a never-ending trek across New York City and the occasional painful reminder of the past, Carlos learns a little more about the city TK once called home and TK learns a little more about himself.

December

it was love at first sight

Carlos thinks love at first sight is nonsensical. Then he locks eyes with TK Strand.

the moment my heart fell

Carlos has never been more in love and it scares him. Each and every day, Carlos finds himself falling that much harder and he’s worried that one day he’ll reach the ground and never know how to get up again.

my world deeply stained by the color of you

Everything's vibrant, sparkling as if it's the debut of a color TK's never seen before. Pale grey doesn't cast over everything the way it used to and TK's afraid to close his eyes at the risk of never seeing the world's colors this way ever again.

no pressure tagging: @carlos-in-glasses, @lemonlyman-dotcom, @heartstringsduet, @freneticfloetry, @lightningboltreader, @orchidscript, @three-drink-amy, @bonheur-cafe, @ambiguouspenny, @never-blooms, @theghostofashton, @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut, @sanjuwrites, @wandering-night19, @thisbuildinghasfeelings, @rmd-writes , @welcometololaland and open tag to anyone who wants to share :)

#tag you're it #my writing

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quietwings-fics · 11 months ago

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Dastardly Alien Cheesecake

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: N/A Ship: Gen (Ten & Donna) Additional Tags: Trust, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Poison, Hurt/Comfort, Vomiting, The Doctor & Donna Noble Friendship Wordcount: 3761 Summary:

Donna eats something she’s not supposed to.

Notes:

I'm going to state it outright here so that everyone knows what they're walking into: yes, this is a fic about the doctor sticking his fingers down donna's throat to make her throw up. you have now been warned of the contents and can proceed if you so wish.

The honeymoon period of traveling across time and space is followed by the most intense bout of homesickness that Donna has ever felt, which perhaps isn't saying much when she'd never been that far from home in her life before the Doctor.

To stand on an alien planet and realize just how far away she is from her granddad is a massive step up from missing him when he's only a drive away. Her room in the TARDIS is all hers, and it even fills itself with comforts that Donna forgot to bring, — like a blanket on the heavier side and a little squeezy stress ball that always seems to roll out from under her bed when she's upset — but at the same time, it never forgets what it is, an alien ship flown by an alien man. Something about the corners where the walls meet the floor are never right, never quite what a person, a human, would have built.

She doesn’t tell the Doctor about any of this. She doesn't have to. He must see it in her eyes because he starts pointing out little details on their journeys to her. He can somehow find a little piece of home to show her no matter where they are. They wait at a train station that will take them a few hundred miles below the surface of a planet and laugh at the confusing and colorful layout of the map provided, correcting each other back and forth about which station, exactly, they're even waiting at. Another time, he fiddles with a radio (or, what she assumes is a radio) with the sonic screwdriver until it starts to call out mournfully for Major Tom, singing a signal that got sent out into space thousands of years ago all to be picked up by the two of them. Even among aliens, there are commonalities, there are always reality TV shows that play on screens no one is watching (even if the contestants are a little more green... or blue... or translucent than she's used to) and automatic doors that never work right.

Constants in the universe that she'd be lost without, really. The Doctor knows where to look for them.

(Not for the first time, she wonders if that's because of how many humans he's had to curb the homesickness of, or because while she can look up at the stars and know home is still there for her to return to, even if she has no intention of staying, he can't.

Even Timelords must have had reality TV.)

The one constant that can center her like nothing else is food. Everyone in the universe cooks.

“All your memories," the Doctor had started explaining once, and Donna had learned to measure how long he would ramble about something by his tone alone. This voice was the 'at least twenty minutes before he'll take a breath' one. "Are stored away in your hippocampus, rubbing right against where your brain lights up when something hits your tastebuds, so-" Donna had taken those few moments to weigh her willingness to listen to him babble through their entire meal and decided instead to pick up the sandwich he wasn't eating and shove it in his mouth to shut him up. It had worked pretty well.

That’s why, when the Doctor wanders off into the crowd of the party they’re technically crashing and leaves Donna alone, she doesn’t think twice about approaching the buffet table. She’s not having much luck striking up a conversation, so she might as well find something to pass the time. She doesn’t recognize any of the food — hardly surprising when she’s only the third human in the room, as far as she’s seen.

She walks along the table, taking her time and half-wishing the Doctor would come back to keep her company. Maybe he’d gone off and gotten himself kidnapped. She grinned. Now, that would give her something to do and something to gloat about when the doing’s done.

At the end of the table, just as she begins to despair (and contemplate one of the less appealing looking snacks,) there’s a plate of cheesecake. She blinks at it. It doesn’t squirm, or bleed, or make any weird noises when she gingerly scoops a little onto her plate. It’s just cheesecake. Looks like it, smells like it… She picks up a fork and pokes it one more time before breaking off a piece and putting it in her mouth. Tastes like it. It’s deliciously sweet.

She eats the whole piece far too quickly. She only tenses once, a scolding voice creeping up in the back of her head that sounds too much like her mother, but then, she’s a billion miles and thousands of years away. Donna can have as much cheesecake as she damn well pleases.

With a lighter step, Donna takes another piece to wander with. It’s just as good as the first, but she takes the time to savor this one.

”Donna,” the Doctor seems to appear out of nowhere, the only warning of his approach a familiar touch on her back sliding to grip her shoulder for a moment, “oh, you’re going to love this. They’re-“ He stops. She watches the grin on his face suffocate slowly. “What do you have there?” he asks. She’s been in enough life-or-death situations with him that his excited tone dropping so quickly makes her itch with the need to run.

”Cheesecake,” she answers. The Doctor grimaces.

”Right,” he says. “No. You don’t.” Donna looks down at her plate. “Definitely not cheesecake. Very not edible for humans. How long have you been eating that?” Donna feels her appetite drop out of her and pick up a bindle to hitchhike to someone who needs it more.

”I don’t know?” She looks around, which is useless because no one in the future bothers to keep clocks on the wall. They probably just have their alarms microchipped into their brains. The Doctor takes her plate away. He sets it down, and his attention returns to her immediately. His mouth is pinched as he takes her hand in his and starts checking her fingers for… something.

“How much did you have? Stick out your tongue,” he says.

”What?” But his gaze is deadly serious. Donna sticks out her tongue and fumbles her words around it. “One piece. One and a half.” The Doctor stares very closely at her tongue. He lets out a sigh of relief, which she takes as permission to stop looking like a fool and put her tongue back where it belongs.

”You’re alright. You’ll be alright.” She’s not sure which of them he’s reassuring, but if it’s her, he’s not doing a very good job of it. He puts a hand on her shoulder and starts guiding her through the party. “Come on. We’ll take care of this.”

”Take care of what?”

”Just a minor… major… ‘possibly fatal if we don’t handle it’ case of food poisoning. Why are you putting things in your mouth that don’t belong there?”

“You’re always letting me eat alien food!”

“After I’ve made sure it’s safe!”

“Maybe you should have warned me that death by cake was an option-” She cuts herself off as she frowns at the hallway he’s leading her down now that they’ve escaped the party. “The TARDIS is the other way.”

”I know.” She turns her gaze suspiciously onto him. He dropped the argument far too quickly for him not to be playing it up for her sake.

“So… we’re going to whatever nurse they have here to pick up the antidote?” The Doctor makes a face that’s answer enough.

”Not quite.” He herds her along to a door near the end of the hallway. The automatic door clicks twice at them like it’s annoyed at having to do its job, and then it only opens up halfway, leaving them to have to scoot in sideways one after the other. Donna goes first.

Another constant in the universe: everyone has toilets. Even species who don’t need toilets create toilets, though those were less than useful to Donna and she really didn’t feel like marveling at universal similarities when she needed to go. Bathrooms also only came in two types, through which you could tell how much the janitors (another thing that everyone had) were being paid: clean enough to eat off the floor or so disgusting that Donna would seriously consider just waiting until they got back to the TARDIS.

This one was, thankfully, the former. Donna breathed a sigh of relief before remembering why the Doctor had brought her here in the first place. He spoke before she could ask. “There’s no antidote for this. Luckily, it’s also extremely slow to break down.”

Donna can put two and two together.

”You want me to throw up the cake.” It isn’t a question. The Doctor treats it like one.

”Sooner rather than later, yeah.” He rocks back on his heels. Donna peers around. No stalls here, but there are identifiable toilets, which is more than some places can boast of. “I’ll turn around if you want some privacy.”

”I can’t.”

”Sure you can, just-” He unsubtly mimes sticking his finger down his throat. Donna glowers at him.

“And I’m telling you,” she repeats, “that doesn’t work.”

”How do you know that?” Donna doesn’t answer him. The Doctor grits his teeth together and looks to the side. “Okay. I’ll…” He trails off. “I’ll help?”

”Help?” Donna repeats back to him, incredulous. The Doctor turns back to the automatic door, which has taken its sweet time closing and clicks angrily at him when he moves in range again. He whips up the sonic screwdriver in a flash and quiets the door. The sensor above goes dead, locking it.

“Donna, we have to get it out of you,” he says. “Trust me when I say this is the quickest, least unpleasant way we can do this.” She does trust him. That doesn’t mean she has to like it.

”So what?” She glances down to the screwdriver he’s fiddling with, almost nervously. “Are you going to sonic my insides?”

”What? No!” The screwdriver disappears into one of his pockets. “Look, I can just- I can help.”

”How?” she demands.

“I can make it happen,” he replies. “If you can’t do it yourself.”

Donna fixes him with a look. It clicks.

“You are not sticking your fingers down my throat!” She takes a step back and even sweeps a hand in front of her to protect the distance between them.

”Donna-” he starts, stubbornly, but on equal footing like that, she won’t give any more ground than he will.

”Stick your fingers somewhere more useful!”

”Donna.” He tries again, but there’s no argument in it this time. His voice is quiet and serious. His eyes plead with her to let him help. (He’s doing that on purpose, she knows he is, because no one could unintentionally look so despairing. And it’s still working on her.)

”…It’s really going to kill me if we don’t, isn’t it?” she asks. She doesn’t want to look at it. Can’t. Danger is something they’re supposed to be able to run away from.

”Yes,” he confirms. There’s a reassuring lightness to his voice as he continues, stepping forward and waiting to see if she pulls back again. She doesn’t. “Death by cake. Agonizing. Embarrassing. How do I explain that to your mom and granddad?” Donna snorts. It isn’t anywhere close to a laugh. The Doctor is close enough to touch her now, and he does, hands wrapped around her own and squeezing as she takes a deep breath.

”We’ve done weirder, I guess,” she says.

”I definitely have,” he says. “You’ve got a much nicer mouth than most of the ones I’ve gone poking around in.” He squeezes her hands a second time. She looks down at them, at his fingers firmly wrapped around her, his thumb rubbing the back of her right hand.

“You’d better wash them first,” she says. This close, she can see the Doctor’s relief in the minute drop of his shoulders and the way the lines around his eyes relax into something happier. Her hands still feel warm when he lets them go. She tucks them close to her chest almost instinctively, like she can keep a little of his presence with her.

She has to pick out a toilet. The locked door means privacy, but the lack of stalls still sets some part of her on edge. Lavatory instincts. The desire not to be seen when she’s about to be at her lowest. No one invites a friend in to watch them throw up after having too much to drink at a party. The last time she must have had anyone around for that, she’d barely been in double digits. She wasn’t sure exactly who it had been, but she remembered having her hair held back to keep it clean while she was miserably sick.

She got down on the floor next to the toilet. A moment later, the sink the Doctor was using had switched off, and she could hear him pad over.

“Ready?” he asks as he gets down beside her. She takes a breath.

”No?” She turns to him. “What should I…?”

”Try not to bite me.” Donna’s mouth twitches up for a brief moment.

”No promises.”

The Doctor puts his other hand over hers again, but his fingers rest on her chin first. His touch is very light, very still, waiting to see how she reacts. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. They feel chapped. He waits a moment before moving, lifting his fingers to place two of them against her bottom lip this time.

“Should I stick my tongue out again?” she asks. It’s strange to speak with him touching her lip. The pressure of his fingers doesn’t impede her at all, but it is… there. His fingers bump her upper lip at certain sounds. They stay where they were when she’s finished until he answers.

“That would make it easier.” Donna goes to lick her lips again without thinking, but when she bumps a finger, she sucks her tongue right back into her mouth, slightly mortified. And then she snorts another almost-laugh because she has no idea what else she can do with the feeling. The Doctor smiles. He draws his fingers back to let her open her mouth.

She tries to keep her cool. The Doctor’s finger barely brushes her tongue, and… she bites him. And her tongue. Not hard enough to hurt, but they both hiss in surprise. The Doctor retreats, and she can see the pale indent of her own teeth on the top of his index finger.

”Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Again?” She nods. This time, the Doctor lifts his other hand and places two fingers at the edge of her mouth, firm against her lower canine and lip and holding them open. She breathes, trying to relax. She doesn’t do a very good job of it. This time, when she feels his finger touch her tongue, she doesn’t bite down. Couldn’t now if she tried, but she’s proud of herself for keeping that reflex under control.

Having his finger in her mouth is… odd. He delves in with purpose. She can feel the pad of his finger slide back along her tongue as his knuckles rub against her teeth. She can hear herself breathing around it.

He still goes slow, and so it doesn’t feel like an intrusion as much as it does an exploration she’s submitted to. Minute movements of her tongue feel amplified when they rub against his finger. A moment later and his nail bumps up against her soft palate. His eyes narrow and his finger slides deeper until Donna feels the urge to swallow around it.

”Hm.” He frowns. She did warn him. “You don’t have a very strong gag reflex.”

She tries to respond and resorts to making an insulted noise in the back of her throat when she can’t.

“I can still trigger it. Give me a minute.” She makes a questioning noise as his finger withdraws. He keeps her mouth open with his other hand. His thumb rests along her jaw, grounding her. Gently, he inserts his middle finger next to his index the second time he goes probing in her mouth. She grunts in discomfort.

She wonders if she should close her eyes. She would, except that whenever she tenses or makes a sound, his gaze jumps up to meet hers. It’s comforting to know that they’re stuck in this strangeness together.

Breathing around two fingers feels more difficult. They squish against her tongue as they push back to her throat. Sensation becomes less sure the further back they are, until she can mostly feel a pressure that makes her want to pull away. She clenches the bottom of her dress up in her fists to keep still. The Doctor’s knuckles bump her teeth as he probes around in her throat.

It starts as a tingling sensation. Donna frowns. The Doctor pushes somewhere uncomfortable, and she makes an involuntary noise, her eyes welling up. He looks up to her again, and his sure expression is the only thing that keeps her calm.

He withdraws a little. “Breathe,” he says, and Donna does, once, before he orders, “and stop.”

The constant sound of her own breathing freezes at his word. He pushes his fingers back in.

Donna feels an awful choking sensation, her throat convulsing around some obstruction, and then a wave of nausea has her grabbing at the Doctor’s hand. He yanks his fingers out quickly as she bows forward over the toilet and throws up. Her throat burns.

Donna sucks in a breath when it’s over. It hurts. Her mouth feels sour and disgusting. She blinks to see what mess she’s made, but aside from a splatter that she cringes from on the toilet’s side, she got the rest of it where it was supposed to go.

She inhales again. Her eyes are watery.

The Doctor is holding her hair. She only realizes that as she comes back to herself, but he’s got it all in his hand, the other on her shoulder holding her still. He lets go, smoothing her hair down back into place. Donna shuts her eyes to feel it better.

”Tell me it’s over,” she mutters. The Doctor doesn’t say anything. She forces her eyes open, unformed tears blurring her vision. “Doctor. Please.”

”Just one more time. I promise.” Donna makes a face, squeezing her eyes shut. She spits into the toilet, but that does very little to get rid of the sour taste flooding her mouth.

“That better not be the hand that was in my mouth,” she mumbles. The Doctor stops touching her hair, and she regrets calling attention to it. She forces herself to sit up straight again and opens her mouth. She feels disgusting.

The Doctor touches her cheek this time before he secures her mouth open with his fingers. He doesn’t even look grossed out about touching her after she’s thrown up.

He uses two fingers from the start this time. Donna’s jaw aches slightly. The Doctor’s fingers taste marginally better than the inside of her own mouth right now, and that’s some kind of relief. She’s never had cause to think about it before, but he tastes like… Well, he just tastes like some bloke. How fingers are supposed to taste, like skin and the salt of sweat. Not unpleasant, not enjoyable, and not alien at all.

“Hold your breath,” he says. This time, she can brace herself as each sensation comes. The growing pressure of his fingers touching things he shouldn’t. The catch in her throat. The spasms. He pulls his fingers away. This time, when she lurches forward, she can feel the way the Doctor catches her shoulders on the way, helping her get everything into the toilet. He’s got ahold of her hair a second later, keeping it out of her way as her stomach’s contents are dragged out of her.

Tears streak down her cheeks this time. She sniffs, and even the inside of her nose feels like it’s burning this time. She swallows, a mistake that makes her gag again, and then spits up bile from the back of her throat.

“That’s it,” the Doctor is saying. He’s rubbing her back. It’s the only good thing she can feel right now. “It’s over. You’re safe.” She feels his lips press to her temple as she gasps in air, and then his own relieved exhale. “You’re safe.”

Donna groans miserably.

The Doctor only moves a little to flush the toilet for her. She slumps into him, and he wraps an arm around her, resting his head atop hers.

“Never eating alien food again,” she mutters. “From now on, you’re bringing me back to Earth, and we’re ordering take-out.”

“What about that little place on Muscolane?” he asks.

”…One exception for Muscolane.” Leaning against him like this, she can feel his chuckle as well as hear it.

He helps her to her feet. She wipes at her eyes and her nose as he brings her over to the sink. She doesn’t even bother to question it when he picks up a towel to wash her face off with. Donna stands perfectly still for him as he brushes it over her mouth and chin. She balks a little more at him picking a small paper cup from a dispenser and filling it before holding it for her to drink from. There’s something so tremendously earnest about him doing it that she allows it anyway. She sips slowly, fills her mouth and swirls it around, and then spits it into the sink as the Doctor refills the cup again.

She takes it from him this time and drinks it at her own pace. He starts washing his hands, and her gaze darts down to his sleeve and a very conspicuous stain on it. She should feel embarrassed about that, but she’s too worn out for it. Besides, he knew what he was getting into.

Someone rudely bangs on the door the Doctor locked. Or broke. Those words usually mean the same thing with him. The Doctor sneaks a glance at her, and when the pounding comes again, followed by demands to be let in, they both have to choke down giggles.

“Back to the TARDIS?” he asks.

To answer, she takes his hand.

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#fanfiction #1001-5000 #teen and up audiences #doctor who #genfic #the doctor & donna #ten & donna #the doctor #tenth doctor #donna noble #h/c #vomiting

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