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archies-litterbox · 3 years

Text

of poison, forest floors, and terrified wizards

Summary: Out all alone on what was meant to be a simple errand, collecting herbs for Merlin, Douxie is downed when some pickpocket throws a fistful of black powder in his face - a magic surpressant and poison to wizards, he comes to find out the hard way. Unable to move or use his magic, as attempts to do both cause nothing but agony, the moppet has no choice but to rely on the slim hope of someone finding him before the poison overtakes him.

A/N: This is my first toa fic! I’ve spent the past year mostly just doing fic for witcher, so this is a nice change of pace :) I had fun with this! I thought about what would happen if there was some sort of substance in TOA that acted as a poison/magic surpressant to wizards... and ofc it turned into douxie whump (but it’s moppet!douxie which is even more painful :( ). Enjoyyy!

[CW: Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Poisoning/Sickness, Temporary Paralysis, blood mention (but no bleeding)]

---

All Douxie had been sent out to do was collect some herbs for Merlin. It wasn’t even in the uncertain ground like the Wild Wood, but a patch of forest he’d been sent to fetch ingredients from countless times. It should have been a simple enough task for the moppet, which is why he hadn’t woken Archie from his afternoon nap - which he was taking on Douxie’s bed - to have his familiar accompany him. And truly, the task itself was simple; it didn’t take Douxie very long at all to go into the woods and find a patch of the plants Merlin told him to fetch - something about a potion ingredient, the apprentice vaguely recollected.

Indeed, he found it without any trouble, but when he felt a figure speed past his back and steal away the little pouch of herbs he’d collected before speeding off into the woods, that was when the trouble started.

The rational part of him (which said exactly what he’d reckoned Archie would be telling him right now) told him just to pick more, but it was overshadowed by how downright insulting this woodland pickpocket was! Before he’d been taken in by Merlin, conning and using slight-of-hand to his advantage was one of his only means of survival, so to not only be stolen from, but in a way so lacking in cunning? The audacity!

It was the principal of the matter that sent him running after the thief, darting this way and that until he was lost in the thick of the woods, focused only on tailing the pickpocket.

“Hey! Stop!” Douxie panted, “You’re stealing from a master wizard!”

That didn’t seem to entice the thief to stop.

“Well… his apprentice, anyway!” he added for reasons unsure to even himself. Maybe honesty would help?

Well, thanks to his trusty, gangly legs, he caught up to the thief and got close enough to grab their wrist, and he thought it would be smooth sailing after that.

Yeah! Alright! I’ll just get my herbs back and deal with this thief and -

The thief turned around and threw a handful of black powder in his face.

Fuzzbuckets.

Douxie squeezed his eyes shut as soon as he felt them sting, coughing into his elbow to hack up the charcoal tasting powder that flew into his mouth and nose. That little trick stopped him in his tracks, but he wasn’t deterred. Not mentally. He still wanted to try to catch up…

...but his legs wouldn’t move.

No matter how badly he wanted - demanded his legs to obey him, they remained tense, frozen in that position of one in front of the other.

What?

One terrifying moment later, they did move. But not into the sprint he wanted to take - no, to do something worse: to buckle underneath him and send him falling onto his side against the forest floor.

And he couldn’t get up.

No matter how much he willed his body to do it, he couldn’t get up.

It was like when he’d have nightmares and he’d realize he was having a nightmare; it took forcing his body to toss and turn and shift from side to side as much as he could to rouse him back to the realm of the fully conscious.

But he couldn’t even do that. He couldn’t rouse himself from this nightmare because he couldn’t push himself up.

Wait.

No.

He couldn’t move.

Nearing complete panic, he internally begged and pleaded to find some sort of mobility, but his limbs grew numb by the second, and wherever he still had feeling, it ached - utterly, reprehensibly ached. Not only that, but it was cold. So, so cold, despite the warm atmosphere of the summer afternoon that hung around him so tauntingly.

He’d never felt more scared in his life. Not even being threatened at swordpoint by Sir Galahad and his men, knowing that he’d be killed for something like a measly alley trick, was as terrifying as this - not even that made his blood run cold (literally, it felt like, as well as figuratively) like this did.

And he was sure that was clear to the thief he’d tried to catch. They stood over him, and he couldn’t see their face from where his head lay on the ground, cheek against the grass, but with his glassy, wide eyes flickering between straining to look at his poisoner - because that’s what this was, a poison - and darting around wherever they could look without him moving his head - because he couldn’t even do that - as black strands of hair lay loose on his cheek because he couldn’t lift a hand to move them, he was sure looked every bit as terrified as he felt.

The thief laughed. Laughed.

“A master wizard’s apprentice, eh?” they spoke, their voice dripping with mock fascination that made Douxie wish that someone, anyone would come to help him, “And your great master never told you to pick your battles? He must not have, if you felt so inclined as to chase me all through the woods for a plant you could have just picked a little more of. It was right in front of you, after all.”

The realization which dawned on Douxie would have made his blood run cold if it didn’t feel like it already was. They’d pickpocketed him because they counted on him pursuing them, even to the point of ending up in the thick of the woods, far away from where Merlin or Archie expected him to be - far away from where they’d know to look for him.

Douxie finally tried to shout for help, but his throat was just as tense - as frozen as the rest of his muscles, and his jaw was too tight to open as much as he’d need to scream. All he could do was gasp and force shuddering breaths in and out of his lungs, which was still a trying ordeal - too trying for something like breathing to have been.

“Trying to scream? Really?” the poisoner-thief asked as if it was an absurd thing to do in the moppet’s position (which it wasn’t), “Next thing you know, you’ll try mustering a spell.”

Against his better judgement, for trying a spell couldn’t have been a good idea if his own assailant was suggesting it, he tried to force a little magic to his fingertips.

It burned. Oh, sweet heart of Avalon, it burned. His hand hadn’t even hurt this badly after he’d botched a lightning spell and scarred his wrist in the process.

Douxie wheezed at the sensation, and the thief laughed again.

“Oh, this is rich!” they exclaimed, “this has already paralyzed you hand and foot, and you thought some conjuring would help? What do you think this was made to diminish, Apprentice of Ambrosius?

Douxie couldn’t even think of a swear worthy of this (“fuzzbuckets” was too tame), his mind still flooded with fear and his hand still aching from his botched magic attempt. How had they already known he was Merlin’s apprentice? Sure, he’d mentioned being an apprentice to a master wizard, but he wasn’t that specific.

But he wasn’t worried about that as much as what this implied about his magic, and what this - whatever it had been - was doing to it.

“This,” His assailant bent down and held up their fingertips to his face, showing him the black powder on them. “Seeps away your magic. Or poisons it, or diminishes it, or eats away at it - I’m not a poet, and apt synonyms aren’t my strong suit.”

They stood back up all the way, and Douxie wanted to plead, but the words wouldn’t come out. They wouldn’t even form. This - he couldn’t lose his magic. Not on something as measly as an herb collection.

“All of this-”

They gestured to his paralyzed, twitching form.

“Is just a side effect. A byproduct of attacking your magic.”

Douxie tried curling his hand into a fist. Not only were his muscles so weak that he could only curl his fingers for a second in what looked more like a spasm than a conscious movement, but grabbing the wrong end of a knife would have hurt less.

The powder-tosser winced mock-sympathetically.

“Shame, really. I hoped the master wizard you served could be the one to deal with this.”

For a moment, in his agony, he wished he was. Douxie squandered the thought as quickly as it came up, hating himself for conceiving it. He couldn’t wish this on anyone, least of all the wizard who saved him, who plucked him off the streets.

But why couldn’t he save him now?

“Ah, well.” They reached down to Douxie’s face and put a strand of hair behind his ear.

Douxie wanted to cry.

“S’pose you’ll do. It’ll be a kick in the teeth for him anyway, when you don’t come back from your little errand after hours and hours, and by the time they send out a search party…”

The smugness and certainty in their tone made Douxie whimper, the first vocal noise he’d been able to make in all of this, after naught but wheezing and gasping. Where was he going to get dragged off to? The Wild Wood? Were they in league with trolls, hoping to get an edge on King Arthur? Or were they a bandit, hoping to take all his goods off of him (which weren’t much, unless they counted the black cat fur on his vest) and keep him in some rackety shack until a ransom note made its way to Merlin?

(Would he even pay it, considering Douxie’s incompetence?)

“Well, they’ll find you right here, I’m sure, but…”

Douxie could hear them mock-wince again, and their implication was worse than anything he’d assumed in the moments before. He couldn’t hear the rest of their sentence over his own panic that, combined with the poison, made his head swim.

He wasn’t going to be taken anywhere.

He was going to be left here, to - to - to -

His panic pushed him to try his magic again on impulse alone, and it felt like both his hands were on fire. His throat, as tight as it was, finally let him groan through his teeth.

“An exercise in futility, little wizard.” his attacker taunted, “In fact…”

They took his bracelet - only three fingers wide at this point in his training - right off his wrist, which made him squeak as he tried, tried, tried to shake his head, and threw it into a bush in what was both further assurance of his powerlessness and an insult to injury.

“I would say you should try to get comfortable…”

They stood up and took a few steps back, leaving the little field of vision Douxie had from where his head lay on the ground.

“...But I suppose that would be another exercise in futility.”

He heard the poisoner-thief run off, their footfalls fading as the pounding of his racing heart, which drummed against his ears in sync with their steps, drowned out the noise until they were out of earshot.

He was alone.

He couldn’t move, some poison was seeping away his magic - his very lifeforce - and tensed his body up so rigidly that he couldn’t even scream, and he was alone.

If he could’ve, he would have curled up into a ball as small as he could make himself in hopes that the dangers of the woods and the dire circumstances of his situation would pass him by.

If he could’ve, he would have screamed, even though he knew he was far away from the earshot of anyone who might have come looking for him by that patch of herbs where he said he’d go, and he knew that Archie, who could have tracked his scent here, was still sleeping because, in his arrogance, he hadn’t thought to wake him.

If he could’ve, he would have dragged himself to his gauntlet, wherever it had been thrown, because even if it wouldn’t have done anything to get him out of this, at least he wouldn’t have felt so helpless, even though helpless was exactly what he was.

But he couldn’t.

All he could do was squeeze his eyes shut and feel his tears run down the bridge of his nose as his lips contorted into a grimace, the only two things he could do with his body where the movement itself didn’t outweigh how badly he wanted - needed to do it.

All he could hope for, against hope itself, was that he’d be found here.

Before all that could be found was his body.

---

He wished he could just sleep.

The grassy ground underneath him was soft enough, and his position on his side could have been comfortable enough. Maybe it would have helped pass the time until the poison ran its course, whatever that entailed.

But whatever this was, it didn’t even grant him that luxury. Whether it was an effect of the poison or a product of his own adrenaline and terror, Douxie was wide awake.

Not only that, but after what might have been an hour or two (judging by the sunlight’s reflection off the dewey grass), his body would periodically twitch because of the poison. Sometimes his leg would kick out like a dog, or his shoulder would seize up to the point where it touched his ear, or his hand would ball into a fist.

But his poisoned body didn’t care which of his movements were voluntary or otherwise - it stung all the same. Not like the horrific burning that came with his attempts at magic, but a grating, awful ache right down to his bones. The spontaneous twitches never let him even come close to unconsciousness, and maybe that was a good thing - every breath was more or less of a laborious gasp, a conscious effort of his, and if he’d lost consciousness and stopped forcing them in and out of his lungs… he didn’t want to imagine it.

He wished his panic would quiet enough for him to get bored laying here - he would have preferred it to this, and it would have made sense, considering that he was stuck staring at the same blades of grass and patch of trees that he’d been staring at for the past hour.

And they weren’t even particularly interesting trees or blades of grass, not that they would have distracted him very well if they were.

He wondered if anyone had started looking for him by now. Maybe Merlin was growing impatient without the ingredients he asked for, and maybe Morgana had started to wonder why “Little Douxie” hadn’t come back to the castle.

He wondered if Archie had woken up from his nap and noticed Douxie’s absence yet. If anyone could insist that someone go out and search for him, it would be his familiar. He didn’t want to delude himself by thinking it would help though.

He wondered the importance of those herbs he was collecting before. Were they really that important to whatever Merlin had been working on? Were they worth chasing that thief down? Were they worth all of this?

He was pulled from his thoughts when a shadow cast over the grass he’d been staring at - the shadow of a creature flying overhead and hovering above him.

If he could’ve curled into himself, just to look as small as possible, he would have. What if it was a vulture, waiting to scavenge him? What if it was a monster, or a winged troll, here to carry him off to some trollish nest in the Wild Wood? None of the thoughts that came to mind were soothing by any means. As the creature swooped down, all Douxie could do was squeeze his eyes shut and hope he wouldn’t be harmed any further.

Even when the figure landed in front of him and stepped closer and closer, he didn’t look at it. It wasn’t until he could feel it’s breath on his face, one of the only sensations of the past few hours that didn’t hurt, that he opened his eyes.

A face of black fur greeted him.

And yellow eyes.

And a round pair of glasses.

Archie!

He couldn’t even say the word, but a sob escaped his throat - a sob of relief? A sob of terror that this might have been the start of an onslaught of hallucinations, the first of which being a sign of rescue? He wasn’t sure. Either way, all he wanted to do was reach up and pet the cat-dragon familiar, or hug him and not let go, but he couldn’t. His arm felt like it weighed half a ton, just like the rest of his limbs.

So, he sobbed. It was all he could do.

“Douxie!” Archie cried.

Merlin’s apprentice could hear the worry in his voice as he stepped back a few paces, his ears back and his wings to his side. Of course, he’d shifted into his dragon form - he must have been able to track Douxie’s scent like that. But Douxie hated the thought of his familiar being in danger because he’d flown here. He was already suspicious enough as a black cat, since they carried the notion of being bad omens. What if he’d gotten taken down? He wasn’t worth that!

Douxie was too relieved - yes, he chose relief, not terror, because that’s all he could afford - to think about all of that though.

“Douxie, I’ve been looking for you! What’s happened to you?” Archie asked, “Merlin expected you back hours ago!”

The first thing that came to mind, despite everything, was an apology for his absence - an apology he couldn’t even say. He couldn’t even say what happened to him, not like -

A spasm cut off from his speeding, scrambled thoughts - a large one in his left arm (his right was still mostly underneath him) that reached all the way from his fingertips to his shoulderblade, forcing his hand to ball into a fist, his arm to fold so tightly that his fist touched his shoulder, and his shoulder to tighten so much that his shoulder pressed to his ear.

The sound of agony ripped from his throat was the closest to a scream he’d gotten yet.

Archie looked horrified, and Douxie could only imagine what the sight of him was like - black strands loose from his bun strewn over his face, his eyes puffy and tear-ringed, his lips contorted in a pained grimace. He imagined he looked as pitiful and helpless as he felt.

(In fact, he didn’t have to imagine it. He could faintly see his reflection in the lenses of Archie’s glasses, and he was right in what he pictured, save for the addition of smudges and speckles of that powder still on his face, the black splotches of dust contrasting his color-drained skin, pale as death.)

His arm relaxed again after a few agonizing moments, letting his hand fall in front of his face and leaving a throbbing ache down to his bones, and Douxie tried to collect himself. He had to tell Archie what was wrong. He had to try. If Archie knew, he could fix it. He could get Merlin to fix it. Right? Right.

“P-” he started, trying his absolute best to form words despite the constriction in his throat and lungs that barely let him breathe at all, “puh- poi-”

His own wheezing cough cut him off.

“Poison?” Archie asked, getting it right much to the little relief that Douxie could manage. He nodded - at least, as close to the motion as he could accomplish - and tried to hum a “mhm” of affirmation, since trying to talk hadn’t exactly worked. Far from it.

Archie stepped forward and sniffed his face. He immediately recoiled, his big eyes widening, and Douxie was proven wrong for thinking he couldn’t be more terrified.

“Oh, dear.” His eyes glanced to what must have been a few more clumps and speckles of dust on the ground, “Ohhh, not good. Not good at all.”

No. Archie couldn’t be scared. If Archie was scared for him, then this was so, so much worse than he thought. How could it possibly be worse?

Douxie squeaked out a whimper in fear, and Archie’s attention snapped back to him (as if it could have been anywhere else).

“Douxie, don’t worry.” he said, “You’ll be alright.”

Archie was never a good liar, much to Douxie’s dismay. If Archie was going to hide the truth to soothe him, he at least would’ve liked it to work. His immediately telling Douxie not to worry had the opposite effect of what was intended; it showed him his worry - his terror - was entirely warranted, which was the exact thing he didn’t want to know. Even if all he said was “You’ll be alright.”, the fear that seemed to bristle through his fur was indication enough of the contrary.

Archie’s eyebrows, indicated by the grey patches in the fur above his eyes, upturned as if in dread.

��...But I need to go.”

NO!

If Douxie could have screamed the word and reached out to hold Archie, he would have done it right at that moment, but all he could do was whine like a kicked puppy, his eyebrows raising as his head shook - an unconscious movement, minute despite his desperation.

“Douxie, Douxie, listen.” Archie said, softening his voice, “I can’t carry you back to the castle. I wouldn't be able to fly carrying you anyway, but especially not with your-”

Archie got cut off by another one of Douxie’s spasms - this one made his left leg curl up so tight that his thigh touched his torso, causing the apprentice to nearly involuntarily hit Archie with his knee, which the cat-dragon barely dodged.

“-that." Archie said, "Not with that.”

Douxie saw the sense in that, despite his panic. He did, he did, he did.

But -

He sobbed again.

-But he didn’t want to be alone.

Sweet heart of Avalon, he didn’t want to be alone.

The worst of his pain and terror wasn’t from the paralysis, or the aching, or the random twitches, or the burning that came from trying to use his magic, or even the tightness in his throat and lungs that robbed him of speaking or even screaming; it came from being alone in this - from wondering if anyone would come for him, or find his body; it came from knowing that there was nothing he could do but lay there, at the mercy of nature, the poison wracking his body with every beat of his heart, and the determination (or lack thereof) of someone else to find him.

And when he opened his eyes to find Archie there, all of that went away - all of that fear that told him he’d die alone here. He didn’t want it to come back. He would’ve rather the poison take him right now.

“I just need to go back to the castle and bring Merlin here. He’ll know what to do.”

Archie put his paw in Douxie’s limp, open palm. All Douxie wanted to do was hold it, and he so desperately hoped the next twitch would be in his hand so he could.

“I won’t be long. I promise.”

But what if it was too long, even if he hurried?

What if Merlin was too late, even if he hurried?

What if it took too long to convince his master to come here? Would the fact that he’d been poisoned and needed help be enough, or would Merlin refuse because it served Douxie right for his insolence?

(No, no, he wouldn’t do that. Merlin said that mastery over magic was mastery over life, and he had to learn how to live. He couldn’t learn to live if he died here in the woods.)

What if…

What if this killed him before Archie came back?

...No.

It wasn’t the same this time. Douxie wasn’t lost here, hoping against hope that someone would find him. This was hope - someone knew where he was, and help would come. He could handle a little bit more fear for that hope, he knew.

So, fighting the grating, awful ache in his bones, Douxie closed his hand around Archie’s paw and put on as brave a face he found himself able to muster, nodding as much as he could while causing as little pain to himself as possible.

He didn’t trust much in this - not even his own body to keep fighting the poison - but he trusted Archie, and he trusted his promise.

His familiar gently pulled his paw away before slipping it under the side of Douxie’s head, lifting it a little off the ground. The little apprentice was confused for a moment, until Archie reached behind Douxie’s head with his mouth. He could hear the sounds of the woods stifle as fabric came over his ears, warding off the now-coolness of the woodsy air around his head as Archie pulled the hood of his vest over his head and gingerly laid it back down.

Ah, he got it now - it was a little comfort, a little shelter from the world.

And of course he took it, hoping his eyes conveyed his gratitude.

He kept up his brave front as Archie turned away from him, something Douxie could tell he’d done reluctantly, and flew off. It wasn’t until he couldn’t see his familiar anymore - until the sight of the cat-dragon vanished behind the treetops - that he let it fall and shatter.

He just had to keep waiting. That’s all he had to do - wait and trust Archie to come back with Merlin. He knew that.

But he could still feel new tears come down his face.

---

Douxie wished he could see the sunset from where he lay. It would have been beautiful, he knew.

The spasms subsided a little while after Archie flew back, leaving Douxie limp on the ground - still unable to move without hurting himself or try to use his magic without thrusting himself into agony - with a lingering pins-and-needles sensation in his hands and feet that felt like it was crawling up from his ankles and wrists.

(Honestly, Douxie still wasn’t sure if the spasms had truly subsided for good, or if this was just a rather long interval between them. He hoped it was the former. The spasms never hurt any less as they went on, and he was so, so tired of the pain.)

Archie still hadn’t come back with Merlin yet, obviously, and at this point, it seemed like Douxie was fighting off his doubt more than the poison. At least he knew what the poison was doing to him - he could feel it every waking moment. But Archie… Douxie didn’t know what had happened to him, and he wouldn’t unless he came back.

(No, until he came back. Douxie had to keep that certainty alive in his mind.)

But how was he supposed to know that his familiar hadn’t taken a tumble? That he hadn’t been brought down by some witch hunter’s net? What if Merlin was being stubborn about coming for him? What if he’d been busy in another row with King Arthur?

...Indeed, he would have loved to see the sunset - to at least try to let it distract him from the tornado of worst case scenarios in his mind.

But he couldn’t.

For a bit, he tried distracting himself by thinking about how Merlin might’ve reacted to him being in danger - to hearing that he’d been poisoned. He sort of liked imagining how scared he’d be, for he preferred fear to indifference. The mental image of his master dropping whatever book he’d been flipping through and rushing to follow Archie… it was a comforting one, as strange as it might sound. That fear meant he mattered.

But Douxie soon grew tired even of that. He hoped he might’ve ran into a patch frequented by fireflies. Those would at least come low enough to dip into his line of sight, and they were always so beautiful, like stars visiting earth for a night before going back to the sky…

Douxie grew cold again at some point. Not just cold, but damp. Since it hadn’t started raining, fortunately, he rightly assumed that it was sweat. Perhaps he was finally sweating this out, like a fever, but that was too good, too fortunate to figure. This was another progression of the poison, he was sure. Just like…

Douxie noticed something in his left hand that lay in front of his face, something wrong…

Oh, sweet heart of Avalon.

His veins were black.

Hoping, begging, praying to be wrong, he pushed through that dreadful ache in his arm so he could pull it closer, but it only confirmed his suspicions - his dread - his terrors.

The veins in his wrist, in the creases of his knuckles - they weren’t deep blue anymore, just barely visible underneath his skin, but as black as that powder that got blown in his face. Ink could be coursing through them right now, and he’d have been none the wiser.

In that moment, Douxie was proven wrong once again for thinking he couldn’t be more terrified.

He gasped as much as his throat and lungs let him, and he didn’t stop gasping. But then his chest -

No no NO!

-his chest started to seize up.

He fought the growing tightness in his chest with every breath, forcing each one in and out like a wheeze, but it wouldn’t go away. He couldn’t tell if it was from poison or panic, but it wouldn’t go away. He’d even started coughing, which was inevitable, but the black splotch that splattered into his hand terrified him all the more.

This was it. He was going to die here. He was going to succumb to this. He’d never come back to the castle - to Archie, to Morgana, to Merlin - from a trivial herb picking. Archie would come back here, but all he’d find was - was - was -

“HISIRDOUX!”

Douxie burst into tears.

He could recognize the voice of his master - his father - anywhere, but he was so, so scared that it was a hallucination. The fear in his voice already sounded so foreign, coming from the great and powerful Merlin Ambrosius, and if the sound of his voice and his footsteps coming near him came only from his desperate imagination, then he’d - he’d -

A hand gripped his shoulder and turned him onto his back. Finally, he could look up at the sky, aglow with sunset, but his glassy eyes only saw Merlin kneeling down at his side, and Archie flying above him.

The terror in Merlin’s eyes was the exact opposite of comforting, but Douxie didn’t get to see it for long before Merlin conjured a damp cloth and wiped off his face what had to have been the rest of that poisonous powder. He hadn’t realized how flushed he’d been until that moment, when that rag felt so cold against his cheeks.

Merlin finished wiping off Douxie’s face and made the cloth disappear. Douxie missed the coolness on his face. He wanted it back.

“Hisirdoux, say something!” he demanded. But Douxie couldn’t - didn’t Merlin think he would’ve already been screaming his lungs out if he could?

“D-” he choked, “Da-”

He hacked up another throatful of black phlegm, whimpering as the violence of his cough made his torso curl up. Merlin dodged the cough, but put an arm under Douxie’s back before he could fall back.

An apology lay at the back of his throat - one he didn’t know the reason for, even if he could’ve said it.

Merlin brought his other arm behind Douxie’s knees and lifted him like he weighed nothing (and he probably didn’t weigh much to Merlin, being the gangly moppet he was). The edges of the plating of the master wizard’s armor dug against him uncomfortably, but it was the least discomforting thing about this, overshadowed near-completely by the comfort that came just by being held. But he was still scared - if more of that powder was on him, and Merlin touched it by holding him, then -

He stifled a cough, and his leg kicked out unconsciously like a thumping rabbit’s foot. He didn’t realize how badly he’d been tremoring until it was contrasted with the steadiness of Merlin holding him.

Yes… steadiness, safety - two things he’d wanted to cling to more than anything since all this had started. And now, he had them. He had his familiar, and he had his father.

His head, still covered with the hood of his vest, lolled back uncomfortably without any support, but he felt something soft push against the back of it- it was actually Archie, though Douxie couldn’t see it - until the side of his head lay against one of the shoulderpieces of Merlin’s armor, cushioned by the cloth of his hood.

He sighed as much as his tightened chest would allow.

He was so scared.

Douxie was still so, so terrified that Merlin couldn’t save him after all; that he’d die tonight; that he’d never use his magic again; that he’d never get to become a master wizard or get his own staff to wield; that he’d never again get to go back down to the marketplace and talk to that pretty girl who frequented the shops.

(What was her name? Zelda? Zona? Zola? Zo-)

He felt something warm settle on his abdomen - Archie had turned back into a cat and curled up on his tummy, purring as he nestled where Douxie’s legs curled.

At least, despite everything else he feared, he didn’t have to be terrified of being alone anymore.

---

Douxie wasn’t sure if Merlin used a portal, or the relief of being found by his master had finally let him lull out of consciousness for the length of the time it took to be carried back, but the next thing he knew, he was in Merlin’s study. Despite the fluttering of his eyelids, he could recognize the shelves, the desk, and the stained glass window letting in the last light of day.

Home.

He was home.

No matter what happened next, he was home.

“Douxie!” He could hear Morgana’s voice shouting his name in worry, followed immediately by her fast-approaching footsteps.

“Mmh…” Douxie whimpered. It wasn’t clear whether or not the noise was just a pained whine or an attempt to try saying her name - not even to Douxie himself. He couldn’t see her very well, but he could tell when she’d come to them, stepping to the side as Merlin walked forward to his desk.

“Is he alive?” she asked.

“Somehow, yes.” Merlin answered. Douxie hated that “somehow” and the fear it brought, but it was just a little more to add to the onslaught of the past hours. He could just add it to the pile, he supposed.

In the middle of the room, Merlin’s big desk was empty, so the wizard laid him down on the surface, having him lay flat on his back with his hands at his sides, his legs straightened out, and his head facing up. Now, he could fully see Morgana, the sorceress he’d come to see as something of a big sister just as he came to see Merlin as a father, looking down at him. Her face was upside-down from where she stood over him, but he could still see her upturned brows and glistening eyes, and the way she clasped her hands close to her chest so they didn’t even touch him. He hated that look of worry on her face. Seeing Morgana - always fearless, always grasping for more from the world than what others had permitted, always steadfast in her ruthless ambition - look so scared for him…

...It was worse, if such a thing was possible, than when he saw how scared Merlin was for him, and there was so much he wanted to say, but he was still just focused on trying to breathe as deeply as he could.

Archie got off his abdomen and sat next to his head, gently headbutting his temple before putting a paw on his forehead. It was a little comforting, almost enough to distract Douxie from realizing that Merlin wasn’t at his side anymore.

Almost, though. Not enough.

Douxie tried turning his head to the side, but Archie gently kept it still with his paw.

“He’s just finding a spellbook, Douxie.” he assured, immediately knowing what the apprentice was trying to turn his head for, “He’ll be right back.”

Morgana looked down on the little scene and closed her eyes for a moment, as if to quell her tears, before opening them again.

“You shouldn’t have held him.” she warned, turning her head to wherever Merlin stood now, “You know what that can-”

“I’m well aware.” Merlin interrupted from wherever he still was, “And you know I’ve little concern for that.”

Douxie didn’t understand. There was still so little he understood about whatever was doing this to him, and he didn’t know how to ask about it - he couldn’t.

But apparently, his upturned brows and whimpers of confusion were enough to indicate - at least to Archie - how lost he was.

“Douxie, that powder - it’s called Draining Dust.” Archie explained, “It’s a magic suppressant, and… a poison, as you know by now.”

“Witch hunters would put this in shackles.” Morgana said, finally speaking to him, “To nullify wizards’ and witches’ magic on their way to the gallows. Or the stakes.”

“Trace amounts, yes.” Merlin came back into his view, an open spellbook floating near him with a signature green aura around it, “Pinches of it, cast in the metal. It would suppress the wearer’s magic as long as it was on their body, with a few side effects. Fatigue, headaches, nausea…” he started listing as he flipped through the pages.

Douxie remembered the handful of the stuff that had been thrown in his face. That was far from a few pinches. And those side effects he’d started listing - they sounded tame, menial compared to what was happening to him now.

“But direct contact with raw powder…” Archie started. Douxie knew he was hesitant to finish that sentence, and it wasn’t hard to assume why (but it was terrifying).

“It’s deadly.” Morgana said, “Few wizards have ever survived inhaling or digesting it. More sadistic witchfinders have used that to-”

“Morgana!” Merlin snapped, urging her to leave off. But she didn’t.

“He should know!” she snapped back, “It’s already in his bloodstream, old man. It’s killing him, and he deserves to-”

Douxie started crying again at Morgana’s brutal honesty, as if this all weren’t brutal enough. His eyes squeezed shut as tears streamed down his temples, but when he opened them again, it was darker, like he was looking through a veil. The sight made him want to cry even harder.

It was in his tears.

Oh, sweet heart of Avalon, the poison was in his tears.

It made sense now, why Morgana was so scared to touch him. His own body fluids - his blood, his tears, probably his sweat soon enough - were turning poisonous from this. The only reason Archie was still touching him was probably because he wasn’t a wizard, but a familiar, and this wouldn’t affect him so badly.

(It actually very well could have affected Archie for the worse, but watching Douxie endure this without any comfort would have been worse than any poison.)

“It’s not killing him.” Merlin denied as if he was trying to convince both Morgana and himself, “His death is not certain. If it were, I would have already placed a sleeping spell on him by now.”

Douxie clung to that little hope and tried to watch Merlin scan for the spell he’d been looking for. Merlin had a way to fix this, of course he did; it’s as he said - he would have already put Douxie to sleep to grant him some peace if he didn’t.

Douxie watched his master’s page flipping stall as his eyes scanned over one particular page. His face fell - a minute, near-unnoticeable change in expression, but one that made Douxie’s pounding heart sink.

“Merlin?” Archie asked, “Have you found something?”

Merlin said nothing at first, only taking his place by stepping right to the table’s edge, coming right to Douxie’s side.

“I’ve found a spell to expel the poison and it’s remnants,” he explained, still only scanning the book, “But purging it from his body when it’s progressed this far will be…”

His eyes fell on Douxie’s.

“...quite excruciating.”

But Douxie was already so, so tired.

Not physically - the combined force of the poison and his own adrenaline warded off any chance of fatigue - but in his heart. He was so tired of being scared. Of being in so much pain. He didn’t want to do it - he didn’t think he could…

...But he remembered something Merlin said to him before.

“If there is a universal truth in this world, it is that struggle is the flame which forges one’s soul into steel.”

Well, if there was something tougher than steel, that’s what his soul would become.

Because wizards were strong. Brave. Unrelenting to pain or fear. That’s how Merlin was, that’s how Morgana was, and that’s how he would be.

He put on a brave face - as brave as he could possibly muster in the face of what he’d endure - and nodded. He could do this. He had to do this.

And he would.

The green aura around the spellbook faded as Merlin set it down. Archie lifted his paw from Douxie’s head and stepped back a few paces.

“Morgana, keep him still.” Merlin said, “His thrashing may cause him to injure himself.”

Morgana nodded and brought her hands up, an unsaid apology in her eyes. Seconds later, Douxie felt warm, gentle heat around his wrists and ankles. It didn’t hurt, but it was unrelenting. He didn’t test the bonds, lacking the strength or any actual will to do so. Still under a sort of paralysis, he wasn’t scared of being pinned down, for he knew it was just a precaution; he was just scared of how bad the pain would be in order for restraining him like this to be necessary.

The precaution was far from unwarranted, he came to realize in the coming moments.

Merlin hovered one hand over Douxie’s chest and the other over his abdomen. Douxie watched him say some incantation, but he didn’t catch the words. He was too busy bracing himself for the pain as he saw the green aura of his master’s magic out of the corner of his eye, glowing above his torso.

Before Merlin even got to take a breath after the incantation, the pain started.

And no amount of bracing could have prepared Douxie enough.

The sudden agony in his torso ripped the breath from his lungs. He thought - hoped it would start small and get worse and worse, like a simmer that got hotter and hotter, but instead it was like a pot of scalding water got poured over his chest. No, even that would have hurt less. This… it started at the surface, but it bled deeper and deeper under his skin, and then -

Oh, sweet heart of Avalon.

-then it started to spread.

In moments, as if searing agony itself coursed through his veins, there was nowhere on his body that didn’t burn, not even his fingertips or the tip of his pinky toes. If he could feel it, it hurt, and it hurt unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

As the agony overrode his paralysis, he thrashed against Morgana’s magic that kept his wrists and ankles in place, arching his back one moment and curling forward the next.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to try to open his eyes. It hurt to keep them squeezed shut. It hurt to try to hear the voices of those around him - Morgana trying to tell him to be strong, Archie trying to soothe him, Merlin repeating the incantation. It hurt even to think - the pain, blinding and deafening, flooded out all other thoughts.

For a moment, like a fire burning so hot it feels cold for a fleeting beat, he stopped feeling the searing, searing agony.

But the moment was too, too fleeting before it wracked him again.

Finally, finally, he screamed.

It was a raw, shrill, agonized thing. He felt it come up from the base of his throat, and when Douxie realized, through his hysteria, that he was actually screaming, not wheezing or whimpering or anything he’d had to settle for tonight, he couldn’t stop. He screamed for all the torture of the day, all the fear of being alone, all the panic and terror and despair that he couldn’t let out in the woods, tense and spasming and paralyzed.

All the screams that couldn’t come out before, when his throat was so tight that it barely let him breathe, came out right now, bursting at the seams of his pain-delirious mind.

He didn’t stop screaming until he finally felt Merlin’s magic let off.

Even then, his screams settled only into groans and wails until the burning across his body finally cooled; until the pain weakened from a searing sensation all over him, like the most brazen of fires, to a low ache, like the embers of a dying camp flame.

Once he fully stilled, which took a few more moments, Morgana’s magic came off his wrists and ankles.

Finally, he came back to his senses and see Merlin, Morgana, and Archie still around him. Archie looked relieved and nuzzled the side of Douxie’s head. Morgana smiled a shaky, hesitant smile - still so foreign to see from her.

And Merlin…

Well, he seemed as difficult to read as usual, but at least he no longer had the expression on his face of a man watching his apprentice die. Traces of relief lay there, and Douxie gladly took them.

So… was it over?

Douxie groaned and lifted his arm. It didn’t hurt to do anymore - well, it did, but more like a soreness left in the wake of heavy lifting, a residue of what happened than a symptom of it. He brought it up to his face so he could see his wrist.

His veins were blue again.

Sighing, he let his hand fall on his face and wiped away some tears - lifting it to see they were purely clear, like before - before letting it slide off his cheek and fall limp next to his head.

“Master…” his voice was so little, so hoarse, “‘s it gone?”

“Every bit, Hisirdoux.” Merlin said, putting his hand on Douxie’s shoulder, “It's over.”

He sounded weary. Douxie hoped that spell didn't take too much from him.

“Mm… my magic… 's it gone too?”

Merlin’s eyes said he wasn’t sure himself.

Douxie sought to answer the question on his own and willed forth his magic. He felt his fingertips thrum with the life of his sorcery. Lifting his hand again, he saw little specks of light, blue and true. It didn’t burn anymore, but it felt warm and gentle, like a heartbeat. His heartbeat. Exactly as it always felt.

He sighed. Not shaky, not fighting to keep his breathing level - a tired, relieved sigh. Despite how sore even the muscles in his face felt, he smiled a little smile.

“Thank you…” he said, “If you all hadn’t… I’d be-”

Merlin moved his hand from Douxie’s shoulder to his forehead.

“Don’t pay that scenario any mind, Hisirdoux.” Merlin urged, “You’ve survived, and although you and your magic have been weakened, both will fully recover.”

Douxie’s little smile fell.

“Wha… what about the poison? It couldn’t just be gone.”

“That it can.” Merlin assured, taking his hand off Douxie’s head, “As brutal as it is to the wizard affected, an unaffected wizard with strong magic can eradicate it from their body and return it to it’s untarnished condition.”

...Well, that was that, and Douxie wouldn’t question it. Besides, he remembered something.

“Mmmy bracelet… I lost it. That - they took it off. It’s in a bush out there.”

“I can see that. That’s alright.” Merlin said, “It can be retrieved.”

“And… and I'm sorry.” He said to Merlin’s subtle but obvious surprise, indicated by a little raise in his eyebrows.

“What for?”

“I… the herbs.” he answered, “I couldn’t bring them back. They got stolen.”

“It’s alright,” Merlin said, “They aren’t a rarity, you know.”

...Douxie sniffled.

“That… they only snatched those plants so I’d follow them deeper into the woods. So I’d get lost. So they could throw that dust in my face and - and leave me there, knowing I’d gone further into the forest than… than anyone would’ve looked, and I wouldn’t be found.”

“But you were found, Douxie.” Archie said, “They weren’t counting on you having a dragon that could track scents for a familiar.”

Douxie’s voice started to break.

“I should have left it alone - I knew I should have left it alone. There was more right there, I should’ve-”

“Hisirdoux, cease this.” Merlin said in a tone that left no room for insistence, “You must grant yourself some relief in you and your magic’s survival. I won’t have you fret over something as menial as a handful of herbs, so-”

“But Master-”

“-Don’t “But Master” me.”

Douxie sighed. That statement didn’t leave any room for argument. It never did.

Finally, a little normalcy tonight.

Morgana put her hands to the sides of Douxie’s head. After she’d been so scared to touch him this whole time, the feeling of her fingers against his temples, brushing his hair away from his face, was a final, true assurance that the poison had been well and truly purged.

“Sleep, Little Douxie.” she soothed, “I promise you’ll wake.”

He couldn’t tell if she cast a sleep spell in that moment, or if this was from his own fatigue, but he obeyed without hesitance as he was finally lulled away from the realm of the conscious and fell into slumber.

---

Merlin looked down at the boy lying asleep on his desk, the color slowly trickling back into his face as his chest rose and fell in deep, steady breaths.

“He’s a brave little moppet.” Morgana said as she kept her fingers against the sides of his head, her voice hushed despite the fact that the boy’s exhaustion had lulled him into a deep slumber, and he’d sleep like a stone until morning no matter what.

“...No, he’s not.” Merlin denied, “Not for this.”

Morgana snapped her head up.

“He’s just gone through more torment from that powder in one day than either of us have in all our lives!” Morgana she contested, “Not even you have endured effects that brutal from Draining Dust.”

“To be brave requires a choice - being faced with the ultimatum to either run and give up, or face your fight.” Merlin said, too proverbial and righteous-sounding as he stood over Douxie, “A choice was the exact thing he didn’t have in this. Perhaps if he’d been withholding something from that assailant, even with the threat of this, then it might be different. But as it is, even if he’d wanted to succumb to this before Archie had found him, his adrenaline hadn’t let him.”

“Maybe so,” Archie started, “but when I found him there in the forest, and I told him I’d have to come back with help, he was terrified of being left alone again. I could tell. But he put on as brave a face he could have. He chose that for himself, at least.”

“He did the same thing moments ago, when you told him how much that spell would hurt.” Morgana added, “He may not have had a choice in enduring this, but he did choose to steel his nerves when faced with every reason not to, and there’s bravery in that, old man.” She crossed her arms. “Even you have to admit that.”

Merlin almost found it endearing, seeing them both try to defend his apprentice’s honor when they felt it threatened, and maybe he could’ve seen the bravery they saw, if he’d been looking at anyone else.

But as he looked down at Hisirdoux… that’s all he saw. Hisirdoux. His apprentice. His son. His gangly little moppet who tended to cause more messes than he cleaned up, but smiled like the embodiment of joy itself.

If daylight decided to make itself corporeal and walk among humans for a while, Merlin wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if it took the form of Hisirdoux Casperan.

So, the sorcerer didn’t see bravery when he found Hisirdoux writhing and gasping on the ground in those woods, he didn’t feel bravery when the boy trembled in his arms, and he most certainly didn’t hear bravery when the boy wailed and screamed his lungs out as that poison was taken out of him, black tears streaming down his face until they became clear again.

No, if Douxie had been brave, pride in that laid nowhere in Merlin’s mind.

After all, when fear for his son’s life flooded his mind, and hatred for whoever did this to him flooded out that fear, where, pray tell, could pride reside?

Morgana kept looking down at Douxie as he slept.

“How could you risk that?” she asked Merlin.

“Risk what, Morgana?” he asked, “Be specific.”

She snapped her head back up.

“You know what I’m talking about!” Morgana almost shouted, stifling her volume so the sleeping moppet wouldn’t hear, ““Eradicate” my foot, old man. I know the spell you used. You didn’t use a spell of eradication, you used a spell of transference!”

Arhcie had been staring down at his own sleeping familiar, but he snapped up when he heard that word, “transference”. First he looked to Morgana, then to Merlin.

“You told him it got destroyed, but you just - all you did was soak it up like a sponge!”

“Merlin… is that true?” Archie asked, obviously afraid that after all of this, Douxie would wake up without his mentor - his father - because he’d taken the poison for him. The little apprentice left without a master would never stop blaming himself, no matter how hard Morgana and Archie tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault.

Merlin sighed, an affirmation without words or nods.

“I spent the years since it’s conception,” he started, “building an immunity to the dust and its properties. It was too big a risk, potentially having a weakness to something so daunting - something I’d seen subdue and poison countless wizards. Too high a risk - a threat to the greater good.”

“So… the poison’s not having any affect on you?” Archie asked, stepping around Douxie to approach Merlin, “It’s not… he couldn’t have gone through all of this just to lose you.”

“And he won’t.” Merlin assured in confidence, “Much more than a handful of that powder would have had to be thrown at him to have any severe affect on me. No, this won’t need more than a night of rest to fix. Besides, what’s the good in spending all that time building up an immunity to Draining Dust if not to make use of it? A waste of time and tolerance built.”

“You couldn’t have known it wouldn’t...” Morgana said, “You couldn’t have possibly known you’d survive taking all of it like that!”

“I didn’t.” Merlin snapped.

Morgana’s eyes widened, as if everything about what the boy meant to him fell into place.

Because he hadn’t worried about his survival - the matter didn’t even cross his mind, not when he could still hear Douxie whimpering in pain with each page of that spellbook he skimmed. No, he only concerned himself with the likelihood that it would save the boy, his only worry being about how badly it would hurt Douxie when he’d already had to go through so much senseless, ludicrous torture.

Merlin always prioritized the “greater good”, some vast, staggering, intangible concept that encapsulated so much - the lives of thousands, the wellbeing of millions, the good of humanity.

But when he found his son writhing, hurting, suffocating, dying, he found he couldn’t spare any more regard to the “greater good” in that moment than he would a layer of dust on one of his books. If saving Hisirdoux’s life meant casting aside the greater good, then there was no question about it - he’d let the greater good rot.

It didn’t matter to him if his magic would’ve been permanently diminished by extracting the poison, or even if it killed him. Cast the greater good aside - the greatest good was the life in Hisirdoux’s eyes, and by all the heavens, he’d protect it.

And thankfully, he did just that tonight, at the cost of neither his life, his health, or his own magic. And that was the greatest good he could have asked for.

With another sigh, relieved that Morgana chose not to pry, Merlin looked down at the boy, still sound asleep, laid out on his desk. He put one arm under Douxie’s back and the other behind his knees, picking him up just like he did when he found him in those woods.

But this time, instead of trembling in his hold, Douxie made a little noise and unconsciously put his arm over Merlin’s shoulder, snuggling closer, if it were possible, to the master wizard.

Yes. he thought. There’s no greater good than this.

Morgana put her hands over her mouth and looked at the two of them as if the sight was something adorable, and Merlin huffed. Archie took his same spot curled up on Douxie’s abdomen.

“I’m taking him to his room.” he said, hushing his voice even though he knew the moppet wouldn’t wake, “And I’ll let him sleep in tomorrow morning. He needs to rest.”

The sun had set sometime during the painstaking ordeal, but torchlight along the walls of the castle made it easy to take his sleeping apprentice back to his room even once night has fallen. After using a simple spell to swing the door open while his arms were in use carrying the boy, Merlin walked in and used another little spell. The green aura of his magic glowed around the blanket on Douxie’s bed as he folded part of it over using his magic, providing room to lay Douxie down on his bed with head nestled right in his pillow’s usual dent. Once Archie stepped out of the way, Merlin reached over and laid the blanket back over him.

Douxie stirred a little, but only to turn from his back onto his side, his back to the wall and his front facing Merlin. Once the boy settled again, Merlin tentatively reached behind his head and let his bun loose so it wouldn’t get tangled if he moved around too much in his sleep. He doubted it would, considering the exhaustion and soreness in his muscles would probably enticement enough to stay still, even unconscious, but the gesture couldn’t hurt.

Archie crawled right underneath one of Douxie’s arms and nestled against his chest, and the moppet unconsciously held the bespectacled cat a little tighter.

And that was Merlin’s unspoken cue to leave Hisirdoux to rest for the night, so that’s what he did. He needed rest too, after all - his built-up immunity may have saved his life, but the poison, like everything else in the onslaught of the evening, left him weary.

Tomorrow, a search would begin.

Tomorrow, Merlin would find out who was behind this.

Tomorrow, the greatest and most powerful wizard in Camelot would not relent until he found the monster, human or trollish, who almost killed his son.

But tonight, Hisirdoux lay curled up in his bed, sound asleep as he kept his familiar close. Tonight, his life was saved.

And tonight, that was enough.

#tales of arcadia #toa #mine #toa fanfic #whump #hurt/comfort #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #moppet!douxie #archie toa #toa merlin #toa morgana #toa wizards #fic: of poison forest floors and terrified wizards #draining dust

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hauntedflamingo · 3 years

Text

How many kids? part one

Eggsy x Reader

A/N: this one is cuter than the last one I wrote about babies. At least the beginning of this part. After that I think it goes downhill. I wasn’t planning on writing this one next but that is what happened. Sorry for any mistakes. Also Y/A/N is your agent name. i just left it like that cause I am not good at making names up.

“What are you doing?” The chair you are sitting in slightly dips as Eggsy looks over your shoulder at the computer screen. “Nothing!” You quickly move the mouse to the x on a tab, closing that web page.

“The page you just closed was named baby clothes.” He points out.

“I was looking at them for a friend.” You grumble, hoping your attitude will get him off the subject. Scrolling down the screen, you continue your quest to find a hotel room. You and Eggsy had time off from Kingsman and you wanted to take a mini vacation.

“Have you decided on a destination?” He asks.

Resting your head on the back of the chair, you look up at Eggsy “How about Las Vegas?”

“Actually, Las Vegas is a little too far.” He looks down at you.

“Oh. Where did you want to go?” You ask, trying to hide your disappointment.

“I was thinking about Paris.” He offers.

“Can we also go to Disneyland?”

“Sure.”

Once you make the reservations, you grab them from the printer and walk over to the door. Eggsy takes your seat and begins typing on the keyboard.

“What are you doing?” You ask, leaning against the door.

“Nothing!” He mocks you, moving the chair to hide your view of the computer.

Turning around, you head downstairs to watch tv. A few minutes later, Eggsy walks downstairs joining you on the couch. He sits next to you and stares at you with a ridiculous grin on his face.

“What?” You ask, starting to feel a little nervous. That face usually meant he was up to something. “Why did you have 20 pages open about baby items?”

“I told you I was looking at them for a friend.” One of your friends really was pregnant and that got you thinking about having your own baby one day. “So that’s what you were doing. Spying on me.”

“You are going to buy her a crib?” He teases. “And I wasn’t spying. I was just keeping myself up to date on your activities.”

“No. I didn’t buy anything.” You insist. “I was curious as to how much baby items cost.”

“So, you don’t have anything that you need to tell me?” He scoots closer to you.

“Um. No...like what?”

The next week is your trip to Paris and the first stop is Disneyland.

The whole morning you are staring at every baby you see in the park. Even at the store where you are supposed to be buying souvenirs, you are drawn to the baby clothes.

Once you sit down to eat lunch, Eggsy starts his inquiry. “What’s going on with you? You seem to be a bit preoccupied today.”

“What are you talking about?” You ask, cluelessly.

“Every time we pass a baby, you can’t take your eyes off them.”

“They are cute, aren’t they?” You gush. “With their chubby cheeks and their tiny fingers and toes.”

Eggsy laughs at your comment, shaking his head before he takes a sip of his drink.

As you continue to eat, your mind races. You have to tell him. But how? The easiest way was to spit it out. “I want a baby.” You whisper.

“Can you say that again?” He moves in closer, leaning his head towards yours. “I couldn’t hear you.”

“I want a baby.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” A smile spreads across his face.

“Well…we haven’t talked about them for a while and I wasn’t sure if you still wanted one.”

That seemed like an eternity ago.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Muting the tv, you turn on your side to face Eggsy. “I want to talk to you about something.” You whisper.

“What is it, love?” He reaches over to rub your arm.

You let out a breath, you didn’t know you were holding in. It shouldn’t be this hard to tell him how you feel. “I was thinking about getting birth control.” You spit out, hoping he doesn’t get mad. Your heart starts to speed up as you continue speaking. Worried about what he is going to say.

“I mean, we have enough kids, right? You didn’t want anymore, did you?” Looking down, you watch your little girl sleep in between you and Eggsy.

It seems like an eternity before he finally answers. “Yes. We have enough kids. I think birth control is a great idea.”

That was not the answer you were expecting. For some reason, you thought you were going to have to fight with him on this subject.I wonder what he will say to the next question. “Can you go with me to the appointment so we can discuss the options together?”

“Of course, I will go with you. But right now, this little one needs to get to her own bed.” Eggsy picks her up, cradling her against his body as he stands from the bed.

“Wait!” You whisper, standing up from the bed. You meet Eggsy at the door before he leaves to give her a kiss. “Good night my sweet girl.”

Sitting down on the bed, you grab the baby monitor from the bed side table and turn it on. You stare at it while you wait to hear Eggy’s voice from the other one.

“Agent Galahad to Agent Y/A/N, she is tucked in and ready for a full night’s sleep.”

“I hope so.”

“I am going to check on the rest of the kids.”

“Okay.” You set the monitor down. A few minutes later, Eggsy is back in the room. “Surprisingly, they were all asleep.”

“Wow. That’s never happens.” You should have known since nobody ran into the room in the last 20 minutes.

When they call your name, Eggsy follows you carrying your little girl. “We need to test you first to make sure you’re not pregnant before we put you on birth control.” The doctor says, holding out a cup for you to pee in. “Ok. I will be right back.” You grab the cup and leave the room to the toilets. After you pee, you head back to the exam room. Thirty minutes later and you are still waiting for the doctor to come back. “What is taking her so long?” You ask Eggsy. He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know.” The doctor walks back in with a smile on her face. “Well, you won’t need birth control any time soon.”

“Why?” You ask warily, confused by her suddenly cheerful attitude. “You’re already pregnant. Congratulations!” She looks from you to Eggsy Shock is an understatement of how you feel. Eggsy was lucky he was holding your daughter. Otherwise, you would have thrown something at him. You give Eggsy the death stare as the doctor continues to speak, not listening to her. Eggsy continues the rest of the conversation with the doctor. He also speaks to the receptionist to set up your next appointment.

You follow him out to the car. He buckles the baby into the car seat while you get into the passenger seat. “Do you want to get something for lunch before we head home?” Eggsy asks, starting the car. You don’t even hear his question. You are in your own world as you stare out the window. He nudges your shoulder “Y/N??” You look over at him “What!”

“Do you want to get something to eat?” Eggsy repeats.

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever you want.” By the time you go through the drive thru and get home the baby is asleep. You take her to her bedroom and put her in the crib while Eggsy brings the food into the house. You sit down at the dining room table, barley touching your food.

“You need to eat.” He orders.

You pick up a fry from Eggsy’s food and throw it at him. Looking down, you run your hands through your hair. “We just went through this the other day.”

“Well obviously, you got pregnant before our conversation.”

“It’s not funny.” You mumble, on the verge of tears. Eggsy gets up from his chair and squats down next to you. “Baby don’t cry. We will figure it out.”

“I thought we were done.” The tears fall down your face. “I don’t know if I can handle five kids.”

tag: @deankarnysbitch

#eggsy x reader #Kingsman #eggsy imagine #taron egerton imagine #taron egerton x reader

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satohqbanana · 2 years

Text

AV1/AV2 crew play Dread Hunger together

Dread Hunger, a social deception/survival game, where eight members of a crew stir their ship through the Arctic water surrounded by wolves, bears, and cannibals, but among them are two thralls who would do anything to prevent them from advancing.

Ean, Iya, and Dameon don't play. Lestari however is invited.

Rhen likes to assign roles to everybody, mostly by who gets to stay on their ship and who gets to search for supplies and nitro.

The boys like to go out for the nitro altogether.

In the games where only the boys play, John usually tries to make it a PVP thing. Galahad is usually the sourpuss tattletale. The two often try to kill each other based on the littlest reasons.

One time the girls all ended up in the prison and the boys had to painfully PVP each other based on how the ladies die. Marge is begging/yelling to be let in on the action. “LET ME OUT LEMME HULK SMASH I WANT IN ON THE BRAWL,” while Rye is crying, “HELP JOHN IS STABBING ME”

Emma loves to craft weapons ASAP, and she will fight anyone who will try to take any item from her.

Ava likes to give warning hits/shots to anyone she suspects of being a thrall.

Gavin is very, very good at summoning cannibals behind anyone’s back.

Nicolas once tried to sabotage the ship, yell that someone was trying to sabotage, and fixed it all himself. It put some people on suspicion, Jack primarily, but Lars made a judgment call and that was the precursor to the longest 1v1 round ever.

Elini clutched one round by being the last survivor, crippling the two thralls, and driving the ship into open waters.

Lestari likes to kill people by using the bears and the wolves. It doesn’t even matter if she’s thrall or not; she just enjoys tricking people into dying of “natural causes”.

Once Marge made Te’ijal mad over a prison key. Eventually Te’ijal just murder-hobo’d everybody.

There came a time when everyone’s favorite part of the game was the cards game at the beginning before the game actually starts. (And they knew it was time to move on to another game.)

In their group, the baddies win less often but the reason for winning is less due to effective deception and more due to the chaos of friendly fire.

#aveyond gamer au #av1 gamer au #av2 gamer au #av1 party #av2 party

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lucreziaborgiagf · 3 years

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HELLO JESS. BBC GHOSTS ARTHURIAN AU GO (by which I mean the arthurian characters in the premise of BBC ghosts, not the other way around)

REY oh my god i love you for this here we go

So in Ghosts the alive characters are a married couple, right?? Wrong!! Well, not wrong, because yes that’s exactly what Mike and Alison are. But wrong for this version because though I seriously considered having one of the couples as the main characters I then thought “hey what’s more fun than a family!!” and luckily for us (me) we have a ready made family in the form of (drumroll please) The Orkneys!!

The rest is under a read more because I got what some might call “carried away” and others might call “obsessed”

What happens is this: as the Orkney brothers grow up, they rather naturally become separated, until at last Gareth is the last one, at seventeen, living with their mother. Their father (or at least, their supposed father: they all know that Mordred looked too dissimilar to Lot to really be his son, though they never said it) died a while ago, and Morgause could not find it in her to really focus on her children over her job.

The five of them seem to unspokenly care about each other, but in a way where it was clear that they were all waiting to be contacted first.

Nonetheless, when Morgause does die, with Gareth having just turned eighteen and seriously wondering why he had taken a gap year from university, they all show up, and find that they had jointly been bequeathed the old family house in the country.

Gawain has been recently promoted and is now working from home. This meant more time than he usually spent inside his flat, and he had been getting rather claustrophobic. So, after an admittedly short heart to heart with Gareth, who was looking quite nervously towards a future without parents and with no idea what to do, he packs up his brothers in a typically Gawain-like fashion and moves them all out to the manor.

Mordred has been able to see ghosts since an incident in his youth involving a large body of water, an ill-timed trip and a sudden storm. He hasn’t been in water since, but the near-death experience left his with the ability to see those spirits left when their bodies had departed. This is especially unfortunate for him, because half the time he doesn’t particularly want to be able to see living people, let alone ghosts who do not leave when he throws things at them. But he puts up with it enough: there is, beyond all logic, a particular cup he took from Morgause’s house when he left which somehow has three ghosts attached to it, and they happily provide a deterrent for any others.

(It does create a somewhat awkward car journey: he’s being driven by Agravaine, and between the boxes in the back and the only two seats in the front, there’s not much room even for a ghost. Aggs keeps looking at him weirdly when he fidgets, but it’s not his fault that the only free place left is his lap or that Galahad decided that he simply had to see the journey to the house rather than simply confining himself to the cup like Bors and Percival did.)

Anyway, this means that he arrives at the house and immediately sees a crowd of variously costumed figures and tries turning around and leaving. Unfortunately Agravaine anticipates some “young adult hormones” and quickly steers him straight inside.

It takes him a while to finally be alone with the ghosts, who seem to quickly realise he can see them. There are eleven of them in total, though a couple seem to spend most of their time in the little gatekeeper house rather than the main building. He immediately makes a note to avoid Dinadan, who looks at Mordred once and immediately makes fun of his choice in band t-shirts (and like, he’s a ghost, what does he know about bands, it’s like trying to talk to Gaheris—) and Lamorak is instantly relegated to Mordred’s extensive “least liked people” list, which is different to his “disliked people” list. Kay seems kind of mean, which is funny, and Bedivere is responsible enough to try and control the others, but they are clearly “not dating” which honestly Mordred has no time for.

He gets on best with Clarissant, probably, as she’s smart and not too grating but still sweet enough that she likes sitting with him when he wants to be quiet but doesn’t want to be alone. Owain, likewise, has shown him several spaces in the garden for birdwatching or other wildlife (which Mordred doesn’t particularly have used for, but he does appreciate the effort).

Owain is “not dating” a different ghost, Laudine, but in a different way than Kay and Bedivere are “not dating”, in a way that doesn’t get on Mordred’s nerves and lets him acknowledge that Laudine is kind of funny. Elaine doesn’t really talk to him: there’s a river and lake by the house and she seems to prefer it there, or else by the old tower. But she has great stories, and never minds when he really needs a vent, usually about his brothers.

It’s Palamedes and Brangaine who live (in the loosest sense of the word) in the gatekeeper’s cottage. This is very useful, because it means he can set up a little bedroom inside, though it’s mostly for storage now, and sleep there when he wants to pretend he has his own space. He has a strange nervousness that they might see him as a sort of pet, but he’s pretty sure that’s not the case.

Relatively sure.

Not that it matters. They have a clearly delicate history together, one Mordred is not about to ask after for fear that one or both will start crying, but they manage in a sort of sweet domesticity. He’s left the goblet in there for now, because Palamedes seems to enjoy Galahad, Bors and Percival’s company.

And it’s—

Nice.

And then, of course, there is Lancelot. He seems far too well meaning for Mordred to carry on any kind of maliciousness for long, except that for some godforsaken reason he has also decided that Gawain is an ideal muse. He spends way too much time following Gawain around, thinking up sappy poetry about Gawain, or else sighing blissfully out of a window (presumably over Gawain). Mordred thinks that if Lancelot were to ever be able to actually talk to Gawain (physically, he means. Or figuratively? Because even if Lancelot wasn’t a ghost he does not seem to have any cognitive abilities around Gawain anyway) then this image would be shattered. Gawain looks pretty, but so does this waterfall Mordred once read about that falls down into nothingness and despair, or the river stretch that looks like a lovely refreshing swim but actually is an fierce riptide with a 100% mortality rate. Something like that. But the point is that it’s difficult enough with Gawain constantly around without having his admirer hanging round all the time too. Gawain is insufferable already without Gaheris and Gaheris getting to add to their board of “Is Gawain Secretly (Or Not-So-Secretly) a Changeling” with ‘every time he puts something down it always seems to move just within reach when he goes to pick it up’

(If you’re wondering why there isn’t an Arthur, that is a subplot that I just suddenly decided on just now. I was going to have Arthur as a Captain-like ghost but then I was thinking and long story short there’s a tangent here—

It was Arthur’s house. He’s still Mordred’s dad, though here I guess he isn’t their uncle as well, and he left Morgause the house in his will. He heard she was pregnant, and there was a little but if him which knew he could never acknowledge his child but he still wanted to provide in some way. Arthur doesn’t have to be a bad parent.

Incidentally this also solves why the brothers didn’t really know about the house before rather than “Morgause wasn’t a big fan of the country”.)

(OH MY GOD also so Guin isn’t a ghost either bc I wanted her alive. So now she’s an important plot point. She moved into the outskirts of the nearby village because she liked the area but didn’t want to contest for a massive empty house. Anyway she’s smart and despite the problems her and her late husband went through, she does respect him for this. So eventually the Orkneys will have to go for a discovery on the house’s secrets aka there are ghosts and so they will find Guin and discover the Truth. It’s all coming together now lads)

They invite their neighbours over for dinner one night: the house needs some pretty desperate renovating, but it’s now moderately liveable at least and, according to Gawain, this requires a party.

So invite them over he does. The ones to the left, a couple named Tristan and Isolde, though Gaheris swears that when they were introduced in the village Isolde looked completely different, and the ones to the right, Morgan and Vivian. They pass a very pleasant evening, despite the fact that a fox manages to get on the roof.

No one is sure how.

Gaheris and Agravaine are charged with rescuing it, which is by far the stupidest decision Gawain has ever made. However, despite them all living together, the brothers are really not in a brilliant harmony yet, and so Gawain sends those two off whilst he entertains their guests.

The two of them are staring out the window at the fox for a while before Gaheris dares Agravaine to climb up. He doesn’t want to, but Gaheris is his little brother, and if he passes over a dare from him he’ll never hear the end of it. So he climbs out.

It’s a dry night. But it was not a dry day. And the leaves packed on all the footholds are wet and slippery, and Agravaine—

Falls—

And hits the ground, several stories below.

They’re all terrified, of course, regretting every moment they spent apart or arguing. Agravaine is declared legally dead for fourteen minutes, and it is the worst fourteen minutes of any of their lives. But finally— finally— the doctors emerge to tell them that their brother is resting, but is expected to make a full recovery.

Which he does! There are several more doctor’s appointments and physiotherapists scheduled, but eventually he can return to house. (Unsurprisingly, the arguing starts again quickly.)

There is, however, one major difference.

Agravaine can now also see the ghosts.

Mordred, having been able to see them all his life, had not considered this possibility, and thus does not prepare.

Agravaine discovers these new abilities when he walks into a room to find Mordred, pretending to be on a phone call, chatting away with Clarissant whilst Lamorak inexplicably floats nearby. He stares, screams, and blacks out.

When he comes to after a moment he is faced with a lengthy, surprisingly bored conversation with Mordred, and seriously considers blacking out again. Lamorak has not left the room despite his presence being an inevitable disaster, and Agravaine perhaps unsurprisingly decides that He is to be the newest mortal enemy in Agravaine’s list.

(Lamorak is silently gratified that he is on lists for both alive people who can see him, and chooses to ignore the reasoning behind the lists.)

Mordred has been dealing with ghosts for most of his life.

Agravaine has Not.

This means that, pretty quickly, Gawain, Gaheris and Gareth realise something is even more wrong with those two than normal.

And of course they have to come clean.

Gaheris is half convinced that the two have found his conspiracy journal and that this is an elaborate ruse to trick him into confessing love for Nessie or something. Gareth is mostly concerned about the logistics and privacy, though Mordred’s narrated conversations between him and Owain seem to make him much more comfortable with the whole thing. Gawain is genuinely tempted to jump out a window to see if he can join to newly discovered exclusive club of ghost watchers, but eventually decides that it’s too much a risk to his beautiful face.

(Lancelot silently agrees, though it has not escaped his attention that it would be nice if Gawain could actually see him.)

#arthuriana #rey thank u this is the best ask ever #i got so carried away i’m so sorry #the ghosts were just a game of ‘i love these characters and you can’t stop me’#but i’m not tagging them all #just #orkney clan #gawain #agravaine #gaheris #mordred #gareth #the fox is reynard #if you were wondering it is astolet elaine not corbenic elaine #in a more extended version of this her and lancelot best friends #arthurian literature #arthurian legend #bbc ghosts

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tornsuits · 3 years

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Big Ask Pt. 2: 1) Would CG!Heracles or Oedipus consider asking Ashes about rebodying their family/wife? 2) "all the suits are neurodivergent"--you're probably right, and also pls elaborate. 3) Do you have any UDAD ships for the characters other than Orpheus, Eurydice, Narcissus, and Echo? 4) screw it: each of the individual Suits (as in the pinstripe 4+Ulysses+Daedalus) for the "realistic headcanon/haha funny headcanon/sad headcanon/my canon now" thing?

1) i think heracles might ask for them to be rebodied, but probably keep his distance from them, bc he did like. kill them. & he wants them to have an opportunity to get away from that, if they want to.

oedipus does not revive his family, because he hates them <2

2) theyre all autistic. all of em. & at least orpheus and heracles have depression (w orpheus it's basically canon) & i mean. all of them have been through so much shit that even if they're not traumatized per se they're definitely fucked in the head

3) i wouldn't say that i actively ship it, but i do enjoy heracles/oedipus on occasion <3 i'm also a sucker for ariadne & arachne having ANY kind of relationship, so i guess i'd say i ship them? girlboss4girlboss yknow

there's also ulysses/galahad but we don't talk about that one

4) will be under the cut bc that's gonna get long!

heracles

realistic headcanon: gay for hylus lmao. i didn't include that as a ship bc i haven't pinned down any kind of solid hcs for hylus but heracles was 100% gay for him

haha funny headcanon: hes lived on this godforsaken city for 124 years and he still has to do the Ls to tell left from right

sad headcanon: hes kind of tied all of his self-worth 2 his physical strength & athletic abilities at this point, so he feels like if people don't need/appreciate his skills hes basically useless :( which is part of the reason he played along with zeus for so long, because it just made him feel wanted

my canon now: he never killed his wife n kids they're alive and well and were waiting for him when he got home from the ulysses job <3

ariadne

realistic headcanon: shes aro!! doesnt use any other sexuality labels just aro <3 also demigirl ariadne supremacy bay bee

haha funny headcanon: in general she's not great in combat EXCEPT for with a garrote. people tend to underestimate her and then she pulls out this small piece of wire and they start REALLY underestimating her and then she cuts their head off

sad headcanon: i think she was actually really close with daedalus :( she stuck with him well after he started being Really Evil, just bc she refused to accept that the one good person she'd grown up with was Bad Actually

my canon now: beat the shit out of theseus and now she has actually good friends (even though she prefers working alone most of the time, which is okay bc they respect her boundaries <3)

oedipus

realistic headcanon: hes a smart guy :] no caveats here i just think hes a very smart dude w a special interest in the sphinx virus

haha funny headcanon: he says "stand back, i'm a doctor" even in situations where it doesn't apply at all. trying to cut in line? "stand back, i'm a doctor." threatening someone trying to hurt him? "stand back, i'm a doctor." someone specifically told him not to say he was a doctor? "stand back, i'm a doctor (and also fuck you)"

sad headcanon: when he was a kid he really wanted to go to space... he genuinely thought there was something up there, something he could study, yknow? and he still wants to go to space, now he just knows there's nothing up there.

my canon now: he and brian are friends i think both of them deserve it

orpheus

realistic headcanon: [points] emo phase. this "man" has emo phase written all over him. i don't know what else to say here he just 100% had an emo phase

haha funny headcanon: has a huge amount of useless trivia kicking around in his head. the suits go anywhere and orpheus can tell them the top ten facts they did not know about this place. number five will surprise you (he does not know anything practical about it)

sad headcanon: i mean canon does most of the heavy lifting for me there BUT i think he gets really horrible nightmares :( he's pretty much gotten used to waking up in the middle of the night crying and not being able 2 remember why :( i am not projecting be quiet

my canon now: he is living his best life with his husband eurydice and his boyfriend narcissus <333 they have a cat <333 also genderfluid orpheus so true

ulysses

realistic headcanon: theyre a nonbinary lesbian im actually not accepting criticism at this time

haha funny headcanon: when they're not horribly depressed they have the disposition of like, your weird grandparent that's mostly settled down now but got up to SO much shit in their youth. ulysses vc come bake cookies with me and i'll tell you about the murder i committed in '89

sad headcanon: again canon just does all of the hard work for me here. i think they died right on top of their wife maybe <3

my canon now: honestly okay i WANT to say they got therapy and a nice pet dog after udad but honestly i think they'd just be happier dead LMAO

daedalus

oh i could not give less of a shit about this man. i hate him. hes homophobic and gay and figured out how mechanization works and that's all i have on him. i despise him

#alan don't look #OHKAY i will answer the third part of this ask tomorrow because i am EXHAUSTED #but ugh. all the suits my beloveda #*beloveds #jay says words #asks #lun4rcr0w

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brokasteltranslations · 4 years

Text

Fate/Requiem: Chapter 8

Dusk was closing in.

Other incidents, big and small, had occurred around the outskirts of the Colosseum, and the heart of the city had been effectively paralysed with the temporary absence of the municipal administration AI, causing accidents all across Akihabara. However, the communication and transport networks were recovering, and governmental and medical institutions were returning to full functionality with all possible haste.

At long last we exited the Colosseum. An enormous crowd milled about the exterior. News of the tragedy had finally reached families and friends of spectators through the municipal information network, and they had come en mass in search of their loved ones. Some screamed the names of missing family members. Others wept and wailed for those already lost.

After the ferocious battle inside, the outside wall looked to be only moments away from collapsing. Black and yellow tape had been strung up to keep people away.

“You know, I have this weird feeling I just saw him back there.” Karin looked around suspiciously.

“Who's him? Kuchime?”

Karin nodded hesitantly. That wasn't like her.

“Only for a second, though. Might have been imagining things.”

“Maybe he came to see if we were okay? Guess that's still kind of weird.”

Karin's carefree laugh was enough to set me at ease.

“Speaking of missing people...” I scanned the sea of people around me. “Oh, there he is.”

The boy stood alone in the middle of the crowd, straining his ears to hear their cries and sobs as though listening to music. I recalled his face before as he asked me what “death” meant. It looked to me as though he were hoping to find an answer.

To see him standing silent amid a sea of human grief, with his golden scarf fluttering in the twilight sun, he hardly seemed a creature of this world.

Nzambi had spoken of an expanding kingdom of the dead.

Death was no stranger to us. It had always lived hand-in-hand with us. In this city, it had simply been ushered from the stage, covered over and hidden away. Sometimes its eyes had been covered by my hands, sometimes by those of the municipal administration AI, and sometimes by Chitose's porcelain fingertips.

“Chitose?”

I looked my grandmother dead in the eyes as I asked.

“That black dog... The Servant. You know what it is, don't you?”

I could make as many theories as I pleased as an outsider, but what really mattered was that it had called me by name, and had some kind of acquaintance with Chitose.

“You reacted when Pran mentioned it, and you didn't hesitate to attack it with your stakes. You know what it is, and you knew about what was going to happen here today.”

She didn't answer me. Neither did Lucius, now dressed once more in his modern attire; he furrowed his brow sadly, but said nothing. No matter how dear he was to me, in that moment his silence left me furious.

Eventually she spoke, but it was not to answer my question. She had ignored me. Again.

“There's something I need to tell you, Erice, now that Caren can't.”

I tensed. Nothing ever came from her but misfortune.

“It's about the child she entrusted you with. I'm going to take care of him from now on.”

What? Whatever I had expected, it wasn't that. I shuddered at the request.

How much was she going to take from me? She had taken my work, the boy, Caren... Even my parents, she had stolen. I had no intention of going along with her wishes any longer.

“I refuse.”

Her face didn't falter for a moment. Apparently she had been expecting as much.

“But I doubt you'll respect that anyway, will you?”

“I suppose I won't.”

She glanced to the boy standing some distance away. I moved to block her way.

“Ms. Fujimura didn't just charge me with taking care of him. She also asked me to discover what I could about his identity.”

“That doesn't matter any more either.”

I shook my head. “But it does. I think I've found an answer.”

“I see. It looks like you don't have any intention of doing this the easy way.” Her Command Seals flared to life on the backs of her hands - the symbols of the Stigmata, and tokens of a piety willing to subject her own body to the pain of crucifixion. And she called out to her Servant.

“Lucius.”

Surely she doesn't mean to...? Her Servant hadn't moved. He stood still, eyes downcast, as though he hadn't even heard.

“Lucius.”

Chitose called to him again, in a kindly voice that made my blood run cold.

“Please, Lucius... Don't do it...”

I sprinted for the child, but I was too late. Before his Master's Command Seal could flare brighter, he began to move, mechanically, robotically. He manifested his spear...

And hurled it at Pran with pinpont accuracy.

----

The clash of colliding metal rang out like breaking ice, and Lucius' Holy Lance spun high into the twilight sky.

There he stood, in front of Pran, in the space I had been trying so hard to reach: Galahad, stripped of his armour and down to his shirt. He held his sword high and horizontal, staring down Longinus as he interposed himself between the centurion and his prey.

“You could've run and left Koharu to Nzambi, but you didn't. Consider this a debt repaid, Reaper girl. Though I'm not sure you’ll thank me for it.”

The spinning lance returned to earth once more, bound for the earth directly in front of Galahad. The knight snatched it from the air a split second before it hit the ground and tossed it back to a dumbfounded Longinus' feet.

“Maybe the Sword of the Strange Hangings doesn't look like much, but sadly for you, the shepherd boy it belonged to ended up king of Israel.” Galahad's voice was haughty. “You won't find many holy relics more sacred.”

“I see. The sword of David, then.”

“And no other. They say no armour can stand before the Holy Lance, but this sword might be able to get in a stinging word or two. As you just saw.” Galahad chuckled as he returned his blade to its sheath.

Koharu!

The girl in question had been returning to our group after receiving first aid. She strolled over to silently take her place by her Servant's side. Her face was twisted in a pained grimace, but I saw no hint of surprise at Galahad's actions. She had been watching my argument with Chitose from the beginning.

“Or well, who knows? Perhaps you expected me to stop you from the first.”

Longinus remained silent. I glared at Chitose. Finally she relented, and with a sigh her Command Seals dimmed.

She called out to Koharu as she stalked past. “Get well soon, Riedenflaus. Your strength will be needed soon enough.”

“O-Of course.” Koharu paled. She couldn't even look her in the eye.

With that, Chitose and Longinus left the Colosseum behind.

I needed to thank Koharu and Galahad somehow. I even thought up a plan to invite Karin and Kouyou and go to a juice stand together, but before I could...

“Urgh... Agh!”

Searing agony assailed me. I grabbed my burning arm and grimaced. This was not the pain brought on by the evil spirits; it was something I had never felt before.

Before I knew it, Pran was standing in front of me. He opened his mouth solemnly.

“I... ask... you...”

He spoke directly to me, and only to me, in the same broken English as when we had first met.

“Are... you... my... Master?”

Heat and agony raced down my arm, tracing mana pathways into my body... and at long last a Command Seal, the symbol of the contract I had dreamed of since the day I was born, flowered into being on the back of my hand.

Like a tiny knight, he took that hand in his own, and gazed up at me serenely.

I was smiling. Perhaps I was crying, too.

“You really have come from far away, haven't you?”

“Very far.”

“I know who you are now. You're Voyager. A lonely little Servant who travels the stars.”

My words never left my mouth, but he heard and nodded regardless. “I’m glad. Finally we've met, Erice.”

Here and now I swear...

I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven. I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell.

“It’s okay. Let’s destroy this world. Let’s finish this war.”

Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail. If you submit to this will and this reason...

I pledge my fate to your guiding light.

“Your wish and what I have lost are the same. We’ll watch right to the end, together.”

----

“The Holy Grail War... is not yet over.” The light in Ms. Fujimura's eyes dimmed even as she spoke.

“Do you wish to fight, Erice? Or perhaps...”

I wished, hard - to hurl myself into the battle for the Holy Grail, and to bring it to its end.

Ms. Fujimura looked up at me with sadness in her eyes.

“I see. In that case, Erice, I have one last request for you. If you choose to fight...”

“Go to Fuyuki.”

To be continued

#Fate/Requiem #fate #translation #light novel

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haljathefangirlcat · 3 years

Note

MOR mozalieri angst and galadred jb 👀

OH MY GOD ARE YOU TELLING ME YOU’RE INTO MOR TOO SDFGHJKLSDFGHJKLK

... ahem. These are both really short because I jotted them down as a spur of the moment thing and I have absolutely no idea when or if I’ll actually make something out of them. So I’m just gonna post everything I wrote for them since it counts as “a little snippet” anyway, lol.

The first one is angsty af and entirely the fault of that part of L'Assasymphonie where Salieri is playing with the knife while ranting about his impostor syndrome and his inferiority complex. Uh, and Le Bien Qui Fait Mal, too, but that goes without saying. If it ever went anywhere, it would probably include very pained love/professional admiration confessions, a idiots in love/mutual pining “wait, no, I’m pining for you but you wouldn’t even look at me!” “are you kidding me, I’m the one pining but I thought you hated me!” moment, and PLENTY of hurt/comfort. I have absolutely no idea about anything else, though, because I don’t even know where or when even the scene I came up with is set... which would be a pretty important thing to know, from a practical standpoint, tbh.

TW FOR SELF-HARM AND VIOLENT IMAGERY

He’d only ever thought of what it was like to love like that. To feel the bright-bladed knife plunge and twist and dig inside his chest, tenderly cut through quivering flesh and sinew, saw his ribcage open to open up his heart to the burning beauty and white-hot light streaming in from above. To seek that pain and hide away from that pleasure, and curse the man who was the cause of both while cursing himself for letting him hold such power over him, for loving him and for hating him, for always failing to live up to him, to be like him.

He’d never spared one thought to consider what it might be like to be loved like that. To be made aware that your very existence was a spring of endless suffering for one who claimed to feel an ever-growing affection for you, to be made into an obsession in the black of night and an ivory idol bathed in golden sunrises, to become an inescapable curse. To have that much power, and not rejoice in it or even want it. To not be cruel enough to stomach it.

Mozart didn’t need to mock him with his brash laugh or hurl cold words at him. It was the softness in his voice that made guilt well up in his gut like pouring venom into a bowl until it overflowed; it was the sadness in his gaze that cooled his heart until he shivered. It was his own shame at himself, washing over him once again in new, sudden, crashing waves for new, sudden, piercing reasons, that brought him down on his knees, brought his head in his hands.

And Mozart, he came down to him. He lowered himself and crouched on the floor to reach him. Put his arms around his shoulders for a moment, then drew back and took Salieri’s wrists in his hands, holding them gently, gingerly. Scared, or disgusted, or perhaps just careful not to stain himself with his blood. It was starting to cool. It felt sticky, dirty.

«Come with me,» Mozart said, and drew Salieri’s hands away from his face. Some distant part of Salieri’s mind felt he should not allow that so easily, but the rest of him just felt tired, so he did. How strange that even though he was the one shaking, his breath ragged and hitching, it should be Mozart to cry. He wanted to laugh at the sight, but found he couldn’t. He could only let himself be dragged up to his feet, and then into a chair when he started feeling lightheaded.

He even obediently raised his hand and stayed put as Mozart ran to fetch warm water, soap, and clean cloth.

The second one is, once again, inspired by one of your fics. ;) Remember when you wrote that artist!Jaime/tattoo artist!Brienne fic where they bonded over Arthurian characters and I was like, “someone should introduce both of them to the concept of Galahad/Mordred because they’d love it so much for their own different reasons?” Ideally, this should be the fic where they actually get introduced to it... if it ever went somewhere.

The basic plot would be: “Jaime was overjoyed when he found out he could pour his old love for all things Arthurian AND his passion for drawing into fandom. His first fanart were all very dramatic, very romantic Mists of Avalon -inspired Arthur/Morgana pieces because he identified with that due to his ‘fated’ relationship with C., but as that started to go sour, he branched out into edgy, purposefully badwrong Arthur/Morgause stuff. Eventually, he found out about Galahad/Mordred and got really into the whole ‘doomed man on the path to making all the wrong choices finds redemption through connecting with another misfit with a high moral drive and noble nature who may have his own issues but believes there’s something good in him for some reason’ aspect of it. That’s when Brienne, budding fanwriter mostly into gen stuff due to romance bringing back bad memories, found his art and unexpectedly got hooked to the whole ‘noble-hearted and justice-loving misfit can’t really connect with anyone on a deeper level until he meets snarky, sad not-so-doomed man who actually sees HIM beyond both the brave knight thing and the ‘will never fit in anyway’ thing’ aspect. Now, they regularly chat through comments and tags and the occasional message. But things get more complicated when Jaime, who actually lost a hand in an incident years ago and had to relearn to draw after that while suffering the ableism of the usual suspects, finds the courage to post selfies on his blog both with and without his prosthetic hand to show the world and himself that the hardships he had to overcome don’t mean he’s less of a person or less of an artist or less in any way. That’s when Brienne goes from finding him interesting and funny and actually pretty charming to finding him HOT. Which scares her a whole lot due to her past experiences. But that’s okay because they’ll never see each other irl anyway, right? Unless they find out they actually live in the same city and Jaime asks her to meet to work on a collaboration they’ve been thinking of for a while but never really got to work on until now...”

And here’s what I currently have:

But then Mordred is staring at him again with those too-green eyes of his, except that this time there’s no mockery or coldness in them, and Galahad’s been warned again and again not to get too close to him and he’s been told over and over that he can’t trust him, but now he thinks that maybe, maybe he really does understand –

Brienne stares at her screen. She actually described Mordred’s eyes as gray. Didn’t she? Usually, she picks dark gray, or dark brown, or dark. And yet, in this one story, they’re suddenly green.

Okay, time to take a break from revising. She gets up from her chair, rolls back her shoulders, and goes to grab a snack and a glass of water. She tries not to wonder what’s gotten into her – but she doesn’t really need to anyway, because she has a feeling she already knows.

Not that there’s anything bad about it. In a way, it only makes sense. He’s the artist who got her into the ship in the first place, and they’ve had a few pleasant conversations in the notes to his posts and, eventually, in the comments to her fics. So, it’s not that big of a deal if she associates him with these characters. And… well, recently he’s started posting selfies on his tumblr. And fine, she might have some sort of pathetic little celebrity crush – is that even the right term? Is he a Tumblr celebrity? – on him. Truth to be told, it’s not even as pathetic as the crushes she’s had when she was still in school, because at least he’s never insulted her or made fun of her looks, and she’s reasonably sure he wouldn’t even if he ever had the chance to. Which he won’t get, but anyway…

Anyway.

Apparently, the lines might blur when she’s distracted. Big deal.

#wip meme #my fic #otp: on se reverra #janiedean #ask

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writing-for-amusement · 5 years

Text

How Long?

Summary: You were a weapons expert and creator for Kingsmen and you’d been working yourself to the bone since the Golden Circle was disbanded. Eggsy Unwin, your close friend and crush that you refused to acknowledge, notices that you’re exhausted. You dismiss his offer to help you relax, but after he tucks you into bed after you fell asleep in your workshop, some feelings come out that you weren’t expecting.

A/N: Alright, mthfckers, I finished it! With all the stuff in my brain, I finally managed to get it all out on the page! I hope you like it, and this is my first time posting smut, so PLEASE tell me what you think of it!

Warnings: some angst, insecurity, canon divergence from Kingsmen: The Golden Circle, some alcohol, Eggsy being a bit of a dick for awhile, SMUT (do NOT read if you’re under 18), oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it), vaginal sex, lots of kissing and fluff, dirty talk, swearing

Word Count: 6730

Permanent Taglist: @pparkerwrites, @jordyns-library, @natblidaclexa, @peterseuphoria, @lesbian-x-blackwidow, @beccaboo929, @softrdj, @icecoldban

“What’s a gorgeous girl like you doing in a place like this?” a familiar voice rang in your ear. You rolled your eyes as you turned around to be met with hazel green eyes.

“Working, Eggsy,” you shot back with a raised brow.

“C’mon, love, no need to be so coarse,” he smirked at you.

“Yeah, there is, because I know you’re just here to bug me instead of letting me actually get some work done,” you scoffed with another eyeroll.

You designed and created weapons/armor for the Kingsmen, and ever since the merger with the Statesmen, your work was now even more worldwide than before. Designing and creating weapons ran in your family; your family had been doing this exact job for the Kingsmen since the organization was founded.

You loved creating something from nothing, and then figuring out how to incorporate it into the style and espionage of the Kingsmen. It stimulated your brain perfectly, combining both creative and technical techniques. Testing the weapons was quite entertaining as well.

It was true what they said about loving your job and never working a day in your life, or at least it was true for you.

Eggsy, though, was the one part of your job that made you dread going to work on occasion. He loved to bug you with annoying and needless questions.

It hadn’t always been like this, though. When Eggsy first became a Kingsman, you were still in your “apprenticeship” with your family and several master craftsmen. Your post was already guaranteed with the secret organization, but due to a minor accident from your youth, your actual apprenticeship started a year late.

Of course, you’d been creating things since before you could speak in full-fledged sentences, but the rules had to be followed.

So, Eggsy had been a Kingsman for six months when you finally arrived to begin your actual job. He’d already used a few of your weapons and had no idea what your job was supposed to be when Merlin introduced you.

“So, uh, who are you? Too lovely to be a Kingsman, ain’t ya?” he’d asked you.

Your ears burned but you kept your cool. You’d always been better with technology than people. “I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself. “I create the weapons.”

“Oh really?” he asked with a smirk. You nodded. “Well, quite a talented lovely thing, aren’t ya? I’m surprised, though, ‘cause I thought that our current guy, Greg, was too young to retire or whateva.”

“That’s my uncle,” you said. “He’s 68, Mr. Unwin. He doesn’t look it, but he is.”

“So, why’d you get the job?” he then asked with narrowed eyes.

“Their family has been designing and creating our weapons since the organization began, Eggsy,” Merlin stepped in. “They are incredibly talented with technology and creativity. Y/N is especially talented; probably the most talented yet.”

“Oh, Merlin, you exaggerate,” you laughed, bumping his shoulder slightly. “Always been one for dramatics, of course.”

“Well, I look forward to usin’ your creations, Y/N,” Eggsy said with a grin. “You goin’ to the bar for the agent party?”

“Yeah,” you said with a small sigh, “I have to.”

“Oh, it won’t be that bad, Y/N!” Merlin reassured you.

“Not a fan of parties, eh?” Eggsy asked rhetorically. “Stick with me, love, and you’ll be fine. I’ll see you at the party tomorrow,” he winked as he strode away.

At the party, you were surprised to see Eggsy flirting with you. You flirted back to the best of your abilities, though most of it was you looking away sheepishly and trying to keep your heartrate down.

It continued like that for several weeks and a handful of parties. You got close to Eggsy, at least as friends, and he continued to flirt with you. His winks would make your heart skip happily, and his pet names made your soul soar. You’d never been around anyone quite like Eggsy.

One day, though, it all went crashing down.

Eggsy invited you and Merlin out to a club to unwind after a particularly tense mission. You always worked backup for Merlin during missions that would be difficult. That one had everyone on the edge of their seats and hoping everything would work out smoothly.

At the club, Eggsy handed you your favorite drink with a wink, then went off to find the friends he’d invited. Merlin was off talking to a handsome man, but Eggsy promised that he’d be right back to “give you all his attention.” And you believed him, because he had never given you a reason to doubt him.

You waited patiently for Eggsy to return, sipping slowly on your drink as you blended into the crowd like you always did. As you waited, you’d typed a few ideas for more tech on your phone. When you heard Eggsy’s bright laugh, you turned with hope in your eyes.

The hope quickly died.

Eggsy was wrapped around an incredibly leggy, thin woman, mouthing at her neck as she ran her hands through his hair. The man straightened as they reached the bar, ordering a few drinks. It was then that you saw his friends had followed behind him. You decided to watch for a few more minutes before you’d make your exit.

After the woman shouted about going to the bathroom, Eggsy’s friend Jamal began to shout as well. You were glad you’d worn your “secret ears” that allowed you to listen to conversations that were far away. They also allowed you to filter out noises and hone in on the conversation you wanted; these were a new prototype and you had known tonight would be a good opportunity to test them more.

“Eggsy,” Jamal began, “what about that one girl you’ve been workin’ with? Thought you had a thing for her, with how you talk about her.”

“Ya mean Y/N?” Eggsy waved the man off as he downed a shot. “She’s not the type for some fun, ya know? Realized tha’ when I saw her earlier, covered in oil from a project.”

The men laughed as your eyes misted over with tears.

Eggsy had only been nice and had flirted with you because he wanted some “fun,” not because he saw you as a friend or potential girlfriend.

You’d left the club immediately after that, refusing to cry as you made your way home. To your happiness, you didn’t cry about the deception at all. You had been deceived before, so your recovery from this one was short.

Eggsy continued to be nice to you at work, but you stopped attempting to flirt back. Instead, you would do your best to keep all conversations professional, to a spine-straightening point. Eventually, he stopped attempting to flirt so much, and you allowed a few nonprofessional conversations until you both became genuine friends.

Still, sometimes you’d think about his deception and your heart would ache. And sometimes, well, you really were infatuated with him. As much as you hated it and tried to push it away, you had a crush on the handsome, sweet agent.

Even though you were friends now, with your crush always pushed away, sometimes you really couldn’t handle him in your space. It was certainly one of those days.

“Why, Y/N, I would never distract you from your work, certainly not on purpose!” Eggsy said dramatically.

With another roll of your eyes, you picked up your blowtorch. You lowered your goggles down over your eyes again and began to solder the metal carefully.

“Y/N,” Eggsy repeated your name. When you didn’t answer, he repeated your name until you couldn’t take it anymore.

You whirled around with your blowtorch still on, glaring at him through your tinted goggles. “What?” you growled menacingly.

Eggsy flinched in surprise, not used to seeing you look so threatening. “I, uh, I was wondering if you’d go over some things from the previous mission with me?”

You narrowed your eyes and he quickly waved his tablet at you. Ever since the majority of the organization had been lost due to the Golden Circle, you were taking on many more responsibilities. Merlin, now in a wheelchair, was focused on recruiting new agents with Harry, who had adopted the pseudonym Lancelot, allowing Eggsy to remain Galahad.

“Fine,” you sighed heavily, “just let me finish this prototype. Okay? And don’t bug me or I’ll melt those lips right off your face.”

“Right,” Eggsy seemed to believe your threat, turning away and allowing you to finish what you were doing.

You were trying to develop working legs for Merlin, but he didn’t want any like Gazelle’s, or the kind of prosthesis Charlie had for his arm. Merlin wanted legs that were sophisticated and functional as actual legs, not weapons. He refused to go back out into the field, no matter the circumstance, stating that he was much too old now. You knew that it was total garbage, but you couldn’t blame him. And, well, he really did love to be working behind the scenes; it was what he was best at.

“Okay,” you announced as you pushed your goggles onto your forehead and pulled off your gloves. You removed your apron and tossed it on the table before crossing over to Eggsy. The man gave you a small smile, noticing your overall tense posture.

“When was the last time you got laid, Y/N?” he asked you suddenly.

You looked at him sharply in shock. “Excuse me?”

“When did you last get some, Y/N?” he chuckled. “Like, when was the last time you orgasmed? Or had someone rock your world?”

You rolled your eyes again and calmed your heartrate as you snatched the tablet from his hands. As you scanned the electronic paperwork, you could feel Eggsy’s eyes burning into the side of your face.

“I’ll take your silence as you saying that it’s been awhile,” he smirked at you.

“It’s none of your business,” you snapped, shoving the tablet back at him. “Your paperwork looks fine; everything looks in order. I signed it. Now let me get back to these damn legs, alright?”

You put your goggles back on as you sat down, making them focus on the wiring you had in front of you, making sure to turn off the tint of the goggles. You grasped your tweezers in steady hands as you got back to work.

“You know, Y/N,” Eggsy’s smooth voice interrupted your journey to your working zone, “I could help out with that orgasm problem ya have.” He was leaning on your table and looking down at you with unreadable green eyes.

You scowled at him. “Nice offer, Eggsy,” you drawled, “but I’m fine. Now please leave, I really do need to focus on this work.”

Eggsy stared at you for a few more moments before nodding. “Alright, love, sorry for disrupting ya. Make sure ya get some rest tonight, okay? You need it.”

“I will, Eggsy,” you said as genuinely as you could.

The agent smiled at you tenderly and pressed a kiss to your forehead like he often did when you were stressed. As soon as he left, the door closing behind him, you let your head fall into your hands.

You really were tired. You’d been putting in way too many hours, but no one knew about it, and your skills were needed. No one knew that you were staying well into the night in your workshop, sometimes even sleeping on a cot in the corner. Not even Merlin or Harry knew, being much too busy with waves of recruits.

You yanked your goggles down around your neck and rubbed your tired eyes. After a mental debate about whether or not to think about Eggsy and his stupid offer, you heaved a deep sigh. He had been right, of course, but he didn’t need the ego boost of knowing that for sure. You’d never been a horny person, not really. Sure, sex was nice, but it wasn’t like you needed it or craved it, not the way Eggsy seemed to.

After a few moments of irritated thoughts running through your head, you pulled your goggles back up and got back to work.

You were woken up by the feeling of being in the air. As you opened drowsy eyes, you saw Eggsy above you and looking forward stoically.

“Eggsy?” you mumbled while you rubbed the blurriness from your eyes. “What’s goin’ on? What time is it?”

“It’s two a.m., Y/N,” he sighed as he looked down at you. “I had a feeling that you weren’t going to go home tonight, so I came to check on ya. Lo and behold, I find you asleep on your desk, goggles still on and still holding those tweezers.” He chuckled at the memory. “So, I figured I’d take you to an actual bed so you could get some actual sleep.”

“How are we moving?” you asked as a yawn graced your face.

“Uh, I’m carryin’ you, love,” he raised a brow at you.

“Huh? How? I weigh so much more than you.”

“You’re not as heavy as you think,” he rolled his eyes. “Besides, I’m an agent, I work out all the time. But really, you’re not as heavy as you seem to think.”

You huffed but found yourself too sleepy to argue. The sleepiness was taking over as you nuzzled into Eggsy’s chest, drifting back into a light slumber.

When Eggsy gently lowered you onto your bed in the residential area of headquarters, you woke up again. Your sleepy mind registered the man taking off your shoes and socks, then tucking you in. He even went so far as to plug in your phone for you.

You reached out and tugged on his pinky as he looked around the room. His green eyes looked down at you and you smiled at him sleepily. “Thanks, Eggsy,” you mumbled, “you’re a good person. Even if,” you paused to yawn, “you annoy me on purpose.”

Eggsy chuckled and ruffled your hair. As you drifted off to sleep, your mind barely registered the man kissing your forehead and whispering, “I love you, Y/N.”

You woke up with a start, not quite realizing where you were. As you looked around and saw familiar furnishings, you knew you were in your room at headquarters. You rarely used the room, though, even though you often slept at headquarters.

A light snore drew your eyes to the corner of the room, where Eggsy was sleeping on the recliner. His hat was over his eyes and his shoes were next to the chair.

You ran your hand over your face and over the top of your head, managing to smooth it down a bit. After checking the time and realizing you’d slept a full eight hours, you swung your legs over the side of the beg and crossed to Eggsy.

“Eggsy,” you gently shook his shoulder. “Eggsy,” you sang gently, a tender smile on your lips. “C’mon, Unwin, time to wake up.”

The man grumbled and you snatched the hat from its spot over his eyes. “Ugh, bright!” he complained, throwing his arm over his face. “Y/N,” he whined.

“C’mon, Eggsy, you gotta wake up,” you chuckled. “It’s like 10:30 in the morning.”

He was suddenly scrambling to sit up properly, his eyes wide. The panicked green looked at you and calmed ever so slightly, but then he demanded, “What day is it?”

“Um, Saturday?” you answered hesitantly. After a quick check of your phone, you nodded and repeated, “Saturday.”

Eggsy let out a deep sigh of relief and leaned back into the recliner. “Thank goodness,” he breathed. “You have no idea how happy I am to not be hungover on a Saturday… though I guess I have you to thank for that.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask you to come check on me,” you muttered bitterly.

“I wanted to,” Eggsy informed you with a tone that said it should be obvious. “I was worried about you, Y/N. You really have been stressed lately. I should’ve noticed sooner. Hell, I didn’t even see that cot you’ve been sleeping on in the workshop until last night.”

“Oh, I have?” you asked innocently as you pulled a clean shirt out of the closet.

“You’ve been so incredibly tense, Y/N,” Eggsy stated.

“I guess you’re right,” you shrugged as you bent to look through your pile of old leggings at the bottom of your closet. You wanted to get out of the ones you were in.

Eggsy was right behind you as you straightened. His eyes were dark with an unreadable expression, and it made you shiver in a surprisingly delicious way.

“You know, I was serious when I said I could help you relax, Y/N,” he nearly purred in a low voice. “I could help you, if you let me.”

You felt arousal and indignation rise in your chest and you found yourself whirling around to poke him in the chest in anger. “You don’t know what I need,” you nearly hissed. “And I know you weren’t serious. Now please, step aside so I can shower.”

Eggsy looked hurt and didn’t move from his spot. “How would you know if I’m serious or not? I am, by the way, but why would you think I’m not?”

You sighed and felt the anger ebb towards the same accepting sadness that you’d felt ever since that night in the club. Still, you rustled up enough frustration to sneer, “Because I’m not the type for ‘some fun,’ Eggsy.” You pushed past his broad form and started towards the bathroom with your clothes.

Eggsy’s rough but warm and gentle hand grabbed your wrist to pull you to a stop. “Y/N, what are you talking about?” he asked with genuine confusion.

Your previously buried emotions burst out of their graves with a vengeance and your eyes began to mist with long-retired tears. “I heard you that night, Eggsy. After the Norway mission, at the club, I heard you say that you knew I wasn’t the type for ‘some fun.’ You almost literally said that I wasn’t worth spending time with because I’m not a thin, leggy, properly proportioned thing. So, that is how I know you’re not serious. I’m not your type, Eggsy. I get it. I just hate,” you angrily wiped at a steamy tear that escaped, “that you pretended to be nice to me because you wanted to see if I was worth the effort.”

You yanked your wrist from his grasp and let your clothes fall to the floor as you angrily wiped at the tears that were performing a prison break. Huffing incoherent curses at yourself, you whirled around from Eggsy and rubbed at your face.

“Stupid fucking emotions, fucking face, stupid fucking eyes and chemicals, stupid motherfucking Y/N,” you viciously spat to yourself under your breath.

“The Norway… but that was nearly two years ago, Y/N!”

“I am aware,” you hissed back.

“And… that’s why you became so distant after that.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and tried to shrink into yourself. “It’s whatever, Eggsy. I know the truth and I’ve accepted it.”

“But you didn’t hear the rest of that conversation,” Eggsy said gently, taking one of the hands that was scrubbing at your face angrily.

“It doesn’t matter, Eggsy,” you tried to tug your hand away, but he held fast.

Eggsy pulled you to the bed and sat you both down on the edge of it. He laced your hands together and you didn’t know what to do.

“That night,” he began quietly, “I decided that you weren’t made for fun, Y/N. You were made for the long haul, to be wooed and swept off your feet, to be loved for who you are. You aren’t made to be tossed aside or ignored after one night. And after you disappeared that night, well, I realized that I wanted to be the one to woo you.”

“What?” you stuttered.

He ran his thumb over your knuckles. “I like you, Y/N. In fact, I think I love you, I’m in love with you. I was hoping to start seriously flirting with you, wooing you, after that night at the club. But you were shut off. It was night and day; the sweet, shy, adorable Y/N was now barely acknowledging me. It broke my heart, but I decided that being friends would be enough for me. Of course, I just fell more and more in love with you every day, but there was nothing I could do. I want you to be happy.”

You swallowed nervously. “Eggsy, I’m not… I’m not that great. And, I mean, look at me, and then look at you…” You sighed. “You won’t like what’s underneath these clothes.”

Eggsy tilted your head towards him. You were surprised when he pressed your foreheads together and rubbed his thumb on your cheekbone. “Darling, I already love you. Why would you being naked make me love you less? Just the thought of it,” he inhaled sharply, “the thought of it gets me all sorts of bothered, love. But I need to know what you feel, too, sweetheart.”

“I,” you tried to calm the beating of your heart, “I think… I think that I feel the same.”

“Yeah?” he asked gently, the brightest smile on his face.

“Yeah,” you echoed. “I… I really, really like you, Eggsy. Maybe, maybe even love. I just don’t… I never thought… I never thought you could love me too, so I’ve never let… let myself admit the feelings. I actually don’t know if I’ll be able to really… accept that you are in love with… me.”

“Can I show you, love? Please, let me show you, how much I love you, and how much I want you, for you. It’ll be okay. Please, trust me.”

“I do trust you,” you stated.

“Good,” he smirked, and you saw a bit of that other side of him that you had always seen before. That softness, though, that gleam, was still there. You let yourself start to believe, or understand, that maybe, maybe, it was actual love in his eyes.

“May I?” Eggsy inquired with such gentleness. “Please, love.”

“Are you sure?” You fiddled with the edge of your shirt, “It’s really not… the best.”

“I’m positive, love. Please,” he pleaded softly.

“Okay,” you breathed, nodding for emphasis.

Eggsy beamed at you before kissing your forehead. He started to pepper kisses all over your face, finally stopping at your lips, where you really wanted him.

After hovering for what felt like too long, Eggsy pressed his soft lips to yours. At that moment, you felt your entire body relax against him. His large hand slid down from your face and rested on your waist. When your body tensed at that, he gently nipped your lip. He smiled against your lips as you hummed in response.

Your nerves were tingling and sparked as Eggsy’s tongue brushed the seam of your lips. Eggsy pulled you closer and nearly growled into your mouth when it opened for him.

You let out a small yelp of surprise as Eggsy pulled you into his lap so you could straddle him. His pupils were blown with lust and adoration as you pulled back, your hands on his shoulders and resting most of your weight on your knees. Large hands gripped your hips tightly and you did your best to relax.

Eggsy rubbed his nose against yours, tilting your head and pressing a sweeter kiss to your lips. He squeezed your hips gently and nipped your lip again.

“C’mon, love,” he murmured as he pulled your lip with his teeth, “you’re not gonna break me, darling. Just relax.”

You let out a shaky breath, still stiffer than you wanted to be. Suddenly, you were letting out another yelp as Eggsy pulled your hips towards him. Now, you were firmly seated on his lap, yours faces mere breaths away from each other, and your arms now around his neck. His eyes were sparkling, and his body felt absolutely delicious against you.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured as he cupped your cheek. “I’ve always wanted to feel you like this, darling. So bloody beautiful.”

Your blood heated and you looked down shyly. “Me too,” you admitted quietly.

“Do I get to make you feel good, love?” he asked you, brushing his lips against yours.

“Are you sure?” you whispered one last time.

Eggsy let out a growl and pulled your hips down against him. You could feel his hardness against you, and you let out a small squeak. He dragged your hips back and forth slowly, his breathing ragged, and you couldn’t help the moan that left your mouth as your eyes squeezed shut. You started to move on your own, delighting in his small whimpers.

Eggsy felt so good underneath you, his hard cock straining against his pants. When your head tilted back, he leaned forward and began to press wet kisses to your neck. He lightly grazed his teeth across your pulse point and your breath hitched.

Another growl left Eggsy and the next thing you knew, you were on your back. Eggsy smirked down at you as he straddled your waist, his eyes dark with hunger.

As he leaned down to nuzzle your neck, you heard him chuckle. “So sensitive, aren’t you darling?” he breathed against your throat as he began to roll his hips against you. “It’s been awhile since you’ve been touched like this, hasn’t it?” His hand traced up and down from under your breasts and to your waist. “Does it feel nice, love? Hm?”

You nodded, only to hear him huff in amusement.

“Mm, doesn’t work that way, love,” Eggsy whispered in your ear. “I need to hear you. I want to hear your voice, your whimpers and moans. I want to hear everything that I do to you. Do you think you can manage that, darling?”

“Yes,” you murmured.

“Good,” he kissed behind your ear.

Eggsy stopped straddling you and instead pushed your knees apart. He settled against you comfortably, a hum in his throat. Holding himself up on one arm, Eggsy breezed his hand back up your side. He palmed your breast and you couldn’t hold back the sigh that left your throat. Eggsy essentially purred as he felt your soft body.

The simple sensation of feeling his hands on your body, his body putting weight on yours, was making you feel incredibly comfortable. When he squeezed your breast again and you bit your lip, he let out a growl.

Both hands traced down your body, to the bottom of your shirt. Eggsy slowed down slightly as you tensed a bit; instead of pushing your shirt up, he slid his hands under it, gently petting your skin, and pressed kisses to your stomach.

Eggsy kissed a ticklish spot and you let out a giggle. You felt him smirk against you and his nimble fingers, still under your shirt, began to tickle you. Letting out a squeal of laughter, you squirmed under him to try and escape his fingers. Your hands pushed against him as you pleaded for him to stop tickling you.

Your hands were pinned to the bed and Eggsy’s eyes burned up at you from his spot between your thighs.

“What do you want, darling?” he whispered.

“You,” you sighed dreamily.

Your eyes locked on Eggsy’s as he took the bottom of your shirt with his teeth. He chuckled as you squirmed a bit, moving up your body and bringing your shirt with him. You giggled as his breath puffed against your skin. He stopped right at the bottom of your bra.

“You are terribly delectable,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to your sternum.

“You could do well to go faster, you know,” you murmured back, putting your hands on his shoulders. “I don’t mind.”

“I want to take my time with you, love,” Eggsy replied. “But if you’re getting impatient, well, all you have to do is ask. Unless you’re too proud.”

You huffed with amusement, only for it to be cut off as Eggsy pressed a kiss to your covered nipple. He chuckled against your skin and bit your nipple gently.

“C’mon, you just gotta say it,” he said into your skin before laving his tongue over your still-covered-but-now-peaked nipple. His other hand came up and pinched your other nipple between his fingers. Your breath hitched and Eggsy chuckled again.

“C’mon,” you nearly whined, “Eggsy, you don’t have to tease. Don’t you want me?”

His eyes flashed almost dangerously. “Of course, darling. But I also want to watch you squirm and beg. Though, I suppose,” he paused as he pulled your bra down and revealed your breasts, “we’ll have plenty of time for that.”

With that, Eggsy essentially attacked your nipple, sucking it into his mouth with a vigor you had never thought you’d get to experience. His eyes sparkled up at you, still blown with lust, as his other hand continued to pull and squeeze your other one.

When Eggsy bit your nipple, you gasped, clutching his shoulders tightly. You felt his smile as he removed his lips, tugging your bud with his teeth before letting go. He sucked a hickey into your soft skin before kissing up to your collarbone. Eggsy seemed to enjoy creating hickeys as much as you enjoyed receiving them, since he was littering you with dark red and purple marks.

He made his way to your other nipple, squeezing your breast in his hand and flicking his tongue across it. You whimpered and he growled into your skin. After another moment, you felt his hand dance down your side and grip your thigh.

At his gentle urging, you wrapped your leg around his waist. When he pulled your nipple slowly again, you scratched at his shoulders and pulled him up to your mouth. You caught his bottom lip in your teeth and sucked, delighting in his gasp of delight.

“Little minx,” he grinned into your lips.

“Shush,” you breathed back, crashing your lips back to his.

The hand that was on your thigh moved to pull down your leggings. He scrambled to get them off before ripping your legs apart again. His body slid down yours and his green eyes sparkled up at you from between your thighs.

You breathed in shakily as he ran gentle fingers over your clothed pussy. You nearly let out a yelp when he pressed his lips to the top of your labia. Eggsy seemed to breathe in deeply, another growl deep in his throat, and tongued up your panties.

“You smell divine, love,” he growled into you, “I wonder if your juices taste as amazing. Good thing I’m already here.”

Before you could say anything, Eggsy legitimately ripped your panties. He tossed the scraps to the side and pulled your labia apart. He hummed in happiness and arousal as you dripped for him, muttering something that you couldn’t hear.

Then, his tongue licked at your opening.

You wrapped your thighs around his head, delighting in his hum of approval, and ran your hands through his hair. Eggsy moved his tongue to your clit, flicking it gently then harder as you moaned in approval.

His wonderful fingers gently probed your opening as his delicious lips wrapped around your clit and sucked.

“Fuck, Eggsy,” you sighed.

“That’s right, baby, talk to me,” he paused his sucking to say to you.

You nodded, breathing out a curse word or two as he plunged two fingers inside of you. Eggsy pressed into the roof of your pussy, massaging your walls. He started to move his fingers faster and soon, with a come-hither motion, he found your g-spot.

“Shit, Eggsy, fuck, right there,” you whined, pulling on his hair.

Eggsy hummed around your clit as he finger-fucked your dripping pussy. You squeezed your thighs around his head, and he did something—you couldn’t tell what—but he did something with his fingers and his mouth, making you come around his fingers with a harsh cry of his name and a growl ripped from your throat.

“Fuck, darling,” he breathed as he stroked you down from your high.

“Eggsy,” you managed to get out.

“Look at that beautiful pussy, darling,” he said in a reverent and breathy voice. “That gorgeous pussy dripping wet all for me. I was right when I said you tasted amazing.”

Your breathing hitched as he wrapped his lips around his fingers and licked your juices from them. To top it off, he’d stared you down as he did.

“Eggsy, I need you,” you pleaded, holding your hands out for him.

“Oh, my needy girl,” he purred, taking your hands in his.

With a wicked grin, you pulled yourself up and quickly pinned him to the bed. Those beautiful and loving green eyes regarded you with surprise and an intense arousal as you slid down his body, keeping one hand threaded with his.

“My turn,” you smirked, slipping your hands under his shirt. Eggsy purred and folded his arms behind his head to stare down at you. It made you feel a bit nervous, but as you felt Eggsy’s hard cock under your body, you realized how much power you had under your fingertips. You were ready for some fun.

You pushed Eggsy’s shirt up and pressed chaste kisses to his abs. Moving down, you tugged a bit on his pants, revealing his hipbones. With a smirk up at him, you kissed his hipbone before nipping it. As his breath hitched, you sucked a deep hickey into his hip.

“You’re already going to be the death of me, Y/N,” Eggsy sighed.

With a light chuckle, you pulled his pants down more and continued to nip and kiss his skin. Eggsy lifted his legs a little, whining to just take the pants off already. You gave in to his pleas; as you slid the pants off, he threw his shirt over his head and laid back again.

His cock was straining against his boxer-briefs and you could see a small wet patch forming on the gray cloth. Your mouth nearly watered and you palmed him before giving him a squeeze. Eggsy hissed and you saw his jaw clench.

With another smirk sent his way, you mouthed the outline of his cock and rubbed your hands on his thighs. You felt the heat from his cock and decided to just go for it.

You were as full of surprises as Eggsy could be.

Pulling his boxers down, Eggsy’s rather lovely cock sprang up, the tip essentially weeping for attention. Weeping for your attention.

Licking your lips, you gripped the base and heard Eggsy’s inhalation. You stroked him gently, lightly, before you surprised him again by wrapping your lips around his tip.

“Shit,” he moaned, moving one hand to run it through your hair. “Fuck, baby,” he purred as you sucked his tip.

You hummed in the back of your throat as you swirled your tongue around his head, pressing right under it. With one hand, you cupped his balls and delighted in his moan. You hollowed your cheeks and tried to relax as you lowered your mouth farther down.

Eggsy gripped your hair in a tight hand and moaned, making you hum again. Bobbing your head up and down hollowing your cheeks, you glanced up at him and felt your body shiver at his heavy-lidded gaze.

You took all of him in your mouth and hummed, dragging your tongue along him. A moan tore from Eggsy’s throat and suddenly he was tugging you off his cock.

“Darling, that mouth is dangerous,” he growled as he pulled you to his chest.

“Didn’t you know?” you breathed against him.

Eggsy let out another growl and lightly smacked your ass before pulling your other leg across his waist. You held back a small moan and saw his eyes gleam at that reaction.

He was obviously ignoring that until later, though, as he crashed his lips into yours and squeezed your hips. You rubbed your dripping slit along his cock, both of you moaning in response. Your hips bucked slightly as his pressed against your clit.

Eggsy raised your hips and used one hand to guide his cock to your opening. You moaned with your head tilted back and grasped his shoulders.

“That’s right, baby, take me nice and slow. You feel so good, baby, so wet for me,” Eggsy leaned towards you, whispering in your ear sensually.

You lowered yourself onto his cock, the moan erupting from your mouth. Eggsy groaned out a curse and various praises as you seated yourself on him fully. Your breathing was uneven as you arched, and Eggsy ran his hands up and down your sides.

“Breathe, love, breathe,” he murmured to you. “That’s it, love, fuck, you feel so good squeezing my cock, baby. So good and you haven’t moved yet, fuck.”

You smiled a bit and gave an experimental swirl of your hips.

Eggsy nearly yelled your name.

With a devious grin, you began to move up and down on his cock, swirling your hips as you did. He was reaching places that hadn’t been touched in too long; one hand squeezed your hip while the other moved to squeeze and palm your breasts.

“Fuck,” you moaned as he took your nipple in his mouth. He nipped and tugged on it, making your hips buck on his cock violently.

“That’s it, baby, doing so good. What do you want, darling, hm? What do you need?”

You panted and sat fully on him again, moaning in the back of your throat. Squeezing your muscles, you circled your hips without moving up. Eggsy began to kiss your neck and whispered the same question in your ear.

“Fuck, Eggsy,” you whimpered in his ear as he arched into you, making you feel fuller than you thought possible, “fuck, you feel so good.”

“That’s right, baby, you’re making me feel bloody amazing. C’mon, baby, tell me what you need. I know you need more. Tell me,” he growled as he started to fuck into you.

“Fuck, Eggsy!” his thumb began to rub your clit and you leaned your head on his shoulder. “Eggsy, please, fuck, just, fuck me, make me come, please!”

His growl made you shiver as he flipped you over, pounding into you hard and fast. Eggsy rubbed your clit furiously, his moans mixing with yours. You dug your nails into his shoulders, and he leant to bite your neck. You were getting so, so close; he made you feel better than anyone ever had.

“Fuck, darling, you make me want to come so bad,” he mumbled into your neck.

“Please, Eggsy, please,” you babbled breathlessly. “Please, you feel so good, wanna feel you come, wanna come with you.”

“That’s right, baby,” he whispered as he moved to kiss you deeply. “Fuck, darling. So fucking close, Y/N, you feel so good.”

“Eggsy,” you whined into his mouth. “Please.”

“Come for me, Y/N, let’s come together, c’mon,” he pleaded into your mouth.

Eggsy bit your lip and sheathed his pulsing cock fully into you, sending you over that coveted edge with a pinch to your clit.

“Eggsy!” you called out as your vision went white, clutching him close to your body. He followed you while your muscles clenched around him like they would never relax. His groan of your name into your mouth made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, in a different way that the orgasm made you feel.

Eggsy pulled out as you both calmed your breathing, but he let his body lay on you with his face tucked into your neck. You chuckled breathlessly and ran your hands up and down his back, delighting in his purr of comfort. His skin was smooth and soft, his toned muscles relaxed from the orgasm.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” Eggsy murmured into your skin.

“I love you too,” you admitted gently.

On slightly shaky arms, Eggsy pushed up to look at you with adoration in his eyes. “I’ve wanted to hear you say that for so long, Y/N.”

“How long?” you asked teasingly.

“Longer than you could imagine. But I’d wait again.”

“For how long?”

“However long it takes, darling,” he told you as he pressed a sweet, loving kiss to your lips. “However long it takes.”

#eggsy unwin x plus size reader #eggsy unwin x reader #eggsy unwin smut #plus size reader #plus size reader insert #smut #probably horribly written smut #please let me know what you think

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