#-that hes been pushed into by his own doing and the gods playing spiteful tricks to punish him for resisting them- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tarithenurse · 1 year

Text

The Bathhouse

Fandom: MCU (AU) Pairing/starring: Jotun!Loki x Fem!Jotun!reader Content: Non-gender-segregated bathhouse, a bit of fluff and pining, smut, a smidgen of female heat, loss of virginity, naivety, mostly some sort of smut (though not P-in-V...this time). A/N: So this is actually from something else I’m working on just for myself but it had vibes that I thought I could use for some fun with Loki. Betaed by the lovely TanteFrutsel-CreativeNurse!

The Bathhouse

It has been a long day and you’re tired but even so you sneak past your friends’ doors at the inn and make your way down the stairs where the innkeeper is sitting with his book. A sideways glance reveals that it’s a volume of “Tusk Love” which you’ve never heard of.

Out onto the street and past the darkening homes, you can’t help but clutch at the concealed daggers although you feel surprisingly at home here in Utgarde. It’s just...it’s a new place and recent events have grown deep roots. It doesn’t make it easier that you feel like a stranger in your own body what with the delicate changes of the heat.

Living as long as Jötunn do, nature has decided to play a cruel trick on the females and only allow them to be fertile once every century... the heat, as this period is called, lasts for at least half a year in which they have to deal with several physical changes.

Reaching the bathhouse, the place looks closed and you are dubious when you push on the door but it swings inwards, allowing you entry to the antechamber with the reception where a flustered matron stands, wringing her hands and with curlers in the hair as though she’s been roused from bed and barely had time to dress.

“I’m terribly sorry,” she snips, “but we’re closed.”

“I was told to come.”

Before you can give more of an explanation a voice comes from the beyond the arches where the springs are: “She’s here on my behest.”

You continue into the changing area with the woman trailing behind, complaining quietly.

“Now leave us, please.” Loki sounds bored but authoritative, stirring something in you. It could be his demeanour or his rank, either way the matron leaves, pointing at a stack of towels on her way out.

The changing room has a series of smaller cubicles for private disrobing as well as a low bench snaking through the area. On the one end closest to the bath is a bunch of familiar clothes folded neatly and with a set of daggers lying on top.

Undressing, you discard your own weapons too although a knot forms in the belly at the idea of being unarmed. Then you grab a towel and wrap it around your torso before proceeding past the archway.

There’s a lot more steam than during the daytime when you would normally visit as though the springs run hotter at night. The sulphuric scent mingles with that of sweet incense burning in a pot to the side. That wasn’t there last time. Loki is resting in his true form in the water at the far side of the pool, facing the entry directly, and he lifts a dripping and muscular arm to wave at the newcomer.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he admits.

And I’m not sure I should stay, you think. Still, you step forward, stepping into the bath wearing nothing but a short swath of fabric that you find entirely inadequate in spite of Jötunn traditions but at least it covers the most important bits. Loki isn’t shy to look, his red gaze travelling your form before meeting your own faintly glowing eyes and remaining there until you’re sat down, towel soaking up the water, making it cling to your body.

You sigh. The hot spring really lives up to its name. With eyes closed you dip down below the surface to wet your hair.

Upon resurfacing, you keep your eyes shut as you wipe the water from your face. “Now tell me...what brings me here?” you shrug blindly, unsure of what else to say but it turns out any more sentences probably wouldn’t have made it past your lips as the god cups your face with a hand and kisses your softly.

*SLAP*

It’s a knee-jerk reaction, caused more by bafflement than anger or fear and the moment your palm impacts with his cheek, you regrets it.

“Sorry!” you blurt simultaneously, leaving the other gaping.

You have rarely been the type that dreamed about kissing etc but this development is very far from anything you could have ever imagined. Shifting uncomfortably where you sit, you glance over at your friend and find that he has moved away and turned his back to you completely, fingers gripping the black tresses tightly.

“Please forgive me, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry,” he repeats under his breath.

As he mutters, you get up and slowly moves over, stretching out a hand to settle on his shoulder which makes him freeze under the touch. “No...I shouldn’t have...you just surprised me, is all.”

Turning and grabbing your hand as it falls, there’s a desperation in the god’s eyes that you don’t understand but you find nothing threatening there and so don’t back away when he closes the distance one careful step at a time.

He breathes heavily, hungrily. “I should leave.”

“Oh alright...but why?”

“It’s your...your scent...it changes when you’re in heat,” he grits out but stays put, still clutching your hand.

Holding your breath as if that could help, you consider everything you know about the nature of the heat you’re going through but you cannot recall anyone ever telling you about this effect.

“Does it...hurt you?” you ask naively.

A shiver passes through Loki from the top of his head and down, carrying with it your gaze which lands on something you have never seen before and you instinctively know that this is not meant for you to gaze upon. Snapping your eyes shut, warmth rising to your face, all the awkward lessons at school come rushing into your mind although they are coloured by something new now. Curiosity. Desire. Something within you is calling back, responding to the god’s desperation.

“No,” he chuckles darkly, “you’re are absolutely not hurting me...far from.”

“Then...is there anything I can do?”

“Tell me to leave.”

“And if I don’t?”

Loki closes his eyes for a second and shakes his head so slightly you almost miss it. When he opens them again he looks at you and asks,“Let me kiss you one last time?”

You have barely nodded before his mouth is upon you, stealing a kiss and your breath. Strong hands cup your face, tilting your head gently to allow him better access as his tongue sweeps the seam of your lips which automatically part.

After a second of flailing, you grab hold of him, pulling you closer together in spite of the prodding to your lower abdomen. You need the support or you would lose all sense of balance, of up and down...but soon enough your hands begin to wander, skating over his broad shoulders and down his back, teasing a new ripple to be released and pucker the blue skin under which his muscles bunch taut as if he’s restraining himself physically.

Then, just as sudden as he’d begun, Loki releases you and steps back several paces, leaving you with your arms stretched out before you, trying to reach him.

Something more than blood is coursing through your veins, throbbing at your core. You don’t quite understand it but you know one thing: you want more.

“[Y/N],” he gasps for breath, “this isn’t what I had planned.”

“I believe you.”

You move up to him once more and this time you’re the one to glide a hand around his neck, pulling him down for a new kiss which he gladly gives into for a moment before lifting his head up against your grip with a soft groan.

“Are you sure?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one to ask you that?” you mumble against his lips.

The strong Jotunn guides you to the edge of the pool, carefully removing the towel and lifting you up until you’re seated on the edge. “I could never regret you.” A perfect hand pushes against your sternum, slowly driving you onto your back while he slots his hips between your knees. “I know I cannot...but let me give you this instead...” Before you can ask what he means by that, he shushes you.

His grip is light enough that you could resist it when Loki pushes your legs apart, revealing your most intimates. Watching between the slopes of your breasts, you see him lick his lips before lowering himself to deliver a kitten lick to the sensitive folds.

You’ve never touched yourself there save for the practicality of cleaning. Nothing could have prepared you for the odd, delicate sensation of the increasingly dedicated strokes of the god’s tongue – sometimes broad, caressing all of your core at once, and sometimes pointed and directed to the bundle of nerves at the very front. It catches you off guard when your pelvis begins to rise on its own accord from the floor as an intensity builds within you. Loki grabs your hips, holding them in place and you can feel his smile against the puffy, lower lips.

“Loki, I...” you moan without really knowing what you want to say.

You’re on the verge of something new and you want him to bring you there despite the trepidation for this unknown.

Releasing your pearl with a soft pop, he smiles up at you with a glistening mouth. “It’s alright, I got you,” and with that he returns to the ministrations.

It comes as a rush, crashing through your body in waves until you’re a moaning and writhing mess. Fingers claw for anything to hold on to, finding only his hair as your back arches off the cool stone floor. Again and again you mewl his name.

Slowly, lapping at your core lazily, he helps bring you down from this new high until you can finally breathe evenly again.

“Fucking hell,” you sigh, staring up at the ceiling while still quivering.

A strangled grunt from Loki makes you look for him: his fist is holding onto his shaft, pumping it and drawing your curiosity despite feeling abashed at that and what has just transpired.

“Please...touch your breasts for me,” Loki pleads and you obey without hesitation.

Testing at first, you quickly find that the nipples are overly sensitive, sending goosebumps down your body when you roll them between the fingers. You also cup the breasts fully, squeezing them and for the first time in your life admiring their form.

“Just like that,” he groans, hand moving more furiously.

A curiosity strikes you and you slip a hand between your legs, tracing the wetness there until you hone in on the clit which makes you shudder. Hesitantly at first but then with greater need, you begin to rub small circles onto the sensitive spot, encouraged by the words of praise that Loki showers you with until he suddenly growls your name and stutters, pearly white leaking between his fingers as his head falls back.

In that moment, he’s the most beautiful you’ve ever seen: fragile yet strong and so incredibly sensual with parted lips.

He sinks to his knees and you slip into the water in alarm, catching him in your arms and relishing in the nearness of him. It takes a moment before you realize that he’s talking to you, slurring his words slightly because his lips are pressed to your blue skin.

“...not what I planned. I wanted to court you first. To bring you to my favourite places or learn of yours, wine and dine...treat you like you deserve.”

You’re stunned at the revelation but manage to gather you wits. “There’s still time for that.”

Loki’s hands find your waist, thumbs running circles below the ribs and causing you to shiver especially when he adjusts the grip so he can graze the bottom of your breasts. Slowly but surely his attention is diverted, split between fondling them and your ass.

“For so long,” Loki confesses, “I’ve been admiring you from afar.” His fingers slide along your hipbone, tracing the vee until delving between your still slick folds, making you whimper.

He turns you around, sitting you between his legs so you can feel the half-erect cock against your back as you lean against his chest. Long arms cage you in, holding you securely but gently as he continues the circular movements you yourself had initiated earlier.

“I don’t have words to explain why I love you,” the god whispers hoarsely in your ear, “but please let me try to show you.”

You nod mutely, breath already uneven as heat pools in your core.

It takes little time before he has reignited the burning ecstasy within you and you tumble over this strange precipice once more, calling out his name on ragged puffs of air.

This time, Loki simply holds you as you descend from the high, rocking you gently and whispering sweet nothings to you that make your heart swell with the knowledge that he loves you.

259 notes · View notes

aces-and-kings · 10 months

Text

Hurt

The salty sea air clung to Thorstyr's clothes as he staggered back to the Mizzenmast Inn, having spent the evening drowning in whiskey. The dimly lit hallway seemed to sway and twist, playing tricks on his blurred vision. He fumbled with the key to his room, cursing under his breath in that thick duskwolf accent. Finally managing to unlock the door, he stumbled inside, the room spinning around him. How had he gotten back to Lominsa? How long had he been back? Hours? Days? His crew? Nay, every last one of them, dead or scattered to the wind. Llymlaen spare him. Tired. So gods damned tired. Too tired for so many questions.

His heart weighed heavy with memories that he couldn't quite sort out from one to the next. He had seen so much in his life, faced so much, but the ache in his chest felt insurmountable. Thor was a man of action, always pushing forward, but tonight, tonight he was the King of Pity.

With a frustrated roar, he swept his arm across the small table near the door, sending bottles and glasses crashing to the floor. Whiskey spilled, mixing with the shards of glass. He barely felt the sting of the cuts on his hand as he stumbled further into the room, knocking over a chair and kicking at anything in his path.

"Damn it all!" he shouted, his voice raw with pain. "What's tha fuckin' point!?"

Thor's fenrir statue, usually a symbol of pride and freedom, crashed to the floor, its once strong form now shattered like his own spirit. He sank to his knees, the room spinning around him. Tears mingled with the alcohol on his cheeks as he clutched at his chest, feeling the pressure of the entire world pressing down on him.

His life had been a constant struggle for acceptance and belonging. The rejection he faced from his own father still haunted him, even after all these years. And then there was his love life, or lack thereof. Wounds that refused to heal, a hole in his heart that no amount of whiskey could fill.

"Why do ah even bother?" he slurred again, each syllable dripping with bitterness.

In his drunken haze, Thor found himself grappling with his identity, his place in the world, and the ever-lingering question of whether he was doomed to be alone. He longed for someone to understand him, to see past the rough exterior and the scars, to stay, to show him he was more than the monster he felt himself to be. It seemed an impossible dream. He froze and glanced down, eyeing his bloodied palms and the glistening reflection of light upon the shards of glass embedded in his skin. These hands had inflicted so much harm. Right or wrong, they were the hands of a murderer. Garbage. Putrid. If he'd condemned himself to this fate of wallowing piss drunk alone in yet another inn, what was the point? He was dying inside, if not dead already.

Another sudden surge of anger, an emotion that often masked grief for the big brute, and Thor swept his arms across the dresser, sending toiletries and mementos flying. Among them was Red's letter. He clutched it tightly in his hand, covering it in an ironic crimson as his heart wrenched with every beat. The betrayal of someone he'd thought was a friend washed over him like a wave. That Semex could do such a spiteful thing, there really weren't words. What purpose had it served? It only caused Thor greater loss, and Red, more pain. "...bastard."

The room bore witness to the meltdown, the destruction reflecting the turmoil within. Thor was a storm, wild and untamed, and in his drunken rage, he felt a momentary release from the loneliness that shackled him in place.

But as the whiskey dulled his senses, exhaustion offered a countermeasure. The room swayed less violently, and the anger gave way to a deep weariness. He slumped against the wall, the letter still clutched in his hand, and allowed himself to succumb to sleep.

In the morning, he would wake with a splitting headache and a room in shambles. For now, in this moment of despair, he let himself feel vulnerable. He let himself feel lost. Each and every ache, a reminder, no matter how big or small, that he was still breathing. This wasn't the end, no, not yet.

And in that moment, as the sea breeze whispered through the cracked window, Thorstyr surrendered to the darkness, finding temporary relief in the oblivion of sleep.

youtube

#thorstyr helbwilfsyn #cw: depression #cw: violence #cw: alcoholism #my writing #Youtube

15 notes · View notes

wanderingchocolateeclair · 1 year

Text

Pirate AU Snippet - Shinya edition <3

Because I did one from Tsunagu's pov, you now get one from Shinya's pov (only it takes place before the other snippet and involves more Lore! Yayyy!)

There was a fight.

He found us. Tracked us down…

It’s expected, knowing that we possess both the Heart and Soul now. He’ll do anything to get them back and bring torment across the seas yet again, and I won’t let that happen.

She was angry. Rage swelling in waves and crashing against our ship, I felt the heat of her anger. Justifiable anger.

This curse is painful.

For us it is hollowing, death, numbness, empty blank feelings and a hunger- a desire to feel human again.

But for her, it is writhing pain. The feeling of souls crushed under her waves, unable to be set free- it is darkness. A darkness that is spreading, becoming harder to avoid.

I feel that darkness. The torment that is spreading through her waves, I can feel it resonating within my hollow heart- my soul… do I even have one?

A heart, I do not have, I have been told many times.

A cold and uncaring man.

A heartless man.

Shinya Kamihara, the man undeserving of anything. The captain that led his crew to ruin and death. The cursed captain.

It has been years since I felt the desire to feel, I’ve long given up on that dream. I do not deserve to feel again, I do not deserve the things that await me once this curse is lifted.

I do not deserve love.

And yet…

There was a moment... no- I’d play it off as the sea and her cruel tricks…

But…

That blond bastard. That idiot- that- that Tsunagu...

He fell, I do not recall how, by the recoil of the cannons or the wind’s attempt at pushing fate… he fell.

I don’t know why, but I pushed aside my pride to catch him- there was a rush of adrenaline through my bones- as if- as if I could feel…panic.

We need him. I constantly tell myself to stop the urges to throw him overboard, that annoying rasp of spitefulness and bold teasing in his voice makes me want to punch him- we need him to break this curse. I say.

But then why?

Why, in that moment, could I hear my own voice on the wind speaking such selfish words?

I need him.

I can’t believe it. I truly am a fool.

I need him, to feel alive.

I did not wish to feel alive until he came along. Why… why?

How can a heartless man feel heartache for something he doesn’t deserve? Why does my heart yearn for a feeling I have lost?

I felt something when I held onto his arms, fighting against the wind and the pull of the vortex in the waves. I felt… panic.

I could feel my heart.

There was a crack in the curse- just for that moment- the darkness eroded away and I could see fear in his eyes.

He’d never seemed scared- not once, since he came onto this ship, it was always fighting and stubborness from that bastard but…

Fear.

Not a word was spoken, yet I heard so clearly- he begged for me to not let him go, even knowing we cannot die, there was fear…

And why? Why did I feel that if I let him go, I would lose my only window to life itself- why did my heart scream at me to keep him safe-

And when he slipped from my grasp, I felt as if the sea tugged at my heart saying get him back- and even as I felt the currents pulling him away from me and the blinding pain of the water in my lungs when I followed, it wasnt until we surfaced again with him back in my arms, that I realised.

It was those eyes, god, those eyes…

Those same eyes that I saw as a child, many years ago, when a young boy saved me from the consequences of my starvation and need.

Those beautiful green eyes-

The windows to the soul, and if that soul shines a more beautiful sea-green than the ocean herself, what could possibly reside deep within, other than something the heart desires.

Something my heart desires.

What does my hollow heart desire?

Is it gold? Treasures? All that which I lost my heart and my family for - all for that greed?

Is it life? Love? To be cared for? The things I no longer feel?

Or is it three feet away from me, retching into a bucket and shivering from cold? Is it an annoying rich boy, that fell into the water to save my life, pushing me out of the way of an occurring gunfight and getting knocked overboard instead? The man that’s saved me more times than he knows?

Would he know?

There is said to be another curse like mine, one that resides within one’s soul and can be seen more as a blessing by those around it. One born from tragedy and the ruin of a soul at the beginning of life. An attraction to other curses.

One that also resides within this cruel curse of death.

I am certain. It is in his eyes. It is in the way his words bring encouragement to everyone, like the wind in the sails pushing us towards our fate.

If I am the embodiment of the sea, and he has the spirit of the wind within him…

It’s almost poetic, that the heart and soul could come together bearing the very same curses as the monster that doomed us with undying death.

I have hope.

For the first time in years, I can feel myself longing for this curse to be over. I do not deserve this freedom, yet my heart yearns for it. If he stays…

…

He calls me captain.

It’s teasing, a sort of fierce and brave mockery- but not willingfully harmful.

At first, I wanted to carve that word out of his mouth. When he found out who I was… I hated how it sounded- coming from such an annoying need to get on my nerves. Ignorant of how that title is behind me, I even snapped at him over it…

And then he stopped. For a while. I realised he didn’t mean any harm by it… he was… considerate.

‘Captain’ he calls me now. It’s softer. It is teasing, but it’s genuine. My heart knows it… even not present in my own chest, I feel as if it is beating again some days. Is the curse eroding? Or have we become too far lost within it, that life is starting to adapt?

Captain.

I am not deserving of that name. Not after I let my greed take the lives of my crew… my family. I loathe the memories that return at the hint of my time as captain.

But…

When he says it, my heart seems to forget it’s rage. It feels… hopeful. As if my days as captain could resume once more, and maybe… would it be too much to ask him to join me?

He is looking at me again. I expected him to make a snarky comment… he thanked me.

How can a man with no soul still be so god damn patient and selfless?

…

I have decided.

We will lift this curse. And once it is lifted, I will embrace my heart once more. I was foolish to think I didn’t need it.

A blood moon is approaching… I wonder how he’ll react if I bare my heart to him. Will he be frightened? Confused? I want to be kind to him, even when my heartless body will not let me. I want to care. I shall repay him for all the kindness he has shown me.

Once this curse is lifted…

Tsunagu Hakamata shall have my heart.

----

#bnha #eclair wrote something?!#kamihara shinya #edgeshot #best jeanist #hakamada tsunagu #edgejeanist #pirate au #eclair's aus #pirate au my beloved #(to clarify in case i need to: the *he* mentioned at the start is afo. hes the one attacking them)#hmmshit i havent done a lore post for pirate au yet have i?#i think i was saving that bc of my fic but we all know how sloe i write things so hm.#yeah lore post will be posted at some point maybe soon :)#these character pov ones are fun to write actually huh

9 notes · View notes

simplegenius042 · 1 year

Text

Azriel - Daughter of Joseph, Hija of Silva

Now early on in mid to late 2022, I had posted a little “what if” scenario. That being, “what if Rook was Joseph’s daughter (aka Baby Girl Seed)?” (or alternatively what if Baby Girl Seed lived and became a junior deputy)

And that title’s pretty self-explanatory, but it essentially came up with the scenario that Joseph didn’t kill his infant daughter (either he failed to do so or his stress and despair tricked him into thinking he did), which regardless of how that happened, would displease the Voice, but they’d somehow work with it.

Anyway, I started to wonder how I could work this in my own fanfiction, and change it up to fit my storytelling needs and have something different beyond “a deputy who is important to the Seeds in some way comes along to put a stop to their madness”, while also involving Silva.

And at this time I was struggling with how to properly convey one of my other storylines Far Cry El Industrial’s Reign, or what it had been originally called at the time “Far Cry The Powerbroker’s Reign”. Instead of being a 26-year-old junior deputy, Silva is a 37-year-old businesswoman who owns an industry in Hope County, while also being the leader of a group called the Tumultites (with some connections to the criminal underworld) who wanted to live free and in some state of peace from a government and system that failed and abandoned them. The struggle was mostly with how the conflict between Eden’s Gate and the Tumultites could be more deeply personal beyond different ideals, similar yet different traumas and whatnot.

So one thing led to another and I ultimately decided that Baby Girl Seed in this continuity would become this Silva’s adopted daughter, Azriel.

How exactly does this happen? Well, my dear reader, join me on a ride of a lifetime.

First, imagine with me. Just for the moment. Back to that hospital room, where Joseph was left alone with his perfect and alive infant daughter, stuffed with tubes, but breathing. We all know the story. Of how Joseph was in awe at how, despite a tragic event occurring, he could see his baby daughter alive, and yet left with him. A nobody. From nowhere. With nothing. And uncertain how to proceed in the unknown, unplanned future. Or, at least, he thought it was...

Joseph would hear a voice. The Voice. That dreadful voice belonging to a self-serving, malicious and overall cruel entity that could care less about the lives of so many poor souls in need, looking for another sheep to blindly follow its deceiving words, wanting to play with its chosen victim till they break in satiating its spiteful and malevolent hunger. But Joseph does not view it at this. He mistakes this fraud’s voice for the voice of God. And maybe it is, but who can be for sure. Regardless, the Voice has caught its trusting and unaware prey with its vicious hooks, giving Joseph a mockery of a play disguised as a benevolent mission meant to “save” people. Telling Joseph he could have everything he’s ever wanted (his family, a world without needless suffering, a peaceful garden) and more... for a price.

Then comes the price.

Now Joseph only believes what he’s about to do, is for the best interest for his little girl. Believing that it’s for the best that she goes up to the heavens, with his late wife, amongst the angels. For really, where would a pure and new soul go but back to the loving Lord? That is a lie the Voice encourages and feeds into as Joseph goes to complete his “test”... to ultimately decide to become the Father instead of a father. Only the Voice knows that there was no choice in the first place. It chose Joseph, in this moment, because it knew that his loss, his grief, and his faith to “God” would give it the advantage. The edge in pushing Joseph to make a decision that will haunt him, and yet believe be resolute in. Until the day he realises. And on that day, it will cherish every tear that comes forth from the man.

And Joseph would pinch close one of the tubes, the ones that let her breathe, and watch as his infant daughter kicks her legs, squirms, and then still. A flatline. Indicating her ascension. Sent to a higher plane of existence. A better place.

The Voice would be satisfied by this generous donation and will speak to Joseph as he leaves the hospital, to become an infliction of pain and misery upon the mortal Earth, its playground, under the careful disguise as its shepherd, an instrument it will fiddle with until Joseph knows the meaning of suffering.

And so Joseph leaves that hospital, and the body of his infant daughter behind for the doctors to deal with. His past and the future of what could have been, dead.

Now imagine the room, the infant, abandoned in a cold, sterile, hospital. Father long gone. On his mission.

Almost lifeless.

Beep

Almost.

Beep

Do you hear the monitor? Do you see the flat line jump, then jump again, and once more, until it continuously goes at a steady pace.

Or perhaps the pinched tube fixing itself to the posture it once had been, opening to let the air pass.

Or do you see her leg kick. Once. Twice. Then a third time. Squirming. Then finally drawing breath, accepting the oxygen offered.

By sheer luck, through undoubtable chance, and unquestionable impossibility... She survived.

End imagination.

[MY LAPTOP DID NOT SAVE WHAT I HAD WRITTEN IN DETAIL SO I’M GONNA RUSH THROUGH THE BACKSTORY UNTIL WE GET TO THE GOOD PARTS]

Doctors later find Baby Girl Seed without her father and can’t get a hold of him, and since she’s breathing and making a good recovery, they tend to her health until she is given to the foster care system (something Joseph would likely feel guilt about if he ever found out).

For six years, Baby Girl Seed is now called Aria, and her stay in the foster homes since infancy has its moments of ups and downs, and gave her attachment and anxiety issues, poor social skills, probably bottled up depression and anger, however she did pick up skills on tinkering, keen observation and inventing. She’s adopted by the Rivers family, but only Mrs Rivers is really excited about it.

Aria makes a close connection with Mrs Rivers, but its short-lived, as Mrs Rivers passes away, and is left in the care of the neglectful Mr Rivers, the oldest River brother's malicious teasing, as well as the youngest River brother's ghost-like presence. Aria’s time at an all-girls school is filled with mocking words in regard to her status as the adopted Rivers child, unable to properly build connections with other girls in a deeply personal and empathetic level, as well as the fact her hobbies to tinker and invent aren’t “girly” and therefore not interesting to any of the girls.

Three years later, in 2007, at age 9, Aria’s never felt so lonely.

Then 26-year-old Silva and her fellow Tumultites kidnap Mr Rivers (the previous captain of the Enforcers in Omar’s Guard) to get whereabouts of Father Adam Omar and what he’s been doing, planning on letting him go afterwards.

However, Oscar Lapis, the new current captain, intercepts the Tumultites at a factory along with his patrol of Enforcers.

The Rivers' brothers make the stupid decision to rescue their father during a shootout, while Aria tries to help by taking advantage of the factory’s main functions and using one of her inventions to blow up the pressure built.

She gets blown out the window but survives so she’s not complaining and is rather cheery that her invention worked.

How about everyone else?

Well, Mr Rivers is dead, Oscar retreated with the remaining enforcers who hadn’t been obliterated in the explosion, Silva and her fellow Tumultites survived and are recovering, and oldest brother gets mad at Aria and leaves her behind in the rain as he takes an unconscious youngest brother to a hospital.

Long-story-short, this leads to Silva finding Aria alone, and the girl jumps into the older woman’s arms despite the scarring surrounding Silva’s deformed illuminating silver left eye, contrasting her healthy normal grey right eye, making her look quite intimidating. So Silva pretty much adopts Aria on the spot because she knows what its like to be abandoned to fend for herself.

And so, Silva and the Tumultites take Aria back home... to the Underworld.

[NOW ON TO THE GOOD PARTS!]

You see, this now goes into main story territory.

The next events to happen are in these stories (that are yet to come out I’m afraid).

First would be Of Mother And Daughters, which takes place in the eleven years 9-year-old Aria spends with Silva in the Underworld, fighting for control over the cesspool of a society to gain the power and resources necessary to build Tumult, a place where Silva’s people and the people of the Underworld can have stability again, away from the present society and Father Omar’s society as well. First arc Includes politics, murder, questionable morals, sabotage, mother-daughter bonding, Aria transitioning to her own identity as Azriel, and found family with tearjerkers and heart-warming moments mixed in between. As well as introductions to how characters met characters. There is a time skip at some point where Azriel is no longer 9 turning 10 years old and is 12 turning 13 in the second arc, where the Tumultites are gathering more people and transitioning a full presence over in Hope County. The third arc will have Azriel at age 15 (and over) as the Tumultites establish themselves in Hope County right until the arrest of Joseph happens, leading to the second story

Then comes the second story, that being the main story of Far Cry El Industrial’s Reign, which takes place during the events of Far Cry 5, except the Tumultites are major players as well, and trying to live honestly and build their dream city. Eden's Gate and Omar's Guard become a major problem to that goal though, especially with revelations between families.

The last story is the New Dawn post story, which as Persephone Omar act as Thomas Rush's Captain of Security. Tumult has been built and it thrives. At that point the story could either take a fluffy slice of life happy ending or a bittersweet goodbye for Azriel to move on to her own life, acknowledging her grief with help from what remains of her family.

Anyway, that's all folks.

#far cry 5 #far cry el industrial's reign au #joseph seed #oc: azriel #oc: silva omar #industrial!silva #oc: persephone omar #oc: mercy seed #far cry new dawn

3 notes · View notes

maxwell-grant · 3 years

Note

Who's your favorite Batman villain?

The Penguin. Was gonna put off this ask for a bit but I got surprised today with an incredible rendition of him, so now the dastardly bumbershoot waddled and squawked his way into my thoughts again and I gotta talk about him.

Penguin's not just my favorite Batman villain, he's my favorite DC character and comic book supervillain, the main reason I even want to write a Batman story someday.

I love the imagery that surrounds him, the trick umbrellas and the birds he so lovely dotes after and the WAKs and the Iceberg Lounge, which has become maligned in recent years as a sign of his downfall, but I very much appreciate as a concept in general still. I love a lot of the performances and actors who've taken him over the years. Burgess Meredith and Danny DeVito are some of my favorite performers of all time, Paul Williams has a wonderful voice and starred in my favorite film of all time. Tom Kenny, David Ogden Stiers, Robin Lord Taylor, Penguin's just had such great, terrific performances and adaptations. Batman Returns is my favorite Batman film by far and it was what got me to start paying more attention to Oswald.

I love the roles he can play in any given Batman story and how he's managed to endure all of his falls from grace by becoming an indispensable part of Batman's worldbuilding. I love his varied dynamics with Batman and Riddler and Catwoman and Gordon and his henchmen and those who get close to him. I love his style and the way he conducts himself when he's allowed to be more than just a generic mob boss. Penguin's design has, by simply staying unchanged over the decades, gone from "common rich person wear draped over a funny cartoon gangster" to "he is so out of touch and desperate for respectability that he dresses like an 1930s capitalist caricature, like a little kid's idea of what a rich and respectable man looks like, and Penguin's still stuck in that mindset". I love how absurd and plausible he is.

I like that Penguin can very easily fit just about any kind of Batman story, from the campy supervillain plots to the gritty urban crime ones. You can tell stories about Penguin falling in love, pretending to be legit because he doesn't want his aunt to learn he's a criminal, and opening up a comedy act with a talking penguin, or stories about Penguin terrorizing the city with giant robots and guided missiles and driving people to suicide. I like that he's a character who both relishes in his lifestyles of supervillain and crimelord alike, and yet is perpetually restless because the minute he acquires what he wants, he immediately starts wanting something else. He could have Batman and the Batfamily and all other supervillains wiped out and have Gotham in his pocket and maybe even become President of the United States, and he'd still want more. Because Oswald is nothing but wants, the wants of a traumatized manchild in a funny costume throwing money and toys and brute force and tantrums at the world until it makes sense, which only makes him far too fitting as a Batman villain.

Everyone forgets that Penguin was canonically the first villain to ever successfully escape Batman at the end of a story, completely bypassing the usual "villain swears revenge behind bars" ending to instead escape scot-free, and went on to establish himself as one of his biggest, most inventive and most cunning villains, second only, if not equal, to Joker. I love that he's ruthless and inventive and classy and cunning and brutal and how his main trick is using the fact that everyone underestimates the short fat man to his advantage. He's taken traits that got many of us in real life relentlessly tormented for them, and he uses them to pull the wool over those who think they are better than him.

It'ss a trick that works because even in real life people can't stop looking at this weird and silly little man and think "that guy's too silly for a Batman villain, he's not a murder clown or musclebound monster, what's he gonna do" and, yeah, that's the point, that's been the point from day one, he doesn't look scary or intimidating or even that evil, and he's the guy who pulls the rug under supergenius fighting machine Batman and becomes the top crimelord of Gotham City, a city ruled by terrors and manias and monsters infinitely bigger and scarier and stronger than he is, and he STILL made it to the top and he STILL maintains it, time and time again even when newer and flashier and scarier villains come and go. Batman is, at it's core, a fundamentally absurd character, and Penguin acts as a reminder of that. Because the minute we accept a man can terraform himself with training and money into a living legend on the level of gods, there's no reason why a tiny fat man with similar drive and resources can't likewise throw his weight with monsters and warriors far above his station.

Despite how ridiculously often he's disrespected by writers and fans alike, how far he's fallen off his former position in Batman's Rogues Gallery, and how often he's used as just a punching bag for assorted Bat-people, Penguin never goes away. He's the biggest survivor of all of Batman's villains, more so than the genuinely immortal ones, because he's the cockroach that won't go away no matter how many times you flush it.

Because once you get past the piles of money and the lounge fortresses and the armies of goons and the piles of cartoony gadget toys not too dissimilar from Batman's own, what the Penguin has is brains, and spite and hatred on a scale no other Batman villain has. He hates Batman, because Batman is nothing but yet another bully who thinks he can push Oswald around just because he's bigger and stronger. He hates the lower class for it's unsophisticated brutes and boors that made his childhood hell. He hates the upper class that's rejected and also tormented him since infancy, that he desperately spent so long trying to be a part of. He hates the monsters and supervillains he works with and has to associate with to stay alive. He hates the city that he fights to rule over tooth and nail.

And although he may never admit it, he hates himself, because he'a short paunchy man with a beakish nose who's brutal and immoral not just because those are the cards life dealt him, but because he likes what it affords him too much to give it away. Because he's never going to have the love and acceptance he desperately craves, he will never be able to accept it or keep it. Because he can never fully be a gentleman, or a monster, but instead a sad mix who belongs in neither of their worlds. Because at the end, he doesn't look like anyone else. He looks like one of him.

And still, I like Penguin because he's a Gentleman Villain. The one Gentleman Villain of Batman's rogues gallery, even if that's faded from a lot of his recent appearences that pushed the crimelord aspects to the forefront. He dresses like a gentleman thief, he's canonically a huge A.J Raffles fan, he's one of the most cunning brains of Gotham, he's got the money, resources, and adventurous spirit. Problem is, he's The Penguin. And suddenly, all that he has becomes overblown, outlandish, theatrical, and out of touch purely because it's him trying to do all those things. He's a gentleman adventurer gone rogue, the Count Fosco of the DCU, and that only makes it amusing, even endearing, when Penguin does engage in the swashbuckling antics he's so fond of.

When all his plans go to hell and so he starts fencing Batman, or when he commands henchmen with superflous fancy language, or even when Oswald gives the whole "hero" thing a shot and we see he's actually not bad at it, maybe he actually could have been one if it wasn't for the bile drowning his heart and the hellscape that warped innocent young Cobblepot into Gotham's Penguin, a name that immediately denotes something silly and ridiculous, and he carries it with pride, because he will make you respect that name.

And that's just a couple of reasons. I really, really love this character to the point of obsession and the main reason why I ever wanted to write stories for DC was to get to write Penguin and at least try to do the character a little more justice. But if nothing else, Penguin endures, regardless of what happens to him, in and out of universe. If nothing else, that's a very admirable quality in a supervillain. Oswald is the best.

#replies tag #comic books #batman #batman villains #the penguin #oswald cobblepot

512 notes · View notes

eliemo · 3 years

Text

What Matters

Summary: It’s not that Virgil thought the dream would ever become a reality. It’s just that sometimes, it’s nice to see the flaws in his logic laid out plainly in front of him.

Notes: past abuse mention, past violence mention, nightmares, sympathetic dark sides and light sides

Taglist: @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @mygenderisidiot @a-very-gay-raccoon @dawnfire7 @cr4zyart @ray-does-stuff @whydoifeeltheneedtoorganizestuff @bunny222 @the-blue-recluse @bisexualdisaster106 @basilthefourth @snowtrashowl @thefingergunsgirl @trashtm @stubbornness-and-spite @kieraelieson @alias290 @darkch1ld @craz-ewaters @damy-02 @frogdog145 @gattonero17 @madamedraconis @stoicpanther @@love-to-read02 @that-spider-fan-over-there @thatoneloudowl @rich-flower-17 @demigodbookdragon @i-gobymanynames

Masterpost

Virgil stumbled into the hallway, shivering under the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, breaths coming in panicked, shuddering gasps as tears blurred his vision.

“It was an experiment, Virgil.”

“It seems the others were onto something, after all.”

Logan’s voice kept ringing in his ears (it wasn’t Logan’s voice, he knew that. He knew Logan would never say those things), cold and calculating, but smiling through the nightmare, relieved for things to finally return to how they were supposed to be.

It was a dream. Just a stupid, stupid dream that his idiotic brain had decided to torture him with tonight.

He’d never...had a dream like this before.

Virgil paused at the top of the stairs, hesitating with his arms wrapped around himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to decide what to do.

He knew it was ok to get someone after a nightmare. The others had practically insisted after they had learned how frequently he had them.

They all helped in their own way. Patton would chase away memories of the past, holding him close with promises that he was safe, that he would never be trapped again.

Roman offered distractions from his fears, colorful stories and grand reassurances, the prince swearing to fight off anything that might threaten his safety.

And Logan...Logan brought him back to reality. Logan calmed him down, grounded him, reminded him where and who he was. He pushed aside irrational fears and worries with his usual logic, his reasoning slowly putting Virgil’s racing mind at ease.

Logan was who he should go to now, after his dreams had warped reality, made him question his own safety in the waking world.

But...

A flash of pain, a hand grabbing the collar of his shirt and slamming him to the wall, hard enough to leave him wheezing.

It hadn’t been Logan. Logan would never. He’d promised, and proved his good intentions time and time again. Virgil wouldn’t be where he was without the logical side’s help through his recovery.

He trusted Logan. He loved him- he loved all of them more than he knew how to say. He owed them everything. So there was no reason his stupid brain should come up with something so horrific.

The things he’d been told hadn’t even made sense. It was just exhausted, paranoid thoughts that had unfortunately come to life in an incredibly vivid nightmare.

It was something he’d used to worry about, back when the others had first accepted him, Virgil’s terror and confusion convincing him that their kindness was fake, that they would turn around and hurt him too as soon as they were fed up.

He knew better now. They showed him every day, over and over and over again, that he was safe. That they loved him as much as he loved them. That he wasn’t the only protector in the mindscape.

That he didn’t deserve the pain. He never had.

His mind played tricks on him all the time. Hell, sometimes it liked to torment him just as much as the Others used to. He should be used to dreams like this by now. It shouldn’t be leaving him so shaken.

But the feeling had been so familiar, the dream so eerily vivid, digging up old, long buried fears. It had been confirmation that the Others had been right, that he’d deserved it all, that no one had ever actually wanted him to feel protected.

It was so stupidly unrealistic. And so, so terrifying.

He wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, held his breath to make as little noise as possible, and descended the stairs by himself.

Besides, if he told someone about this particular nightmare, he’d only end up upsetting them. They didn’t deserve that.

So that was how Virgil ended up pressed into the corner of the couch, wrapped up in a blanket and willing himself to stop his violent trembling. It was just a dream. Just a stupid, unfairly realistic dream.

He didn’t turn on the television, despite knowing the sound would help distract him. His hands refused to move, still clutching tightly at the blanket around his shoulders.

He stayed where he was, distantly aware the other sides would be up in just a few hours, staring blankly at the wall, letting the awful dream replay over and over again in his head.

The first rays of pale sunlight had begun filtering in through the mindscape’s windows by the time Virgil heard movement upstairs, the familiar creaking of someone moving through the halls.

He didn’t move, despite how his back protested the way he’d been hunched over for quite a while now, watching warily as Janus made his way downstairs.

Virgil wasn’t sure if he should be terrified or relieved, but he couldn’t help but smirk at the way Deceit did a double take when he saw the anxious side huddled up on the couch.

He knew Janus had only recently learned what had happened to Virgil, the beatings always happening when his back was turned, and since Virgil hadn’t actually been the one to say anything, he had no idea how much Deceit knew.

It still made him uneasy sometimes, the worried, guilt ridden looks he occasionally caught the snake watching him with, the glances he and Remus would share, the less than subtle attempts to give him his space.

Virgil seemed to be the only person Remus was actually careful around, the Duke sure to lower his volume and tone down his movements when the anxious side was in the room (which wasn’t saying much considering the energy Remus had, but Virgil appreciated it regardless), and ever since the panic attack in the kitchen, Virgil hadn’t seen his Morning Star anywhere in sight.

It was a work in progress, Virgil still wary and unsure around him, but the two of them were gradually learning to coexist and understand each other.

Janus was...a different story.

A blind man could see the guilt Deceit was carrying onto, the denial, shock, and anger that never seemed to give him a moment's rest.

Or maybe Virgil was just able to pick up on it because he’d gone through the exact same thing. He still was.

Deceit, self proclaimed lord of the lies, hadn’t picked up on the violence and abuse the others had put Virgil through, never once allowing himself to pick up on the little white lies thrown around to keep Virgil helpless.

And as much as he wanted to sometimes, Virgil couldn’t blame Janus. It wasn’t his fault- the others had known what they were doing, and they’d known Janus would put a stop to it the second he found out. Kicking Virgil around was a pastime they were far too invested in to lose.

But there were days when pain and sickening fear from memories that wouldn’t leave him alone, when flashbacks and nightmares and panic attacks became too much to handle, that Virgil wished, more than anything, that Janus had intervened. That he’d let himself look closer. That it all could have stopped sooner.

And he knew Janus wished the same thing. It was probably why he was awake at five in the morning looking like death warmed over.

Janus was still standing at the bottom of the stairs, and Virgil offered a shaky peace sign in greeting.

“Hey,” he said, grimacing when he realized that it absolutely looked and sounded like he’d been crying for the past hour and a half. Great. “You’re up early.”

Janus seemed to visibly regain his composure, quickly straightening his back and offering a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “Look who’s talking.”

“I’ve been up a while.”

He saw Janus frown at that, fiddling with his sleeves, uncertain. “Are you...alright? Do you want coffee?”

And yeah, that was as much of a heart to heart as either of them were going to have this early in the morning. Virgil wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk about how one of the most ridiculous nightmares he’d ever experienced had left him trembling and crying like a child afraid of the dark.

“Fuck, yes please. Go get me caffeine.”

It was enough to get a genuine smile this time, some of the tension seeping out of Deceit’s shoulders as he made his way to the kitchen.

He was fine. He was home, he was safe, and things were good. The nightmare would fade, as dreams do, and in a little bit they would all eat breakfast together like a family. Like they always did.

There was absolutely no reason he should still feel so scared. He should be looking forward to everyone waking up, not feeling like he was being led down to the gallows with every tick of the clock.

Janus was back in just a few moments, two plastic mugs in his hands, and Virgil tried to ignore the way his stomach dropped at the sudden thought of what would happen if he spilled on the couch after he was handed his drink.

Nothing. Nothing would happen and no one would be mad. God, he needed to get a hold of himself.

Nothing was going to change. And yet…

“Janus?” he asked quickly, the other side stopping in his tracks. “Where...where are you going to be today?”

He could feel Janus staring, but Virgil now kept his gaze firmly on the steaming coffee in his lap.

“My room, most likely,” he said. “I have some things to attend to today.”

“Could you-” God, this was stupid, this was so needlessly stupid. “Could you like...leave your door unlocked? Just- um...just in case?”

“Just in case...what, Virgil?”

“Y-you know.” And really, what was he supposed to answer with? Just in case he’d suddenly been granted the gift of prophetic dreams and he needed a place to hide when Logan started beating him? “Just...in case.”

He risked a glance up, relieved when there was no ridicule or annoyance in Janus’s eyes, just gentle confusion like he was trying to silently pick apart Virgil’s thoughts.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “My door isn't open if you need anything.”

It was...new, Virgil realized, having these careful, honest conversations with Janus. He wasn’t about to drop all his defenses and retell the details of his nightmare, and Deceit knew that, but they were still miles better than they’d been just a week ago.

“Thanks, Janus.”

Janus made his way back upstairs, hopefully to get some more sleep, and Virgil settled back against the couch, significantly less shaky than before. It was just a stupid dream. He’d be ok.

Virgil was aware he was being a complete asshole.

He’d made the mistake of assuming the paranoid jumpiness from his dream would fade as soon as the mindscape came to life and everything continued on as normal. He hadn’t expected it to get worse.

He was pretty sure Roman and Patton could tell something was up, but Virgil managed to plaster on a nervous smile and force himself to breathe easy as he was seated at the kitchen table, listening to Roman ramble as Patton started cooking breakfast.

And then Logan was walking in, muttering a quiet greeting, and the panic had hit full force.

Which was completely ridiculous, especially as Logan just offered him a warm, tired smile and made his way over to the pot of coffee.

It was the same Logan he saw every morning- welcoming and safe, and a very large part of the progress Virgil had made over the months.

Logan would never hurt him, nobody would...no one was going to…

“Come here, Virgil.”

There were hands grabbing at him, nails digging into his skin, overpowering and so painfully familiar.

“Virgil!”

“Virgil?” Logan was looking at him now, brow pinched, and suddenly they were all staring at him and Virgil couldn’t breathe- when had it become so hard to breathe?

He stood up from the table, the chair scraping against the floor and nearly tipping over in his rush, stuffing his hands deep into his hoodie pockets to hide the way they were shaking.

“I- uhm, I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t have any other excuses. No good ones at least. But the panic was wrapping around him like a vice, cold, cruel hands squeezing his neck, and Logan was taking a cautious step towards him--

Virgil sank out without another word, his mind momentarily set back to the old, terrifying mindset, screaming at him to get out, to run and hide before someone grabbed him…

God, what was wrong with him?

He ended up locking himself in his bathroom, turning on the sink so the rushing water would drown out his rapid, panicked breathing, turning harshly away from his reflection in the mirror.

He was fine, he was fine, he was...trying really hard not to plan out escape routes and hiding spots in his head.

It was an old habit that had practically been second nature to him before living with the light sides, and even a few weeks after. It had helped him feel at ease, pinpointing places he could keep himself hidden and out of the way, even if it often proved to be pointless.

It was how he’d ended up in the closet, covered in blood with shards of glass coating his skin, so deep in his panic he’d been convinced his family was hurting him.

He couldn’t risk falling back into old habits. Not now, when he’d been making so much progress. Not over something as meaningless as a dream.

But he couldn’t bring himself to leave the bathroom. Not when so many eyes would be on him the second he stepped back into the kitchen.

So he took extra time to do his makeup, layering on black eyeshadow to cover up how utterly exhausted he looked from his restless night, and took another few moments to stare blankly at the wall when he still wasn’t quite ready to come out.

When Patton came to check on him, Virgil blamed it on a bit of queasiness and promised to eat something later.

The guilt became suffocating when he realized the panic didn’t return with Patton’s voice, but it definitely was back with a vengeance when he heard Logan walk down the hallway a few moments later.

Logan didn’t deserve this. Everything the logical side had done for him, the endless patience, assistance, and careful compassion, and Virgil was right back to being a pathetic mess.

So maybe that was why he didn’t bother to be subtle about trying to avoid Logan for the rest of the day. Besides, even if he did try to hide his uneasiness, the logical side was always able to pick up on the little things. It would just be a wasted effort.

Virgil stayed cooped up in his room as much as he could, blasting music in his headphones to drown out any sounds.

When he did leave (at Patton’s gentle insistence that he eat something for lunch) he was sure to never end up in the same room as Logan, quickly retreating or sinking out whenever the logical side walked in. He resolutely ignored the twisting guilt in his gut at Logan’s small frowns when Virigl would blurt out some half hearted, see-through excuse each time.

He just needed a day or two. Just a little bit of time for the residual panic to fade and for things to go back to normal. It wasn’t logical, maybe, but...Logan would understand if he knew.

Except he wouldn’t, and that was part of the problem, wasn’t it?

Virgil was well aware how difficult he was to deal with, especially earlier on. Logan had sacrificed so much time and effort to teach him, and the others, how to gradually undo the mindset Virgil had been conditioned to have.

All that work, all that trust, and Virgil was letting one night of nightmares influence him more than any of it. Logan...Logan would probably be furious with him.

But not enough to hurt him. Never enough to hurt him.

Virgil wasn’t...afraid of Logan. Despite proving the exact opposite every time he so much as caught a glimpse of the logical side today, Virgil was still coherent enough to know Logan wasn’t going to turn his back on a year’s worth of progress to strike him.

It was just...instinct taking over. Besides, in the nightmare, Logan’s reasoning for needing to hurt Virgil hadn’t been completely unreasonable.

Hell, before Logan had explained otherwise, Virgil had thought it was totally understandable that he needed to be hurt. He hated it, but it helped Thomas. That was a fact.

And like Logan always said, numbers didn’t lie. If Virgil being in pain was beneficial, then Virgil would stay in pain.

But Logan had been the first one to tell him that was false. He’d been the one to lay out the real facts and evidence to show how Virgil hurting would only worsen Thomas’s health, and his own.

They’d all helped Virgil realize, for the first time, that he never should have been hurt. He’d never deserved it. Any of it.

That was why he just needed to wait it out. He couldn’t talk this one out with the others, couldn’t face Logan just yet. It would just end up hurting him (that was what Virgil did best, after all) and Logan didn’t deserve that.

Unfortunately, Virgil was starting to really wish he’d had the courage to ask for reassurance when the sky grew dark and the mindscape quieted, and he quickly realized he was far too on edge to go to bed.

He was right back on the couch where he’d started the day, somehow even more jumpy and paranoid than he’d been that morning. He stared blankly at his phone, wondering if the dream would return if he fell asleep.

Great. He’d probably be pulling an all-nighter. Maybe multiple if he couldn’t get a grip. Patton was going to kill him when he found out.

“Virgil?”

Virgil’s anxiety skyrocketed at the voice from the staircase, breath catching in his throat as he dug his nails into the couch cushions. He didn’t look up, even as he felt Logan’s eyes on him, completely frozen under the weight of his gaze.

“Virgil,” Logan said again, steady and emotionless, impossible to read. “May I speak with you?”

Virgil’s heart was beating in his now tightening chest, and he furiously told himself to calm down. But his body wasn’t cooperating with his mind, panic overpowering reason, and Virgil desperately searched for an excuse before Logan could realize how terrified he was.

“I- um...I was just heading to bed, so--”

“I only require a moment of your time,” Logan said. “As you usually sleep at a much later hour than this, I’m sure that won't be an issue.”

Virgil took a shaky breath, wincing when he realized how obviously unsettled he must look. Logan didn’t sound angry, but...well, it was always so hard to tell.

But there wasn’t a way out. He just hoped he could play it off long enough for Logan to give up. “Ok. Yeah, what’s...what’s up.”

He tried not to think about how eerily similar this was to the nightmare. How Logan had calmly asked to speak with him. How he’d pulled out his notebook and presented neatly recorded data of Virgil’s health paralleled with Thomas’s.

“It seems Thomas’s productivity has only decreased since we began treating you as an equal, Virgil.”

“It seems the Others were right, your pain does make life easier.”

“We will, of course, have to return to that method. You understand, I’m sure.”

Virgil resisted the urge to flinch as Logan sat down at the other end of the couch, careful to keep his distance.

He wrapped his arms around himself, shuddering under the phantom feeling of hands grabbing him, so tight it bruised his skin, both from nightmares and memories he could never let go of.

“You’ve been avoiding me today.”

Virgil did flinch this time, curling into a tighter ball. “N-no I haven’t.”

Yeah, that was convincing. He could practically picture the exasperated eye roll Janus would give him if he were here. He kind of wished someone else would show up- anything to cause a distraction.

Logan wasn’t here to hurt him. Logan would never hurt him. No one would hurt him.

“I can...see my presence is causing you some distress,” Logan said, and Virgil felt like crying. “I do not wish to force you to speak with me, but I’ve clearly done something to trigger a reaction.”

He paused, obviously waiting for some kind of response or confirmation. Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, and Logan sighed before continuing.

“It was never my intention to do anything to upset you. As is always the case, I only wish to identify the trigger so it does not happen again, and offer my sincere apologies. But I cannot do that if you won’t talk to me, Virgil.”

God, why couldn’t Logan just be angry? He wouldn’t go back for anything in the world, but sometimes…

Sometimes it felt like being screamed at, punched and kicked and thrown around until he couldn’t move had been easier. At least then, he knew what to expect.

Nobody had cared about him back then. And now...now Logan, Patton, Roman, Janus, and even Remus just wanted him to be ok. It scared him sometimes, how much he loved them.

“It...it’s not that,” Virgil said, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s...fuck, you didn’t do anything Logan. You...you’re fine.”

Logan was silent a moment before responding. “I find that hard to believe. You are currently under visible distress, which didn’t begin until after I made my presence known. This has happened every time I have walked into the room today. You skipped breakfast after I--”

“Look, I’m sorry, ok?” Virgil winced at his own outburst, now looking anywhere but at Logan. God, why was he always such an asshole? “I’m...sorry. I’m really sorry I didn’t mean to...it’s just me, ok? I’m being stupid like always and--”

“You are not stupid,” Logan cut in, that stern but gentle tone he always used to talk Virgil out of a self deprecating spiral. “You tend to overthink and jump to often unrealistic conclusions, but as I have told you many times that does not change how intelligent and thoughtful you are.”

Virgil shrugged, the praise just making him feel more guilty about what he was putting the logical side through. “I’m still being stupid, though.”

“Falsehood. Something has frightened you, and clearly I am at the source. I only wish to assist.”

Well. Now he was going to have to tell Logan. Even if he was upset afterwards, annoyance was far better than Logan walking around, weighed down by guilt and blaming himself for something he didn’t do.

But apparently Virgil hesitated just a second too long, and Logan was suddenly speaking again.

“Perhaps we can try a different approach,” he offered. “Could you...explain why you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Virgil took a shaky breath. “You’re...gonna be mad.”

“At you?” Logan asked, and Virgil nodded. “I sincerely doubt that. Why do you believe I’m going to be angry?”

Virgil hunched over himself, and suddenly everything came spilling out. “Because...because you’ve done so much. I owe you all everything and I still...I’m still letting myself panic over a stupid fucking dream. After everything! And you...you don't deserve that. I-I’m sorry for avoiding you I didn’t mean to- to make you think--”

There was a hand on his shoulder, barely brushing the cloth of his hoodie, but Virgil still flinched back before he could stop himself, and Logan quickly pulled away.

“Sorry,” Virgil muttered. “I- I’m not--”

“No apologies necessary,” Logan said, sounding much more calm than Virgil would have expected. “There’s no shame in being affected by a particularly bad dream.”

Virgil scoffed, glancing up just enough to see Logan’s worried frown. “Sure.”

“I mean it, Virgil. Especially considering your past. I understand if a vivid nightmare was enough for you to revert back to an old mindset. Staying vigilant and avoiding threats is what kept you safe back then, isn’t it?”

Safe was a strong word- he had never really been safe before, but...avoidance had been a survival technique. If he thought someone was angry, the only thing he could do was stay out of their way and hide.

“But it’s you,” he argued. “I...it was so stupid you- you were saying that they were right. When...when they said that hurting me helped Thomas, and then...and then you showed me all this- this fucking data or whatever that me being safe hurt everyone and I...y-you all said I had to go back to how it was and I…”

He trailed off, face burning when a few traitorous tears slipped down his cheeks, and he furiously wiped them away with his sleeves, breathing deeply.

“Virgil--”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. “I’m...I know it’s dumb, ok? It’s just a stupid dream and you would never...I mean, if any of that was true you would have said something months ago, right?”

For the first time, he looked up to meet Logan’s gaze, suddenly finding himself speechless at the sheer amount of emotion behind his glasses. Warm but worried, calculating and understanding.

And then, slowly, he was standing from the couch. “Please wait here just a moment, Virgil. I believe there is something you should see.”

And then just like that he was gone, hurrying up the stairs without another word. For just a second, Virgil considered retreating, and apologizing for this entire conversation tomorrow when he was more put together.

But he didn’t need to make this any more unfair for Logan than it already was. Besides, the logical side was back in less than a minute, something held tight in his hand as he returned to his spot on the couch.

“What’s that?” Virgil asked, hoping his voice didn’t betray just how sickeningly nervous he felt.

Logan held it out to him, slow enough that Virgil didn’t flinch at the movement. He took it in his hands, realizing it was a plain black spiral notebook, and his heart clawed its way up to his throat.

“What’s--?”

“Flip through it, please,” Logan said calmly. “I believe you’ll find it interesting. And it may do something to set your mind at ease.”

So far it was doing the exact opposite, but Virgil obeyed and slowly began turning the pages.

It was clearly well-used, the some of the pages bent or wrinkled, but other than that it was still pristine and organized like everything that belonged to Logan.

Some pages had hand drawn graphs or what looked like data tables, others had written entries in Logan’s writing. Virgil skimmed through them, catching glimpses of his name, and occasionally the other’s, all of the descriptions of events and conversations vaguely familiar.

He had...absolutely no idea what the hell this was.

And Logan apparently picked up on that, the logical side suddenly clearing his throat and scooting closer, still far enough away for the couch to not feel crowded.

“It’s, uhm...well, you see when we had first learned of your past I wanted to ensure that we found the best methods to help you feel...safe. And at home. I suppose I should have told you, I completely understand if you’re--”

“Wait a second,” Virgil said, the pieces falling together. “This is...you kept notes on me? On...my recovery?”

It was Logan’s turn to avoid his gaze now, and Virgil’s heart sank when he realized Logan looked nervous.

“I apologize if it is invasive,” he said quickly. “It wasn’t my intention. It’s a bit of a habit, I suppose. I tend to take extensive notes on things I find...important. And finding the best way to help you was incredibly important to me, Virgil.”

Virgil felt like crying again, but for an entirely different reason this time. “Lo, that’s...god, that’s so fucking sweet.”

Logan’s head snapped up, eyes widening when he saw Virgil’s widening smile. “I- you believe so?”

“Dude, are you kidding? I’ve never...sometimes I just...can’t believe how much you guys care.”

Logan matched his smile, and carefully, slowly enough that Virgil could pull away, scooted closer to see the open notebook.

“I’ve been sure to document all of your progress at least once a week, no matter how small. And there has been a lot of it, even if you don’t always think so.”

“Logan--”

“But the reason I wanted you to see this today,” he continued, reaching over to turn a few pages. “Is because I occasionally compare your progress to Thomas’s productivity and overall wellbeing.”

Virgil had absolutely no idea what the graphs and symbols Logan was pointing at meant, but the other side was right there to explain it to him.

“Your progress, as well as how safe you began to feel around us, directly parallels Thomas's increased mental health. You being safe and healthy makes him better, Virgil. You being happy makes us better.”

And...yeah, there was absolutely no way for Virgil to stop himself from crying this time. He didn’t really have any intention to stop, anyway. It was a nice change of pace to cry from happiness for once.

Logan, unfortunately didn’t seem to know the difference. “I am...so sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

Virgil cut him off by pulling him into a hug, holding on tight and squeezing his eyes shut. Logan relaxed against him, and slowly moved to wrap his arms around Virgil’s back.

“I was going to offer you space and time to recuperate,” Logan said, and Virgil tightened his grip. “I’m pleased to see you are considerably less afraid of me now.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Virgil said quickly, not yet ready to pull away. “I’m not...and I wasn’t, I promise I just...my stupid brain is always--”

“Your brain is not stupid,” Logan chided, and Virgil dropped his arms when he pulled back. “It’s had to learn to keep you alive under very unfortunate circumstances. It’s a survivor.”

Virgil snorted, despite the way his chest felt light at the words. “I mean...I guess so.”

Logan leaned back against the couch, the notebook still open in between them, and he drummed his fingers against his thigh before speaking again.

“Something I need you to understand,” he said. “Is that in the grand scheme of things, the contents of this notebook don’t matter.”

“But it’s--”

“We were correct in assuming that helping you would, in turn, help Thomas. But even if we were wrong, it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter if there were benefits, and it wouldn’t matter if keeping you safe negatively affected Thomas. You would never, ever be struck. You would never be beaten or grabbed or screamed at or threatened. No matter the situation. It would never be an option to us.”

There it was again, like he’d heard so many times before but so, so much more intense tonight. The compassion, the dedication, the emotions Logan denied while feeling so strongly.

Virgil blinked away a new wave of tears. “I...I don’t ever want to hurt Thomas.”

“Then it is a good thing this is only hypothetical,” Logan said. “You very clearly do no such thing. I only wanted you to understand that no matter the circumstances, your place with us will never change. You will never have any reason to fear for your safety again.”

Virgil didn’t know how Logan did it, how the side who claimed to be the most alienated when it came to emotional responses, always seemed to be able to make everything right.

The jumpiness and awful paranoia had already almost completely faded, leaving behind a soft blanket of soft fatigue.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, and Logan smiled.

“Of course. I’ll remind you any time you need. Would you like to be alone, or would you like to stay with me tonight?”

Virgil smiled, wiping his eyes again. “Can I stay? Please?”

Logan reached out a hand, his own smile gentle and warm, and Virgil knew they’d both be passed out to some old space documentary like they usually did when Virgil had a bad dream.

“Of course, Virgil.”

449 notes · View notes

mimisempai · 3 years

Text

Do you really care for me or is it just a trick?

Summary:

Loki, destabilized by the versatile behavior of Mobius, can't figure out if the man really cares about him or if Loki is just a means to an end for him.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32050993

1392 words - Rating G

"Look, I know you have a soft spot for broken things."

Loki, with his head pressed against the door, managed to hear a few fragments of the conversation between Mobius and Ravonna, the judge of the TVA who seemed to be his superior.

"But Loki is an evil, lying scourge.

Loki couldn't even blame her for saying that, she was just one in a long list of people who thought they knew him.

"That is the part he plays on the Sacred Timeline."

Especially since for this "world" -he didn't even know what to call it- it was apparently his destiny. So here even less than anywhere else, no one would try to find out if he was someone else.

"Maybe he wants to mix it up."

Until this particular odd man.

The first person to question his destiny.

Loki didn't understand Mobius. He seemed convinced that Loki was someone else and yet believed hard that the Time Keepers and all that crap was real.

Mobius was to Loki a strange mixture of candor and trickery.

He had never met anyone like that.

"Sometimes you get tired of playing the same part."

If he only knew...

Hearing nothing more distinct, Loki returned to sit where Mobius had left him.

He had to admit that once again the man had read him perfectly, and that scared him a little. No one until now had really been able to see beyond his antics.

He had to try to take control, he couldn't let anyone see his flaws. The other man had already seen too much.

So when Mobius came out of his superior's office, Loki went straight on the attack.

He jumped around the advancing man and tried to lock him in a stream of words, "You're probably wondering what happened out on the mission. That was your first lesson in catching a Loki. Half the fun of being a trickster is knowing everyone knows you're a trickster, and then, many of your tricks can come from exploiting the fact that you know that they know..."

Mobius raised his arms to stop him, "Okay. Just… just shut up!"

Oh, this was getting interesting, for the first time, the man was breaking out of his smile and showed an uncontrolled emotion.

Oblivious to what was going on in Loki's head, he continued, "Please. What happened to the guy I met on the elevator? Who didn't like to talk. Remember him? Now I'm stuck with this guy who won't stop yacking away about what makes a Loki tick!"

What a hypocrite, he was the one who had told him that he wanted to know what makes a Loki tick. And now that he had it, he didn't want it anymore?

Loki asked him, "What? Isn't that precisely why I'm here?"

Mobius, annoyed, replied, "No. I don't care what makes you tick. You're here to help me catch the superior version of yourself."

This was it.

Loki should have known better.

It had been another smoke and mirrors. Mobius had only told him that, made him think he was interested in Loki, to achieve his goal. Loki was only a means to an end.

He wouldn't show him. Loki wouldn't show him that he was troubled.

Mobius added to make his point,"That's it!"

Loki tried to stop him, "Hang on. I'm not sure 'superior' is actually quite the right word."

They stopped in front of the elevator, face to face.

Mobius got even more annoyed and retorted, "See? There it is. Right there. I believed, stupidly, that insecure need for validation would motivate you to find the killer. Not 'cause you care about the TVA mission or bein' a hero, but because you know this Variant is better than you and you can't take it."

Wow, talk about a low blow.

Loki smiled, deceptively of course and replied, "Very nice."

Then he approached Mobius, and adjusted the man's tie as he spoke, "I mean, it is adorable that you think you could possibly manipulate me. I'm ten steps ahead of you. I've been playing a game of my own all along."

If Mobius believed that he was Loki as the world saw him, willing to whore himself out to get what he wanted, well, he'd let him believe it.

Mobius replied, that familiar smirk on his lips, "What, charm your way in front of the Time-Keepers, hustle them, and seize control of the TVA?"

Well done Loki. Mobius has proven to you once again that men and gods are all the same.They don't care who you are, they just want to fool you. You are not disappointed.

"Am I getting warm? A double cross by history's most reliable liar." Mobius added while going to call the elevator.

However, in spite of all this, something didn't add up. If Loki was just a means to an end for Mobius, then why bother defending him like that in front of Ravonna?

Loki couldn't help but ask him, "Okay. Why are you in there sticking your neck out for me?"

Mobius came back to him and replied vehemently, "I'll give you two options, and you can believe whichever one you want. A, because I see a scared little boy shivering in the cold. And you kinda feel bad for that ice runt. Or B, I just wanna catch this guy, and I'll tell you whatever I need to tell you."

Wow, when Mobius was pissed, he didn't mince words. But no matter how much it hurt, no matter how condescending it sounded, Loki wanted to believe in answer A. To believe that, as Loki thought just before, Mobius was the person who was able to see who Loki was.

But that meant doing something Loki had never done.

Trusting.

As the elevator doors closed, he couldn't help but make another brash statement, "I don't need your sympathy," because he wasn't going to be pitied.

Mobius replied in a tired tone, "Good, 'cause I'm runnin' out of it."

Loki continued on, "I have a tendency to provoke this reaction in-"

"Oh once again, shut up!"

Loki replied with a mocking smile on his lips, "Make me."

And it was as if a dam broke in Mobius.

He grabbed Loki's tie to pull him to him and before the god had time to wonder what he was doing, Mobius leaned in and placed his lips against Loki's.

The kiss was sweet but messy, their lips moved together repeatedly, both coordinated and chaotic. Just like them.

Mobius didn't pull back until Loki grabbed the front of his shirt and squeezed the fabric in both hands. Mobius looked at him and couldn't help but laugh as they bumped noses together, a flush spread across Loki's cheeks and nose, which contrasted with the paleness of his skin in the dim light of the elevator.

Loki stared at him with wide eyes and a stunned look.

It seemed that Mobius had succeeded in silencing him.

Mobius let go of him, smiled, and went out the doors that had just opened.

Loki held him back by the sleeve.

"Wait, what was that for?"

Mobius put a finger over Loki's mouth before telling him, "Well, you asked me to make you shut up, mission completed."

Loki lost his smile and asked in a lower voice, "Was it just for that reason?"

Mobius pushed a strand of Loki's hair behind his ear, then as he walked back, he replied in a mysterious tone, "Who knows?"

Loki ran behind him until he was walking beside him, closer than before.

"You know that's not going to stop me from talking, right?"

He knew he was trying to hold on to a twig, but he couldn't help but hope.

Mobius turned his head towards him and said, a playful sparkle in his eyes, "I sure hope so, the more you talk, the more I'm going to want to shut you up, and now that I know how, I'm not going to stop myself from doing it."

"And that' s me the God of Mischief...?!!"

Loki rolled his eyes, but his smile wouldn't fool anyone, and it didn't fool Mobius, who just gave him a little nudge with his shoulder.

So for now, Loki decided to let go, just a little, to let hope take a little place in his heart.

________

The whole serie here : The story of Loki and Mobius

Not beta'd

I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

#loki #mobius m mobius #lokius #loki x mobius #getting together #sort of #shut up - make me #loki spoilers

62 notes · View notes

why-this-kolaveri-machi · 3 years

Text

it’s a fucking metaphor!

Titans 3.08

i’ve finally gathered the mental and emotional resources to do this thing, so let’s go! as always, i’m typing this up as i see the episode.

SPOILERS AHEAD

1. on watching this opening scene, i was thinking back to how gar was in s1, or even the early bits of s2. the way he idolised the others, particularly dick, and his readiness to go along with whatever they said, and the way he practically bled the need for acceptance. and here he is now, openly defying dick, fully open to and aware of the flaws of the people he loves and admires, knowing he is accepted no matter what and extending that generosity elsewhere. it’s a remarkable bit of character growth that’s... sort of blossomed in the background and so rewarding to see and acknowledge.

1.25. i guess what i really love about this conflict over how to respond to jason--as clumsily as it is sometimes written--is how their histories and individual traumas inform each character’s reaction. dick is torn between his guilt over what’s become of jason and his drive to do what batman had essentially given up on doing: he is motivated to track down red hood at all costs but there’s a sense that he’s not completely sold on the idea that the only way to stop him is to kill him. (he might go the comics route and try to put him in arkham? god, imagine if the season ended with jason in arkham.) kory’s never had much of a connection with jason in the first place, and jason has done one of the worst things he could do in her book: track and kill a member of her newfound family and is threatening to kill more.

and gar... sure. look. the idea of jason and red hood as separate entities appeals to him; that red hood emerged when jason was drugged to the gills by scarecrow and lost his usual inhibitions. gar’s struggled with what he becomes when he’s pushed to his limits, too--he did rip open that experimenting scientist with his teeth way back in 1.07, after all, and he was brainwashed by cadmus in s2 into becoming a literal monster. he needs to think, to know, there’s a dichotomy, a line that can only be crossed under extreme duress or by outside influence.

and he says--and we say--that he was accepted back into the titans in spite of what he’d done, but was he really? gar’s always struggled with his footing in this group; relegated to the caretaker, the tech guy, the gatekeeper, and sometimes punching bag even though everybody’s paying lip service to how much of a family they all are. perhaps gar reaching out to jason and offering acceptance is aspirational on his part: perhaps this is the effort he hoped the titans put/or will put into getting gar back, even when it would seem like he’s too far gone.

1.5. anyway my point is that i don’t think it’s worth discussing this in terms of right/wrong decisions because all of their reactions make a lot of sense given their backgrounds/personalities. gar is doing a fine job here of tracking down jason’s friends and trying to find him that way, but we the audience know that jason is ultimately going to end up an anti-hero/eventually-hero character, so with that knowledge in mind we know that gar’s reaction is the right one. it’s knowledge that the other characters don’t have, so to judge them on it is... uh, unfair.

1.8. also, molly is awesome, yay!

2. dick and barbara flirting over the phone is so cute! i love to see this side of dick: lighter, peppier, willing (even if somewhat reluctantly) to put his mission aside to go out on a date with his girlfriend. and i love how easy this makes his dynamic with kory too: it’s all very domestic and utterly delightful.

(also, re: the water leak in barbara’s office--you’re saying GCPD could afford fancy-schmancy table-wide touch screen computers and evil-lair lighting but needs its frickin’ commissioner to catch leaking water from above her desk with mugs and fishbowls????)

2.2225. this is probably a teeny tiny thing and i’m not sure i want to bring it up at all BUT. the fact that dick feels compelled to lie to barbara about not liking fancy gala food and eating something more substantial before the date? not a terribly great sign, though i wouldn’t call it a red flag per se.

“this from a man who forced his students to eat cauliflower crust pizza...”

3. so.... conner and kom are a Thing. huh.

in theory i really like the idea of them bonding over an innate alien-ness and longing for a place they could really belong. both of them are alien twice-over: conner a mix of kryptonian and human, practically generated in a test tube, and kom being somebody that was born different and rejected by her own people, now stuck on a planet dominated by an entirely different species. i even like them exploring this bond physically. i guess it’s the sense of... uneasiness around what we do and don’t know about kom that makes this scene land slightly left of centre to me. i think titans, especially through s2, has cultivated in its audience a sense of distrust even until the final episode, just in case somebody vital to the season is suddenly revealed to have had ulterior motives (i’m even low-key suspicious of leslie). i really want to see this kom-conner dynamic play out but the anticipation of watching the other shoe drop is sucking out the enjoyment.

4. for fuck’s sake dick, gar’s not your gatekeeper.

TIIIIIIIIMMMMM \O/

4.5. i love this nod to tim’s origins in the comics, the way he just comes in and lays out all his evidence and makes it clear to dick that he needs tim’s help as robin. the fact that he was there at the flying graysons’ last performance, he was obsessed with their acrobatic moves, and was observant enough to connect those moves with that of robin and later nightwing... all of this came together to put him where he is right now.

(i also love how he can’t contain his giddy excitement when talking about the day dick grayson’s parents died... to dick grayson. even if dick weren’t nightwing, that would be a deeply uncomfortable thing! yet tim can’t help himself, and i love him for it.)

4.8. it’s a testament to how much dick’s caught off-guard that he can’t come up with a better response to tim’s allegations other than “uh... he stole my moves! as you know, no two gymnasts in the world are allowed to do the same moves. now, let me escort you out while pretending poorly that i’m not at all shaken by this...”

4.9. i’ve talked about this before, but i find the logic around secret identities in this universe utterly fascinating. the titans don’t make much effort in keeping their identities secret: everybody seems to know that kory is starfire for instance, or that gar is beast boy. dick grayson is seen hanging out with kory a lot, especially at crime scenes. it won’t take a lot of sleuthing to find out that the titans are currently camped out at wayne manor, and to put two and two together.

my theory was that superheroes and villains have become such an integral part of daily society that it’s almost not worth it to seek out their secret identities, or that it’s just not a big deal anymore. like politicians or diplomats, not everybody bothers to look into who exactly their local politician is, but the people who know just... know. it’s a sort of unspoken social contract.

tim’s broken this contract by confronting dick about his identity, and dick’s not ready to deal with it. not entirely.

look at him! *pinches his cheeks*

5. ngl, it was quite satisfying to see jason knock the scarecrow out like that.

5.5. i guess... the question of jason’s culpability is always going to be a thorny one and would make for a great courtroom drama spinoff. there are a number of factors to consider: jason’s personality, the rough circumstances under which he grew up, his undoubtedly stressful transition to being robin, bruce wayne being... well, bruce wayne, never feeling accepted by the titans and having most of them turn on him, being roundly defeated and almost killed by deathstroke, alfred’s death, a fuckload of ptsd, his violent death, crane’s manipulations, coming back to life, crane plying him with a drug. but there is no easy line to draw between any of these factors to his actions. i think it would be a disservice to jason’s character to attribute his actions entirely to these things and rather irresponsible to do so. i think jason has to reckon with the fact that when he took crane’s drug, he wasn’t reckless and chaotic like the thugs he gave it to; the planning that went into hank’s death was meticulous and the way hank died--dawn essentially tricked into pulling the trigger that blew her lover into bits--is so drawn out and cruel.

5.75. it’s occurring to me that crane might have given jason a placebo. maybe jason’s dependence is psychological, and he’s externalised his fears in such a way that he believes crane’s drugs literally wipe them out, however temporarily.

in any case, the boy needs (more) therapy.

6. “he walked like robin...” fuck, tim

“gait recognition sweep” god, this show. i don’t know whether to laugh or cry. hey, once we’re done doing this gait recognition thingy, can we get a goddamn plumber in the house??? or move the commissioner’s desk so that sewage water isn’t dripping on her head or the million dollar touchscreen desk???????

6.5. oh no dick!!!!!! i am delighted that you got hurt but i feel ashamed about it! that looked like it really hurt!

he’s really not having a good time of it, is he. from being shot by a sniper to slamming at full speed into an suv, he’s got to be really fucking battered by now. and that’s just the physical side of it.

“can you believe that just over a week ago i was sitting in san francisco eating cauliflower crust pizza and feeling good about myself for the first time in five years...”

7. kory’s having visions again! now that she’s figured what they are, do you think the show’s just dropped justin? it’s curious that HPG hasn’t been brought up in a while after featuring relatively heavily in the beginning. hmmm.

8. dick’s in hospital but... he looks remarkably whole for someone who took a spill like that. you’d think he’d at least have a bruise to show for it. on the other hand, i love that the first thing he says is ‘i need to call home’. reminds me of season 1 dick and his clumsy attempts to explain away his found family as an ‘alliance of necessity’ or some bullshit. what a long way he’s come!

*gasp* dick’s hallucinating again!!!!!!!!!!!! i’m doing the dick’s hallucinating dance! can you believe that we’re carrying over these huge honking issues unearthed in season 2 onto season 3? can you believe?!!! all that time and effort i spent talking about dick’s mental health from last season has not gone in vain!!

... ahem. anyway. more on this later.

“hold on barbara, i think kory gave me the number to this therapist that she kept calling Hot Psychiatrist Guy...”

9. just an interlude to say that i’m barely halfway through the episode and i’ve already written 2k+ words... ugh. i’m going to try and be more concise.

10. man i fuckin love it when titans goes all out with its weird mindscapes and i’m extra glad that kory’s the focus this time. is that baby kom or maybe a secret sibling that neither of them knew about? was that lady luand’r? and is this place where kory was circling where the secret sibling is? it’s all very intriguing.

(if justin turned out to be that sibling... we’ve a real luke/leia situation on our hands.)

11. aw, i knew that nice security guard was going to die, but it still hurt to see him go :(

12. this show is so bizarre. like i get the mindscape as a narrative device, but jason using sex workers to try and vocalise his guilt about killing hank was just weird. like. i have to use tamil, sorry: idhulaan yaaru pa room pottu yosikara??? some things just can’t be translated into a second language.

i guess one way to interpret jason’s reckoning with what he did to the titans as a sign of him coming off crane’s drug, but i think it’s more to do with the disillusionment of realising that he was a mere pawn in a more sinister plan, and not, as he thought, a player in control of his destiny, rising to the purpose of liberating gotham of its fears in a way batman never could. along the way, he’s done some truly irreversible damage. it’s a bitter pill to swallow.

13. another hallucination! it’s really intriguing that it’s a young dick(?), younger than we’ve ever seen him, wearing an early-era robin costume from way before he even became robin. (this is also interesting in that it gives credence to the idea that ‘robin’ is an identity that dick created entirely on his own, and as a possible homage to his family.)

“old road, old house... it’s all gone.” i wonder what it all means.

13.5. it’s entirely likely dick’s hallucinating because of a brain injury from the accident, though just hallucinations without any other focal neurological deficit is unusual. he might’ve been microdosed with fear toxin at some point, though i wonder when... did jason do so after dick’s accident? did he get dosed at the factory from last episode?

it’s also possible it’s a continuing manifestation of dick’s issues from last season--which, if you remember, he never told anyone about and therefore never properly addressed. maybe he was hallucinating bruce wayne in a psychotic episode accompanying an acute stress reaction and maybe that’s what’s happening now. nobody’s denying that he’s under an extraordinary amount of stress right now. another way to look at it is that this is how he externalises conflict that he can’t bear to suppress anymore; if in s2 halluci!bruce manifested his insecurities and self-loathing, then these hallucinations... something to do with his fears, no doubt.

yet ANOTHER way to look at it might be: rachel is reaching out to him through their, well, psychic bond. after all, they were able to use that bond unconsciously last season to get the titans back together; maybe rachel has learned to gain a degree of control over it in themyscira and is sending across warnings? it’s all very intriguing.

anyway:

“i hear you skipped over the discowing suit in your evolution to nightwing... how could you??”

14. can you imagine, gar did all the work of reaching out to jason via molly and jason wants to meet dick? smh.

14.5. “i’m just a regular guy doing regular things” he says, standing at the opening of a secret old tunnel, like a secret person doing secret things, confronting someone who can now officially be called his stalker. neither of you guys are ‘regular’

14.8. ‘my dad was a cop and he taught me how to investigate’ - hmmm. i guess they’re trying to Explain Tim but i don’t think that’s really necessary. so he’s smart and he’s obsessed with batman and robin--that should be enough, imo.

15. that scene with scarecrow and his mother was... wow. i’m just laughing here helplessly, because what the hell? for a while i thought it was an extended dream sequence and i’m still not entirely sure that it isn’t...

anyway. i still love that titans is happy to throw out its plot in favour of extended character-exploration sessions.

15.5. it seems to me that this scene with crane and his mother (i have no idea if there’s anything in the comics similar to this) serves to move forward this season’s theme of harmful legacies and how parents can damage their children in the name of their mission. in a way it’s been the underlying message of the entire show but we’re really seeing it being reinforced this season. the titans, serving as a foil to scarecrow, are using the damage to rebuild themselves and actually work through their issues together, instead of spiralling further and further into the morass of their issues.

other than that... god, that scene was painful to watch. i can’t say i like this version of scarecrow or how this actor plays him at all.

16. i wonder what’s jason’s play here. i think he’s smart enough to realise that the titans aren’t going to just forgive him and let him be a titan again after what he did, and that dick agreeing to it is just a bid to pin both him and crane down. maybe it’s a ploy to trap them, get back on scarecrow’s good books so that he can have the drug again. who knows.

17. i absolutely felt dick when he said “we’ll bring him in and then re-assess the situation.” what the fuck else is he going to say? the priority is to get him.

so kory and dick are both hallucinating while potentially trying to rehabilitate their murderous siblings. CONFIDE IN EACH OTHER ALREADY

18. TIM NOOOO! you beautiful, reckless fool!

18.25. just to quickly address it here because i know it’s been brought up before: i think it’s perfectly justified to not have conner take tim to the hospital via superspeed because a) i don’t think we’ve seen conner do that with anybody so far and b) it’s probably not a good idea to submit tim’s body to that kind of stress without knowing what it would do to him. the paramedics with actual equipment and experience would be there in a few minutes, so on a risk assessment, i would say dick and conner absolutely made the right call.

18.5. i guess we won’t know what jason really intended to when the titans came to the pump to see him, but this is definitely going to set a big wedge in his relationship with crane. then again, crane got what he wanted--using starfire’s powers to blast through to the underground pipes--so jason can argue that this is exactly what he was working towards, too.

anyway, mortal peril, hallucinations, murderous family members, creepy visions and robins sprouting left and right. time to get rachel and donna on the scene, i think.

#titans #titans spoilers #meta #garfield logan #dick grayson #koriand'r #jason todd #tim drake #jonathan crane #conner kent #komand'r #aaaaah this is 3k+#*collapses in a heap*

23 notes · View notes

mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

Cake By The Ocean | frat!Chris Evans x reader

summary: fraboy au. college parties. beach shenanigans. blame @ballyhoobarnes

warnings: fingering, mention of oral sex (m receiving), overstimulation, verryyy light dub con if you squint??

shitty moodboard provided by me c:

Chris was the worst thing about mixers, hands down.

Honestly, you hated everything about mixers. Your sisters were at their most annoying, magically transforming from educated, classy women into the most desperate of ‘pick me’ girls, clinging onto any Zeta guy they could get their hands on. What bothered you wasn’t that they flirted with the guys, it was that they dumbed themselves down to do so. That plus an overcrowded house, shitty drinks from plastic cups, and having to clean up everybody’s mess the next day, and you really just did not want to go to another co-ed event.

But Katie M. and Katie B., the sorority president and vice president respectively, decreed in their all-knowing power that every soror must attend five night-time events a year and you had procrastinated so hard that you had to attend every single one in May to avoid getting kicked out. The scholarships were too good to lose.

That didn’t mean you had to mingle, though; you were happy to hide in a secluded corner and look like you were doing something important. In this case, it was stacking and unstacking cups. Hopefully nobody watched you long enough to notice that you weren’t actually helping set up the drink table.

But of course, he had to show up. He had this instinct where he could sense you minding your own business and enjoying your life, and he just had to appear and annoy you.

“Hey,” Chris’ voice wafted to your ear from behind you. You felt his hand slip onto your waist loosely. That was all he had to say to you? ‘Hey’?

You ignored him, mainly because you had absolutely no idea what to say.

“Bein’ cold isn’t gonna keep me away,” he informed you, leaning in closer.

“Do you have any other suggestions then?” you frowned.

His mouth was so close to your ear now that you could smell the booze on his breath. “Been thinkin’ about you. I know you’ve been avoiding me. But it hasn’t made me forget.”

“Me either, sadly,” you groaned.

“I know you get wet when you think about it,” he purred. “I betcha think about it at night, remembering how good it felt to just let go--”

You spun around and pushed him back. “Chris, everybody makes mistakes. Like when the Nazis invaded Russia in the winter. Or when your mom decided to keep it after your dad put on the condom wrong. Or, worst of all, when we got drunk and had sex over half a year ago. It’s okay! Accidents happen. But it’s best to leave them--” you rested your hand on his shoulder, giving your best comforting-but-stern look-- “in the past.”

“The best mistakes are made at least twice,” Chris grinned. “How do you think I ended up with a little sister?”

In spite of your desperate attempt not to, you cracked a smile. At least he could take a joke.

“Go enjoy the party,” you suggested, “talk to any of the other girls-- I bet a lot of them will find your offer more appealing.”

“I don’t wanna talk to them,” he frowned, “I wanna talk to you. You’re interesting.”

“And they’re not?”

“I would never diss your sisters,” he raised his arms, “but you’re definitely my favorite Delta.”

“You have strange taste,” you shuddered.

“That I do,” he nodded wistfully, “that I do.”

You were cooped up in your room, surrounded by open text books and uncapped highlighters. A final on Monday meant you needed to prepare all weekend. You didn’t even look up when you heard a knock on your door; you just called out that it was open so they could come in.

“Good news!” Katie B. beamed as she popped her head around the door. “Zeta invited us to a beach party tomorrow!”

“Why do you think that’s good news for me?” you wondered, furrowing your brow in confusion.

“Uh, because away events count for two night-time events in your attendance calendar?”

Ehh, you didn’t need to study all weekend, right?

Hoping to get your boost on your attendance record but disinterested in actually participating in any meaningful way, you decided you were going to tan, mainly because it utilized two of your greatest talents: laying down, and doing nothing. After a hefty layer of sunscreen was applied to whatever your bikini didn’t cover, you settled in on the little rubbery chair with your over-sized sunglasses and some bluetooth earbuds to jam with.

The sun warmed your skin until you felt so relaxed that you honestly considered falling asleep. Thankfully your earbuds blocked out the sounds of Zeta-Delta partying down the beach, even when the volleyball game got a little rowdy.

Sadly, you were pulled from your relaxed state when a shadow blocked your sun, and you hesitantly opened your eyes behind the dark plastic of your shades. Squinting, you saw his tattoo first, and you knew it was Chris come to taunt you.

“You’re blockin’ my rays, Evans,” you frowned.

He spun the volleyball in his hands, smirking playfully. “I came over here to ask if you wanted to play. It’s shirts vs skins.”

“Let me guess, you always play skins?” you quipped, quickly scanning his muscled torso which was so cruelly exposed. Did he have to look so good? Did it have to remind you of the way those muscles flexed as he was thrusting--

“Unfortunately for me, I bet you always play shirts,” he chuckled, interrupting your train of thought just in time. “If no volleyball, how about a swim?”

You pulled out your other earbud and put them back in their case, realizing he wasn’t going away any time soon. “Chris, tell me, what is it that makes you think I want to be anywhere near you? Seriously, tell me, so I can stop doing it.”

“Sure, right now you’re acting pretty icy,” he explained, kneeling down in the sand beside your chair, “but I remember when you couldn’t keep your hands off me… when you got on your knees for me…”

You wanted to interrupt him but your throat was suddenly too dry, and your thighs were clenching together.

“When you begged me not to stop…” he continued, leaning closer, his hand grabbing your knee suddenly, slowly trailing up your thigh.

“Chris,” you whispered, just under your breath-- but it turned into a gasp when his arms wrapped around you and he picked you up. “Put me down!” you yelped.

“I think you need to cool off, babe,” he grinned. “A little water might do the trick, huh?”

Your screams of protest were lost to the wind as he started running, effortlessly carrying you to the water’s edge.

Soon, he was knee-deep and you were pulling yourself up into him as you tried to avoid the water. “I swear to god if you drop me,” you began.

“I won’t, okay?” he assured, slowly calming down as you let your legs hesitantly reach past the water’s surface. It was cold at first, but then it was relaxing against your heated skin.

As he set you down in the water, his arms naturally slid to your waist, and yours to his shoulders. And then you were looking up at him and it felt way too right.

“Um, the… the water feels great,” you mumbled.

“Yeah,” he agreed in a low, husky voice, “yeah, feels amazing.”

Those words in that voice brought back some specific memories.

He was so much taller than you that when you were doggy-paddling to stay afloat, he could still walk somewhat normally. But you didn’t expect him to walk behind you, or wrap his arms over your torso.

“Chris?” you gasped a bit.

“Shh,” he soothed, placing a soft kiss to your ear, then your neck, “you don’t want anyone to hear you. Then they might look over and realize what we’re doing.”

His hand moved lower, over your stomach and finally to the top of your bikini bottoms. You shivered, biting your lip as you tried to process everything that was happening.

“Tell me you want it,” he requested, his voice making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “I know you do but, I need to hear you say it.”

“I want it,” you whimpered, “please. Touch me.”

You felt his smile against your neck as he slipped his fingers under the fabric, instantly finding and teasing your clit. Your hips bucked a little, disturbing the water around you. He rubbed it so softly that you would’ve thought you wouldn’t be able to feel it at all, and yet somehow it was making your entire body jolt with pleasure.

“Calm down baby,” he chuckled, “don’t act strange or somebody will see. And we all know how much you want everyone to know that you want nothing to do with me.”

You whimpered a little, but realized that a small group of Deltas was about to walk by in the water.

“Act natural,” Chris instructed softly, knowing that the water would obscure what you were doing, but you’d forgotten what natural even meant.

“Hey guys,” Parvati smiled, and Gia waved at the two of you.

“Hello ladies,” Chris greeted back with a nod of acknowledgement; you sheepishly smiled and waved, trying to ignore the way Chris’ fingers were moving against you.

You figured they would question why you were sitting on Chris’ lap in the water, but they were oddly accepting of it. Maybe they were just wondering what took you two so long.

The second the girls were out of earshot, swimming further into the water, Chris started moving his fingers even faster.

“You’re such a dirty girl,” he chuckled darkly, “getting fingered in front of your friends.”

“Wasn’t my idea,” you defended.

“I distinctly remember you begging for it,” he teased, quickly pulling you a little lower into the water so he could grope your breast. He reached under the triangle of your bikini to get a better feel of it, tweaking the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Fuck, Chris,” you moaned softly.

“Feels good?”

“Yes,” you sighed, “so good, fuck…”

You instinctively tried to push his hand away as your orgasm approached-- it was too much, too strong, and you weren’t sure you could take it. He’d learned to keep going anyways, otherwise you’d never get off. And damn if you didn’t secretly love the way that he was too strong to push away.

“Go ahead,” he purred, “let go. Come for me, babygirl.”

You bit down on your lip as the pleasure reached its peak and crashed, your body spasming as he held you close with his free arm. “Chris, I’m coming,” you whimpered.

“I know baby, I know,” he groaned, “keep going.”

With his fingers still rubbing firm and fast on your clit, you honestly thought you could scream. Instead, you grabbed his arm like your life depended on it, your head falling back onto his shoulder.

“Stop, stopstopstop,” you pleaded for mercy, and he granted it as his hand slipped from your bikini bottoms. “God, you wear me out,” you sighed with exhaustion.

“That’s the goal,” he smiled.

You moved your hips back only to feel the hard shape of his cock pressing into your thigh; you grinned.

“Well, I should probably leave you to your volleyballing,” you announced, standing up and starting to walk away.

“Wh-- I can’t play like this!” he protested, noticeably staying crouched in the water-- you knew that with what he was packing, he had no chance of hiding his boner in those tight swim trunks. Plus, when they were wet, they would probably cling to it so tight that little would be left to the imagination… why were you salivating all of a sudden?

“Just act natural!” you encouraged him as you continued to walk towards the shore.

#chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #chris evans imagines #chris evans x y/n #chris evans headcanons #chris evans rpf

741 notes · View notes

xsarcasticwriterx · 3 years

Text

Young God-Part 1

Summary: Your power isn't even a power its simply words. You can understand people, get into their head and know them better than anyone all willingly on their end. This made you useful to the avengers when villains came and you could understand and fix them. When this is asked to be done to loki you cant help but fall for the god the more you get to know him.

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warning: Swearing, Loki being loki,angst

Notes: Ok lemme just start of saying loki isn't going to be...nice in the beginning of this i got the idea off of joker and harley quinn's relationship and slightly silence of the lambs so do with that what you will now i adore loki so he won't be a dick the whole time just yea someone getting into loki's head? he isn't too chill with that.

You walked down the stairs leading to the dungeon where the god was locked away ready for you to speak to. you heard the mocking laughs and sarcastic remarks made as you passed the cells.” “hey mortal lemme get a taste” he said thrust to you. you flipped him off not looking at him and passing on by. seeing the god laying on the couch reading a book you walked through the boundaries placed stepping before him. Odin had given you a pill, said it would allow you past the wall of an hour and only you. “hello” he said reading his book still. “apologies for my fellow inmates they can be quiet rude” he said with a small smirk.

“ironic coming from a man with the nickname silver tongue” you said sitting down on a chair in front of him. he placed down his book “oh doll there's more to that nickname” he said with a wink. you simply rolled your eyes in response. you had been told loki was like this. “anyways why are you here” he asked sitting up turning to you “did odin send you to make sure im behaving?” he asked with a snarky tone

You made a mental note of his hatred for odin, though from your interactions with the man you slightly understood that. “i'm here to speak to you” is all you said. loki scoffed “you doll are a horrible liar” he said with a smirk. He stood up and walked around you almost scanning you. “what's the real reason your here?” he asked behind you. “truly i am here to talk to you” you repeated with a straight face and shrug. “then talk” he said bending down right in front of your face. his breath ghosting over your face and his long wavy hair falling in his face. “your a god you live for years on end tell me loki, how old are you?” you asked. loki gave a smile before standing “my age? that's what you came for?” he huffed. “ill answer your questions if you answer mine” he said in return

you turned around facing him “i don't answer questions” you said with a shrug “oh come on doctor i know your other patients didn't just comply with your questioning” he said with a smirk. he was always smiling or smirking, never a true smile something to show planning, no not planning, anger? no not anger. hurt? yes thats it hes hurt and hides it with his devilish smile. to throw you off to push you away. make you fear him over wanting to know him.

Now the new question was how did he know you were a doctor. well you may not be an official doctor but you were one of sorts. You had been in college to get a phycology degree until fury swept you up making you work for him. you tilted your head alarming the god you were lost on his accusation. “oh dear as you said i am a god you don't think i could fall for your tricks and lies like the others did you?” he asked walking to you “doll only i make the tricks here” he said holding your jaw. “now we play by my rules” he said with another smile. “stop” you said. his smile widened “stop smiling” you said. you saw a hint of confusion wash over before it was erased with another smirk “why doll?” he asked. “because its a lie” you said. loki's face became serious “you talk of lies yet you wouldn't tell me why your here” he said walking around the room.

“Fine i'm here to evaluate you” you said simply “now will you answer my questions?” you asked. “I have been just not the ones you want the answer to.” he replied. “agree to my terms and ill be more than willing to answer you” he said with a sarcastic smile “i ask the questions not you” you replied. he shrugged laying back down reading his book again. you only had an hour with him so you had no choice but to comply with his rules or you'll get nowhere but you also didn't want the god to think he could just boss you around and throw a fit.

you shrugged picking up your bag walking out of the room. “1,054″ you said blankly. you turned confused “my age” he said still reading. you nodded walking back in “one question” you said sitting down. he smirked still looking at the book but not reading it “well start simple. name?” he asked. “y/n” you replied. “y/n....mmm now y/n why are you here?” he asked sitting up. “to evalu-” you started to say before he cut you off “why are you here?” he asked “were not doing this loki i said one question” you said standing back up. your hour was almost over. “what happened doctor don't like a taste of your own medicine?” he asked with a dark smile. “why do you do that? smile so much?” you asked. “you tell me you said it was a lie which means you've made your own deductions of it so tell me doc why do i smile so much?” he asked tilting his head.

“to make people uncomfortable. they see you smile this mischievous smile a smile that they expect from the god of mischief. you become what people expect of you so they stay away now why you push people you don't know away i'm not quiet sure on but i assume it has something to do with your spite for odin” you said simply. loki gave a wide smile standing up “well well well doc, you are utterly” he said behind you getting close to your ear “wrong” he said simply straightening backup. “now you well i do have so many things to say about you” he said moving in front of you. “you evaluate people thinking you know everything about them so much more than they know themself, from body language to words to the crime they commited. but i my dear am simply a king who deserved a throne and would fight for it” he said sitting back down “hours up doll better leave before your trapped in here” he said looking at you with another smile.

Walking back up you felt unnerved. the god had a weird aura to him like he could read your mind. granted he may actually be able to in which case you need to be more careful about such things. you walked to your room feeling empty and drained. you fell back on the bed rubbing your face. the odinsons had given you your own quarters while you stayed there. there was knock on the door and you groaned “its open” you replied and the door opened revealing yet another god, a kinder one. Thor walked over sitting next to you “how was loki?” he asked. “loki was....exactly how yall described him” you sighed. thor griminced he hoped his brother would behave “did you get anything out of him?” he asked. “just his age which is useless it was more a test to see if he'd comply with me. think he got more out of me than i of him” you said looking up at thor.

“give him time. my brother can be...difficult but your a legend at this so you should do well it may take longer than usual but you'll get it” thor said cheerfully. you gave a small smile. you wanted to believe that you truly did but honestly you weren't sure. “loki sure is a strange guy” you said sitting up “Well he's not a guy hes a god such as i and he was raised by my mother” he said to you.

“get some rest i bet you'll do much better tomorrow” he said with a smile walking out. you sighed and changed, laying bed you felt sleep take over.

you stood in a black room seeing your parents smiling faces “mom? dad? you said with a smile. you started to run to them before blood dripped from there eyes and they slowly faded away. you stepped back feeling empty once again. you heard a chuckle and turned seeing loki laugh and roll his eyes before vanishing too

You awoke with a small scream and your heart racing. you were drenched in sweat and tears streamed down your face. once you calmed you growled launching up from bed and walking down to the dungeon storming past the assholes shouting crude things at you. you stood at loki's cell banging on the wall “hey asshole” you said blatantly. “well hello to you too doll isnt this a shocker” he said with another smile god how you wanted to slap that smile off his face “shut up” you said. loki sat up looking at you “well what can i do for you?” he asked. “your not supposed to have you powers in here” you said with a stern face

loki tilted his head in mock confusion “why i don't” he said voice dripping in sarcastic hurt as if offended by such accusations. “don't lie you bastard! You were in my head i know it you know it so let's just both know it” you yelled at him. His smile widened “ok darling but see i do have one question left unanswered. how did your parents die?” he asked stepping to the glass. “they didn't it was simply a nightmare” you groaned.

“no no see people who dream of the death unprompted feel pain,sadness,fear they try to stop it you well you felt nothing you just...stood there” he said looking down at you. “so how was it they died?” he asked. “if you can get in my head then you sure as shit know” you said looking down at the floor. you really did not want to speak of it.

“of course i do doll but i want to hear you say it” he said leaning on the glass. “i will not play into your game” you said storming off “you still hear it dont you? their screams” he said. “i do” he said after

you turned “pardon?” you asked walking back to him. “have a nice night darling” he said smiling walking back to his couch. “but you said-” you were cut off by the sounds of footsteps “oi you are not to be down here madam” the man said walking to you “oh yes sorry i must have sleep walked” you replied walking upstairs back to your bed.

laying down your head felt as if it was spinning. This was going to be an interesting roller coaster wasn't it.

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki of asgard #loki layfeyson x reader #loki x reader #loki odinson #loki odison x reader #MCU #MCU fanfiction #mcu x reader #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #tom hiddleston

62 notes · View notes

welllpthisishappening · 3 years

Text

Catching the Highlights

It wasn’t like she was nervous, not really. Or jealous, even. Honestly, the entire story was more than a little hysterical and very nearly distracted Belle from the obviously frustrated way Will kept moving his hands at the end of the second period. Still, there was something about sitting in the stands that felt different and maybe hearing about how her maybe-boyfriend made out with Anna Vankald one time was just the push she needed. To make things a bit more real.

———

Word Count: Nearly 4.5K AN: This is a thing I do now, apparently. Write Blue Line! Will and Belle. And poorly photoshop eights into sixes on jerseys. Although I draw the line at making the girl that same photo wear a skirt. Anyway, this continues to be real fun, I hope the five people enjoying it continue to enjoy it and I think I’ve got at least one more idea for these dweebs. So, that’ll probably happen sooner rather than later. Possibly with more badly executed photoshops.

———

It had something to do with his eyes.

With the way they narrowed ever so slightly, able to thin without causing any sort of furrow between his brow or lines of frustration on his forehead. They’d pinch. His eyes, that was. Make it so it was difficult for Belle to see the brown there or the bits of gold that she was at least ninety-six percent positive she wasn’t imagining and only slightly less confident had something to do with her.

She’d never really been one for details, like that.

Strange as it might have been.

Details were the lifeblood of research. Tiny bits of information that could sway a doctoral defense or prove an argument, but Belle had always been far more interested in the sweeping potential of a very good story, and research had that too, she supposed. To some degree, at least. Although, that was getting existential. Her work was good. She was good. Fine, even. Definitely fine. Nothing to see here. Nothing to worry about. No reason to compare the strange and not entirely unfamiliar sensation of fluttering in the pit of her stomach whenever Will glanced her way to the decidedly still nature of all her internal organs while she spent eight to ten hours uptown five days a week.

Sitting at her desk, she regularly tried to fit into the mold, everything everyone expected her to be with the title she had, and that required her to think less about the bigger picture. That sounded negative. It wasn’t. Probably. Hopefully. Just required further research. More details and specific examples.

All of them regarding the nature of Will’s eyes.

Even so, she—

Part of her missed it. The sweep. The really good stories. Ones that were less clinical and more fantastical. And the deep breath that always came just seconds before being overwhelmed. By the current and the wave and those were rather similar, as far as analogies went, but all the best stories always left her a little overwhelmed, and Belle’s cheeks were starting to ache as something bubbled out of her. Laughter, in its purest form. Bouncing and bounding and echoing off otherwise abandoned walls, the pair of them tucked into a corner of the Garden concourse because they hadn’t actually decided this was a secret, but Anna Vankald was apparently living her life under some sort of blood oath, all sworn secrecy, and poorly executed winks in the second period.

Like this was hidden. A tiny detail tucked away. Never debated. Never highlighted in the opening paragraphs of a twenty-six-page dissertation. With Chicago-style formatting.

No one ever knew how to property do Chicago-style formatting.

Belle might have hated Chicago-style formatting.

She’d never been to Chicago.

Had never been—

Will’s eyes were barely slits on his face.

Twisted lips loomed above her, not quite frustration, but inching closer the longer she kept laughing, and she refused to linger on what that meant. The laughing. The happiness. Joy, maybe. She looked up, instead. Let her head bump the wall her shoulders already had, appreciating the soft scrape of what might have been concrete against her hair, like that would ground her or slow her overactive imagination, and his hair was still wet.

“She wasn’t supposed to tell you that.” Belle bit the side of her tongue. Didn’t help, really. With her laughter problem. “Keeping state secrets?” “It happened once.” “Yes, she mentioned that, too.” He might have growled. Some strange part of her wanted him to, relished whatever the technical term was for the sound that eked out between his bared teeth, rolling his whole head in the process. Their noses nearly collided.

Belle pushed up on her toes.

To kiss the tip of Will’s nose.

“That’s distracting,” he grumbled, but his hand had inched under the hem of her shirt, and that meant he’d managed to get the hem of her shirt out of the skirt she was wearing.

“Should I have worn your jersey or something?”

His eyes snapped. Open. Brown and gold, and that wasn’t a particularly swoon-like combination in any of the stories Belle had memorized while she was growing up. Heroes with royal titles and broadswords quite literally made to challenge dragons and hordes of villains always came with blonde hair and a slight curl, flashing blue eyes that twinkled in sunlight and starlight, and Belle’s hand didn’t shake. When she brushed the few drops of water clinging to Will’s temple away.

Her calves were starting to ache, too. Made sense. She was still pushed up on her toes.

And the Rangers had lost. Not—well, not badly. By two goals, and one of those was an empty-net goal, which was a term Belle figured out all on her own. Well before Anna mumbled explanations under her breath, glaring daggers any time the Islanders fan two rows in front of them dared to open his mouth.

Honestly, that was part of the problem. He kept yelling, and Anna looked dangerously close to staging some sort of public execution in section 204 and Belle had asked. For details. Wanted a good story, or possibly a distraction because she’d noticed the way Will’s hands moved at the end of the second period, staging a rather enthusiastic conversation with a man she’d never met, but his jersey said LOCKSLEY, and she didn’t think the jersey would lie to her.

She was going to blame the Islanders fan.

“If you did that,” Will mumbled, in response to a question she’d legitimately almost forgotten about, “I’m not sure I would have been able to get out on the ice.” “Oh, compliment or—” “Definite compliment. Was that not obvious?” “Well, you’re making out with so many other girls.”

Her laugh clung to the letters, pulling her lips behind her teeth to keep from smiling like a total idiot. Something was happening. With the flutters and the overall ability of her nasal passages to get oxygen back to her lungs, and it must have been a trick of the light. The way Will’s eyes flashed, gaze flicking up beneath eyelashes and just above the half curve of his mouth, and Belle’s knees felt a little unsteady beneath her. Fighting against the force of a wholly imaginary, even more staggering wave.

“One time,” he said, straining on every letter, “it happened one time, and—seriously, why was she talking about this with you?” “Asked for a fun and interesting story about her.” Will’s eyes bugged, another shift in his voice that was much more like a crack as he nearly shouted, “And that’s what she came up with?”

“Said anything she had to tell me about her childhood was boring. Mostly because a lot of it would focus on KJ, because—”

“That’s Cap.” Belle clicked her tongue. “Wow, thank you for that. What would I do without you?” “If you wore my jersey, I think my head would explode.” “Not the compliment you think it is, either. That’d be a lot of blood. Who would even clean that up? Couldn’t make someone here do it; that’d be mean. Cruel and unusual, probably.” “I like your skirt.” “Better,” Belle laughed, in spite of her best efforts. Which were really lackluster, quite frankly. “Anyway, the childhood was apparently super boring, and there were shenanigans of rookie season to discuss.”

“She grew up in a mansion!” “Yeah, we got to that part eventually, although technically, I think it was just a brownstone.” “Rich kid description.” “You can tell her that if you want, I’m sure,” Belle reasoned, but his lips were back to twisted, and she was already on her toes. Made sense to use that to her advantage. Pressing kisses against the edges of his mouth, alternating back and forth until it felt a little like a rhythm she could time the rest of her vaguely unsteady breathing to, and she certainly did try. Didn’t work, but something about effort and attempts and those were—

Details, really.

“I like her,” Belle added lightly, mouth moving across a stubble-covered cheek. Part of her felt ridiculous. Always did with things like this. She wasn’t the story. Will wasn’t the hero. He and his teammate had gotten into a fight at the end of the second period, for God’s sake. And this wasn’t—well, it wasn’t a fairy tale. No matter how much sweeping there might have been. With its butterfly wings and salt-filled waves, all of which existed solely in Belle’s subconscious.

But there was this other part.

Part of her that didn’t always linger behind her desk. Flitted through imaginary scenarios and stories stored in the back corner of her brain, the same one that could still smell salt air with startling clarity, and remembered the precise taste of freshly-made taffy from that one restaurant on the beach. Details. She remembered those details. Held them fast, afraid they’d disappear otherwise, and made sure they played prominent roles in every daydream.

For fear of what would happen if she didn’t.

How they’d fade. Grow grey and thin, and it was a contradiction. Right in the middle of her. And that scared her just a little bit, because whatever was happening now, right at that moment, with a hand flat on the curve of her hip and her heart doing its abject best to beat its way out of her chest, she felt the same exact way. Sweeping and detailed and not the least bit jealous.

There was no need to be, really. Not when she was fairly certain she could drown in the golden flecks of Will’s eyes. Constantly staring at her as they were apt to do.

“Do you want to hear the gist of the story?”

Will’s lips pursed. Stayed that way even as Belle’s lips continued their path across his face, spending at least two seconds at the side of his left eye and the still slightly damp area surrounding his right temple. She started picking up speed. Quick kisses that she could only hope felt as strongly as the prickle of her lips suggested. But then Will’s fingers tightened. Not much. Just enough to be obvious, and Belle grinned against his cheek.

“I lived it,” Will argued, but there wasn’t much fight in it. He’d done that already, anyway. They’d get to that part, eventually.

“As the story goes, though, there was some less than savory libations involved, and—” “I’m still not convinced that vodka was legal in the continental United States.” “Suggests it’d be fair game in Hawaii and Alaska, though. Possibly Puerto Rico. I’m not sure what the rules on that are. Maybe the US Virgin Islands. What about Guam? You think your alcohol would be fair game in Guam?” “I’d have to check the label.” “You still have it?” Belle balked, almost fully and entirely prepared for the flash of amusement and the precise angle of eyebrow jump. Almost being the key word, there. Another burst of laughter tumbled out of her, lips on her cheeks that time, all blazing and prickling, and that one wasn’t inherently positive, but she was slightly worried her hair was going to get caught in the concrete of the wall and she could not possibly be expected to think when Will’s hand kept doing whatever it was it was doing.

“No, no, we did a very good job of drinking that entire thing, but I’d know that bottle anywhere.” “Where were you buying illegal alcohol? Also, how did you not die drinking hundred-proof vodka?” “Pure force of will.”

“And bad hockey games.” “Those too,” Will admitted grudgingly. An edge crept into his voice. Likely born in the second period of this game. She kissed the bridge of his nose. The tip. Between his eyebrows. Waiting for some of the tension to leave his shoulder blades, and that was all she got. Some. It was enough, for now.

“You want to talk about that?” “Losing a playoff game my rookie season? That happened a bunch of times, babe, this was just—” “Don’t be an idiot,” Belle interrupted.

He grinned. Tension kept pulling taut between his shoulders and the slope of his cheekbones, the second of which was really starting to offend Belle on an almost fundamental level, but his smile looked legitimate, and that was enough.

“Should I go defend your honor in the locker room, darling?” The grin widened. “Trying to get a rise out of me, but gender is a social construct, so I don’t think it affects nicknames, and I’m a real big fan of that one, actually.” “No rise,” Belle promised, fingers hovering above his shoulders, and they both flinched when he winced. “Going to be honest, the hitting sort of freaked me out.” “Locksley wasn’t going to hit me.” “Well, yeah, then I’d have to punch him in the locker room.” “Keep your thumb inside your fist,” Will suggested, “that way you won’t break it.” “Right, right, naturally,” Belle mumbled, and she didn’t know how they managed it. Stayed upright while his hand shifted further up the back of her shirt and her teeth grazed the curve of his jaw. She was on something of a mission, now. To cover every inch of his face. With her lips. “Anyway, as Anna told this wholly fascinating story, there was a lot of vodka involved, a very bad loss, some card game—” “—Kings.” “That’s a drinking game.” “Well, now you’re getting into unnecessary specifics.” Her body shook. Against Will’s. Who almost immediately groaned. Presumably at the location and exact angle of her hips. “Ok, so there were cards involved in your drinking game. Pizza was eaten, alcohol was downed in alarmingly large gulps.” “Editorializing a bit, mon bonheur.”

“What’s that one?” “Happiness.” “Oh, that one’s nice.” Will huffed. “They’re all super nice; I have a very large crush on you; I don’t want to talk about making out with Anna Vanklad anymore.”

He said it quickly, rushing over the words. Some might even say sweepingly. Where Belle was the some. In that instance, specifically. Someone, more like. She didn’t care. Was not spending even a second on proper sentence structure or appropriate internal grammar, was far too preoccupied with the circumference of Will’s eyes. And that one muscle in his jaw. Jumping with startling regularity, really. Totally different from her heart and her pulse and it was difficult to catch her breath.

Felt a bit like she’d played a hockey game.

A walking contradiction.

Where she also wasn’t walking anywhere. At all. Had absolutely no intention of walking away. From this.

“Was it not a good make-out?” “I honestly don’t remember a lot of it,” Will sighed, another roll of his neck. Something cracked. “That’s not game-related,” he added, and she could only imagine it had to do with the look on her face, “anyway, it was just...there was that vodka involved, and Vankald spent a ton of time at our apartment. She wasn’t Cap’s sister-in-law yet, but they’d grown up together, was my friend, and he’d fallen asleep, so…” “Figured you just make out?” “Not a lot of thought involved in it. She was a fixture, y’know? Shit, that sounds shitty. Does that sound super shitty?

“Drifting toward shitty, yeah.”

“Anna came to visit a lot because no matter what she may claim, she worries about Cap as much as anyone. Even El and Leader, and that’s—” “Wait, you have an Alien Leader you all report to?” “You’re ruining this story.” Her laugh got caught. Directly between them, all mouths and that goddamn hand, Belle’s neck tilting back on what might have been instinct and need, and she’d gasped more in the last four hours than she had in her entire life. “Tell me more about your Alien Leader, please.” “He only acts like an alien.” “Huh, that cleared up absolutely nothing.” “You should keep kissing me.” “Compare and contrast, huh?” Will groaned. Again. Part two. Let his mouth drag down the side of her throat, and Belle couldn’t stop laughing. Happiness poured out of her, new and a little strange in its quantity. As if she was made of the stuff, even worried as she was through all three periods. She’d kept wringing her fingers together. At one point, Anna had to hold her hand.

“Ruining,” another kiss, “this,” teeth on her collar bone, “baby girl.”

Suggesting that she lit up in a way that reminded her of a Christmas tree was—

Farcical, maybe.

Nothing inhuman happened. There were no bells. No whistles. No flashing neon lights suggesting this was the moment and a conversation regarding the man with his hand currently inching towards her right boob drunkenly making out with someone who wasn’t Belle should not have been so—

Fun.

God, it was fun. She was having fun. With him and because of him. Hockey nonsense aside.

Because, since coming to New York with her invisible tail tucked between her legs and the near-desperate desire to get away from that seaside town with its ghosts and its demands and its plan for a future that simply did not fit her anymore, Belle had tried. Really. To shed that persona. To be someone new. Hard as she tried, though, there were ties. Those lingering memories. Ones that dug in their heels, while she gripped others with both hands. She was, and she wasn’t. Small town and big town, a librarian who couldn’t care less about details while focusing on specifics with everything in her.

And none of it ever really made much sense.

Hurt her head to think about, everything she tried to contain and the worry that ate away at her sometimes. That she’d messed up, ruined all of it and—

She didn’t kiss Will’s mouth.

Peppered his face, instead. With her lips and the feelings behind them, mapping the space until she was certain she knew it as well as her own, and she wanted to. Wanted to learn everything about this guy who felt as jagged as she did, made up of right and wrong and mistakes and possibility and she knew it was only a matter of time before he got impatient.

She liked that about him.

That he didn’t always wait for her to catch up. Just knew that she would.

Plus, his tongue in her mouth was really something Belle was starting to appreciate. In an obsessive sort of way.

She might have groaned that time.

Fingers scrambled against the front of his shirt — team-branded, again, and that shouldn’t have been charming, but it was and likely would continue to be, and there were goosebumps on her skin. They were really very good at kissing. Each other, specifically.

“I like you, too,” Belle said, and it was a strange thing not to be embarrassed by the breathless nature of her voice.

Will’s chest was practically heaving, though. So that put them on even ground. Common ground, at least.

“You’re not mad?” “Give me some credit, sweetheart.” He chuckled, warm air against the top of her shoulder. “Was a very long time ago, for whatever that might be worth.” “Twelve galleons.” “I don’t know the conversion rate of that.” “No one does, so I think we’re all in the same boat.” “You don’t think Jo knows the conversion rate of her own fictional monetary system?” Belle shook her head. “I absolutely do not, because she was a shit world-builder and also a fairly terrible person now, so—” She shrugged. Will beamed. Some joke about a Christmas tree.

“So,” he echoed, “the thought of making out with Little Vankald has never once again crossed my mind.”

Someone scoffed. With entirely false indignation.

Using Will’s shoulder as leverage — the non-bruised one, naturally — Belle got enough height beneath her toes to see Anna cross her arms. And scowl at the pair of them. Badly. The scowl lasted all of five seconds before it evolved into its own rather uproarious laughter, another echo that filled the empty space of a concourse Belle could not imagine they were supposed to be standing on. Only a matter of time until someone else found them.

She wasn’t sure that was a bad thing, actually.

“That’s super rude, Scarlet,” Anna hissed, muffled footsteps that only lost their volume because of the overall status of Belle’s heart. Still trying to fly out of her. “But I want it noted, for the record and all that, that I don’t want to make out with you ever again, either.”

“Do you remember it being way wetter than it should have been?” “You problem, absolutely.” “I haven’t had that issue,” Belle argued, mostly to guarantee the quirk of Will’s lips. Worked like a charm. Or something less lame sounding. In her head. Most of this commentary was in her head.

“Lucky you,” Anna drawled.

“C’mon,” Will whined, “no one told you to start with this story.” “Start with, huh?” His eyes. Were becoming a serious problem and a growing majority in the basis for most of Belle’s heart-related issues, but she forced herself to meet his gaze and tilt her chin up and she didn’t think she imagined the way his tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek. In an appraising sort of way.

“I really would have told you. Eventually” “I know.” “I’m serious.” “I know,” Belle repeated, “and I’m really not threatened by someone who you still regularly refer to as Little Vankald.” Anna flipped him off. Or them, maybe. As a collective unit. Belle wanted them to be a collective unit. “I could order a jersey online, right?” “Nah, I know people, don’t waste your money.” “Could probably get Kris to help,” Anna added, “as the physical form of my apology.” Belle waved her off. “It was a good story. Highs, lows, drama, does your—do we call him your brother-in-law? He’s not the Alien Leader, right?” “You mean Liam?” Will’s laugh was more like a barely-contained snort of humor and shoulders that were tight for a reason that did not involve pessimistic emotions. Belle’s lips twitched. “Just knew that off the top of your head, did you?” she asked.

“If you knew Liam, you’d understand. Was Scarlet suggesting we’re all aliens?” “Nah, just him.” “I did no such thing,” Will objected, another glance in Anna’s direction, “Cap looking for us?” She nodded. “Locksley too. Should I be worried Mom and Dad are getting a divorce?” “You’re the most dramatic person alive.” “Lots of hand moving between the two of you, your girlfriend was worried.”

It was Belle’s turn to tense. With what, she wasn’t entirely sure. Some sort of emotion, she assumed. Adrenaline, maybe. Hope, possibly. And it wasn’t like she was waiting for labels, but she’d come to pretty good terms with her ability to counter herself in the midst of her own silent monologue, and Will was staring again. Straight through her, it seemed.

Or maybe directly into her.

That was sentimental, though.

“Does Killian know that you two made out once?” Anna hissed. “If you tell KJ about this, I will actually have to strangle you, no matter how much I like you and how much Scarlet wants to date you.” “Aren’t we dating already?” Anna opened her mouth, what Belle knew would be more sarcasm and the teasing nature of her and Will’s relationship, but she had more pressing issues, and he answered, anyway. “Yeah, we totally are, plus I like you way more than I hate Ariel’s inevitable victory lap, so I mean, that’s—” Cutting him off was rude. Not nice. Inevitable.

Based solely on the size of his eyes and their gold-like nature.

“I, uh—” Belle started, “I know we’re not supposed to accept the set-up, and Ariel’s going to be so annoying, but maybe we could…” She shrugged. Tried to stay focused. And upright. Continued standing seemed important in a moment like this. “We’re both kinda messed up, don’t you think?” “Little,” Will murmured.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, and I know that we’re...I mean, this is good, and I’m mostly good with it, but also, I was super nervous during the game, and what were you guys fighting about?” “Fighting is a strong word. More like discussing how Locksley should learn to keep his stick on the ice so he can get that tip from my slap.” “Weird turn of phrase.” “Slap shot.” “No time for full terminology, huh?” “How goes the understanding icing battle?” She was going to sprain her cheeks. Maybe Ariel could help with that. After gloating. Ariel was absolutely going to gloat. “Getting there,” Belle promised, and it was not about hockey, “don’t you think?” “Mmhm.” “So, uh—I don’t know what you do after games, but…” “Little Vankald is totally here to drag us uptown because Cap regularly challenges her in the dramatics, and I bet he’s hungry.” “You eat after games?” “Ariel’s husband owns that restaurant.” “Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s how I met her actually. Good onion rings. Weird we didn’t ever see each other there at the same time, though.” Will hummed. Stuck out his lower lip. Challenged her without saying anything, and Anna was still standing there, and security had to be aware of them, but Belle was in the middle of something, and it was good and great and made absolutely no sense because she was not a pro sports girlfriend, but the labels really weren’t important, and it was all—

She gasped. For, like, the four-thousandth time that night.

Saved the best for last, though.

Will’s mouth found hers in a crashing sort of way that altered the cosmos, or at least Belle’s perception of the world around her. Particularly when her hands were suddenly more like barnacles, gripping his shirt as if she was afraid he’d disappear otherwise. Knuckles cracked and breath caught, everything spinning and staying frustratingly still, and one of her heels popped out of her shoe. Pressing back up on her toes didn’t do her calves any favors, but she wasn’t bruised and they were both a disaster, and the tongue thing really was pretty fantastic.

Tracing the inside of her mouth and the seam of her lips, Will’s rumble of pleasure echoed between her ribs, enough to spur Belle’s arm up as she slung it around his neck. Her fingers found skin and short hair, nails scratching so she could hear that sound again.

She closed her eyes.

Let the details seep in, and settle into her soul.

Until Anna coughed, and there was a security guard standing next to her, and Will’s head dropped to Belle’s collar bone again. He kissed there, too. Before spinning on his sandals, all confidence, and bravado, a reasonable excuse that someone, somewhere, would probably believe. Not this security guard, but that probably wasn’t important, and Belle had helped Will make an Instagram account.

So, something about a cat and a bag and—

His fingers laced through hers.

“Wanna challenge Locksley to a fight for my honor?” She scrunched her nose. Pretended to grimace when his lips pressed against her cheek. Anna gagged. “Yeah,” Belle said, “that’s exactly what I want to do.”

#scarlet beauty #scarlet beauty ff #scarlet beauty fic #blue line one shots #defensive!blue line #i don't know guys—these have just taken on a life of their own #will i put them on ao3? maybe who can say #i mean i can #but...they're still kind of short i think #for ao3 #if any of the five you reading this want specific scenes let me know #i've got time between waiting on people to make their deadlines

16 notes · View notes

violet975 · 3 years

Text

Random thoughts.

So i replayed BOTW a while ago for the first time and decided to write down some of the random thoughts that i get while exploring Hyrule, here they are.

… A lot of these things gave me some fanfic ideas and I hope that they will do the same for someone more competent.

It's realty in character that the response to being asked why you took the man's torch is either to bludgeon things to death with it or to be a pyromaniac.

When the tower pedestal shines, Link instinctively leans back for a second before diving right back in because curiosity kills the cat.

The message from the slate/tower is to watch out for falling rocks which either means that

1: zelda is writing them (and has a fair bit of free reign still).

2: the ancient Sheikah could see the future.

3: Ai to the likes of Fi.

Ganon kinda reawakens when the towers are up so maybe he was resting and building a body until he was interrupted here, which could be why his form later is such a hodgepodge of the Blights?.

Link is not too naive since he kinda clamps up in his answers to the totally unimportant old man.

Did Link briefly make eye-contact with the camera when he got the spirit orb!?

Link is a bit freaked out in his "How did you know!?" Response cas now he knows something major is up when the old man directly mentions the spirit orb.

Again, in character that you can choose to be an impatient brat with the "paraglider please?" Or inquisitive when Roam points out the slate.

Either run out of temper with the "that wasn't the deal!" Or be resigned with "so I need more now?" When the old fart sends you off to the other three shrines.

Ohh, another adrenaline junkie option with the "got it!" Over climbing the tower for a good view or a Deadpan "are you joking?".

"Or so i heard quite some time ago.. I do not know if it actually works as such" so they did not get teleporting to work before? or he just didn't learn how it was done.

So the monks, according to how the Triforce signs they held, apparently associate Power with Magnesis, Wisdom with bombs, Stability with stasis and Courage with cryonis?

The monks dissipate into green specks like Ganon’s soul does under the castle!

I'm not into men but damn if Link doesn't look good in the Warm Doublet.

Oh. My. God, he was King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule!!!!!

Link is such a dumbass, you get to ask Kass "are you a ...bird?" As if the man isn't standing right in front of you. No shit Sherlock! What next, is that a recorder?.

OhhohoHO! You either say "no(, i have not heard of them)" or "Ancient songs?" As if you do not initially realize why they are thought to be ancient which either is old memories warring with the now world or Link not realizing what impact The Calamity had on culture.

Another flat-faced sarcastic remark everyone!

When Manny mentions that his job is checking for beauties/sus people you can either be a dumb dunce and ask about the said beauties or a little menace with "sounds though".

Manny is an Incel, talks a big game and puts himself on top of a pedestal alongside being demanding and a creep.

Does Hateno not have a goddess shrine? Just the ~Evil~ one?

There is a pair of rusty knights sword and shield by the leftmost part of the walkway of Fort Hateno. Some knight probably died laying there, watching out over the field of guardians having been/being purged by Zelda.

A traveler (Chelessa) is interested in history and wants to question Impa about it, and is on her way to do so in fact. . Describes her personality as very pleasant, that must be wrong.

The Yiga know exactly how Links first waking moments played out so either they have extensive knowledge about his character and the setup of the Shrine Of Resurrection or Ganon was watching in on Zelda's call and relayed it to a minion in the clan.

"Hero boy" - derogatory.

Arrow in the eye of the bridge at the entrance of Kakariko, the Yiga are petty and I love it.

Piano's (the painter) hair bun thing that is styled like a pencil has paint on the tip... this man painted with his hair.

So the great fairy Cotera makes it sound like she will enchant your gear because you rejuvenated her, not because you bring the materials to do the enchanting.

The levels of enchantment seemingly depends on physical closeness to the Fairy (blow< indirect kiss< kiss < sex)

She can not enchant beyond Lv 1 without her sister's help, so they share power?

Paya specifies that they have watched over the Orb since the grandmother of the grandmother of Impa, that's 9 whole generations of long lived Sheikah! roughly 1000 years of recorded history!

Again with Link being a dense Shonen protagonist with "where is it?" Or a sly bastard with "really, though?"... maybe so that she would want to prove it ;)

…”I'll answer you some day, just not today!”

Either Paya is just not ready for that or she is so nervous that she did not think about the fact that her own grandmother was in the room when she said it!

“Served the royal family in secret” so it's not common knowledge that the royals have a village of Magic ninjas!? No wonder it took a damn demon to topple it instead of rebellion or infighting... probably has been like this since the old old king banished 'em.

"The royal family was destroyed, and the members of our tribe scattered."- okay so it was probably some Sheikah that either thought the royal family was completely extinct and either fled or, according to this next bit- "Sadly, there were some who swore allegiance to Ganon at that time. They joined together as the Yiga Clan, seeking out all who opposed Ganon... cutting them down, one after another."

So from that we get to know that not all Sheikah deserters became enemies (unless the Sheikah dislike defectors enough to hunt them down) and others who either joined an existing opposing group or simply up and created the Yiga clan that then aligned itself with Ganon... probably under either the belief that Hylia's line was extinct and that it was join or die or because they wished to spite the goddess and her followers.

I actually like this way more because it makes no sense that the Yiga could survive before the Calamity when the Royals would have an entire damn country and anbu black-ops to hunt them down with.

"Master link, now that you are awake, you are surely the most formidable opponent standing against them!" Either hero worship or the Sheikah are freshly out on capable warriors with Ninja magic tricks, probably the latter which would explain why the world isn't infested with Lynels or why hynoxes haven't just trampled every settlement.

"No doubt they will come for you, employing whatever underhanded methods they can device"

oh come on! Do not tell me that i'm stuck with the goodie two shoe ninja clan!? Underhandedness is your bread and butter! No wonder you served the royals in secret because you and them by proxy would have been a laughingstock otherwise!!!

"The great fairy Cotera... few remain who know that this village was built under her watchful eye." So the village is fairy new and the Yiga came about before Kakariko or it is old and so well protected that they can't get in... at least not easily.

"The mysterious power of Cotera is that of sacred protection..." so the Great fairies are linked to either Hylia or the gods, good to know.

So it’s not that Cotera “-would be happy to help” but, instead “i can't think of any reason why she wouldn't be happy to help you”. so either she only directly helps men or the earlier "you can put your trust in the great fairy" means that she judges more favorably for the chosen hero.

"I heard that the weather is going to be beautifully tomorrow... to bad you won't be alive to enjoy it"

So they have weather accurate~ich prediction? through magic or old time methods?

Again: Hero boy - derogatory... It's a common nickname for Link within the Yiga.

The lush green shrine could tell that a buck was on it, so the platforms are most definitely scanners.

A travelers sword by a campfire at the foot of mount Lanayru, so someone either took a swim and died to the Lizardfo, dramatically quit or got killed in their sleep.

Love the effect when you have metal weapons on the ground and swing a ThunderBlade!

You automatically reflect the Octorock's rocks, goes faster if you do it manually.

There is a hollowed out part of a hill/mountain with a lot of fic potential to the North-West of the Sword by the campfire.

Located where the lines meet if you draw a line to the right from Rabia plain and up from Trotter's Downfall.

Koko of Kakariko has been deceived by my cunning and slight-of-hand.

Yes, Sagessa (woman by the lake of the Dueling peaks stable), there is, in fact, something "quite romantic" in Link's "endeavor" to save Zelda, thank you for noticing!

The chests inside the shrines can only (non-violently) be opened by use of the Sheikah slate so why not steal a few? prefect safe-keeping for more stuff to keep in Links house.

Dunce moment everyone!

The Yiga traveler tries to seduce Link and you either go with "OK..." so he either has no damn idea about what is going on or is just not good with women?

Orrrrr you go with a straight "I refuse!" cas you see through their ruse and want to rub their face in the dirt!

According to Mina the Hylian, taking out two Bokoblins is considered as great martial caliber which both she and her traveling companion could not do while decently armed.

Best way to deal with a guardian scout when you have weak weapons: hit with electricity, switch weapon, hit 2-5 times, switch to electric, repeat.

When you first enter the area around Hyrule Castle, smoke Ganon throws a fit until Zelda slaps him away.

This either means that Zelda canonically gets a larger workload from there on and out or that the both of them push harder against each other every time you get close.

According to Zelda's diary, Link was assigned as her guard after the champions had been appointed.

How Link was focused on her yet did not voice his thoughts apparently "makes my imagination run wild!". Either romantic or dense.

Link admits to staying quiet because of the pressure of being the boy chosen by the sword.

King Rhoam mentions that he decided to honor THE royal family's traditions by naming his daughter Zelda, and that he is "not a man accustomed to frivolous musings".

Basically confirming that he is not the parent of royal blood.

They probably knew about The Calamity for a good while cas the page after zelda's naming speaks of the fortune teller, probs 3-8 years since Zelda was described to already have vast interest in the relics.

Pikango gets up at 10 past 5, I spent the night watching him and Beetle sleep.

According to all known laws of aerodynamics, Rito should not be able to fly, is Revali's gale then just an absurdly strong variation of some kind of sky Arcanum that all Rito possess? Do all the races possess one as Well?

Slimes ate the Bokoblins in the tree base at the center of the west Hyrule fields.

Savelle is a helpful guy without a pension for violence.

Munk Shae Loya is just flexing on all the other Munks, those old farts need to sit down while he's been squatting on one leg the last 10'000 years.

Chork of the Tabantha Bridge Stable is drunk.

Toren is either naive or a simp for the Faireys.

If you have the Hylian hood equipped with no weapon while riding at max speed then your cape will flap.

"Sweet boy..." "...I see now that my first impression of you was correct. You most definitely are pleasant to look at."

So link has some kind of presence/soul-thingy that appears pleasant to mystical creatures? Might be the spirit of the hero or this link in particular.

The Fairy Kaysar makes Link blush! No player input needed! We’ve found one of his types!... either that or he's just shy.

The fairies almost never use normal materials to enchant, it's always either monster parts that don't dissipate or things that grow in magical arias.

The Sheikah towers are sturdy as all hell, the Tabantha tower did not even get a scratch from a giant fucking pillar falling on it.

Okay, am I just crazy or is a Lizardfo and a Moblin holding a class for 5 bokoblins just to the left of the Tabanta fairy fountain!?

Lester, the wise curry rice guy at Rito Stable, describes Link as sunny boy, another point to the soul/aura theory thingy.

Phontos laughs to hide the pain.

According to the story that Kass sings.

Calamity Ganon was the result of sealing the enemy at its source.

It fought not only the spawn of the Goddess and the bearer of the Spirit Of The Hero but also the army of Guardians and the Champions that piloted the Divine Beasts for quite some time, as implied in the "and the guardians protected them throughout every hour".

So what i get from this is that the attack 10 000 years ago was the first sighting of what we know as calamity Ganon.

It was also far stronger than the one that attacked 100 years ago which implies that that one was either a rush job or that Ganon bounds had been tightened, both of which would drive him to seek out other methods like corrupting the Guardians.

...And the Guardians are apparently powered by the ancient blue energy which was, time-line wise, first shown when the Golden Goddesses created the world.

No wonder that Ganon was capable of doing this since he most likely is running on fumes, spite and the power of the Triforce which likely is made of/channels said energy.

According to the rumor mill, you need the blood of the Hero in your veins to wield the Master Sword, if this is accurate then that means that Fi is sentimental or that Link has magic blood.

Wildberrys are fucking massive.

Genli (the salmon child) is a cunt, one kid was crying about someone Vah Medoh killed and then Genli is all like "no don't stop it, if you do then i have to go to class again!", She would fit right in with today's youth.

Monk Akh Va'quot has the best position so far, he is just done with your shit.

"You adventurers are Crazy" -> "you're right"

You get nothing if you melt all the ice by the Tabantha tower! You lose! Good day sir!

Monk Daka Tuss got bored during his self-inflicted quarantine and started stacking his arm bands.

Tula (the bathing Zora) said "wow either you are a Hylian or hideously deformed"

Phura has vandalized and mounted one of the spirit frog statues above her door.

Okay but the fucking noice that comes out of Bolson when you buy everything!! It's as if you just walked up and twisted his nuts with the power fit to shield block a Lynel’s charge.

Is the flower by Link's bed a Korok version of a Silent Princess?

The monsters of Hyrule are show to have interest in consumption based on three accounts.

1: the Bocoblins and the Moblins by Hateno bay steal cattle.

2: Hynoxes carry around warriors foodstuffs.

3: Moblins (or at least the ones by the camp near the Serenne stable/forgotten temple) have a resting animation where they dig through the dirt and stuff something down their goblet.

...not to mention that nearly every camp has a bit of meat roasting by the fire.

Koyin has joined the fan-club!

God, the Naydra snowfield is fucking loaded in chill-shromes!

Stasis is perfect for looking for ingredients in forests, just open it, look around and bam! No more hidey hoe.

Why no shiny text for hylia's statue!?

I really do not like that they changed Naydra's colors when the malice was removed, they were so cool and then bam! White! White is not the color for ice and cold!

When praying by the spring of wisdom you are facing Hyrule castle, the same with courage and power if my memory serves me right.

...The master Torch

The Katona Aug shrine is just fucking mini-golf, how is that meant to prepare the hero?! Imagine how that Monk goes to the afterlife and has to look his fellows straight in the eye and admit that he was so lazy that not only did he make the hero play golf, not only was he so lazy that he made the Hero play mini-golf, but that he was so lazy that he did not even make a course! It is literally just a straight line!

Robie wants to see Links scars to verify that he is who he says that he is, Robie was likely one of the ninja that took Link to the shrine of resurrection.

Oh and Robin has two interesting sketches in his lab, the first is a detailed graph of a Sheikah tower so those were likely known about long before Link activated one (the one closest to Robin would be the one covered in malice and guardians so he could not have gotten enough detail from that one).

And the other is a sketch of what I believe is either a tier 2 or tier 3 guardian scout. Now, how can Robin know how that looks if only Link can/could enter shrines?

The Sheikah shrine that has the Barbarian helm is located at the end of the Sinai maze, did they just plop the shrine down there and steal the treasure of the ruin to later present to the hero?

There is one usable room in the citadel.

There is no compendium slot for the malice eyes that litter Naydra, Hyrule Castle and the Divine Beasts.

You can change the element of already elemental slime, not just the neutral kind.

Those head-spitting fuckers inside the divine beasts! They are partially reanimating mobs! So it's not that the Blood Moon is the time where Ganon is at his strongest, it's just where he chooses to revive everything.

The edge of duality can also be found in the shrine at the top of the dueling peaks.

#botw #lore #fanfic ideas #the legend of zelda #breath of the wild

16 notes · View notes

one-boring-person · 4 years

Note

Hi! I had an idea for a David (lost boys)/reader fic if you're interested! Basically David finds his soulmate or mate, whatever you call it and he's doing everything in his power to get her to turn. Like she already knows what he and the guys are and they both are crazy about each other, but she's stuck on the idea of having to kill in order to survive. And David is doing everything from his usual mysterious behavior to down right pleading her to turn so they can be together forever? Thank you!

Thank you for requesting something! I hope this is satisfactory😁😅(I'm sorry if it's a bit cringy)

Please?

David (The Lost Boys) x reader

Warnings: mentions of blood and violence, mentions of death

Masterlist

He'd found me six months ago, a lone figure on the Boardwalk with a nervous disposition, jumping and tensing whenever someone nearby suddenly yells or shouts over the cheery music playing in the background, eyes wide at the variety of characters lining the bright streets. I hadn't initially felt the connection between us, but he tells me he'd been drawn to me instantly, somehow feeling the urge to search the crowd until he eventually found me, though he hung back, unwilling to give me any further shock, what with his rather intimidating appearance. It took him a month to finally introduce himself, and even then I'd been a little wary of his confident approach, but I'd soon gotten to know him well enough for him to reveal his secret to me, and to explain to me what the mate bond between us is. As soon as he did this, however, he started asking me the one thing I'd always have to refuse him - if I'd turn for him.

The idea didn't sit well with me, it never had and undoubtedly never will, the thought of having to intentionally kill people in order to survive, not to mention drinking their blood, making me feel sick to the stomach. It has nothing to do with him, or the others, of course; in fact, I've had the best time of my life with them, slowly gaining more confidence as time goes on, falling harder and harder for the platinum blonde mullet wearing vampire, so much so that I would stay with him for an eternity, if it didn't mean slaughtering hundreds of innocent people. I've told him this thousands of times, every time he's tried to get me to turn, but my reasons always fall on deaf ears, the vampire being stubborn and unyielding to the point where he started utilising his incredibly cunning mind to try and convince me. He's tried everything, bribing me with dates and gifts, threatening (unsuccessfully) to leave me and even getting the other boys to talk to me. At some point, he even asked Max for help, but apparently the head vampire could only laugh at David's predicament.

And even after all his failed tricks, he still hasn't given up, which explains why we're currently sat, a metre or so apart, on the beach, my mind having instinctually told me to put space between us when he first brought it up again, a grim expression on my face.

"What's not to like, (Y/n)? Immortality, enhanced senses, flying..." He encourages, giving me the same speech as always, just worded slightly differently.

"Killing people..." I mumble irritably, carrying on the same tone, as if reading out a list, crossing my arms across my chest.

He chuckles, the sound reverberating around my skull as it always does, a smile tempting my lips as I hear it, having always loved the sound of his laugh, even before we officially got together.

"Yes, but I've told you before: you don't think about it once you've done it, and the thrill-"

"Overshadows the guilt, I know. You've told me about a thousand times." I finish for him, knowing he's smirking at my words, though I refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking in his direction, aware of the fact that he's most likely staring at me and able to see me in the dark, what with his vampire vision and all.

"So I don't see why you can't just accept what I'm offering you." He pushes, the vampire taking a drag from the cigarette in his hand, blowing the smoke out a few seconds later with an audible sigh.

Rolling my eyes, I clench my jaw before replying, annoyed that I have to go over it all again.

"Because, unlike you four, I'm not used to drinking blood every night, and I'm most definitely not used to killing people to get it, and the whole idea of doing either one of those things is not one I even want to think about! We've been through this countless times, and every time you just ignore me. Maybe it's time you actually listened, for a change." I snap at him, shocked at my own tone, though it is understandable after all the pestering he's put me through in the last five months.

For once, David is silent, somehow unable to come back with a witty comment or remark, a first for the cocky vampire.

"Maybe that's because I don't want to hear another rejection. I'm just as tired of this as you are, (Y/n)." He finally admits, voice uncharacteristically quiet.

"Then why do you keep doing it?!" I exclaim, looking over at him to find that he has his head bowed, though I can tell from his posture that he is uncomfortable.

"Because I want to spend eternity with you! It's got nothing to do with the bond or whatever, I genuinely love you!" David retorts, voice laced with raw emotion, a sigh escaping his lips as he tries to calm himself, "At this point, I've run out of ideas so I've got nothing better to try than this."

Confused, I go to speak, only to be cut off when I feel his leather clad finger against my lips, telling me to keep quiet, his hands moving to hold onto mine as he goes to kneel in front of me, taking a deep breath.

"Look, I don't do this often, and it will very likely never happen again, so know that I am being as sincere as I can be. I want you to turn because I can't face an eternity without you. I've felt alone for the longest time, even with the boys hanging around it's nothing compared to how I feel when I'm with you. You make me feel as if I still belong in the world, and that I'm not some abomination that was created to spite the traditional idea of living then dying. I know the idea of killing people isn't a pleasant one, but I swear to you that it gets easier, and controlling yourself can also help with this. You don't necessarily have to kill anyone, and drinking blood doesn't sound as bad when you're like me; it's just like drinking normally, but much more satisfying trust me." He stops for a moment, looking down briefly as I try to come to terms with this new approach, barely recognising the needy vampire before me, "Please, (Y/n), I need you to stay with me. I need someone to ground me as much as you do. I, well, I don't tho k I'll be able to face the rest of my life without you. Please turn, (Y/n), please. For my sake?"

For a couple of minutes, I remain silent, my eyes wide at David's heartfelt words; I knew he loved me, but I never realised just how strongly he does, the ulterior meaning behind the words making me feel much happier about the relationship. I soon find my voice, my mind spinning from the different outlook on what he's been trying to get me to do, my response a little shaky.

"Are you begging me, David?" Is all I can manage, my head still trying to wrap itself around the idea. David doesn't beg, not for anything.

He seems to stumble over what to say, until it clicks that that is, in fact, what he is doing.

"It's the only way I can think of that will convince you, (Y/n), so yes, I am begging you to turn and stay with me until the end of our days. Please, (Y/n). I'm begging you."

Again, I take some time to myself, rubbing my thumbs over his gloved hands to reassure him a little, a low ache starting in my head as I think it through properly. I'd never considered that he had become dependant on my attention, but it makes sense: he's spent so long living as the leader of a group of unruly boys that he's most likely missed out on the affection and care that comes with having a lover, so much so that it's made him needy enough to beg for me to join them properly. We'd be able to spend endless days together, enjoying the perks of being immortal vampires through the decades, and God knows I crave doing that, spending time with the vampire I've come to love with all I have to give. But, as always, one thing keeps me from agreeing on the spot.

My thoughts stray to the imaginary images my mind conjured up, recalling the visions of terrified people being torn into by a ravenous, vampiric version of me, dying at my hands simply because I need to feed. But what he'd said earlier strikes a chord within me, reminding me that I don't have to kill, if I learn how to control myself before I become addicted to the thrill.

"(Y/n)?" His concerned voice breaks through the trance-like state I've put myself in, shaking me from my thoughts. I look him in what I think to be the eye, relaxing myself a little before speaking.

"David, I honestly want to spend eternity with you, I really do, but I have to consider the whole killing thing again. You say I can learn to control myself, but none of you guys can, not even Dwayne, who is one of the most controlled people I know. It terrifies me, honestly, having the choice to kill someone or let them live, depending on how hungry I am, and then almost always choosing to kill them anyway, because the bloodlust is just too strong. You have no idea how much that scares me." I confess to him, looking down at my lap in the dark, hoping he won't see the embarrassed flush rising to my cheeks. Quietly, he shuffles around until he's sat beside me again, wrapping his arm around my body and pulling me into his chest as he always does, letting me muzzle into him for comfort, breathing in the familiar scents that always accompany him.

"We can all help you, (Y/n), and you know that I will never give up on you, no matter how stubborn you get. I want, no, need to spend the rest of my life with you, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that happens." He says to me, voice low and comforting as he buries his face into my hair, holding me tighter against him.

"I believe you, David. I just need time to think." I reply, moving my head so that I can look up at him, knowing his icy blue eyes will be focused on me.

"I'll give you time, (Y/n), but you know how impatient I get."

I giggle quietly, reaching up to brush a strand of platinum blonde hair back into its correct place.

"I promise you, David, I will make a decision soon, but if I do turn, you have to swear to me you will help me try not to kill people. Please?" I assure him, watching him for a reaction, though it is nearly impossible in the black night.

"Of course, I'll do anything for you." David hums in agreement, leaning down to capture my lips in a gentle kiss, lifting a hand to cup my face, pulling me closer as I gladly reciprocate.

Pulling away, he rests his chin on top of my head as I return my face to his chest, intent on staying there until he has to move, knowing he is only too happy to oblige.

"I love you, David." I whisper to him carefully, resting a hand on his chest.

"I love you, too." He replies, his voice low as he murmurs this into my hairline, pressing a quick kiss there as his hands continue to caress my sides and back, lulling me into a sense of safety and comfort.

#joel schumacher #the lost boys #vampire #david(thelostboys)#paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#kiefer sutherland #marko(the lost boys)#santa carla #star(the lost boys)#request

64 notes · View notes

dirt-cup-draco · 4 years

Text

Sirius x Reader - Mistakes (2/2)

Previously:

Angry tears were already beginning to spill. You had wanted to talk to him but he was being impossible. How could he say those things about you? You’d done nothing to him.

“Fine you bastard! I don’t need you anyway, maybe I will go back to Edgar. At least he cares! I was going to tell you that I hadn’t wanted to go to the yule ball together as just friends but now I don’t even want to be your friend…” You sniffled, all your anger gone.

Before Sirius could say anything you were gone. With a frustrated groan, and tears of his own fighting to be released he sagged against the stone wall of the corridor. He really had messed up big time.

It had been two weeks since the Yule Ball. Sirius was in his room tossing the neatly wrapped present he’d had under his bed for ages up and watching the ribbons whip around as it fell back into his waiting hands. He’d been so miffed about you going with Edgar after he had turned you down that he had forgotten to give you your christmas present at the ball. He had exchanged gifts with his friends earlier and you’d been absent so it had slipped his mind.

He wasn’t sure when he would get the chance to give it to you. You avoided him like he was the plague and although his friends were sympathetic, they kept telling him to apologize. Why should he? You’d been the one to say you didn’t want to be friends anymore. If anything, he was being gracious and respecting your wishes. He scoffed. This was all bullshit.

Sirius was amazing at deflecting his feelings but he couldn’t deny that he missed you terribly. It didn’t help that every time he walked into potions you were sitting next to Edgar, a happy smile on your face. His misery didn’t end there, however. Edgar was always touching you. Every time he saw the pair of you, Edgar’s arm was around your shoulders as you talked in quiet voices to each other. Every so often he heard your laugh floating through the room and his spiteful heart ached.

“For the love of god, if you don’t stop moping over Y/N, I am going to obliviate the very thought of her from your head,”

Sirius just glared in response as James slumped onto the edge of his bed. Sirius kicked James’ side but not hard enough to even illicit a noise from his friend. “Like she’d care, she’d probably thank you,” He said moodily, tossing the gift one more time in the air. James snatched it and admired the box.

“This for her?”

“Who else?”

James shrugged but set the gift on the bed as he turned to better look at his friend. “Maybe giving this to her will help break the ice?” He suggested and Sirius’ eyebrow quirked up. To be honest, he’d considered that more than once in the past fourteen days. Every scenario he played out in his head though ended up with you telling him to bugger off.

“Remus and her were talking the other day and she-”

“Y/N still talks to you?” Sirius asked, somehow more wounded by this information. He’d somehow led himself to believe you had simply cut all the marauders out of your life. That was stupid of him. Of course you still talked to the rest of them, they were your friends.

James nodded. “As I was saying, she said that she missed hanging out with us, you too dog brain,”

If to prove James’ point, Sirius’ ears nearly perked up at that. “She said she missed me?”

You weren’t mad anymore. Just unsure of what steps to take next. You missed Sirius and you still cared for him deeply but how did you bridge the gap you’d both created? You sighed and kicked the edge of your bedpost.

“Right, because a sore toe is going to bring your boyfriend back,” Edgar teased, fluffing one of your pillows as he reclined on your bed. You rolled your eyes and paced around the room.

“He’s not my-”

“Yeah, yeah I know. It was a joke, love,” Edgar said softly, standing and wrapping his arms around you comfortingly. You pouted but took comfort in your friend’s embrace. Edgar was a good friend and had stuck around after the ball, knowing that you didn’t have many others to hang out with now that you were avoiding Sirius. More than that, he liked your company. You two got along swimmingly well and if it wasn’t for your persistent feelings for Sirius you could see yourself falling for Edgar. Too bad nothing seemed to be changing about your stubborn heart.

“I’m sorry,” You muttered, “You must be tired hearing me whine about him all the time,”

“I definitely am,” Edgar admitted lightheartedly and with a smile, “but I get it. He means a lot to you and the roads are rocky right now. You miss him, nothing wrong with that. I was hoping after the first couple days your teenage angst would have driven you to do something more productive about this and you’d go talk to him but by all means, take your time.”

You laughed and pushed Edgar away playfully, glad to see his own face lit up by a smile that had become one of your favorites.

“You know I’m glad you’re my friend, right? You aren’t just a rebound,”

“I know that, you tell me at least once a day.”

No matter how grateful you were to Edgar, you knew you also needed Sirius back in your life. You were sure you had made a life long friend but you couldn’t let the friendship between you and Sirius die just because you weren’t lonely. You opened your drawer and found a simple box tucked away between all your old homework and notes.

“Maybe if I give him this after dinner tonight we can work things out,”

“That’s the spirit,” Edgar encouraged. “Now go get your man,” He said dramatically, falling back onto your bed after he twirled dramatically. It was comical for his sturdy size. You wouldn’t think that such a guy would be traipsing around your room encouraging you to fix your love life, but here you were.

Dinner rolled around too soon and you were ready to just skip the meal altogether. You had Sirius’ gift tucked into your robes. You didn’t want to look pitiful if he refused to speak to you in the first place. You sat down at your table, thinking diligently on what you would do once everyone started clearing out. You didn’t want to attract too much attention, the fight between you and Sirius was already known and you didn’t like it. It was between you two only. You could get up as the first to finish got up and you could go to his table and ask if you could talk. But what if he made fun of you and the rest of the gryffindors followed suit? You didn’t like doubting Sirius but you were scared. You felt like you hadn’t known him as well as you’d thought.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t see Sirius stand as he made his way towards you. His heart was floating somewhere around his ears it seemed because the chatter of the great hall died down as he stood and all he could hear was the blood rushing through his veins and the beat of his heart. His hands were shaking but he reached a finger out, trying not to notice your housemates staring as you peered into your plate and chewed on your lip. Tapping your shoulder, his breath caught in his throat as you turned around, eyes widening as you took in his appearance.

“Sirius?” Was the only thing that came out of your mouth as you swung your legs over the bench, standing.

“Y/N... Can we- could we maybe- I brought your christmas gift I know it’s late I-”

“Lets talk somewhere else,” you gently suggested as he continued to ramble. He nodded and followed you as you quickly left the great hall, walking until the sound of others vanished completely. You were in another corridor, thankfully not the one you’d previously fought in. You couldn’t help but think of it every time you passed through.

Sirius transferred your gift from one hand to the other, rubbing his palms on his robes as he stood before you. “How’s Edgar?” He asked, wincing. It sounded spiteful. “Sorry I just meant-”

“I know. He’s good, we’re friends. T-that’s it, just in case you weren’t sure. We aren’t dating or anything... I guess it wouldn’t matter,” You said awkwardly, fishing his gift out from your robes.

“It does!” Sirius exclaimed, eyeing the box in your hands. He was nearly surprised you hadn’t tossed whatever you had gotten him after your fight. “It does matter I mean... I um, I’m glad you aren’t dating,”

“You are?” Your head snapped up from the spot on the ground you had been studying furiously. You didn’t like the uneasiness between you two. It had been so easy to talk once before. It was all your fault for asking him to the ball in the first place.

Sirius let out a dry laugh and ran one of his hands through his hair, tugging gently to help sort his thoughts and keep him grounded. Now was not the time to stumble over his thoughts and words. “I messed up, Y/N,” He began and hearing his voice say your name without any venom or bite to it made you weak in the knees. It had been far too long since you two hadn’t been on good terms.

“I didn’t realize how you felt for me and I thought you were just asking me to the ball so we’d both have dates and we could go as friends. James and Remus nearly bit my head off when they realized what I’d said to you... I like you, a lot, that wasn’t the problem. I just couldn’t believe you would want to spend your night with me, I was um... Well Remus says I was insecure so I turned you down...”

Your lips twitched up. Of course even now he was having problems admitting his feelings. You kept your mouth shut but you reached out to his free hand and squeezed reassuringly. It seemed to do the trick.

“I don’t want to fight. I miss you and I like you and I was an idiot and I just want to say I am so sorry Y/N,” Sirius finished, hand clutching yours back like he never wanted to let you go again.

“I miss you and I like you too Sirius, we were both idiots,” You said simply. “I didn’t mean to say I didn’t want to be friends anymore...”

He nodded in understanding and extended the wrapped present towards you. “Merry late Christmas Y/N, and happy new year,”

You grinned and the both of you opened your gifts in the hall, sitting on the stone floor of the corridor. You let your head fall to Sirius’ shoulder. “Thank you, I love it,” You said in response to the gift. It was perfect for you, thoughtful. You couldn’t believe you’d almost lost someone who meant everything to you.

“Does this mean we are okay?” Sirius asked after a moment, his own head leaning against yours and your fingers intertwined between you.

You pulled away from him and kissed his cheek, watching as pink crept up his neck and ears.

“We all make mistakes, all we can do is learn to forgive and forget,” He hummed in content with your answer and kissed your temple affectionately.

“You’ll go back to sitting by me in potions right? Edgar is cool but I’m sure his grades are doing much better than mine,” Sirius said suddenly and a laugh bubbled up in your chest.

“Of course, but you know Edgar and I are still friends right? Don’t go too hard on him just because of me,”

“As long as you kiss me and not him, I don’t have a problem,”

You rolled your eyes but your heart skipped happily. You let your fingers trail across Sirius’ cheek before brushing your lips against his lightly. He grinned and pressed back eagerly. You giggled and let all the worries of the past two weeks fade away as Sirius filled your senses and kissed you breathless.

“I hope we make up like this all the time now,” You admitted and Sirius smirked. He’d never let you think you werent wanted by him ever again.

---

Tag List: @fsm2004 @treestarrrrrrrr @df841 @numwoon44 @brownsugarsass @siriusmuch @that-bitch-a-leo @starofthedawn

#sirius x reader #sirius black x reader #marauders #marauders era #mistakes #mistakes part two #angst #fluff

237 notes · View notes

kat-writes-about-stuff · 4 years

Text

Sunrise?—Bakugou x reader

Content: fluff with slight slight angst(very slight)

Things seemed so serene. You were currently sitting on your front porch in the middle of the night having woken up from a nightmare. Sitting here in the dark with only the sliver of light from linear street lamps was sort of calming. Everything was quiet. You live in a very safe neighborhood, you had lived there all your life. You are tired but going for a walk down the paved street would be nice.

Deciding to look at the stars you start walking up the hill you’ve memorized since childhood. Riding your bike down and taking walks with your mother always was nice. At the very top of the hill was a water tower that looked over your hometown. It was your favorite place to go to look at the stars, or even watch the sunset. The sunset was far gone by now, sunrise would come in a few hours. Having made it to the top of the hill you climb the fence surrounding the pale tower and find your way to the base of the ladder. The bottom quarter of the ladder was beaten up and broken in a few places. This was to prevent rebellious kids from climbing the tower but you have a few tricks up your sleeve. Your quirk is quite the interesting one, driven by emotions for the most part. You feel confident you’ll make it up with no problem. Maneuvering your way to the side you spot the promising fence as always, climbing to the top you prepare yourself to jump. Your qurik was mostly to save yourself in bad situations? It was confusing but luck was always on your side when activating it, hence your confidence to jump AND make it. Finally jumping with full force you fall a bit short but are shifted up through the air just enough to reach the first two bars. From here on out it’s a piece of cake.

Making it to the top you see a figure sitting directly in your favorite spot. The spot that has the best view of the sky over your town. You pause, on guard because you could never be sure who was a thug and who was a hero. You peek over from behind the top of the ladder and wait to see if they move. It’s too dark to see anything but their silhouette.

“The fuck are you doing?” A raspy low voice calls out to you.

Oh god. You know exactly who this is.

“Well hello to you too Bakugou.” You say in response. He just merely stares are you while you move towards him to sit down. You sit directly next to him just to spite him a bit. Leaving about an inch of space between the two of you. He just scoffs before looking away. You two have an odd relationship to say the least. You are both at the top of your class, your personalities though we’re quite different at first. You were shy and timid, only getting into U.A by a hair, on the other hand he was uhhhh loud and angry. Your first real interaction consisted was at the sports festival. You had come neck and neck with him and Todoroki in the big race/ obstacle course. You had placed in front of him by just a millisecond. He was pissed, yelling at you saying how you got in the way. He had even backed you into a corner before you knew how to stand up for yourself. From there on out you had your run-ins and such. The moment you started becoming stronger and placing at the top you gained a sense of confidence with the help of pretty much your whole class. The next time he backed you into a corner, you took Kirishima’s advice and threw him through a metaphorical loop. He had you pinned against the wall outside the school in a secluded area as he told you up and down about what you did that was so wrong that day. You simply said, “Wow, didn’t know I could get you so riled up so easily.” And pushed him by the chest with a smirk on your face. From there he was frozen and a bit of a fuming mess. You had walked away. Since then you two would pass off insults that turned into borderline flirting. At times where he was particularly anxious and you had noticed , you had attempted to offer help even when nobody else did. Other than that you had no real conversations that weren’t filled with attraction or empathy.

“I came here to be alone.” He said snapping you out of your memories.

“I’m not that much of a nuisance right? Hmm well...what brings you here so late at night?” You asked a little too innocently.

“Well for one yes and for the other... it’s none of your business.” He said roughly but seemed a bit hesitant for the last bit, as if he almost wanted to open up to you.

“Listen, I came here to relax and de-stress so why don’t we both just do that. I had a rough night so far and all I want is to look at the stars from here.” You say honestly.

“Whatever, I’m leaving. I didn’t come to play your little games.” He says gruffly as he gets up to head to the ladder. You watch slightly sad at his words and actions.

Without a second thought, you say “Bakugou wait... tell me what’s wrong. You don’t even have a witty comeback I know somethings wrong.”

Without a word he moves to fit back down. Eyes hidden behind his hair and the soft moonlight on the tips of his head. He sighs before finally raising his head to look at the stars, a almost anxious look to his face even though his brows were still furrowed.

“I’m just tired I guess. Tired of hiding something and of course you showed up out of the blue. We only have three more weeks of summer break before we go back as third years.” He pauses and takes a minute to choose his next words. “ I guess what I’m trying to get to here is that there has been someone on my mind all summer and I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that I’m too late.” He says this almost calmly, he still has that look of worry on his face though. He goes back to hiding his eyes a bit as he waits for the next thought to surface or for you to say something.

You break the silence asking, “Why is it so bad I showed up? And why do you think it’s too late..?” You are sort of clueless but you feel like the someone is you. That could be wishful thinking, you’re not exactly the most memorable person.

His face contorts into anger as your obliviousness to ask questions makes him angry but it fades quickly. He waited to see if you had anything else to say before finally speaking, “I can’t fucking deal with this shit anymore. The constant cat and mouse game leading to no end. Ever since I’ve met you you have been this thing that plagues my fucking mind. Goddamnit...” he pauses again to look at you. Your filled with surprise as you piece the puzzle together. He was confessing in his own anger-filled way. Your eyes were wide and you hadn’t formulated an answer yet.

“Tch, I fucking knew this was a bad idea. I should’ve left when I had the chance.” He lowers his head and begins to get up again as if to leave.

“Katsuki.” You say in such a soft voice he barely heard. He stopped right behind you towering over you as you turn to look at him. “I like you too you big idiot.” You say with a smile on your face.

He sits back down, the faintest smile on his lips. He doesn’t find you calling him an “idiot” amusing but he couldn’t say he was angry at all. He stays quiet before he lets out a sigh, his tensed brows softening as he looks from you to the stars.

“What do you say we watch the sunrise together?” You say still gleaming.

“Fine.” He says softly but his voice seemed a bit lighter. At this point he hesitantly pulled you a little closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull you close to him. You gladly hug into his side as he settles his arm around your waist.

“This is a lot nicer than having you pin me to a wall roughy and yelling at me.” You say with a slight smirk, knowing you’d get a reaction out of him.

“Woooow so are you saying you don’t like that?” He says mockingly with a stupid grin on his face. In a flash you are pinned against the water tower, his hands on your waist ready to attack. All the while he has a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Don’t you dare.” You say as he pauses before finally tickling you at full force. You began to laugh, it’s not really a choice at this point but you grabbed his wrists attempting to pry them off but he continues to mercilessly attack your sides.

“Had enough?” He says with that stupid smirk on his face as he abruptly stops. You’re breathing hard now due to the lack of oxygen but stumble out the words, “Fine... you win.”

“I always win.” He says as he plops next to you inviting your head to rest on his shoulder. He seemed genuinely happy for once. It was a nice change. He still had that furrow in his brows as always but you could tell he was feeling much better from when you found him. You could feel your eyes getting heavier and heavier by the second, the sunrise still wasn’t for another hour. Before you know it you two fall asleep on each other.

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha #bakugou fluff #bakugou

80 notes · View notes