#I still love this show I just wish they'd tone it down sometimes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

impaladolan · 3 years

Text

Home Alone - Grayson Dolan

summary: after a long week of work, y/n needs some sort of relaxation and relief. although, her outlook on relieving her frustrations isn’t what grayson had in mind...

warnings: tid bit fluffy, swearing, vibrator use, & smut

a/n: been in my unfinished drafts for a bit..

"Are you sure you don't want to tag along, baby?" Grayson longingly questioned, his brows crinkled and his lips almost forming a pout.

"I haven't been able to do laundry all week. God knows it won't get done unless I do it now." Y/N chuckles, balancing a full basket of freshly dried clothes on her hip, watching her lover wrap his fist around the front door's handle.

Every other weekend, at the Dolan residences, the two brothers, and sometimes their wives, would gather with some of their friends and watch their favorite football teams. And later on, they'd play board games or watch some movies. Normally, Y/N would be the one begging Grayson to hurry up and get ready to attend the biweekly event, except this time.

Y/N has different plans...

It had been a brutal week at work, her boss was currently taking out her "divorce emotions" on her employees and Y/N was getting the rougher end of it. She was relieved when it was finally the weekend and she could stress clean, calm her nerves in some sort of self efficient way and relax after a tough couple days.

She hadn't even had the thought of a sexual release, until she had dreamt multiple naughty scenarios just last night during her deep slumber. She couldn't exactly pinpoint what all she had dreamed, but she remembers waking up with a dripping arousal and a sore ache at her very center. And though her husband was laid right next to her, perfectly capable of satisfying her womanly needs, she decided using other resources would be a better fit.

Don't get her wrong, she loves being pleasured by the only man who knows exactly how to, but she felt embarrassed. She didn't want to come across as a sex-crazed women to Grayson, even though it would never make a difference to him.

They're married, for goodness sake.

"I can stay back and help out. We could even have our own little movie night if you wanted," He began, releasing his hand from the door and taking a few steps toward Y/N, whose lips turned into a cheesy smile as he drew closer to her.

"Just you and me," He took the basket filled with clothes from her hip and set it on the floor, intertwining his large hands with her smaller ones, eliciting a short laugh from Y/N. He brought her closer to his frontside, creating a ballroom dance-like formation and began shuffling around with her in his arms. Like an old married couple, they slowly danced around the room, him twirling her in his grasp while Y/N admirably gazed upon him.

Her cheeks were rosy with admiration, finding his little act of affection adorable. "You get easily distracted, huh?" Y/N grinned, resting her chin happily on his shoulder, his minuscule beard hairs tickling certain parts of her neck.

"Well, you looked too pretty over here by yourself," He softly explained against her ear. "And I wanted to dance around a room with a beautiful woman like you. So, I am." He lowered his hands beneath her and slew her into a romantic dip, planting a sweet kiss upon her lips. She returned one back, feeling her heart grow two sizes larger, much like the Grinch movie portrays, if anything.

"Grayson, I know how much you enjoy football, especially with the boys," She was only making excuses, but he had tempted her to just cuddle on the couch all day and watch plethoras of movies and munch on various snacks. But the low rattle in the depths her core was motioning her in a different way, and she just couldn't survive the rest of the day without fixing her little problem.

"Hmm, you're right. But when I get back, we're ordering take out and watching movies. Got it?" He chuckles, bringing the both of them back up into a standing position.

"M'hm, be safe." Y/N smiles, planting another kiss on her lover's lips before leaving his warmth. She waved goodbye to him as he left their abode, sweetly grinning as she went back to finishing up the laundry before the real reason she was staying home, would begin.

Though the couple's intimate relations seemed innocent and loving, they each had a different side to them, specifically in the bedroom.

The two never shied away from new experiences and would most certainly dabble into different areas of the "sex world," if you will. They, of course, had their preferences and different kinks, but Y/N seemed to be more open and freeing for that sort of stuff.

For the different occasions that they felt a bit more lustful and yearning for one another, they kept a locked trunk of knickknacks in their closet. You see, that's the one Grayson knows about, but Y/N keeps a smaller one, filled to the brim with all of her own toys, in a section of her closet that he never really pays attention to. If he had any idea that she kept self-pleasuring items for her own uses, he'd be absolutely ballistic.

Thankfully, he doesn't...

The moment Y/N threw the last bits of dirty laundry left, into the washer, she practically sprinted to their shared bedroom. After rummaging through the trunk filled with "accessories," she found a nice, pretty pink vibrator to do the trick, as well as a black silk blindfold to shield her own eyes. She was already rid of her clothes and sprawled across the wide bed in an instance, tying the piece of cloth over her eyes.

Though, unbeknownst to Y/N, Grayson was already on his way back home. As soon as he had pulled into his brother's driveway, they had called to cancel— a certain emergency about something Grayson didn't really pay attention to listen to. He was thrilled that he didn't have to leave Y/N at home, all by herself to do chores all day. And luckily, their houses weren't too far apart from each other, so Grayson was back home within fifteen minutes of leaving it.

He didn't feel the need to text Y/N, she was probably busy anyway and possibly wouldn't respond. He figured she would hear the garage door open and expect that he was already home.

Little does he know...

As soon as he was parked and out of his vehicle, Grayson was trudging down stairs to the laundry room, in search of Y/N. He was surprised that she wasn't there, but he figured she might just be folding on the couch, trying to get ahead on one of the TV series the two were drawn into.

Grayson chuckles as he makes his way back upstairs, though his brows curtly furrow, his ears almost perking at the muffled sounds coming from the hallway.

Their shared room, to be precise.

With a pondering look upon his face, he kicks off his shoes and makes his way towards his bedroom, quietly twisting the door handle and pushing it inward. He opens the door wide enough to secretly look inside, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness that enveloped the entire expanse. The noises he had heard only seconds ago were more prominent, and his eyes had fallen on the object creating the aroused sounds;

Y/N.

She was laid out on their bed, legs wide open and shaking while her hands were constantly pressuring a fucking sex toy against her soaked pussy. Grayson froze, pure anger washing over him and turning his face a turbulent shade of red, washing away his pleasant mood. He almost stormed in there, ready to rip the stupid machine away from her hands and show her what a real orgasm feels like.

But he somehow contained himself, and instead, watched the scene play out in front of his very own eyes, vexation spilling from his entire countenance.

Y/N didn't hear the garage door open and close, or even the beep of Grayson's truck when he locked it. She hadn't even heard his feet stomping up and down the stairs, or his lingering chuckles. She was so caught up in how she was feeling.

The artificial vibrations that buzzed upon her core made the world around her so euphoric and heavenly. She'd brush the toy upon her clit, forcing her entire body shake with deep pleasure and a soft moan to emit from her mouth. It felt so nice, and she was so close to the brink of releasing.

She was already feeling better, and naughty. If Grayson were to find her this way, masturbating freely in the open and satisfying herself, she would never live to see another day. But she didn't care at this point, she just wanted to finally cum.

And she was extremely close.

Her hips began to buckle, while her backside rose from the bed and her free hand twisted at the sheets beneath her. "Mm- just a little more—" Her entire core was pulsating, so fucking close to just letting go.

So close..

"Don't fucking cum yet, slut." Grayson's voice boomed throughout the room, making Y/N's movements freeze in terror and shock. Before she could think of some sort of explanation or reasoning as to what she's doing, her blindfold is ripped from her eyes, while the vibrator that was once nuzzled up on her pussy, was taken away as well. Now, she felt so empty and wanting, edged to an almost release.

"Jesus- You're fucking dripping, for fucksake." His tone was harsh, and Y/N felt like crying. She held onto her tears as she watched him examine the drenched vibrator, still buzzing in his hands. Out of the loss of contact, she began to whine, squeezing her thighs together to create at least a little bit of friction.

"Grayson, please—" She began to huff, but her shuttering voice was interrupted by the aggravated man pacing in front of her.

"I don't think I fucking asked you to talk, did I?" He glared at her, though just the sight of Y/N's exposed body made him shudder with a tinge of want.

Against his wishes, Y/N continued her whines, her breathing still ragged and finally her own hand traveling down to her soaked heat. She didn't care if she'd be in more trouble, she just needed to unravel the knot inside her, whether she'd pay for that mistake later or if not.

She didn't get far, because Grayson caught her wrist before it made it all the way down to her center, and brought it up to the headboard. He wrapped a leather strip around both of her wrists, mumbling incoherent spews of anger, doing the same with her ankles against the bedposts.

"I-I, I thought you were gonna watch football.." She began, but a low growl sounded from Grayson, and the blindfold was placed back over her eyes, while a different type of cloth was shoved in her mouth. Y/N feels the numbing slap across her thigh before hearing the connection's sound, an exasperated scream muffling out of her filled mouth.

"I'd stop talking if I were you. Unless you want to be choked by Daddy’s fucking cock, darling." His voice rattled her insides, and she dared not to make another sound, already dug far too deep in a hole anyway. "Get ready princess, m'gonna edge the fuck out of you. Maybe then, you'll remember to ask me for permission to use your fucking toys." His voice soon faded from her ears as a higher vibration than before was nudged right up against her swollen clit, making her figure convulse in imploding pleasure.

It took an entire hour for Grayson to edge Y/N twelve fucking times. She was a mess, sweat droplets dotting her hairline while her pussy remained in slippery shambles. He didn't say a word, and Y/N held her tongue from shouting profanities after the several losses of contact. She hadn't came yet, but if she didn't soon— she would find a way to get out of her restraints and finish off what she had started herself.

It had been several minutes since Grayson had pulled her to the brink of an orgasm, and she was starting to think that he'd never come back. She had heard the sound of a zipper earlier, and she couldn't tell if he was doing something to ease his own pain while she laid there, so high strung and breathless. She was about to call out his name, but the warmth of his tongue wrapped around her bundle of nerves and she let out an exasperated sigh, pulling on the cuffs tied around her wrists.

He slipped his tongue in skillful motions, his hands pushing up underneath her thighs as he lapped up her liquids. Y/N was so sensitive to touch, anything that remotely stroked her could heighten her arousal and make her lust for more.

Within seconds, her hips were shaking and her back arched above the mattress, her toes curling under the pressure. And his voice finally sang the heavenly words she had been waiting for the entire time;

"Cum, princess."

Y/N released all over his lips, a high-pitched scream sounding from her mouth as she finally unravels, her legs bucking against their restraints. She spits out the cloth from her mouth and heavily breathes, murmuring praises to the man between her legs.

"I'm sorry, Grayson."

a/n: did this completely suck? i haven’t really written in third person in awhile, so i need honest opinions..

386 notes · View notes

egg-emperor · 2 years

Note

Do you have a favourite Eggman? From voice, personality, media? And any type of Eggman you're not keen on? Or, do you just love the evil scientist regardless?

I'm actually rather picky when it comes to my Eggman/Robotnik versions and have a very refined taste because I've always believed that there should be a specific criteria in design, personality, portrayal, tone, etc, regardless of the redesign/universe/media, otherwise it just doesn't look and feel like him to me and sometimes it strays so far that it might as well be an entirely separate character and series. There are versions of Eggman/Robotnik that feel that way and they lack what made me like him in the first place, taking away the appeal.

I love modern Eggman most, he's always been my absolute favorite and always will be! He's endlessly entertaining with his thrilling (but unfortunately often downplayed) evil, his underappreciated plans and creations, both his badass and funny memorable moments, his charming voices from Deem Bristow and Mike Pollock (they're tied as my favorite voice for him), his absolutely GORGEOUS design, and more. He always steals the show, has all the best moments in the best games and makes even the worst games worth my time for him. I feel he's the most consistently well written and interesting character in the series and I feel very lucky.

I feel the same way about classic Eggman because he's the exact same guy and version, just with a different look. He has the same personality, a different but still very cute design that only makes the great evil he's capable of even more impressive and impactful, and his creations and plans are just as great as modern's. He has a special place above all others in my heart too. My first game was Heroes so I saw modern first but I got the Mega Collection shortly after, so I got to fall in love with him across both versions at the same time.

06 Eggman isn't really a separate version from classic/modern, he's just a different variant of modern but I think there are enough differences to separate him for the list. Anyway, I think he's overhated. His golden nipple caps on his jacket are hilarious but his design isn't that bad. I'd make a few alterations and it obviously doesn't beat modern and classic's but it was fine for a one off. His blue eyes are the best part and I wish they'd show them again. I don't like how his humor and fun energy was played down for the tone of the plot but he still had a few moments of fun. It's unfortunate that he didn't get to do much in the levels and story, though.

I like him in the X show for the most part, he was evil, funny, and entertaining. Except for when he got awfully OOC in season 3 for no reason and contradicted his own actions even in the very show like a hypocrite and yet it gave people the wrong view of him and his evil, that's my biggest criticism. But other than that, I personally have a blast rewatching X to this day. I watched it back when it was still airing and I was getting in the games, so nostalgia and it being a part of what helped me fall in love with his character helps make him one of my favorite versions.

The X comics really bad though because they're not canon to the show, don't have the same writers, and the characters are OOC- even for their different versions in the X universe. Eggman's characterization was much worse there than the show Imo, there are few parts story wise that I like at all. The only good thing to come out of it was the good (non traced stuff because that was a huge problem in them) Eggman art and his outfits. And while I like going back to admire it to this day, it's not enough to forgive the bad writing portrayal.

I liked a good amount of Archie Eggman, in much later issues of the pre reboot and and the post reboot specifically. I didn't think I'd miss Archie much when it ended and we got IDW but now I miss that later Archie Eggman. It makes me wonder what the hell happened with Flynn's Eggman writing and interpretation (Sega and mandates are not the ones to put all the blame on because he has misinterpreted scenes in the games by himself) because there's actually quite a lot of scenes in Archie that I thought were fantastic. His evil was thrilling, I loved his darkest moments and he had his funny moments too. I miss him... :')

Boom Eggman isn't my favorite but he's one of the most acceptable to me as one that differentiates from my Eggman criteria. He's not as much of my thing for just being humorous without as much evil because the balance is what I like about classic/modern. I'm also usually not for redesigns slimming him down but he's at least one of the designs closer in other aspects of classic/modern's designs. He's also entertaining and funny but there wasn't much of my interest story wise. Overall, he's good in my book but lacks a bunch of what makes classic/modern best to me. He isn't much different portrayal wise from the show in the Boom comics but his design worked better there than 3D.

I'm aware of all the manga series but it's hard for me to have a solid opinion on any of their portrayals of Eggman when there's no easy way to find any of them with every part translated in one place and some haven't been at all and are super rare. I've only seen bits and pieces of them all over the years out of order and I question the accuracy of the translations at times on some of the sites I've visited. I've seen good pages and bad pages of some in terms of writing and art. The best of what I've seen of all the mangas (I've seen at least a bit of them all) are the Shogakukan and Dengeki Eggman though, for being closest to game self in terms of art style, once again XD

There are versions I don't care for as much, such as AoStH Robotnik. I know it's popular but I'm not big on the unusual design, mostly because of his head and black and red eyes. Some of the comedy was legendary and it's awesome that he was voiced by Long John Baldry but the version isn't what I look for in a version of Eggman/Robotnik. It's been a long time since I last watched it and I don't feel a particular drive to see it again. But going back to certain scenes every now and then can be entertaining and funny and good memes came out of it.

I don't like Fleetway Robotnik, he failed to interest me in the first place and I forgot most of it as a result but I have no interest in returning to it. The writing wasn't interesting to me, the common art style in that comic was also super unappealing. There's a pattern of me not enjoying versions that feel so detached from the games to the point it could be a different character. I know they're supposed to be different universes and non canon but it can get to a point where everything that captures my interest is gone.

I dislike IDW Eggman's portrayal because in the early days post Tinker, it seemed he was going to be a great threat taken seriously and had some really cool moments, but then they had to make him OOC for plot convenience and have been making a total joke of and treating him as insignificant since. It's unfortunate that I can't like it as a whole because of what they did as there are still moments I've absolutely loved but he has to weirdly stray so far from his game self, despite the way these non canon comics are supposed to take place after the games. (It's due to Flynn's blatant misunderstanding of game canon Eggman's actions)

I'm not a fan of SatAM, I haven't watched it in years but it's not my idea of how I want an Eggman/Robotnik to be portrayed. He feels way too different again, he's more of a generic evil villain and that fails to interest me when classic/modern Eggman is so refreshingly different from your typical villain with his cartoony design and perfect balance of both fucked up evil humor and humor. Just making him only one or the other of evil and funny takes away the appeal for me. I'm also not a fan of his design with the odd shaped head again and red and black eyes, also the way he's a cyborg. I'm really glad that isn't the case for classic/modern.

I don't like Underground show as a whole, it was boring to me and now I also have uncomfortable real life memories associated with it which isn't to blame for it but it's why I'm never going to revisit it to possibly change my mind. (Though I really don't think I would anyway.) I don't remember liking that Robotnik or any character and story, it just wasn't for me. I still don't like the design and personality as he lacks what appeals to me in classic/modern.

I dislike movie Robotnik because he just feels like typical jim carrey to me in both acting and looks, he might as well be a different character to me. I don't like the design choices made, regardless of how he ends up looking in the end. They recognize aspects of game Eggman like his egotism, yet don't portray it in a way that actually feels like him. I can only see jim carrey even in the second movie, I don't like how it seems they shaped the version around carrey instead of making him feel closer to the character he's supposed to be playing.

I don't like anything inspired by the Sonic bible, the kintobor concept is lame and not a single one of the official designs for it looked good. The skinny = good and fat = evil thing is awful. The idea of him literally fusing with an egg too and only being evil because of it, instead of by choice like he canonically is... wtf. It's bad and wrong and I'm very glad it isn't canon, it would be a terrible origin story and I don't know what SoA were thinking, it doesn't seem like anything close to what SoJ would envision.

Those are all the versions I can think of right now. So yeah, it's pretty clear that if they're not very close to his game self in design and personality, I don't like much. I understand they're non canon entirely separate universes but I can't say I'm a fan of when they feel drastically different from the source material. And since the games are the main media of the video game series, it makes sense for me to see it as the definitive version and not to find the ones that differentiate from the source material as appealing.

There are versions I don't like, some where there are things I like and dislike about them, and some I don't care for much. But I love absolutely everything about classic/modern game canon Eggman, he'll always be the best and my absolute favorite! 💜

#asks #dr eggman #eggman #dr robotnik #dr. eggman #opinion #my post

17 notes · View notes

swordofpevensie · 3 years

Text

Ten Words & Two Sentences (King Edmund The Just)

warnings: fluff. flirting. king edmund is complimented for the first time. y/n is a princette and reffered as they/them.

a/n: hi i just love edmund and think he deserves happiness. pls tell me what you think. english isn't my native language so if there's any mistake, feel free to correct me.♡ requests are open! .｡*♡

word count: 2627

“Edmund stop playing with your hair! It already looks good! Edmund, stop touching it!”

As he was looking at the mirror, Edmund heard Lucy's giggle. Queen Lucy had always enjoyed it when her sister scolded her brothers.

“What? I'm just-”

“Ed!”

When he heard his sister's truly angry voice, King Edmund stopped touching his hair. He knew that if he didn't listen to Queen Susan while using that tone, then he'd be in trouble.

Standing in front of the big mirror with gold and shining frame, King Edmund had been looking at himself for almost fifteen minutes. Today was a big day and he was excited. He was really excited.

Today was the day when Princette Y/N was going to visit Cair Paravel and Edmund had his eyes on them for a very long time. It wasn't official though. He just admired Y/N secretly and kept silent about his feelings. He never told it to his siblings, not even to Queen Lucy. He barely spoke to Y/N. He just liked them and thought that they were unattainable, cool, and brilliant.

It was the first time ever King had a crush on someone, and because he didn't tell anyone about it, he was actually very confused and didn't know what to do. Was he supposed to talk about his feelings with them? Or was he supposed to wait to see if Y/N liked him?

Y/N was a cheerful and talkative person. When they were in Cair Paravel, the place always felt brighter and merrier. When they were around, everyone had a smile on their face and laughter were heard in the castle all the time.

Besides that, they were also talented and would surprise Narnians with their new skills. Every time they visited the castle, they'd come with something new. The last time they were in the castle, they defeated High King in a archery competition. Queen Susan and two other Narnians were juries and all of them were surprised when Y/N was able to shoot the target while riding a horse.

King Edmund admired everything about them, however he never heard or saw anything from them which could imply they had feelings for the King. Maybe that was the reason why he never showed his emotions.

But he knew he had to do something before someone else wanted Princette. It wouldn't be unexpected if someone wanted to marry them soon.

All in all, King Edmund was very excited and was looking forward to see them. But he wanted to make sure he looked good when he finally saw them, which was the reason of the time he'd been spending in front of the mirror and driving Queen Susan crazy.

“Susan!” He said in a panicked voice. “Susan there is a pimple on my chin! How can I get rid of it?”

“Let me see.” Queen Susan said while walking to her brother. She cupped his face and examined it carefully. “Edmund, you are being dramatic. It is impossible to see it unless someone is looking at you that closely.”

‘But,’ King thought. ‘What if they want to kiss me but then see it and do not want to kiss me anymore?’

“I'm not being dramatic!” Edmund defended himself. “It is huge. How can I get rid of it before the ball starts?”

“You can't.” Queen Susan rolled her eyes. “Unless you use magic or something. It won't be seen. Calm down.”

Edmund looked at Lucy, hoping that maybe she'd have a solution but Lucy shrugged her shoulders.

Susan had a big and heart-warming smile on her face. She looked at her brother proudly and fixed his collar.

“You look handsome as always, brother.” She said while giving him his sword. “Here. Now you are perfect. Come on, we need to be in the ballroom immediately. We've spent so much time already! I hope Peter didn't break the chandelier again.”

Susan put her hand to Edmund's arm and they left the room arm to arm, Lucy was following them.

──── .*･｡ﾟ ༘✧. .*･｡ﾟ ༘✧────

When they arrived at the ball hall, the first dancing had already begun. Susan left King alone to find Peter and ask him if everything was alright.

Edmund now was all alone, standing in the middle of the room. His eyes were searching for something and he had to look at so many different faces until he found his favourite one.

There they were. All the beauty in Narnia was now trapped in their existence. Either Y/N was literally shining and glowing or Edmund was just love drunk. He knew just one thing and it was the fact that Y/N was the most lovely person he had ever seen and there was nothing he wouldn't do to belong to them.

While just standing there and looking at them in silence, Edmund was finally noticed by Y/N. They smiled as soon as their and Edmund's eyes met.

Oh, that smile and the things it did to King. As they were getting closer to him, his heart beat faster and faster. He was also getting nervous. What he was going to say? What was he supposed to do? Where should he put his hands? How should he greet them? He wished he'd asked those questions to Susan before coming here.

“Your Highness,” They said as they bowed.

Edmund responded with a smile and gently said “Princette Y/N,” while greeting them. “Just Edmund, please.”

He didn't want them to have those formal addresses. He wanted to be their friend, and if he was lucky enough, more than a friend.

“How are you doing, Edmund?” Y/N asked with a soft voice.

“Better now,” King said, smiling wittily and hoping they'd notice what he meant. “What about you?”

“Pretty good.” Their little smile caused their dimple to show up in their cheek.

While standing in silence for a few seconds, Y/N stared at him. It was a short time but they could see how much Edmund had changed since their last contact. He became taller, his hair grew, his shoulders were broader and he had a pimple, which wasn't there before, on his chin now. Also, that unexplainable darkness that was one of his unique characteristics was still there but, thankfully, his beautiful silver crown shone strong enough to make the darkness disappear.

“You look beautiful, my King,” Y/N said. “Did you change your hairstyle?”

With each word they said and Edmund heard, he felt like he was being stabbed by a sword just being made and was still hot. There was a terrible pain in his stomach, burning and aching. He thought if he touched there now, his hand would burn. However, the pain and the ache turned into some of kind excitement in a few seconds. This wave of excitement climbed up to his windpipe and burnt his throat. He wanted to say something but that feeling didn't let him speak.

Apart from his siblings, Edmund had never been complimented. He always felt like no one cared the way he looked, what he wore, what he did to his hair. Therefore, he felt invisible frequently. All of his siblings received compliments somehow, sometime, somewhere but he was like a ghost people couldn't see.

Susan would always tell him that he was handsome and charming, Lucy would praise his wisdom and knowledge, Peter would proudly smile at him and say that he was proud of him, he'd improved so much.

But King secretly wanted a stranger to see him, notice the change in him, and compliment him, or at least say something. However, for an unknown reason, people never did that.

Therefore when he was praised by Y/N, Edmund was left speechless. First of all, it was them caring and complimenting him. Secondly, they complimented him in a very natural way. It wasn't a forced statement, it was natural and sincere. Thirdly and lastly, in this entire ballroom, the only person King actually cared was them.

The longer he kept quiet, the more this wave spread around his body. Now it was on his cheeks, he felt his skin was becoming hot. Oh no, was he really blushing?

He knew he had to say something because the situation was getting weirder.

“Thank you,” was what he managed to say. “Honestly, thank you so much.” He could add. “In fact, I messed it. My sister Susan was mad at me.”

Y/N laughed. “It doesn't look messy if you ask me, my King.”

“Please call me Edmund,” He said. “I am not a big admirer of those titles.”

“I'm sorry, it's just from force of habit.”

Edmund saw they were playing with their fingers. Were they... Could they be nervous too?

He knew he had to make a move this time. They complimented him, now it was his turn to do something and try to charm them.

“Would you... Would you like to dance, Y/N?”

Upon hearing the question, they smiled. Their lips curved so beautifully that Edmund almost kissed them. The dimple on their cheek was also so kissable and touchable. Edmund thought he could touch with it for hours, without being bored.

“Of course.” They replied.

After getting approval, Edmund put his left hand to their waist, used the right one to take their hand into his. He pulled their body closer; now their chests were so close. Edmund felt afraid because his heartbeats would probably be felt when their chest touched his.

“Do you have any surprises for us?” Edmund asked.

“I learnt how to dance.”

Then it hit him. Was that the reason why she never danced with anyone? Edmund had never asked them to dance before, but he was now glad he didn't because being rejected would probably kill him. However, his patience and also shyness was being awarded with being the first man ever to dance with Y/N. Such a big honour it was. Edmund couldn't stop himself from smiling.

“Why did you learn?”

“To be able to dance with a certain someone.”

Y/N knew they were playing with fire but didn't care because they needed something, some sort of sign from Edmund to see if High King was right about what they said earlier.

Y/N was able to kill a soldier with a scissor, shoot the target while riding a horse, take care of their five siblings at the same time, paint the biggest wall in their kingdom's castle, play piano, beat their big brother in arm wrestling but the hardest thing they ever did was having a crush on King Edmund.

He was silent. To find him in a room, one had to look very carefully and to every corner. It was impossible to contact him unless he wanted to be found or talked to. He was like a sad and melancholic ghost that appeared from time to time when he felt like showing up. He was so silent that sometimes it felt like he was invisible.

Y/N always tried to find him though. Yet his extraordinary effort to avoid everyone and be on his own made it almost impossible. Most of the time he would be in the library and never visit the ballroom. Despite generally being an outgoing person, Y/N still wasn't brave enough to follow him to the library. Because firstly, he had never given any indications, so especially trying to be with him in the same room would be very awkward.

When they arrived at Cair Paravel this noon, King wasn't there as usual. But High King was there to welcome them and say they needed to talk.

Peter absolutely knew Edmund would kill him when he heard what he did but didn't care. He was sick of these two not being together because of their silence and shyness. However, he was still thoughtful enough to not say everything about his brother and his feelings. He just said Edmund was interested in some that Y/N knew very closely. And then he smiled, and winked. He wasn't sure, maybe he couldn't be subtle as he had planned.

But the important thing was that his words gave Y/N courage. Maybe High King was right and Edmund had feelings for them. It was still a mystery, yet now very close to be solved.

“That certain someone must be really lucky,” When they heard Edmund's voice, they could come back to reality. “Lucky enough to capture your attention.”

“I think I am the lucky one.” Y/N replied, looking at his beautiful brown eyes.

“Why?” Edmund looked at his shoes not to step on their feet. He was distracted.

“He is a special person. I think I am lucky enough to give my heart to him.”

Edmund softly smiled. His brown eyes looked like a hot cup of coffee, welcoming and warming.

“Do I know him? You know, for matchmaking purposes.”

“You'll immediately recognize him when you hear about him.”

“I'm listening, then.” While speaking, to catch up with the dance, Edmund held their hand as they twirled.

They were now again chest to chest. All King could see, feel, hear was them. No one else, nothing else. Just them. And it felt good. It was as if they were in their own little universe and there was nobody to disturb them.

“He is a good-looking man with a charming smile. It's a shame that he doesn't smile frequently. He also doesn't speak frequently. He is silent most of the time. He doesn't speak when the words are unnecessary. He has this sort of melancholy, which is something unique to him. But I find it beautiful. And, let me add before I forget, he is the King of Narnia and is called the Just.”

Honestly, it was really hard to keep dancing according to the music when your crush just confessed their feelings to you.

Edmund froze. Literally. His whole world stopped turning. It was unexpected. He had thought it was impossible and couldn't believe it now. How on the earth could they have feelings for him? They... And he. They were the joy and Edmund was... He was the melancholy just like Y/N stated.

“I...” Edmund finally managed to speak. “I wasn't expecting that.”

Y/N smiled. “One of us had to do something.”

“Did you... Did you know?” Edmund frowned. “Let me guess, was it Susan? No, Susan wouldn't do it behind my back. Was it Peter?”

“Yes, it was High King.” They laughed while answering. “But he encouraged me and I believe it's a good thing, isn't it?”

With that question, Edmund realized he didn't say anything about his feelings or respond to their confession.

“It is.” He said. “I... I don't know how to express the way I feel about you. First of all, thank you for your generous words.”

They weren't dancing anymore. They were just standing in each other's arm. They forgot about the ball, people, music, dance and anything else. They just focused on each other and it was enough.

“I like you so much. Actually, it is more than liking. I can say that I love you. Strongly and sincerely. You are like a dream and it is hard to believe-”

Edmund was interrupted when the music stopped and everyone began clapping. It was loud and cheerful.

“Would you like to go outside? Maybe to the garden?” Y/N asked.

“You read my mind.”

They left the room, holding hands.

Finally, in the garden, King had the chance to talk about how he felt about them. How it burned, how it hurt, how it made him feel good, how excited he was when they visited the castle, how his heart beat faster when they were around.

With a lot of kisses, by the way. Thankfully, Y/N was kind enough to not mind the pimple on his chin.

#edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie imagine #edmund pevensie fanfic #edmundpevensie #edmund pevensie #edmund x you #edmund x reader #king edmund the just #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #narnia fanfiction #andreaiswriting

204 notes · View notes

stray-kids-react · 3 years

Text

Making jewelry with them

Masterlist

@mariafeh

...

Bang Chan

° Walked through your apartment doors, arms filled but buckets of string and many different assortments of beads.

"The craft store had a sale on."

° Makes you a bracelet with a cute wolf charm in the middle, just so you have one more thing to remind you of him.

° Ends up staring at you rather then finishing his bracelets, loving your focused pout and giddy behavior when you finish one.

° You kept working on this bracelet secretly, not wanting him to ruin the sickly sweet surprise you had prepared for him.

"Baby I want to seeeee~"

° When you finally finished the bracelet, you still kept it behind your back. Asking him to close and cover his eyes, walking behind him just in case he decided to peek.

° You placed the black and white bracelet on his opened palm, the letters arranged to say 'Forever'.

° He loved the colors and how much thought you out into it, but wondered why you put forever on it out of all things.

° That is until you raised your wrist to reveal the letters spelling 'Together'.

"Aw, baby~ you're too cute. C'mere I want to kiss your face."

Lee Know

° You were both bored, wanting to do something cute and simple without having to go out into the cold weather.

"Let's make bracelets."

° You knew he secretly just wanted to make bracelets with the cat's names on it. But you didn't mind, you loved the cats too.

° You began to head Minho giggle to himself as he assembled another bracelet. He hid it behind his arms, still chuckling.

° Once he finally finished, he cupped it in his hands and asked for your attention. A smug smirk stretched across his soft lips.

"I hope you *chuckle* like it."

° The cool beads fitted into your palm perfectly, you looked down to see the start of a word. My Second Love, you soon realized the meaning of the bracelet.

° You pouted cutely as the cats came first once again, but you could stay mad at him for being an adorable cat father.

° Minho kissed your pout away, leaning closer and closer until you pushed onto the floor of your apartment.

° His smug smirk returned once again, this time much more apparent and sly.

"Don't pout and expect no kisses, your still my sweet lil kitten."

Changbin

° Changbin knew that the fast few weeks have been hard on you, due to the lack of time spent with him.

"Sweetheart, want to hang out?"

° The way your eyes lit up with extreme amounts of joy, melted and broke his heart at the same time.

° He loved hanging out with you, swooning over your small habits and quirks. But he felt bad for not doing it more often.

° You stuck your tongue out for the tenth time as you tried to tie the bracelet together, failing once more to your disappointment.

"Here let me help you."

° You both never realized how close you were until he looked up at you, his hot breath fanning across your skin. Before you could even say a word, his lips were on yours.

° This kiss wasn't usual from Changbin, it was very cautious as if you were going to break. He only did this when apologizing.

° You knew something was eating him up inside, just by the glossy layer on his eyes. He looked on the edge of tears.

° Changbin didn't have to explain, you just held him close, knowing he needed it.

"I'm so sorry, I really don't deserve you sometimes. I love you y/n."

Hyunjin

° You were having a tough day, being miles away from your family. And not being able to visit them due to the risk of the virus.

"Why don't we send them something?"

° Hyunjin was your positivity throughout these tough times, encouraging you to keep moving forward with him.

° He placed the buckets of beads from art projects that never happened, and handed you the different colors of string.

° Hyunjin played your favorite movie on for background noise, sometimes getting lost in the scenes and dropping his bracelets.

"You look so cute when you're focused."

° His messy ponytail lost small strands of hair that kept blocking his vision. He constantly shook his hair away, making you giggle at the annoyed scoffs he made.

° As he finally finished his bracelet, he gently tugged at the sleeve of your sweater. Asking to place it across your wrist.

° You smiled gently as the mint green and brown beads spelled out 'My Home'. His lips landing gently across your head.

"Well get through this together, I'm just glad we have each other during this."

Han

° After winning an award for Back Door, you wanted to give them something as a congratulations gift.

"Pumpkin, what are you up to? ~"

° You showed off the five bracelets you've already finished, each holding a different symbol and different color patterns.

° Jisung's face beamed only pure joy, seeing your criss crossed on the floor as you focused on congratulating them.

° He knew that none of them asked you to make these and your company was far enough, but that made it even sweeter.

"I swear you are the cutest person on earth."

° He didn't tell any of the members, knowing they'd melt just as much as he did. Especially Felix and Jeongin, since they were already quite close to you.

° For the rest of the night, Jisung ordered your favorite take out and helped you finish your adorable project.

° The next day, sent his heart into a frenzy as you shyly passed them to each member. Hoping they like the gifts.

"This is why I love you, you're just so damn cute and it ruins me."

Felix

° You and Felix were known to always do cute activities like this, even fitting in time during his busy schedules.

"Let's make some cute bracelets."

° His hair was messy from the recent dance practice, clearly tired from his hard work. Yet he still insisted to spend time with you.

° You worried that he felt the pressure of having to spend time with you, even though you reassure him that you don't mind.

° After the long silence as he concentrated on a pastel based bracelet for you, you confronted him on your concerns.

"Spending time with you calms me down."

° The beaming grin with his sweet tone, melted away all of your concerns. Giggling like one of his many admirers as he fluffed your hair playfully.

° After around bracelet 4 he began to get increasingly tired, crawling his way to your lap. Burrowing his way into your grip.

° You both just lied there quietly, playing with his hair as he places small kisses to your shoulder blade.

"Thank you for calming me down love, I truly owe you for always being so amazing."

Seungmin

° You were currently in quarantine after your landing to south Korea, only having the virtual company of your boyfriend.

"Only two more days til I can see you again."

° You laid on the carpet of your hotel room, creating a bracelet for him when you see him face to face finally.

° Seungmin ranted to you about how much he misses his fans, thanking you for making his days brighter and more pleasant.

° His messy bed head and cute glasses always sent you heart into a frenzy, wishing you were there to play with his fluffy locks.

"Is that bracelet for me darling?"

° You quickly hid the cute gift behind your back, chuckling softly as you tried to tease him on his "secret" gift from you. Seungmin laughing with you, as you failed to hide it.

° As the laughing quieted down, both of you smiled sadly. Never knowing how long two days could truly feel when waiting.

° He could see the sad look in your eyes, and wished he could just kiss all of it all better. But the only thing he could do was talk.

"Don't worry darling, the days will go by in no time. And we'll cuddle non stop."

Jeongin

° You were spending quality time with your boyfriend and your best friends, all of which happened to be in Stray Kids.

"Y/n made us some cute bracelets!"

° The excited shimmer in his eyes made all of you feel just a bit happier, his energy always contagious to anyone.

° Throughout the bucket of handmade bracelets, he searched to find the one you specifically made for him.

° An adorable confused pout when he couldn't find it, knowing you were hiding it due to the shy smirk on your lips.

"I know you too well baby, hand it over. ~"

° You reveled a beautiful bracelet, with a shining ring in the middle of it. Which happened to be detachable. The admiration that filled his eyes, made you shiver.

° He knew it was a promise ring, and loved how you took so much effort to make something for him. It swelled his heart.

° Before you could explain the meaning of anything at all, Jeongin molded his lips against yours. The members going wild.

"You're so thoughtful and caring, I'll cherish this forever my adorable y/n."

#stray kids #kpop #changbin #skz scenarios #stray kids reactions #han jisung #hyunjin #jeongin #lee know #bang chan #Lee felix #skz seungmin #skz edits #skz fluff

181 notes · View notes

emachinescat · 3 years

Text

The Day that Camelot Forgot

A Merlin Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 24 - memory loss

Summary: A vengeful Morgana casts a powerful curse on Camelot on the day Merlin is named Court Sorcerer, making everyone in the citadel forget that Merlin – and his impact on their lives – exists. She can only maintain the spell for one day, but twenty-four hours is more than enough time for the warlock to get himself into some serious trouble.

Characters: Merlin, Arthur, the knights, Gaius, Morgana is mentioned

Words: 6,444

TW: anxiety attacks, burning at the stake, main character near-death

Note: This story is a bit late, as it was meant to be published on day 24 of Febuwhump, but I got sick, and missed a few days. I did post the first half of it on Tumblr on the 24th, but this is the finished product. I am seriously considering writing a sequel, because there are definitely a lot of ramifications that I gloss over here, a lot of angsty, whumpy stuff that I could (and most likely will) expand upon in another story. But I'll let you read the story for yourself, and see if you're interested in a sequel!

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, and re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

Merlin woke up to a broom head hitting him in the face, which was not how he expected his first day as Court Sorcerer to start.

An indignant squawk escaped him as he rolled off of his bed in an effort to escape the assault. He already had an insult for Arthur on his lips when his bleary eyes cleared and he realized that it had not been the king at all who had woken him in such a manner. It was Gaius, and he was poised to strike again.

"Gaius!" Merlin stammered, scrambling to his feet and dodging another blow from the broom. "What the hell are you doing that for?"

Gaius didn't answer. Instead, looking as mean and ornery as Merlin had ever seen him, the old physician demanded, "How did you get in here?"

Merlin cocked his head to one side, completely nonplussed. "I… live here? I remember turning Arthur's offer for new chambers down so I could stay and care for you – OW!"

Gaius had hit him again. "Who are you?" he all but growled.

Merlin blinked. "Gaius, you know me," he insisted, his heart hammering out his uncertainty at the pulse point in his neck. Something was wrong; Gaius might be cantankerous for his old age, and he might have enjoyed the odd joke at Merlin's expense, but never something like this.

Merlin tried again. "Gaius, it's me… Merlin." When Gaius only glared at him distrustfully from beneath two gnarled eyebrows, he added hopefully, "You know… Hunith's son?"

To his relief, recognition lit in his mentor's eyes at the mention of Merlin's mother, but distrust immediately replaced it. "I have known Hunith all of her life," Gaius said, voice low and measured, broom still held at the ready. "But she has no son."

Real fear exploded in Merlin's chest – fear for Gaius, not for himself. There was only so much Gaius could do with a broom, but if he was forgetting Merlin so suddenly and so completely…

"Ah, I'm sorry," Merlin said as calmly as possible, raising his hands in front of him to show he meant no harm. "My mistake. I'll … get out of your hair."

He darted out of his room, across the physician's main chamber, and out the door, leaving a confused and agitated Gaius in his wake. Merlin prayed that the old physician wouldn't get himself into too much trouble while he was gone, and then darted for Arthur's chambers.

***

He ran into Gwaine on the way – literally, he ran headfirst into the knight, so distracted by Gaius's sudden and dramatic loss of memory. At first he wasn't sure whose ridiculously muscular torso he'd bumped into, and despite his worry, he couldn't help but grin when he saw the bearded face glaring down at him in surprise.

Wait…

Glaring?

Merlin stumbled back.

"Watch where you're going, friend," Gwaine said in response. The way he spoke sent a wave of wrongness down Merlin's spine. He had called Merlin friend, but it was a vague, generalized term. When Gwaine normally called Merlin his friend, the word was saturated with warmth and shone with the light of a dozen charming grins. Now, it meant nothing. And when Merlin looked up into his friend's dark eyes, there was no recognition there. No smile that Merlin had come to understand as reserved especially for the knight's closest friends. Gwaine's eyes landed on him, flashed in brief annoyance, and then skirted off of him almost nearly as quickly.

"Gwaine?" Merlin asked, irritated at the uncertainty in his own voice.

Gwaine, who had already started sauntering away, turned back with a puzzled expression. For just a moment, Merlin was sure that kind, mischievous face was going to open up in an eyes-to-mouth smile like it always did upon seeing him, but then the brow furrowed, and Gwaine asked, "Do I know you?"

Merlin opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He stood there, gaping like a fool, his whole body coiled as if ready to spring into action, limbs numb, fingers trembling, fear wrapping its constricting tendrils around his chest.

Gwaine gave Merlin an odd look, then shrugged. "Maybe we drank together once."

Merlin nodded weakly, remembering not just once, but many times he and the man before him had gone to the tavern together, often with the rest of the knights, sometimes even the king, in tow. He thought of laughter, and promises of friendship and loyalty, and tavern songs and Gwaine standing on top of a table doing a clumsy jig. He thought of the first time they'd gone to the tavern after learning of Merlin's magic, how Gwaine had asked him a million questions that had gotten more idiotic with every drink. ("No, Gwaine, I have never tried to transplant my nose into the center of a rose to see if flowers can smell themselves.")

By the time he had resurfaced from the barrage of memories that Gwaine had forgotten and that Merlin now clung to with a new ferocity, the knight had gone.

Feeling distinctly sick, Merlin resumed his trek to Arthur's chambers, noticing with fresh terror that every person he passed either didn't acknowledge him at all, or gave him a second, bewildered glance like they'd never seen him before, like he had no right being where he was – being in his home.

***

Arthur didn't remember him, either.

Merlin was so near panic when he got to the king and queen's chambers that he almost forgot to knock. Knocking was never something Merlin had been particularly adept at remembering to do, especially when it came to his duties to Arthur, but since the king had married Gwen, Merlin had made sure to amend his habits. There were some things that Merlin absolutely did not want to walk in on, and besides, he respected Gwen too much to risk barging in on her unannounced.

It was Arthur who answered the door, and Merlin was so flustered that he didn't wait for an invitation to enter (when did he ever, though?), and he squeezed his way into the room past the king. Gwen was nowhere to be seen.

"Thank the gods you're here, Arthur," Merlin huffed as he bustled in. "Something very weird is going on. Gaius and Gwaine are acting like they don't know me, like they've never seen me in their lives!"

He turned around to face his friend. To his surprise, Arthur's hand was on the hilt of his sword at his hip, and suspicion rolled off of him in waves. "Who the hell are you?" he asked flatly, blue eyes flashing with an intensity reserved for those who wished to do him, his kingdom, or his loved ones harm.

Merlin had been expecting a joke like this. Arthur was never one to pass up an opportunity to tease his former servant, soon-to-be Court Sorcerer. The dry retort, "Very funny, Sire," died before it could escape his mouth, though, because when he looked at his king, his best friend, he saw no glimmer of recognition. No familiarity. No kindness or warmth or irritated indulgence. Arthur's face was that of a man who had just had a complete stranger barge into his room and started talking to him like they were old acquaintances – which, Merlin was beginning to realize, was exactly what had happened from the king's point of view.

Merlin swallowed heavily and entreated, "Arthur … King Arthur. Please tell me that you know me." Desperation clawed at his throat and infected his next plea. "Please."

Arthur didn't speak, didn't relax his grip on his sword hilt, but he didn't draw the weapon either, which Merlin thought had to be a good sign. Finally, after several long, tense moments, Arthur responded in a slow, cautious tone, "I'm sorry. I have never seen you before in my life. What business do you have with me?"

Merlin's world, everything he knew and understood and loved, crumbled around him in that moment. He staggered back, managed to stay upright by pure strength of will alone. What the hell was going on? The familiar sting of tears pressed against the back of his eyes, and he only managed to keep himself from crying by sheer stubbornness. He took a deep, steadying breath, made a conscious effort to look as non-threatening as possible, and tried very hard not to panic.

"Okay," he said, and his voice shook, so he tried again. "Okay." This time, his voice was steadier. Arthur's glare pounded into him from across the room, and knew that the king's already thin patience was running out. "Something very wrong is happening in Camelot," the sorcerer began.

Arthur interrupted him. "I agree," he said pedantically. "There's a strange man in my chambers."

"I'm not – I am, or I was, your servant."

"My servant's name is George."

Merlin couldn't help it. He groaned. "George? The one who makes jokes about brass? He's your servant in this hellish version of Camelot?"

Arthur sent Merlin a look that was almost pitying. "You are obviously very confused," he said in a surprisingly gentle tone. "But I am king of Camelot, and you have no right to be in my personal chambers. Go now, and I will think nothing more of this intrusion. If you do not, then I will have to treat you as a threat, and call the guards."

Merlin shook his head, unwilling to let this go. In the span of a single morning, his entire reality, the world he and Arthur had worked so hard to build and the future that they were about to step into, his new position as Court Sorcerer, his friendship with Arthur, everything, had been ripped away from him. He had to figure out what could have caused this to happen. He didn't have to think long – who was out there with enough power to make what seemed like the entire citadel forget he existed? Who was angry and envious and vindictive enough to take away everyone he loved on the very day that the culmination of his and Arthur's dreams were finally taking shape?

Even as Arthur stepped forward, hand tightening on the hilt of his sword, preparing to draw it, Merlin blurted, "It has to be Morgana!"

All the color drained out of Arthur's face in an instant. He stood there, frozen, a horrible expression of pain manifesting in his eyes. "How dare you speak of my sister," the king growled, and Merlin actually backed up a few steps, bumping into the end table that he'd polished more times than he could count.

"I know she's a difficult subject to talk about," Merlin managed, striving to keep his voice steady as the grief in Arthur's eyes turned to fury. "But it's the only explanation. Morgana must have cast a curse on the citadel – you have to let me go find her, please, and I can stop this, and the world can go back to normal."

Arthur drew his sword now, and Merlin had no more room to retreat. He stood before his king, his closest friend, his muscles aching from the tension gripping his body, his heart pumping so fast and hard he could feel the flutter in his chest. "Arthur, please–"

"I am your king!" the man who had Arthur's face but spoke like his father spat. "You will address me as such! And how dare you insinuate that the Lady Morgana was a sorceress! What vile game are you playing?"

Merlin's head spun; he had no idea what was going on, how Arthur was currently seeing the world, but he did know for certain now that Morgana was behind it. The reverence and love with which the king said his half-sister's name could only come from a delusion the sorceress in question had placed there. Then something Arthur had said hit home. "What do you mean 'was'?"

The expression on the king's face was faintly nauseated, as if he were being forced to remember something that he had hidden away deep inside, or as if he were actively fighting the urge to cut Merlin down on the spot. Either scenario felt entirely wrong and filled Merlin with a sense of dread. "My sister is dead," Arthur said flatly. "She who would have been queen – should have been queen." Oh, yes, Morgana was definitely behind this, Merlin thought wryly. It was bad enough she had these sick delusions in the first place, but to force everyone in Camelot to play a part in them was equally terrifying and sad. "Struck down by a sorcerer in cold blood."

Merlin flinched at the way Arthur spat the word sorcerer. It had been years since he had heard the title said with such hatred and derision, and never had he heard this level of malevolence for magic-users come from Arthur's mouth. After everything they had been through together, after the joy of watching their prophesied destiny unfold before his very eyes, after hearing Arthur accept his magic and plan to officially declare him Court Sorcerer, hearing the title that Arthur had so often spoken of with pride slide out of that same mouth slicked with hatred hurt. But Merlin reminded himself of the truth – this wasn't Arthur, not really; somehow he was being fed false memories – and he squared his shoulders and looked his king right in the eyes.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said solemnly. Arthur's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Merlin hoped it was a good sign. "But Arthur – your highness – I need you to listen to me, please. I can explain everything. I can try, at least. But your memories aren't what you think they are. Morgana is alive and… very well, considering the power of this enchantment."

"My sister was murdered by magic, and yet you still insist that she is the evil enchantress!" Arthur fumed, and Merlin felt like he was talking to a stone wall, or even more deaf and unyielding, Uther Pendragon. He very seriously considered knocking Arthur out with magic and tucking him away safely in a wardrobe somewhere while he himself went to deal with the sorceress who had caused all this trouble. But Merlin could sense Arthur, the real Arthur, somewhere beneath the surface of those familiar-but-foreign eyes, and he was sure he could break the spell without having to go to the source. Merlin was Arthur's dearest friend, the king had said this himself (and yes, it still counted even if Arthur had been incredibly drunk after a night in the tavern with Gwaine when he said it). And Merlin knew Arthur better than anyone else, save the queen.

I can reach him, he reassured himself. Arthur is still in there, somewhere. I just have to find him. And once he's back to himself, I can deal with Morgana.

"Please, sire," Merlin said, putting every bit of sincerity he could muster into his words. "Just… let me tell you my side of the story. Let me remind you of who I am, and who you truly are. I am your friend, Arthur, and you have said yourself that I am the most stupidly loyal man you have ever had the displeasure to meet." A desperate chuckle lilted his last few words.

"You have two minutes."

"Um, there's a lot to cover, actually," Merlin responded. "Can I have a bit longer, because I don't think–"

"One and half minutes."

"Okay, okay, I'll stick to the basics!" And so Merlin gave Arthur the quickest and most condensed version of their friendship and history he could cobble together in less time than it usually took to exchange greetings with his king in the morning.

He ended with, "And so you see, it makes sense that Morgana would want to sabotage this occasion, because it marks the beginning of a new era that she desperately wants to be a part of but is too bitter and proud to humble herself and change for. She wants to tear us apart, wants you to do something that you'll later regret. But I know you're stronger than this, Arthur. I know that you remember me, deep down. The life you're living isn't yours. Your memories aren't yours. They belong to Morgana, but your mind does not." A strange, almost trance-like mask had descended over Arthur's face while Merlin spoke, and hope started budding in the warlock's chest – he was so close to breaking through, he could feel it.

"So," Merlin prompted, when Arthur did not immediately respond. "Do you remember? Have you realized the truth, sire?"

Slowly, Arthur nodded, and the dazed quality to his eyes cleared up in an instant. "Yes," he murmured. Merlin allowed his eyes to close momentarily in relief; his body sagged against the table at his back. Thank the gods, the nightmare was over. Now all that was left was to find Morgana and make sure nothing like this ever happened again.

But Arthur wasn't finished speaking, and the hardness had steeled his gaze once more, his lips set in a straight line and his jaw clenched and held high. "I have realized that I was a fool to think that you were a harmless vagrant with delusions of grandeur who wandered into the wrong part of the castle. I should never have opened the door for you."

"Arthur–"

"I am your KING!" Merlin snapped his mouth shut, tears once again prickling at the corner of his eyes. The injustice of the situation weighed as heavily on him as his destiny once had. "You are a sorcerer, an enemy of Camelot, here in an attempt to take down Camelot from the inside. But your spells and tricks and poisoned words will not work on me."

"But–"

"Guards!"

"You don't understand, I–"

"Guards!"

***

Elyan and Percival were the knights who dragged Merlin to the dungeons and threw him roughly into a cell. Then Percival clasped his wrists in shackles, which were chained to the floor. The door slammed shut with a metallic clang.

"Percival – Elyan!" Merlin called out as the knights that had only a week ago pledged their acceptance and loyalty to him as the soon-to-be Court Sorcerer and chief advisor to the king. "Please, you know me!"

"You'll die for your treachery, sorcerer," Elyan spat.

The left, and Merlin sank to the cold, damp stone floor, chains clinking. He drew his knees up to his chest, rested his aching head on them, and did his best to remember how to breathe.

***

Merlin wasn't sure how long he had been in the dungeon, but it had to have been a couple of hours at least. He hadn't eaten breakfast because the old man who usually prepared it for him had instead attacked him with a broom. Now, he was certain he had missed lunch too. His stomach growled at him in protest, but the hunger pangs meant nothing to Merlin. Even if the guards dropped off a meal fit for a king, he wouldn't be able to eat a bite. Everything had gone so wrong.

And now Merlin was at a loss of what to do. He could escape the dungeons easily, he knew, and go searching for Morgana. But there were so many uncertainties, a litany of what ifs that railed against him whenever he thought about breaking out of his chains and sending the cell door crashing into the guards holding a silent but hostile vigil on the other side. If indeed he could find Morgana and discover a way to reverse the curse, then it would, of course, be an easy fix. Merlin's failure to connect with Arthur and break the spell himself had planted a seed of self-doubt deeply within the soil of his mind, however, and now what he had been so sure of before he'd tried to fix things himself – that he would be able to hunt down Morgana and stop this madness with magic – seemed like a distant, unrealistic goal.

And if he did fail? If he could not find Morgana, or if she had managed to employ a magic far more powerful or strange than he currently knew how to counter? If he was unable to break the curse? Then Arthur would go on believing Merlin was the enemy, and Merlin would have forfeited any chance of reaching his friend by flouting the king's edict, attacking the guards, and breaking out of the castle.

Merlin had only been able to get through to Arthur in his other life, his real life, by showing the king over a period of years that magic was not something to be inherently feared, not something evil in and of itself. He had had to show the king through his own life and actions the truth about magic, so that when Arthur had at last learned of his secret, it was from Merlin's own lips and with nearly a decade of loyalty and friendship to back up Merlin's assurances that he had only ever used his gifts to protect Arthur and Camelot. Sure, Arthur had been angry at first, and hurt that Merlin hadn't trusted him, but he had come to an acceptance of Merlin's magic much more quickly than the warlock had imagined. King and servant had grown even closer in the wake of the truth, and soon after, Arthur had started drafting plans for making magic legal and had proposed the idea of Melin's being officially named Court Sorcerer.

But if Merlin was forced to start from scratch, to rebuild his relationship with the king – a possibility that pained him deeply but that he was more than willing to do, if it was the only way to get Arthur back and get their destiny on track – then it would not be wise to start that relationship off with a jailbreak. Then again, he argued against himself, neither was blurting out his secret to an Arthur who had already shown great disdain for magic and who held no memory of or loyalty toward Merlin at all. At this rate, maybe it was better to just take the risk and escape, because how in the name of the Triple Goddess was he supposed to convince Arthur of his loyalty if the king most likely planned to execute him for treason?

He almost made his escape then, but something stopped him. At first, he couldn't identity exactly what it was, just a feeling, an uncomfortable squirming in his gut that could have been the voice of destiny, or instinct, or, quite possibly, hunger. But either way, it bothered him enough that he held off on his plans to break out and examined the feeling more closely. Eventually, he realized – if he left Arthur now, especially in the state he was in, alone and unprotected and with Morgana out there somewhere with her eyes feasting hungrily on the citadel she so earnestly believed should be hers, he could be putting the king in more danger. If Merlin wasn't able to find Morgana in time, and she used his absence to ease her way into the citadel and onto the throne, which Arthur would readily give up to her in his current state.. With him under her influence, she could do whatever she wanted to him – kill him, imprison him, break his mind forever… and Merlin wouldn't be there to stop her.

With this thought, he decided to wait it out, and to see how events would unfold. He would not use his magic to defy Arthur or make his escape unless absolutely necessary. After all, he tried to assure himself, there was the very real possibility that Morgana would not be able to hold this powerful of a spell for long. She might be a priestess of the Old Religion, but even she had her limits. Perhaps her plan was to lure Merlin out to find her and then to use his absence to take Camelot for herself, but it was entirely possible that she only had a limited window of time to achieve her goal and that she was counting on Merlin to act on his emotions and search her out immediately.

Or maybe her plan was just to simply wreak havoc in Merlin's life for as long as she could. Either way, Merlin reasoned, her hold over the entirety of Camelot could not last forever. Sooner or later, her grip would weaken and Arthur and the rest of the citadel would wrest their way out of her control.

Merlin just had to survive until then.

***

He was unsure of how much time had passed when they came for him again. No one had brought him food, or water, and no one had come to visit him during his imprisonment, either. Merlin thought it was highly likely that Arthur had ordered any curious parties to stay away; the king had made it abundantly clear that he considered Merlin a dangerous threat. The fact that he had not been given even a hunk of stale bread or a flagon of water sent warning bells off in Merlin's mind – if this strange Arthur was anything like Uther had been, then he knew that he would be executed swiftly and without trial, and there was no need to feed a dead man.

Gwaine and Leon came to collect him. Leon unlocked the shackles and shoved him at Gwaine, who spat at his feet. "And to think I was kind to you this morning," he growled, and Merlin fought the urge to remind him that he hadn't exactly been kind, more indifferent. Gwaine roughly spun Merlin around, wrenched his hands behind his back so hard that pain sliced through his shoulder blades. Merlin felt his hands being bound tightly, expertly behind his back with course, thick rope. He reached into himself and felt his magic, alive, pulsing, ready to rise to his defense, and he took solace in it, but kept it at bay.

Not yet, he told himself.

But he was getting scared, and he was running out of options.

***

They shoved him to his knees before Arthur, who sat unyielding and terrible on his throne, a mirror image of his father. Merlin realized with a start that there was only one throne.

"Where's Gwen?" he asked. Now that he thought about it, the servant-turned-queen hadn't come up when Merlin had told his story to Arthur earlier, and the king had made no mention of his wife. In fact, he recalled with a start, none of Gwen's more domestic touches had been in Arthur's chamber.

Arthur stood, striding forward and looming over his prisoner. "You should have gagged him," he groused. "He doesn't know how to shut up." For a split second, Merlin thought that maybe the real Arthur was beginning to resurface – that was exactly something that he would say! Then he crossed his arms over his chest and asked irritably, "Who is Gwen? Your accomplice?"

"No, no," Merlin quickly assured him, not wanting to cause any trouble for Gwen, wherever she was. It was odd, he thought: Most elements of Camelot had stayed the same in Morgana's living nightmare, like the knights – even the non-noble ones, even Elyan, Gwen's brother, had remained as they were. But Arthur, in this version of reality, had never married Gwen. It made sense if he thought about it, though. Gwen had occupied the role that Morgana had believed was hers, had, in the witch's eyes, betrayed her trust and left her for the man that represented everything Morgana hated. Of course, Gwen wouldn't have her happy ending, her marriage to Arthur, with Morgana in charge. She was being punished as well. Merlin wondered if Gwen had been left with her memories of the real world like he had been, or if she was somewhere in Camelot, living and thinking as a maid when she really was a queen.

To Merlin's relief, Arthur didn't pursue the line of questioning any further. "I have talked this matter over with my council and advisors," he said in a measured voice. A burst of bitterness howled inside of Merlin – he had been named Arthur's chief advisor! He had been a part of the original council, the Knights of the Round Table, when Arthur had first brought them together! And now this illusion of Morgana's had stolen that away from him, too.

Not yet, he reminded his magic, as it raged and boiled and frothed inside of him. Be patient.

He might have been able to control his magic, but he could not keep his sarcasm completely in check: "And I am sure that in your discussion with the council, you all came to a completely fair and totally unbiased decision based on facts and not the unfounded prejudices of your father's rule."

He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it certainly was not Arthur's face flushing an angry red, nor the back of his hand smashing full-force into Merlin's cheek, snapping his head to the side violently. He felt one of the king's rings split the skin on his cheekbone, and thought for a breathless moment that the entire left side of his face had caved in.

He couldn't keep back the lone tear that crawled from the corner of his eye. It didn't come from pain or even shock – but a sense of gut-wrenching betrayal that he could not reason his way out of, even knowing that Arthur was not himself. Even in the state that Arthur was in, even knowing that the king would make plans to execute him, Merlin never anticipated Arthur himself becoming physically violent with him. Somehow, Arthur's hitting him was so much more of a betrayal than a death sentence.

Just. Wait. He didn't know how much longer he would be able to keep his magic from rising to his defense.

"You will learn your place, sorcerer," Arthur hissed. "When you burn. Take him; we light the pyre at first dawn."

***

Fear screamed through Merlin's body like a whirlwind, and coherent thought fled in the wake of his worst nightmares manifesting before him. He had been sure that Arthur would have chosen hanging or even the chopping block, but a pyre –

Merlin had grown up terrified of fires, horrified at the possibility of dying a brutal, torturous death, swallowed and ravaged by flames, all because he was born with magic. Because of who he was.

No one had been burnt at the stake in years in Camelot. Certainly not after Arthur became king. It was a barbaric practice, and even the worst war criminals and traitors were given a swift, merciful death. He had assumed that Arthur would continue that tradition.

But no, when he was dragged out into the courtyard – the sky was dark, but the air chilly and damp, heralding the approaching dawn – a great pyre had been constructed, and the rest of the knights – his friends – had gathered around, their faces lit eerily by the flickering flames of the torches they held at the ready. At least Gaius wasn't there.

You're not actually going to die, Merlin tried to remind himself, dragging desperately for air through his nose, his mouth blocked by his neckerchief that they'd dragged over his mouth in a bid to keep him from talking, or screaming, or just out of pure spite, Merlin didn't know. You can escape. You will escape, and find Morgana, and stop this. You can't delay any longer.

He drew himself up as tall as he could between Leon and Gwaine, calling his magic to his aid and –

He wasn't sure what happened, or how his friends-turned-enemies had guessed that he was about to try something – maybe he had given himself away somehow, maybe they had noticed the change in his stance or a shift in his energy, or maybe Morgana was interfering even now, ensuring that he would not escape his fate so easily. Whatever the reason, just as Merlin drew upon his magic, something blunt – a sword hilt? – crashed into the back of his skull, and everything was pain.

Agony ripped through his head, his neck, and crackled down his spine. Any grip Merlin had on his magic slipped through his fingers, and he fell forward, held semi-upright only by the knights escorting him to his death. He didn't lose consciousness, but he did lose all sense of control over his body and his magic, and the only thing that existed was pain. His stomach churned in time with the throbbing of his head, and his eyes were driven shut instinctively by the light of the torches before him.

The next few minutes passed in a state of distanced terror and pain. Merlin was acutely aware of the heaviness and agony of his head and the nausea in his gut. He also felt every spike of fear, every bit of helplessness, every scream that wanted to rise up from the most primal part of his being. And yet, at the same time, it was as if it was happening to someone else, and he could do nothing about it. Everything hurt and he was going to die and Arthur was going to burn him alive, his friends were going to light the pyre, and he would die in agony, and not even his magic could stop it, because he couldn't feel it, couldn't find it – he was magic itself, and yet it eluded his grasp, all that existed was pain and confusion and his head swam –

He felt, as if from a great distance, himself be hoisted onto the pyre. He felt the rough wood of the stake rub blisters into his tied hands as he was shoved against it, head lolling uselessly as if it belonged to someone else. He felt rope wrap around his torso, his legs, securing him to the pyre, and he tried to lift his head, which rested on his chest, tried to find his magic, but all he uncovered was fear and despair and pain.

He vaguely heard Arthur speaking from somewhere close by – or maybe it was from miles away. He did not understand the words but knew them to be a list of the supposed crimes Merlin had committed – being born with magic the chief of those. And then, far too soon, Arthur stopped talking, and Merlin sensed through his partially closed eyes the knights approaching with their torches, and he felt the warmth of the fire as those torches were lowered to the wood.

Merlin forced his eyes open, thrust his head up and looked at his friends, then beyond them, at Arthur. He maintained eye contact with his king, his brother, his best friend, even as the knights lit the pyre and he felt the heat begin to spread. Merlin didn't know if Arthur could hear him from this distance, if his words would be loud enough, strong enough, or if they would be caught up and consumed in the rising flames. It took every ounce of strength and concentration to push past the pain and call out, as loudly as he could, "I forgive you, Arthur."

And then, as the flames began licking at his feet, his boots, his clothes, something popped. I was as if the world itself had been out of joint, like a dislocated shoulder, and in that moment, the painful but satisfying second of release, it had snapped back into place. The air shifted, the world stopped spinning for the briefest of moments, and then, it clicked back into its rightful place.

The spell had been broken; Merlin could feel it in every fiber of his being – his magic cried out in relief, and it was only then that he realized that it hadn't been his head injury that had prevented him from fighting back, from escaping – it had been a last, desperate attempt by Morgana to get her revenge, to hide his magic away from him just long enough for him to die.

But she had failed. Her power, her hold and control, had finally given out on her, and Merlin felt his magic bubble back to the surface, and despite the pain and the fear, he summoned rain from a cloudless sky as the sun continued its golden ascent and put out the flames.

Around him, he heard yells, and cries, and his name was shouted from all directions, from the mouths of those he loved and trusted and who had very nearly killed him. But his head pounded, and he was so weak, and the fire was out. He slumped in his bonds, eyes fluttering shut, head dropping to his chest.

He didn't even feel the hands untie him. He didn't feel the knights gently lift his too-warm body from the pyre, didn't feel himself being carried into the castle and placed on a bed, didn't feel Arthur's tears of mingled guilt and relief splash onto his face.

He did, however, somehow, amidst the quiet and dark of unconsciousness, hear Arthur's voice cut through the silence, strong and familiar and real. "Gods, I – I'm so sorry, Merlin. My dearest friend, I–"

When he woke, Merlin would embrace his king, reassure him that no lasting harm had been done. He would smile at his friends, clasp hands with the knights and hug Gaius, find Gwen and make sure she hadn't suffered the same disorienting day that he had. He would answer all questions asked of him, and he would assure Arthur and the knights as many times as it took that he did not blame them, would explain Morgana's dark role in everything. He would find Morgana, and make sure that nothing like this would happen again.

When he woke, the world would be right. It wouldn't be normal – after everything that had been done to him, after all the betrayals, even though he didn't blame his friends, it would take a while for normal to come back around. But Merlin would persist, and he would have his friends – his real friends, with their real memories – to help him through it. As he would help them through the ramifications of their own pain, guilt, and regret.

And when he woke, he would be named the official Court Sorcerer of Camelot. He would be given a robe fine enough for a king, but he wouldn't care about that. All that would matter would be him, at Arthur's side, protecting him and fulfilling their destiny. That was how it had always been, and Merlin, when he woke, would look forward to a bright future of peace and hope.

But for now, he gratefully, peacefully slept, knowing that when he next opened his eyes, Camelot would remember.

31 notes · View notes

nebulousfishgills · 4 years

Text

Yours

Request by: Anonymous - Can I do an anonymous request for a Loki x reader where he returns to the reader after a few years and he is surprised to see that she has a child, but it turns out it is his child he didn’t know about.

Thanks for the request! I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Mild angst, I guess?

ฯฯฯ

"How was school today, (D/N)?" You asked, carefully looking at your five year old daughter in the rear-view mirror. She looked at you with her bright green eyes and a wide grin. Her front tooth was missing, the beginnings of her new tooth starting to poke out from her gums.

"Good! We read a Curious George book and talked about colors!" Your daughter said enthusiastically.

You smiled, crinkling your tired eyes. "Do you have a favorite color?"

"I like yellow."

"Yellow's a very pretty color."

You turned into your neighborhood, scanning the street signs to find yours. It was a brief moment of quiet before (D/N) spoke again.

"Miss Amy also said Parents Day is soon. She sent this home for you to look at." She said.

You only slightly paled at your daughter's words as you pulled into the driveway and took the envelope from (D/N)'s hands. Parents Day was a day in mid September where the parents could come into the class and their child could show them what they were learning. They could ask questions to the teacher about how the children were being taught.

"It's on Friday? At noon?" You half asked to yourself. Gently, you turned around in your seat to face your daughter with a sad smile. "(D/N), I have to work that day. I don't think I can go."

(D/N) frowned and slightly slumped in her seat.

"You can never go to anything." She sighed. It crushed you to see her so sad.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but I've already missed too many days for when you or I get sick. I can take you out for frozen yogurt that afternoon, though. Would that be okay?" You asked, biting your lip.

"I guess. I wish Daddy were here." (D/N) sighed.

"Me too, kiddo." You said, getting out of the car and shutting the door. She followed suit, dragging her Minnie Mouse backpack on the pavement behind her. "Me too."

You had seen the other parents' glances whenever you dropped (D/N) off at kindergarten in the morning. It was mostly mothers who dropped off their kids, so you coming in alone wasn't totally abnormal. Though it was like High School all over again: cliques of girls whispering about you in groups of three or four while glancing at you with pursed lips. Being a single parent was the abnormal thing. Your town was small, so gossip spread like wildfire.

"...Got knocked up by some foreign guy."

"...Left her to pursue an art career."

"...He left town as soon as she told him he was pregnant."

You honestly didn't know how some of those rumors spread. People's imaginations were limitless, you figured. Well, the detail about the father being "some foreign guy" wasn't too far off. But you couldn't really say the father was an actual god, they'd think you were crazy for sure. So, you let the rumors spread and eventually they had less and less effect on you. The side glances didn't exactly make you feel good, though.

You entered the small house, following (D/N) inside. She put her backpack on the hook and sat at the kitchen table.

"Do you want something to eat?" You asked. She nodded and you went to rummage around in the pantry for something. (D/N) wasn't particularly picky about her snacks. You settled on a half empty bag of pretzel sticks and poured some into a bowl. (D/N) took it and started to go up the stairs. "Remember, clean up your crumbs."

Once you heard her door close, you pulled a (favorite soda/seltzer) out of the fridge and sat at the table, resting your head in your hand with a sigh. You wanted to go to the parent night, you really did. But it wasn't worth risking your job over. Your boss already made it hard for you because she knew your situation. She was the type of person who believed in marriage before children and gave you your work with a slightly disgusted glance every day. This was your life, and the sooner you accepted that, the better.

There was a quick knock at the front door that shook you out of your thoughts. Sighting, you stood up to get it. You hoped it wasn't your nosy neighbor, always offering to babysit (D/N) because "there's only one you and I can make it easier." She always asked for a ridiculously high payment that you couldn't afford along with the offer. Luckily, you had most of the weekends off and (D/N) went to full day kindergarten on the weekdays.

"For the last time, Donna, I don't need your charity babysi-" you started as you opened the door, but abruptly cut yourself off. It wasn't your neighbor, or your mom that brought you pies sometimes, or the Amazon guy for that matter.

"Loki?" You asked, eyes wide. Sure enough, there was your estranged ex boyfriend. He nervously picked at the pilling green sweater he wore, barely meeting your eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I... Well..." Loki stuttered, biting his lip. You sighed and opened the door wider.

"Get in and pull yourself together." You said cooly. Loki nodded as he slowly entered the house, sitting on the edge of the sofa like there were needles poking out of the back cushion. You sat down next to him with your arms folded.

"I'm sure you're very angry with me." Loki started.

"What gave you that impression? My folded arms, my tone, or the fact that you've been gone for five years?" You snapped.

"(Y/N), I can explain-"

"You left me, Loki. In the middle of the night, no explanation. Just a note on the pillow saying that you love me and how much it hurt that you just had to leave right then. You didn't think that maybe explaining it to me when I was awake would be a better idea? No, because you just had me wake up the next morning with no you and a half assed note. So, yeah, I'm angry!" You yelled, not even trying to hold back.

"I know, and I'm so sorry. It's just... I was scared-" Loki tried to apologize.

"Scared? Of what? Loving a mortal? I thought that it didn't matter to you." Your tone started to form into a more hurt one than anything.

"No, it's not that." Loki said.

"Well, then what is it?"

"I was scared for you, your safety. I've done wrong in the past, my darling, and I've had people hunting for me, bad people. I didn't want you to get swept up in it. That was part of the reason why I left. But I wanted to figure out how to fix it. I always intended to come back, but not until I was sure we were safe." Loki explained. You sat in silence, considering his words.

"Well, you can't expect to be able to waltz back into my life like nothing happened." You said in a tone that probably didn't fit the words you were saying. A sympathetic tone with harsh words.

"I didn't expect to."

"Mama, I heard you yelling.... Mama, who is that?" You jumped at the sound of your daughter having come back down the stairs. You cleared your throat, trying to find the right words.

"Uh... Well..." You spluttered. "He's..."

"Have I been gone long enough for you to find the comfort of another man?" Loki didn't sound angry, rather he sounded sad.

"No, there's been no one else. (D/N), come here please." You said. Timidly, the little girl climbed into your lap and watched the strange new man intently. "(D/N), this is your daddy."

Both Loki and (D/N) looked at you in surprise.

"I found out a week after you left. She's your daughter. She has your eyes." You said shyly. "She's yours."

(D/N) took a second to process the information before giggling. She lept out of your lap and into Loki's arms. He caught her with an "uff" from the impact. He looked at the little girl carefully and did notice her eyes were the same shade of green as his. He felt a sort of familial bond with her as she hugged him tightly.

"Now that you're here, Mama can go to Parents Night!" She said enthusiastically.

"(D/N), slow down, he just got here." You laughed. "And we still have to figure things out. I still work, you know."

"Oh, right. Well, at least I have a daddy now!"

"If you'll have me back?" Loki asked you. You looked from Loki to the daughter you shared clutching him like a koala bear. You sighed and smiled. (D/N) needed her father, more than you wanted to admit. And you still loved him more than you wanted to admit.

"I can't forgive you right away, but we can build it back up." You agreed. "But in the future, just talk to me, okay?"

"Of course, my darling." Loki said, kissing your temple lightly.

ฯฯฯ

Hope you enjoyed this, Nonnie!

Requests are open! Rules and characters are on the pinned post on my profile!

#marvel #avengers #loki #tom hiddleston #loki (marvel)#loki odinson #loki x reader #loki x you #loki fanfic

103 notes · View notes

border-spam · 3 years

Text

Leech Lord : Jak-Knife

JK belongs to / is written by / designed by @godkingsanointed

“That Bandit’s a ghostwalker, my God-King. You don’t want ‘em here, trust me. Sometimes dead clans leave corpses behind that aren’t straight in the head enough to know that’s what they are... Crawl across the plains looking for somewhere else to belong, looking for a new family clan ‘cause all that’s left of theirs are Rakk picked bones. Seen plenty over the years, and they trail bad luck behind ‘em like a disease. That one’s marked like a Hellion, those got slag-burned into the ground by Atlas back in Old Haven. Your majesties weren’t here when that happened, but we were, and I remember. Leave them to me, the scout teams always need fresh meat for replacements.

They won’t stay alive long enough to be a concern.”

- Mouthpiece

Whether death follows JK or they sprint after it in pursuit is something they’ve never really been sure of. It could be either - some great predator snapping at their heels while they grew up in a Bandit clan that wasn’t kind to the small and gentle, or a force they are drawn to effortlessly like the migratory animals that follow Pandora’s monsoon seasons.

Could be either.

Could be both.

Same outcome they figure, so why would it matter.

They'd been a kid when it happened, well, a kid to anyone not a Bandit. In that life 16 years old is more than enough to run with a raid party, adult enough to work yourself to the bone, to show you can earn your keep when your brother is "useless" and you've got to be worth 2 bellies of food or watch as one of you goes hungry. Jak-Knife and Gutpunch, one a runt squinting up from under a stolen warrior's mask crafted for someone twice their size, the other a gentle giant born into a life that no aspect of their soul suited. They'd protected him, them with their little body and dull pocketknife versus the sometimes cruelty of a clan who's survival was based around only the fittest, only the strong staying part of it.

Not evil, just living as was needed. Pandora is harsh, there is no room for softness if you want to stay alive on her rocky flats, that's just the way things are. Nature isn't cruel, it simply is.

They were 16 when the Lance came.

16 years they'd lasted in the Hellions, till the day the gates of Old Haven had been opened for the Crimson Lance's money carriers. They'd done their job, they'd cleared the town at the request of the white Siren, been promised a home for the clan, a place to belong, and in the end, their payment came in bullets sprayed from Atlas gun barrels.

By the time JK had woken up and tried to heave Gutpunch's corpse off their back from where he'd shielded them, it had been two days. Groggy and confused, they'd panicked, desperately trying to scrabble out from under his bulk as the remaining Lance stopped piling bodies to burn and ran towards the sound of gunfire outside the gates.

Vault Hunters. Worse than the lance.

They couldn't take him with them, he couldn't move now, but they couldn't leave him like this, not a brother. Not when he was all they had who'd understood when they'd try and explain why their meat was wrong, how the flesh didn't sit right, when he was who would help them tighten rags around their chest and listen as they ground their overly developed canines and growled to the stars at night when it got too heavy to bear. They couldn't leave him behind after a life together, so they took his mask. Scrabbled at the bindings and peeled the effigy from what was left of his head. They realised as it separated from flesh that it had been all that was holding the remnants of skull together... but this was his face. The meat under it was Gutpunch, but the mask... they'd wear it now. He'd still be with them.

Jak-Knife had ran from the massacre of Old Haven on shaky legs, ducking as bullets whistled through the air around them as Crimson Lance and Vault Hunters traded fire in panicked waves. No hits, not directly, but a spray of Slag from a barrel ruptured by a narrow miss had sliced across their right, thick and acrid in the air as it burned through skin and into muscle. There had been no time to feel the pain, no time to stop, JK had run till their feet bled and the weight of Pandora's inky night blanketed them in exhaustion they couldn't fight any longer.

They'd started to stumble forward once they stirred in the morning. Like Mouthpiece said, a ghostwalker. No clan, no brother, no belonging. They walked and didn't stop for a long time.

Walked to New Haven, to the walls outside the town and a woman with her own terribly scarred face masking a heart softer than others would guess. Not a home there, not really, but allowed stay. A kid is a kid, even when wearing the blood-streaked mask of a Bandit. She couldn't turn them away.

They were 18 when Hyperion came.

Ran again amidst the screams to do so, ran into the wastes of Pandora and a world that made more sense to them than the town being torn apart behind them. Missed her though, Pierce. She'd been kind. A lot of those people had been kind, and now they were dead. Hyperion, Atlas, same thing. Just monsters lead by monsters.

They'd walked to the Slabs, to a jovial King who mocked their size with a tone that both bristled their muscle and left them feeling... welcome. Not a home there either, not really, but there had been jobs to run and food to earn. They'd been allowed stay, and so they did. Stil a Hellion though, still Slag-burned and covered in their clan's flame emblems and splashes of neon across their gear.... still wearing Gutpunch's blood coated mask.

The Slab king had heaved himself into their cramped sleeping quarters one night and whispered that there was a funeral for her soon, Pierce. They could go if they wanted, he'd whispered from under that massive helm. Told them with a gentleness they'd never heard before that he understood loss, having things you loved taken away from you for no reason bar cruelty. That he remembered Old Haven and wished he didn't. That they should go. They'd be welcome there.

So JK had walked again, out of Thousand Cut's Slab fortress and to a somber funeral in the icy fields of Three horns that was filled with Crimson Raiders - a mix of Vault Hunters and ex Lance, and stood in memorial amidst people that made the blood under their skin burn, all to show the respect she'd earned to a woman who'd treated them like a human.

A merc now they figured, easier than being a wanderer and Sanctuary needed mercs. Found themselves in the bar some nights, wary eyes glaring from mismatched lenses as they sat silently at corner tables while watching the rest of the loud patrons, back against a wall and a clear exit always planned.

She'd noticed. She liked big 'n mysterious. Liked how her flirtations rolled off them and were replied to with genuine questions about her. Quiet, gentle-voiced comments about the drinks, how well she played her marks, how clever that gunbelt around her thigh was positioned for quick access if she needed to control a situation with more than just her looks.

Moxx liked this one, and a friendship slowly bloomed into something beautiful.

It had been her who had put their name forward when the leaders of the Raiders had become concerned over the darkness slowly seeping across Pandora's horizon, of the bizarre war cries of fanatics leading raids on smaller Bandit camps and shanty towns...

The "Children of the Vault" was a name being passed through hushed whispers in slums and rot-dives, and Lilith had rolled "Calypso" across her tongue enough times when reading scout reports to know the taste it was leaving behind wasn't anything good. They wanted an in, and what better spy to infiltrate a Bandit cult than a Bandit. Someone who understood clan hierarchy, who could report back in words she could understand from a viewpoint she could never see.

JK had been... wary. To say the least. The Raiders weren't friends, they'd filled their ranks with ex Crimson Lance like they hadn't committed atrocities, they mowed down Pandora's natives like mad Skags who needed extermination, and Krieg...

They all knew of Krieg. Everyone had seen how he'd been really treated. JK certainly had, but they also knew Krieg had been one foot into the great hunger, that he'd been so close to the flood that he'd spoken in half Psycho-cant and half Bandit, and tore at his skin to sate the itch of the song that the mad ones screamed about. That the raiders would let him burn alive in a fury if it meant a successful mission, and they couldn't help but wonder how respected he'd really been. Some kind of mix between respect and pity they figured, mocked behind his back as "Just another Psycho", someone who got the job done even if he limped back covered in blood and bullet holes, but was whispered about as needing to be watched.

He had been called a Raider, and yet - masks like his and JKs covered the command room's wall like trophies. Murderers of their clans walked Sanctuaries halls and narrowed untrusting eyes even at Krieg's hulking silhouette as he passed. It wasn't right, and JK struggled to feel as welcome as the others insisted they were now that they had a use.

But they'd taken the job, because Moxxi said they should and Moxxi was clever, Moxxi cared about them and wanted to see them be happy, so they'd agreed. She had whispered in an accent they’d learned from long nights in her company was for real things and not her act, that this would help people, that the COV was worrying her more than she was concerned about getting intel to Lilith, and they'd nodded in agreement.

Bandits don't congregate, Bandits don't merge clans under one banner... they wanted to know what this beast clawing into Pandora's soil was capable of. They'd heard the rumours like everyone else, twin Sirens apparently. Bullshit, everyone knew Sirens were women and there were only 6. Jack had hammered that information through Bandit clans and across Pandora's E-Com network clear enough. These were obviously frauds using trickery to control those eager to believe, wouldn't be the first time a Siren cult had used Bandit clans as a personal army, and JK had felt roiling disgust at the realisation what they were agreeing to do for Lilith? Just another shade of the exact same thing.

Funny, wasn't it. Very funny.

So they'd walked out of Sanctuary and towards the hub of the birthing COV.

They'd been 20 when they had first seen a real God.

The Holy City didn't exist yet, just a pile of rickety buildings thrown up by worshippers that surrounded an old Dahl fortress bleaching slowly in Pandora's sun. They called it "The Cathedral", but it looked like the crumbling bones of some great dead thing jutting from the red sands like a cracked skull. Maybe those were the same thing, JK had thought. A cathedral, and a beast of the flood. Both seemed like something that should be worshipped to them. They liked this place.

Neon paint and rusty metal spines were everywhere among the shantytown, raucous laughter cut through the clang of metal, and the air itself was heavy with an unmistakable stink of unwashed bodies and leather. They felt it so quickly as they'd crunched through the dirt paths that split the weaving rows of scrapped together tents, making their way to the recruitment line. A fleeting tickle of a sensation that hadn't filled their belly in so long. That this was like...

home.

The twins themselves were cagey and difficult to pull usable intel about. They gave sermons from the crumbling balconies of the fortress to the swathes of screaming acolytes below, too far for JK to get a clear eye on them but dressed like Sirens at least. Swirling loops of pacifying blue along the woman, and the man... jagged lines and curved whorls of a vicious red they'd never seen on any living or dead Witch. He was off. That one was wrong, and his sister made her agreement on that clear enough in how she acted next to him. She was the star, she was in the limelight, and he was relegated to a place behind her when she spoke to her worshippers and basked in their screeched worship. Odd for a "God-King" to be left in shadows, they'd thought.

Odd indeed.

They reported back to Lilith in Sanctuary whenever the opportunity arose to leave the growing "City", cult movement, basic info on what they could see as a blossoming threat to raiders, and it was always met with sneers of disgust and pity. Monsters, she'd sighed. Just using the bandits as fodder. JK's eyes flicked to the masks decorating the trophy wall behind her.

"Whatever you say, commander".

Mouthpiece had kept his word. Fully aware of what had happened to JK's clan and uncomfortable with seeing something he believed to be a walking curse among the COV's war parties, he'd purposefully sent them on suicide runs with some of the less physically capable recruits. "Trial by fire" he saw it as, simple logic when it came to survival on Pandora. Let the weak earn their place - if they die, they die. That's the law of the land, and losing the soft only leaves the clan stronger. Except, JK' scout parties just kept coming back. It had seemed almost a fluke the first couple of times, scouts didn't last long after all, but as it repeated again, and again, Mouthpiece and higher members of the raid parties began to notice.

A combination of Hellion war training and their years of working side by side with their brother had left an understanding of why having others watch your back was more beneficial than only caring about your own neck, especially when you weren't as big as the next guy. JK was a survivor, they'd never been willing to lay down and die so the rest of the clan could be down a "weak link", and their knife-edge instincts merged with a care for the other scouts not usually seen amongst Bandits meant they were teaching the team. Unifying them as a group who responded to signal whistles, barked cant, warcries that triggered defence formations and eyes on flanks. They were leading without being called a leader, and as that first year slowly ticked by, they were being noticed.

Sharp eyes that scrutinised numbers and statistics were watching the growing ratio of successful raids to lost bodies from the recessed shadows of the looming Cathedral while Jak-Knife trained and barked orders at recruits in the garrison that sprawled in the white hot sunlight below, and eventually, the day came where the God-King knew their name.

They'd stood shoulder to shoulder with their boys as they lined facing the burning light at Mouthpiece's demand. The mask lenses had done barely anything to block out Pandora's vicious sun as he'd approached, and they'd shuddered at the warchief's hissed warning to show due respect, or die where they stood. He wasn't accepting of failure, they knew that from the hushed whispers that spread across the camp at night. He expected perfection, and word from within the now sprawling architecture of the growing Cathedral was that neither twin took insult lightly. She sucked the life out of the undeserving and he, well, he supposedly just ripped heretics clean apart.

Father Troy had been all sharp angles and gaunt bone as he'd stopped his slow pace in front of them and hunched to lean down to their eye level. They'd realised how wrong they'd been about his appearance as the heavy furs that splayed across his shoulders like a mantle blotted out the sun behind him and framed his jagged silhouette in light.

Tyreen wasn't short.

Troy was a monster.

It had been hard to pick up on his scale when they'd only seen him next to his sister, they'd just figured she was a smaller woman and him a tall man, but the reality of his size was beyond intimidating now that they could see with frightening intimacy that the scrapped together prosthetic that he held at his side so effortlessly was as long as they were tall.

A glint of gold teeth through a smile they'd thought more Skag than human snapped them out of their shock, and he'd congratulated them. Thanked the "Jak-Knife" he'd been watching so closely for their excellent work on the field, waved the disturbingly proportioned metal claws of his arm towards their team and praised their group promotion, slathered honey-thick words from a barbed tongue about how they'd be blessed by being the honour guard for a God now - a fine reward for their outstanding work... yes?

The others had gasped in stuttered praise and whimpered thanks while Jk had nodded respectfully, knowing damn well that Calypso wasn't really asking at all.

The newly titled vanguard escorted him everywhere, and that meant a shift in JK's life within the blossoming city that they could not have prepared for. They no longer slept on bare ground when not visiting Sanctuary for updates, they were brought into the twin's cathedral, were able to see its glory with their own eyes for the first time. The inside wasn't anything like the still decrepit outer walls surrounded by scaffolding that workers scurried across like ants, it was like nothing Jak-Knife had ever seen.

A bastion of worship, vast cavernous stone halls spread with clan banners in colours they'd almost forgotten, neon blazing lights framing sprawling stained glass windows depicting Saints and Clergy who's names they'd heard but never put a face to.

Ur-Aurum, scowling from under heavy brows, framed in monochrome and gold. Coins and bullets pouring from his open palms.

Ur-Machina, sharp and vibrant in reds and coppers, oil-stained hands resting gently on the slab of gilded war tech she rested daintily against.

Ur-Vendit, pristine in parallel lines and perfect angles, sneering through a swathe of shining colours as numbers and cash totals ran like ivy through the window's frame.

And something new that had been being assembled along the great hall when they first entered, a half-finished window titled "Oracle" - just the fine lines of lead and a great, staring eye all that they could make out as they followed the priest irritably urging the vanguard group to hurry as they were lead to their chambers.

For the first time they had experienced, JK not only belonged, but they were envied. Their gear was decorated, armour and weapons upgraded at the Father's blessing, and the titles that came with the role were impossible to avoid, whispered in reverence by warriors who would have spat at their feet only a few years ago.

God-King's chosen, God-King's first, God-King's hand, the nods of respect passed to them by warlords like Mouthpiece in passing filled their chest with pride under the weight of its binder, and the trips back to Sanctuary became... harder.

For all they had achieved within the now monstrous in scale COV, the Raiders saw them no differently than they had when they'd first sat alone in Moxxi's. They were still a Bandit, and nothing more. JK was side-eyed, muttered about, treated like an outsider who needed to earn their keep by passing on intel they were risking their life for, all while in the back of their mind being more than aware that they could have this place raised to the ground with a damn WORD. Lilith didn't understand what it meant to be as close to Calypso as they were, that they were beginning to earn his ear.

She wasn't aware that a fucking God cared about their opinion enough to ask for it on long technical rides or when escorting him between meetings, to her, and to the rest of the Raiders, they were still simply a lost native behind a mask that was being handed scraps of decency by people better than them - and the strain of that reality was difficult to ignore. Moxxi tried her best, always there to console and remind them she valued who they were, the beautiful mind they had shared with her in tender moments and long intimate conversations over the last few years, but the insult burned in their gut still.

They weren't just Jak-Knife. They were the God King's chosen, and they were betraying someone who valued them to share internal information on Saints and departments, cashflow and raids, with people who willingly partnered with the Crimson Lance, people who just plain did not seem to understand who they were, what they had earned through sacrifice and blood shed.

But Troy? The longer they spent around Troy the more his own mask began to slip, and the harder it came to see him as any form of enemy. The blessed Father couldn't hide his weak spells or the times illness left him barely able to stand from a bodyguard who was at his side almost every waking moment, there was no way to do so regardless of how much he clearly wished there was. JK saw everything... the spasms, the fainting, heard the whistling of weak lungs when in silence next to the damaged God, saw the black circles under his eyes that the expertly applied makeup he wore could hide at a distance. He'd been aggressive about it at first, vicious and hurtful in his reactions when they'd try and assist, but over time, as they made clear that the mockery and pity he was expecting was not going to come, he'd softened. He'd thanked Jak-Knife one night as they scraped together a fire on the salt flats to chase the bitter cold away and keep their king warm.

A God had looked at them with ice blue eyes that reminded them of a face they could no longer remember, and whispered genuine appreciation for them. How could they continue to betray him. How could they hurt him for people who didn't even count JK as human?

They saw a delicate and sickly side of one of the twin God's that felt wrong to share with the raiders, that left a bad taste in their mouth to discuss with Lilith, so they simply didn't. The rationalised that the raiders did not need to know about the self-doubt or painful loss JK saw crack through Troy's facade in private, the raiders didn't need an update on how one of the twins wasn't healthy, that he could struggle sometimes to get to his feet before an audience, or would need a discreet support from the solid weight of their muscle next to his spindly frame after some events.

Lilith didn't need to know it, and as time passed, JK found they were beginning to keep secrets. Little ones at first, justified under the intel not being valuable, but the ease of witholding useful data only increased. Their position, the growing camaraderie with the COV's grunts and militia, the respect in the eyes of worshippers who looked to the Vanguard all fed into the slow realisation that their loyalty simple did not belong to the Vault Hunters, it was to Moxxi, who loved them. It was to Troy, who every day became closer to the memory of Gutpunch they'd try and visualise on lonely nights, see his crooked smile and cool eyes flicker across a face they could no longer place.

The closer JK got with the man behind the King's mask, the harder it became to give over information to the raiders that had any real tactical value...

And that had been Troy's plan, ever since the day he'd discreetly planted a tracker on them while they'd squinted against the blinding sunlight to first look into the face of a God.

#Bl3 #Borderlands #Borderlands 3 #Troy calypso #Tyreen calypso #Leech Lord #Sbsart #My hcs #My writing

42 notes · View notes

witchysleepingbeauty · 3 years

Note

Hi Reversed✖️ here (with the P (pain) Parent)

Your answer helped me. So thakn u for that!

So since I last wrote, I realised u were so right about my assumptions and limiting beliefs. And I think I'm deep down scared of, and dread, what P would say to me

Thanks for ur advice abt speaking up. I didn't mention it earlier but I do speak up, when possible (only I try to limit it when a guest is around coz then I'd get a label of being ill mannered and rude in front of guests, which will ofc mean P is a 'bad, unworthy P' then I'll be hearing about it for a whole week)

I sometimes feel me speaking up makes things worse? I try to let my voice be heard when P is being unfair (aka when they assume wrong intentions about me doing a particular thing, when they don't bother asking me directly but instead mutter or scream assumptions of what goes on in my mind)

Like, the reason I'm writing to u rn, is coz a little while back, P finally consented to go to the hospital. P asked for their usual water bottle for the trip to the hospital, and I brought another one as it's much lighter for them to hold... They effing screamed at me for being LAZY for bringing the 'wrong' bottle with the most disgusted tone ever

Everyone in the room witnessed that... Not the best feeling in the world

And this, I thought to myself, this is exactly why I don't try to be helpful to them. This is why I feel I should stop trying to give them a chance. It's not about being misunderstood, it's the fact that if there's me in a room, I'm the one who'll have to deal with their BS behavior, (and btw if u rmmbr I mentioned silent treatments earlier? They've been using this tactic on me WHEN I actually speak up and 'accidentally' call them out on their ridiculous and sometimes-too-far-gone behavior to me sigh) and it used to make me mad, but now it's just so sad lol

Anf the worse thing is,their go-to reply to why they're like this to me is bcoz 'ive made them' like this. If they could clearly tell me whats their problem with me, in a straightforward way, at least I'd know why, right?

Yes, about those limiting beliefs. I tried to get clear on my relationship with P, and as I wrote, the words flew out. I didn't know I had so much repressed emotions regarding how they make me feel. Idk how to deal with this? Just re-reading the page of my deep-mind's views on P immediately causes those emotions to brim up. What next?

On a deeper level, let's say I manifested this coz of EIYPO, how do I change it? I sometimes dissociate coz of them and imagine taping their mouth shut when it gets too much

I was never like this. And I don't want to disrespect them to this extent. Yet how else can I cope? We really used to be so close, yk? That's like an old story which I cant even remember

And one more thing, I wanna say there ARE moments when they're in an okay mood with me. It's more like when they lose, they lose it big time. Whether it's over a small thing or a big thing. I wish I could cut myself out of their life, forever. Maybe then they'd be happy? Or rather... Maybe they'd then find another scape goat... 😬 Lol, thats not a solution based on manifesting that I'm looking for, anyway

Looking forward to ur help

Reversed✖️

It’s normal to feel bad, you have so many years of mistreatment build up inside and you are not dealing with them.

Also I am not sure why you’re trying to keep up appearances at this point. You are allowed to lose it, break down, yell, tell them how bad of a parent and a person they are. You’ll feel so much better to let it out.

And still I see a lot of limiting beliefs and repetition of the old story. “I cannot speak up because it makes things worse”, “they blame me”, they do this”, they do that”

If you want to change the situation and you don’t want to leave them then you need to change your beliefs about them.

“They treat me right”

“They show me respect”

“They always speak to me lovingly”

“They love me”

“They are affectionate to me.”

And stop repeating all the old stuff.

4 notes · View notes

belphegorbillickin · 3 years

Note

Okay, but I can definitely imagine Barb/Dia doing that. It seems like quite a possibility. But wasn't dying mc's own fault though? Like,, Barbatos did warn,,, unless he knew this was gonna happen and mc was DUMB AND STUPID enough to show up to everyone like: "hi." and possibly be dumb enough to get killed. Idk lol I forgot this part.

But what you said about Beel, I really like that. I think you even mentioned belphie guilt tripping you in your yandere hcs, and trying to make you completely depend on him?? I like those possibilities. Mammon though,, too soft. Like you said, they've robbed him a lot. He could have had so much potential to be a dark character. Similarly Levi omg.

The brothers are the embodiments of the 7 deadly sins, yet, tbh, I haven't seen too much of this side of them. At least, not like how'd I expect. Leviathan, for eg. Envy. I don't recall seeing his sin playing out anywhere except in the TSL Quiz thingy. I mean, it's been toned down a lot for someone who's the literal embodiment is envy. Idk I just don't feel he's like that? As from what I found: Envy (Latin: invidia), like greed and lust, is characterized by an insatiable desire. It can be described as a sad or resentful covetousness towards the traits or possessions of someone else. The struggle aroused by envy has three stages: during the first stage, the envious person attempts to lower another's reputation; in the middle stage, the envious person receives either "joy at another's misfortune"(if he succeeds in defaming the other person) or "grief at another's prosperity" (if he fails); the third stage is hatred because "sorrow causes hatred".[38]

Envy is said to be the motivation behind Cain murdering his brother, Abel, as Cain envied Abel because God favored Abel's sacrifice over Cain's.

They toned him down a little too much?? If this game has actually been inspired by demons and the 7 deadly sins, they could at least make them similar to the demons, at least in some way. I'm not that far into the game yet, but so far that I've played, I haven't seen much. As for a demon who is the embodiment of envy... I wish to see more. Levi is capable of A LOT.

Similarly, Satan. I sometimes wonder why is he even called the Avatar of Wrath when we hardly see it?? The only time I remember is him losing his calm during the whole body swap event. The fact Satan got mad at us refusing a pact actually made me think that he was the sin "wrath", but idk now. And the way it was said that "every smile is an act", I really like that concept too. But I don't think I've paid much attention to see where it played out. Sigh now Satan simps for cats like,,, please show me your dark/evil side sir.

The way you said Barb and Dia took part in a torture dungeon, I want to see more of that too. If they're demons, wouldn't they have caused SOME sort of bloodshed in a way? Especially if they're the strongest demons. Killing humans, eating them, or I even like to think doing the same to their own race. Torturing... Seems like something that every demon's blood would contain lmao, I'm not answering questions bye.

And I believe so too. The human seems like a pawn... I feel the demons would use humans for entertainment and their own purposes, while keeping up the facade of loving them. It's easy, since demons are manipulative. In that case, losing the human whether by their own hands or not would go like: "Oh well, that's unfortunate. Time for another human."

But if they REALLY did love you, I feel they'd still be manipulative. Like you said. Corrupting/spoiling the human so much to the point that they'd just HAVE to depend on them. I feel they'd also have yandere tendencies, or be "protective". Like, then I feel they really wouldn't want to let you go, despite knowing how much it can ruin your innocence.

I also don't like how everyone is after mc like "uwuwu master". The human is still a weakling despite having pacts, plus, the pacts aren't even demanding the human's soul or anything. I don't get why they let mc walk over them when they are CLEARLY much stronger? If I were a demon I'd do the opposite lmao. Making the human seem as if they are controlling me, but it's the opposite. I don't think a mere pact can change the fact that the demon's stronger,,, esp if the pact didn't demand the human's soul/life/whatever.

Also, thank you! Things got better for me :)) and also,

💫✨💕send this to ten bloggers you think are wonderful. keep the game going 💕✨

Ofc you don't have to do this, but I got this, and it really made me happy, so here ^^

Oh btw in lesson...56 I think?? Just gonna tag this as a spoiler, but where for whatever reason Satan was "Sully" and the angel Lucifer asked him whether he liked books, let me just say I haven't even played it that far yet, but Satan going, "...Every book here is precious."

TOUCHED ME SO BAD LIKE. I DON'T KNOW IT REALLY MADE ME SOFT LMAO HE'S JUST SO okay I'll stop 🏃– 🍹

It's been a while since I've thought in-depth about the whole time traveling thing tbh, but couldn't Barbatos generally see the outcomes of the world?

We went back because they wanted to know who opened it, but considering Diavolo's the ruler of hell who turned Lilith human and Barbatos is basically the ruler of time & practically the universe I believe they already knew Lilith did it since it had to be "blood related" basically.

Barbatos also knows he can stitch together timelines and get of "extra" MCs essentially, so I believe he'd take that into account. I'm not saying MC getting killed was 100% part of the plan, but that they didn't care of MC was traumatized because they knew they could bring them back if necessary.

Imo the real goal wasn't to find out who did it, but to avoid breaking the family's bonds and devotion to Diavolo. The way it worked out was incredibly convenient and "coincidentally" a huge upgrade for Diavolo that kept the status quo and made him look good (or at least better) to Belphie and Beel without making Lucifer choose.

We see that kind of repeat later when Diavolo withdraws from the play because he was worried Lucifer wouldn't be as loyal. That's also why Lucifer gets that warning from Barbatos.

I think a huge part of why Levi's characterization is like that is because not enough people like him enough to tolerate it tbh. Even Mammon and Lucifer stans complain about the other characters hogging screen time and a lot of them admit to feeling bad for other fans. Levi is pretty much always second to last popularity wise.

I think he'd actually be more liked if they focused more on the jealously instead of making almost every interaction otaku/Ruri-chan related, but it's a bit too late now. I really, really hate how they just pretend otaku culture always existed and that's all Levi ever was. Like at least make him have an obsessive personality and be hyperfixated on novels instead of talking manga in an era before Japan even existed. It's so unbelievably lazy and really takes me out of the story.

Another problem is we only really see him interact with family or people that could enact severe consequences like Diavolo & Barbatos or people protected by the exchange program. He never gets a chance to shine or be cunning. The closest we get is things like him purposefully trying to ruin Christmas for random people online in his Christmas card. I think if he genuinely got jealous of MC and some random demon he would summon lotan almost instantly.

It's especially painful knowing what we had & being so excited to get more only for all of that to get dropped.

In an early devilgram, Be You, Satan gets jealous and feels bad about not having much unique to him and Lucifer comforts him in his own way when the others make it worse. Mammon is the most empathetic though ofc. They also talk about horror movies and Mammon says he doesn't find them scary (& the way it's framed sounds honest, idk if it's a retcon or a lie,) and Satan says "I'm sure we've all witnessed plenty of real-life horrors worse than anything in the movies."

Then when Lucifer asks for a time when he was really angry Satan first casually then gleefully talks about torturing a family to death because a kid set him up to get scolded by their parents. Meanwhile the brothers act wary of him and worry about him getting out of control while Lucifer tells everyone to take cover for their own safety with a smile. Satan happily talks about them begging for their lives and says he wishes they saw it too.

Levi also says he hates hearing about people being happy, but likes hearing about the negative things. While Asmo and Mammon are freaking out he also calls Satan cool. Which shows at least a little bit of his envy for once. Satan also says just the aura of his rage is usually too much for humans which is also interesting.

But back to Diavolo and Barbatos, I don't hate how the whole torture thing isn't super open, it makes sense imo, but I would like to see hints of them hiding it. Especially if Satan or even attic Belphie was the one you could go to to learn more about it. If anyone would defy Diavolo for that it'd be them trying to bring Lucifer down with them, or even just Satan rewarding the hunt for knowledge and not understanding the human psyche fully.

Imagine if instead of a paper thin lie about being human we got a Belphie manipulating us by pretending he was locked up because he was against hurting humans and the whole exchange program was a scam? Or at least if he told us things no one else would about Diavolo that were true so we wouldn't trust him and etc. That's the angle I'm going with in my fanfiction at least, the original story is just so lazy and boring imo.

Yeah I'm not a huge fan of how they handled pacts either, especially considering they don't even get MC's soul. It's way too one-sided to the point where I don't believe someone like Satan would ever offer it, even if the first offer was a trick and he'd get your soul or something. I agree on the whole manipulation thing too, like how is it partnership if one side has complete control over the other?

Even just making it so that demons can fight against if they really don't want to do something like harming each other and having it corrupt MC would make it a million times better.

And that's so sweet, thank you! You've made my days a lot brighter too. Not much makes me happier than infodumping and complaining about Obey Me rn lol.

I really liked Satan's line there too, although I did wish he had more a reaction to everything tbh. That whole section felt a bit too easy imo though, like I kept waiting for it to all go to shit or something. I am glad they went back into more story-based chapters too. I hope they keep that trend and expand on it.

#asks #season 3 spoilers

2 notes · View notes

xxisxxisxxis · 4 years

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Seventy-Four [Pt. 1]

Words: 3k

Warning(s): explicit language, drug abuse

Tag List: @unknownoblivion @edwardtriggerhandzz @lemmyjelly @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @xpoisonousrosesx @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @liith-ium @caos18blog @ytwahsog @scarecrowmax @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @sparxx27 @kaitieskidmore1 @cruecifymesixx @meetthesixxter @sublimeprincesswasteland @arianareirg @girlnight-terror

@fancywasmyname1 @teller258316 @ggorehorror @blowinmeupwithherlove @xrosegoldwolfx @mylifeisjustafeverdream @redlipscrystalskies14 @str4nge-haze @reigns420 @sixxseconds2love @leatherandheels @dogmom2014 @allyouneedislove-mp3 @n0-self-c0ntro1

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

I exhale, turning to look at Nikki where he's laying beside me, a sickly pale tone to his skin, his black hair tangled, his hand that is clinging to mine, covered in tracks, the same appearance as his other hand.

I can't help but wonder if I bathed him if he'd wake up. He reeks, and he's rough looking, only adding to my guilt.

Fred gave him a sleeping pill to ease him off of his coke high--he's been freebasing again, just cooking it up in the room's microwave.

I don't know what the hell to do about him.

I wish I did.

Turning over to face him, I brush his bangs out of his eyes, my fingertips lightly dusting over his cheeks, dark circles under his eyes.

They were supposed to play tonight, but said Nikki came down with the flu and added the show to the second round of U.S. tours lined up for early next year.

The Nikki I knew would have never put drugs over his music, his fans, and especially not his relationship.

But, the Nikki I knew also wouldn't have cheated on me…

It's been hard to accept the fact that the Nikki I fell in love with six years ago, isn't around anymore.

1981

I finish getting my church dress back on, grinning at Nikki as he gets his pants laced back up, the both of us glancing at each other in the back of my car.

"What's mommy and daddy gonna say when I send their girl back home all turned out?" He asks me, smugly, and I put my heels back on, scoffing.

"Gee, just come home with me and find out." I shrug.

"I'll pass." He mumbles, pulling his shirt over his head.

"Oh, c'mon, I'm sure they'd love you." I nudge him with my elbow.

"Your mom would piss her granny-panties." He argues, wrinkling his nose a little and I just blink at him.

"Maybe...but I'm pretty sure my dad would like you." I inform him.

"Like hell he does." He says to himself and I just let out a breath.

"So…" I say after a few seconds of silence and he nods a little, awkward tension filling the air around us.

"...Well." He lets out in the same tone.

"Good freaking night." I go to open the car door, irritated that he doesn't offer up to hangout and do stuff other than fool around, slamming the door shut.

"Hey, what's up?" He asks me, getting out next, standing by the driver's door, blocking my way.

"Nothing. I'll see you later." I mumble, nudging him out of my way, opening my door but he's quickly shutting it before I can.

"Viv, what's--"

"--I'm gonna start charging you to sleep with me." I state blatantly and his hazel eyes widen, a shit eating smirk on his lips as he chuckles out, "what?"

"You'd think since we have sex with each other so often it'd at least make us friends, but all you wanna do when we hangout is screw around and then go do whatever with the guys." I tell him. "And, no, this isn't me being a 'typical girl' and developing feelings for you just because we've had sex. It's me being tired of feeling like I'm just being used to get you off."

"I'm being used to get you off so it's a win-win, is it not?"

"You sound like Vince." I snap. "All that's happening is I screw you, you screw me, we leave, and don't talk until we're both horny again."

"Is that not how this works?"

"The least we can do is get food afterwards or something." I suggest.

"...Like a date?"

I gag at the thought.

"Ew, no." I tell him and he looks confused. "Like, um...I don't know. But since I don't hate you enough to not hook up with you, anymore, I think we could at least get to know who we're hooking up with a little better."

"Friends with benefits?" He clarifies.

"No, no, we're not friends." I point out and he let me get in my car.

"I'll see you tomorrow night?" He throws out and I nod. "Wear something pretty--we're going to McDonald's." He smugly smiles and I roll my eyes, holding back a laugh.

I'm shaking the memory away when there's a knock at the door and I slowly get out of bed, trying not to wake Nikki, slipping my hand from his as my feet hit the hotel carpet.

I open the door, seeing Mick.

"They wanted us to go ahead and start getting our stuff together to leave." He informs me. "Apparently Guns has some solo shows at some clubs nearby so they're staying behind and we'll back up with them tomorrow night." He informs me and I nod, smiling softly, before he lets out a small breath. "I know you're hurt, and you've got every right to be, but would it not make more sense to file for divorce before you move on, as opposed to moving on before you even really know if you're gonna leave or not?" He asks next, under his breath so Nikki has no way of hearing it.

"Ask your married girlfriend that before you come at me with it, Mick, alright?" I ask him neutrally, shutting the door in his face before stepping back to the bed, hesitant to wake Nikki up but doing it anyway so we won't be late.

I wasn't shocked when Mick let on that he knew about Duff and I because, like with me and Nikki, he just knew when something was up.

Looking back, Mick had a point, but at that time he was the last person I wanted to hear it from, because Emi wasn't estranged from her husband, or even on bad terms with him. She was just cheating for whatever reason while her husband stayed in the blissful dark. Mick was "the other woman" therefore he had no place to speak to me about my relationship with Duff.

"Nikki, get up, we gotta get packed." I gently shake him and he groans out.

"Baby, let me sleep." He mumbles, eyes squeezed closed, face scrunching slightly for a second.

"We gotta be in L.A. in seven hours, c'mon." I nudge at him again, and his red eyes open, disgruntled, taking a moment before sitting up.

"I did it again last night?" He asks me, rubbing the crust from his eyes as I slip my slippers on.

"Yep."

"Are they pissed?"

"They're worried." I inform him. "I'm worried, too." I add, stepping to the door.

"I'm fine." He says after me.

"Glad to hear it." I open the door, taking a moment to add, "and I'm not 'baby' to you anymore," before leaving.

I get to my room and get my things packed, being interrupted by a knock at the door.

When I get it open, Duff is on the other side, wearing nothing but his underwear.

"I think I left my necklace in here." He tells me and I step aside, watching him grab it from the bedside table before he turns to me and says, "so, you guys are leaving tonight?" He asks me.

"Yeah." I nod. "Gotta go watch Vince walk down the aisle."

He chuckles and I do, too, realizing how ironic the reality of it is.

"...Is, um...Nikki okay?" He cautiously questions.

"Yeah." I nod. "I'm sorry I didn't go back to your room last night, I just thought it'd be best if he eased off before I went to bed and then I accidentally fell asleep before I could leave so…"

"No, no, Viv, it's fine. You still care about him, even though he's shitty sometimes he's still the guy you've been with for the past six years. I'm not upset that you're making sure he's okay." He nods reassuringly.

Before I can say "okay", there's another knock at my door, and I step to it and open it, Tommy and Vince waiting for me.

"Ya ready?" Tommy asks, him and Vince both wearing sunglasses.

"Yeah." I reply, going to zip my suitcase, Tommy following in after me to grab it, taking a double take when he notices Duff.

"Hey, man."

"Hey." Duff replies, rubbing the back of his neck, before looking to Vince. "Vinnie, you ready to walk down that aisle?" He asks him with a smile.

"Yeah, just so Sharise will stop bitching about wedding details." He responds with a groan in his tone and Duff chuckles. "But her and Skylar are coming back with me for a honeymoon so just be on your best behavior--not that you aren't most times." He adds.

"Nah, I'll give Slash and Stevie the heads up, though." He assures him.

"Thanks, dude." Vince says back.

"Alright, see you when we get back." Tommy says, patting at Duff's shoulder.

"See ya." Duff says to them as they head out.

"I gotta pee and I'll be down." I lie.

Vince looks at me, oddly, with a small bit of hesitance before he shuts the door and I rub my lips and look at Duff, fumbling with my fingers.

"You're not breaking up with me already, are you?" He repeats what I asked him before and I smile and shake my head.

"No, no." I grab his hand and tug him closer to me and he kisses my hair, wrapping his arms around me, tightly, and I rest my cheek against his skin.

"Just have a safe flight, try not to kill anyone." He tells me and I nod.

"I love you." I tell him, looking up at him.

"I love you, too." He leans down and kisses me, pulling away too soon. "I'll see you tomorrow night."

"See you tomorrow night." I agree, taking a mental picture of his soft grin.

The next day was spent scrambling to keep everyone together--especially Nikki--because Sharise deserved one day to be with Vince without a fight...little did I know the only fight that would occur would be between Vince and I, and not him and Nikki, like I feared.

"Okay," I straighten her veil, examining her dress one last time as she hands me my bouquet, "you look beautiful, Sharise." I assure her and she continues nitpicking possible flaws in the mirror.

"I know we're already married so this is just a vow renewal or whatever but I'm nervous." She admits to me, fanning at herself a little.

"There's no reason to be." I tell her.

"Where's Sky?"

"With your parents."

"Where's Tansy?"

"Getting her dress on."

"Where's Nikki?"

"In the bathroom."

"In the bathroom or shooting up?"

"In the bathroom. Tommy's on smack watch."

"Okay." She lets out a breath, trying to calm down. "Vince...is he--"

"He's ready to walk when you are." As I say this, the door opens and Nikki and Tansy come in.

"Sharise, the wedding party's waiting for you." Tansy tells her a little shakily.

I think she's beginning to withdrawal.

"Alright. Okay." Sharise inhales and exhales.

"You got this." I promise her.

"You're right." She nods and I help her with her dress as she heads to the door.

Nikki, Tommy, Mick, and a couple other guys I've never met that are good friends of Sharise and Vince are wearing their tuxes with a hot pink sash, to match the bridesmaids knee length, hot pink dresses with black tull underlying the skirt.

We file into line, Nikki and getting in front of Sharise since she's appointed me with Matron of honor.

"You showered." I mumble to Nikki, impressed.

"Tommy threatened to spray me off with a water hose. I didn't feel like being cold." He mumbles and I scoff as the music starts, the doors opening to lead outside, where we have to walk down stone stairs to meet in a spacious courtyard.

"I'm getting war flashbacks." He says next once it's our turn to start walking.

"From our wedding, yeah, me freaking too." I reply in a hiss.

"I was gonna say from Tommy's wedding but sure." He scoffs bitterly.

"Just don't leave this one every fifteen minutes to slip into the bathroom and shoot up." I ignore his comment, the arm that my hand is looped through tenses up and I can feel him glaring at me through his sunglasses.

"Don't be a fucking bitch." He tells me as we step down the stairs and approach the guests, seeing Vince and the other groomsmen and bridesmaids waiting for us.

"Little late for that." I point out.

"And our wedding wasn't even that bad, Viv." He randomly cuts back to our initial back and forth and I fake a smile for the crowd, speaking through my teeth to reply, "Wish I could say the same for the months to follow it."

We separate at the alter, and I push my feelings aside when I look to see Sharise stepping down the stairs, looking stunning as ever.

When she gets down here, I'm straightening the back of her dress as she takes Vince's hands.

The ceremony doesn't take very long, and once the reception comes and all the pictures are done with being taken, I'm ready to get out of this dress--but it's not ready for me to get out of it.

I grind my teeth, dreading asking this bastard for help, but I know he's got his knife and the zipper of my dress is stuck.

"Nikki," I tap at his shoulder as he downs another glass of wine.

"What?" He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Can you help me get out of this dress?" I ask him and he suddenly bursts into laughter.

"I'd rather fuck a pot of boiling hot oil than fuck you." He tells me.

"No, asshole, I mean literally help me get this off because the zipper is stuck." I explain.

"Oh." He says, turning me to look at it. "Yeah, I guess." He stands up and I head to the bathroom as he pulls his pocket knife from his pocket.

Once we get to the bathroom, I'm pulling my arms from the sleeves the best I can before I look at him.

"Just go to sawing away here." I point to the seam that's three-fourths zipped.

He starts cutting at it, and it soon gets looser and looser to the point there should be plenty of room to finish pushing it down my hips...and I would if his hands weren't steadily holding at my bare sides, his eyes on my back as I look at him in the mirror and wait for him to snap back into reality.

He never does, and I'm forced to clear my throat to whisk the tension away.

"Um, I got it from here." I tell him, hinting that his hands on my skin aren't needed.

He just looks at me in the mirror and holds at them tighter, making me go to hit at the tops of his hands, only I realize this is one of the few moments he probably finds peace in because he can pretend, even for a second, that everything isn't screwed sideways.

I just rest my palms over his hands, making eye contact with him in the mirror, looking us over, and I smile sadly, realizing we won't ever be those people again.

After his moment is finished, he's gently patting my sides before taking a step back and putting his knife back into his pocket.

"Thanks, again." I say to him before he goes. "No problem." He mumbles, stepping out.

I rush back to the bridal suite to avoid being seen half naked, to change into a more comfortable dress.

As soon as I shut the door, I turn around and see Vince nursing a beer, and I jump.

"Jesus, Vince!" I snap at him, taking a deep breath and he rolls his eyes for a second. "What the hell are you doing here?" I ask him, peeling the dress down my legs, not caring that he's getting an eyeful of me in nothing but skimpy panties since he's seen me completely naked in the pictures of me that Nikki's shown off to him.

"Hiding from my in laws." He replies, taking another sip of beer.

"You're not supposed to be drinking." I remind him.

"Who's gonna tell them?" He asks me, raising his brows.

"Doesn't matter if the state doesn't know--God knows. That's who you'll have to answer to in the end."

"Oh-Oh, my fuck." He chuckles out, his tongue swiping the inside of his bottom lip.

"What? You think standing before God and being confronted with the fact you're still drinking after killing your friend in a drunk driving accident is funny?" I hiss at him.

"I think the bible warns against becoming a drunkard but doesn't it also say, "you must not commit adultery'?"

My heart pounds in my chest, my eyes wide, and he stands up from his spot on the fluffy parlor chair.

"So you can give me shit about killing Razzle and still drinking, but every time the sweat on Duff's back dries after he's done fucking you, it's just another nail being hammered into Nikki's coffin, once he finds out." He says, pointing at me with the hand holding at his bottle. "And that blood's gonna be on your hands." He adds. "Not mine."

#nikki sixx #mötley crüe #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx x oc #gateway drug

68 notes · View notes

katedrakeohd · 4 years

Text

What Happens in Paris...(7)

Masterlist

Back at the train, the men and women separate to get ready for the tea party. Down in Max and Drake’s shared room, Drake is sitting on his bed watching Max do his primp and polish in front of the mirror. Impeccably dressed in his black Gucci dress shirt and trousers, Maxwell is running a comb through his neatly trimmed hair and whistling. If he wasn’t his friend, Drake could almost hate him for it. His clothing style rarely changed. His way of taking his day look into a night look usually involved the undoing of a button on his shirt, and the addition of a hair product to keep himself looking sharp when he broke out the moves on the dance floor. Drake knew though, even by day when Maxwell appeared to be calm and collected there was always a three ring circus, complete with peacocks, going on inside his head.

Drake looked down at Maxwell’s shiny black shoes, and then glanced at his own scuffed and worn looking brown ones. As much as Drake didn’t want to dress all fancy for a Royal tea party today, he knew that Kate was expected to be there. Plus he wanted to witness the look of envy on Maddy’s face when Kate walked in all dressed up and stole away attention from the future Queen. Although he usually wouldn’t give a damn how he looked when he skulked his way into events after everyone else important arrived. This time he knew Kate would be under Liam’s lustful eye, and it made his stomach ache at the thought. If he was going to escort Kate into this stupid party, even as her seemingly platonic friend, he had to make an effort to fit in for his own peace of mind. Drake cleared his throat to get Maxwell’s attention. I can’t believe I’m doing this again. Heaven help me.

“Uh, Max? About this party today… I can’t exactly show up looking like some bum off the street. Could you help me pick out something fit to wear?”

Maxwell gasped, dropping the lint roller he was using to remove fluff and hair from his trouser leg. “Really?! You’ll let me dress you up for two events in a row?”

Drake sighs, getting up from the bed and running his hands through his hair. “Well don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“It is a big deal. My grumpy best friend wants to impress a girl!”

Drake grimaced, “Tone it down will ya? Besides, you are not my best friend.”

Maxwell is unfazed by the brush off and just raises his eyebrows, nodding, “Oh right! We’re even better than that now. We’re family!”

Drake opens his mouth to protest and then closes it again. Technically Max was right, as painful as it was for him to admit. He raises his hands and gives Max an impatient head shake, “Alright! Alright! Whatever! Are you gonna help me or not?”

“Of course I will. Show me what you got.”

Drake holds his hands out to the sides to display his current denim disaster.

“No, no silly.” Maxwell drags over Drake’s suitcase and flops it onto the bed. Drake places a protective hand on top, shakes his head.

“No point in looking in there," Drake grumbles.

“Okay then, to the Royal Closet we go.”

Kate sits in front of Hana’s portable makeup mirror, while Hana runs a round brush through her hair, coaxing it into soft waves. “I love your hair Kate, it’s so soft and manageable. What shampoo do you use?”

With a shrug, Kate admires her freshly painted fingernails. “Some kind of fruity scented stuff that I bought at the drugstore. Drake forgot to grab the matching conditioner when we showered, so I hope my hair doesn't get all full of static and frizz.”

Hana meets Kate's gaze in the mirror and they both giggle. “Oh my goodness, Kate. No wonder you two were late for breakfast.”

Trying to hide her blush in the lighted mirror was impossible, “Yeah, well I did interrupt him while he was shaving this morning. And damn he looked sexy in that bathrobe.”

Hana sighed with envy as she parted Kate’s hair and swept it behind her shoulder. Kate hands her the golden, flower embellished comb from the counter. “What’s it like Kate?”

“What?”

“Having a King and his best friend both in love with you?”

"It's not as fun as you might think. They've both staked their claim on me in some way and I hate being the rope in their tug of war. The worst part is that Liam has already lost me and he doesn't know it yet."

“Poor guy, he’s going to be crushed. What does Drake have that Liam doesn't?”

“He doesn't have the weight of the kingdom sitting on his head and shoulders, nor does he have a bunch of noble ladies fighting over him. Plus he’s nobody important to the press or tabloids. I’m not as worried about being seen with him, because I know he’ll protect me.”

“He’s not worried about being pulled into the Tariq scandal with you?” Hana asks, a look of concern on her face.

Kate shrugs, “I know he doesn't regret coming to my rescue, except for maybe the punches Tariq landed on his ribs. He was very much a gentleman about the whole thing, which is a lot more than I can say for Tariq.”

“But speaking of having two guys interested at the same time, what about Neville and Rashad?”

Hana wrinkles up her nose with a frown of disgust, “They're so boring. And neither were very nice to Penelope when we first met them.”

Kate applies a pale pink lip gloss to the center of her bottom lip to enhance her lipstick, pressing her lips together and then checking the results in the mirror, “Well frankly, since finding out she participated in the smear campaign against me, Penelope isn't one of my favorite people either. But I get what you’re saying, especially with Neville. He creeps me out in the same way Tariq does. Rashad seems to be marginally better than his friend as far as character goes, having made his own way as a businessman. He’s not depending on his Father’s money like Neville.”

Hana tilts her head, considering Kate’s thoughts. “I suppose you make a good point. But still, neither are as important, charismatic, charming or handsome as the King.”

Kate smirks, “Liam's definitely a charmer. I wonder sometimes what he sees in an ordinary barmaid like me. Or what Drake does either.” Kate meets Hana's gaze in the mirror. "Am I really worth all this fuss? What's so special about me that loving one man must mean breaking the other's heart?"

"You mean besides your charisma, charm, intelligence and beauty? You're a genuinely nice person Kate, and everyone is drawn to you. The other women in the room envy you when the men all look your way."

Kate turns around to look up at Hana, seeing the admiration in her eyes. "You're all of these things and more, Hana."

Hana looks down at her shoes, shyly, "I wish. My parents have invested so much into my training, refinement and education. But they've rarely praised me for any of my achievements. Sometimes I feel like they'd throw me at any available bachelor if it would raise my status on the social ladder, especially if it got our names in the media back home."

Standing up from her seat, Kate places her hands on Hana's shoulders. "Hey now, don't beat up on yourself. You're more than just some guy's arm candy or potential wife. You need to stand up and grab the future you want for yourself. To Hell with your parents’ expectations. I bet you could excel at anything you put your mind to. You don't need a man to raise your status. Be the strong independent woman I know you can be.”

Hana smiles, “Thanks Kate. I wish I’d met you years ago. You're the type of friend I've been missing all my life.”

Kate smiles back, “You’ve been here for me too, so it's only right that I return the favor.”

Stepping back from Hana, Kate strikes a pose with one hand on her hip, raising the other in a provocative sweep of her hair to highlight her face and bare shoulders. “So what do you think of my finished look?”

Hana smiles broadly, with a clap of approval at her stylish handiwork. “You're going to be hotter than the tea, that’s for sure.”

Kate winks, “Damn straight. We are.”

Drake stands outside of Kate's train compartment, fidgeting. Dressed in a crisp white dress shirt and dark grey trousers, with his hair combed and set with some of Maxwell's styling compound; he felt like a teenager on Prom night. Drying his sweaty hand on his thigh, he's reminded of how thin the fabric feels compared to his usual denim. The way the slim fit of the pant legs hugged his thighs made him feel so exposed, almost naked, and he was starting to regret not opting for his usual jeans. But Maxwell had assured him that he looked good, and that he’d fit in just fine at the party.

He hoped he looked good enough to escort Kate. The sudden absurdity of wanting to dress up for a tea party makes him chuckle and he shakes his head. Damn it Kate, what have you done to me?

Sucking in a deep breath he knocks on Kate’s door and waits.

…

Crouching down to secure the gold strap of her shoe around her ankle, Kate hears the buzzing sound of a text message coming from inside her purse. She glances up, “I bet that’s Drake.”

Hana gets a pinging sound on her phone seconds later, “It's a group text from Liam. The cars arranged to take us to the tea party have arrived. We're to meet in the dining car to coordinate who is traveling with whom.”

Kate breathes a sigh, picking up her clutch. “Ok, off we go then.”

Drake is leaning against the wall looking at his phone when he hears the sound of voices to his right, causing him to look up. Kate and Hana are giggling as they approach hand in hand, and then they stop as Kate sees Drake and gasps. “Oh..my...God! Look at you.”

With a smirk, Drake straightens up blushing. “What..do I look that bad?”

Kate shakes her head, then appraises Drake all over again with a head tilt and a slow look from head to toe and then back up again. “Nah, ah. Hardly. You’re looking like a tasty snack.”

Drake clears his throat, raising his eyebrows. “Heh, look who's talking. If I’m a snack you're definitely dessert.”

Hana grins at them both, rolling her eyes, “Ok lovebirds, quit with the flirty food talk and making eyes at each other we’ve got a party to get to.”

Stepping aside, Drake nods. “But of course, after you Ladies.”

Taking in a deep breath and closing his eyes as Kate passes him in the hall, Drake falls into step a few paces behind them. Damn she smells nice, this party isn’t going to be torture at all.

:::

tagging: @jovialyouthmusic @sirbeepsalot @emceesynonymroll @emichelle @mskaneko @speedyoperarascalparty @dcbbw @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @drakexwillow @kingliam2019 @kimmiedoo5 @gardeningourmet @drakesensworld @mfackenthal @thequeenchoices @debramcg1106 @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @wickedgypsymoon @griselda1121 @indiacater @texaskitten30 @nikkis1983 @lynne1993 @bobasheebaby @drakesfiance @moonlightgem7 @princessleac1 @janezillow @jlpplays1 @walker7519 @drakesensworld @furiousherringoperatortoad @samihatuli @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @rainbowsinthestorm @burnsoslow @bbrandy2002 @jessiembruno @msjpuddleduck @princess-andromeda-nazario @princess-geek @mom2000aggie @batgirlassociationofgothamcity @masterofbluff

#drake walker #choices #what happens in paris #drake x kate #long post

34 notes · View notes

n3verending16 · 4 years

Text

you were good to me - Oikawa Tooru x Reader

So, this is my first ever fanfic! Aah! Writing this was 100% a daunting experience for me, but I largely enjoyed writing it (posting it tho? *rapidly spams space button to align lyrics with the middle* *posts* *formatting is completely off and i have to do it all over again* *screams*). If you have any constructive criticism/ formatting tips, please comment it or send me a message ʕ •́؈•̀ ₎

Not requested, but certainly inspired by all the other oikawa x reader writer-chans out there (and a good friend of mine, yejin if you're reading this ily smkamsjskamssjk)!

caitlin and cindy ily too uwu

Based off "you were good to me"

All credits belong to their rightful owners

………………………………………………………………………………………

Lying, isn't better than silence

"I don't love you anymore."

Oikawa Tooru could feel the bitter aftertaste of his own words to you that night.

Floating, but I feel like I'm dying

One year later, and he still couldn't break off the chains that anchored him down every time he jumped for the ball in a match. He couldn't fly like he used to, the guilt in his gut pressing him down every time he looked towards the stands and you weren't there, cheering for him as you usually did. It was his choice, his fault. And he regretted it, although he wished he didn't.

Still, no matter where I go

At the end of every road

You had always been there for him before, whenever he felt he wasn't good enough. The gentle caress of your fingers through his hair and your soft eyes peering into his own chocolate irises had helped him get over the loss of the match and focus on getting even better than he was. On particularly harsh days, you sang him to sleep, the dulcet tones and lull of your voice relaxing him as he passed into a gentle slumber.

You were good to me

You were good to me, yeah

You had always been understanding of him whenever he ended his practice sessions late. You never asked for his time, knowing his passion for volleyball burned brighter than anything you'd ever seen before, and you wanted to support him. You hugged and congratulated him with a smile on your face when he won, and you comforted him when he lost, but most importantly, you were always there in his life. A constant he could trust, someone he could rely on, someone he could love. He'd been thankful for it. And yet, when he saw the successful application to the Argentinian Volleyball Team, he was hit with the truth. Oikawa was moving to a country on the other side of the world, and things would've gotten so much harder for the both of you. You deserved someone that was so much more than him, someone who would hold you at night, someone who could go on real dates with you, someone who could, and would, put their own time away for you. As much as it hurt him, he knew for your own good, he had to let you go. So he did it the way he hoped would hurt you the least.

I know it's easier to run

After everything I've done

Cut it off. Keep your emotions away from this. This is what's best for them.

"I'm moving to Argentina, and I think it's time I tell you something..."

"I don't love you anymore. We should end things."

You were good to me

Yeah, you were good to me

He still hears your quiet sobs that night sometimes.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Leaving, isn't better than trying

You'd spent that night lying on the couch, crying to yourself over your boyfriend who'd just walked out on you. What had you done wrong? Were you still not good enough for him? As soon as you had began to stop, reduced to sniffles, images of his silhouetted back as he walked out the front door and the cold glint in his brown eyes as he said the words that broke your heart flashed through your mind made you start bawling all over again. Had everything that had happened between the two of you been a lie? Had your presence in his life not mattered to him as much as his presence in yours?

Growing, but I'm just growing tired

You would've liked to say you were a different person than you had been one year ago. You would've liked to be spiteful and show Oikawa Tooru, international volleyball star, that you had outgrown being lovesick and was now independent and successful, with people who truly loved you. You would've liked to tell yourself that you were so, so much better off without him. But that was a lie, and you were not one to lie to yourself.

Now I'm worried for my soul

And I'm still scared of growing old

You had, honestly, tried to get over him though. You'd made yourself pass out from drunkenness only to wake up the next morning with a pounding headache and the incident more ingrained into your head. You'd busied yourself with cooking, gaming and knitting, and when that hadn't worked, considered a one-night stand from an overly amiable guy you'd just met at the corner café, after deciding against it when one of the girls standing in front of the window outside sent you two a deathly stare. You'd stacked all of his belongings and tried to burn them, until you realised your shaky hands couldn't start the lighter properly.

Even if you had forgotten him for a while, a dull, grey, reprieve from the emotions in your head, it wouldn't have been for long; the memories were everywhere. There was the book he'd accidentally spilt his bubble tea in when you snuck up behind him. There was the somewhat-lopsided drawer, a result of when it got stuck and he'd tried to force it in anyway, ending up in the sides breaking. There was the red christmas mug you'd gotten for him; only to realise he'd given you the exact same one, but green. The small bin in your room was full of milk bread wrappers. Even the study desk in the corner reminded you of days where he would try to draw something cute for you- you'd laughed and told him he had all the time in the world to improve.

You were good to me

You were good to me, yeah

That had clearly been a lie. And yet, you couldn't bring yourself to believe the words he'd said to you before he left a year ago were the truth. You had been sure that your relationship was pure, built from the ground on trust and a mutual understanding of each other- you'd respect his love for volleyball, he'd respect your desire to work harder in your career. Sure, he didn't sound like he was lying, but he was THE Oikawa Tooru- a man who held his confident and flippant façade up to the spotlights, letting the light shine on him however he pleased. You needed to know the truth, and like a burning question at the back of your mind, it never disappeared- before you contacted Iwaizumi Hajime, his best friend and your former close classmate, who told you "It was about time you knew the truth". You were glad to have heard those words.

After having a long conversation with Haji (most of it was you cussing), you wanted to hug Oikawa and punch him at the same time.

One decision led to another and the next day, you were standing on an airplane one year after the breakup with a plane ticket clutched in your hands, and a ticket to the Argentina vs Spain match folded up neatly in your purse.

"Try to let him off easy, yeah? He hasn't been at his best ever since he left you. I think he still regrets it."

………………………………………………………………………………………

And I'm so used to letting go

But I don't wanna be alone

There's noise in the stadium, filled with the audience's cheers and camera shutters going off, but drowned out by the silence in his own head. Oikawa lines the ball up to serve, watching the other team, analysing their positions. "Where should I hit?" he thinks to himself. This is his chance to take another set against Spain. If he misses this one, they will have lost the match 3-1, and it would've been his fault. He can't let that happen. The whistle blows, the ball goes up, and he's doing his jump-serve again, feeling the chains around his feet ready to snap taut like always.

But then amidst the bright lights, among the screaming crowd, he sees a flash of white and teal. Time seems to stop, and he floats in the air.

Was't that his Aoba Johsai volleyball jacket from high school? The one that he'd left behind at your house?

At first, he dismissed it quickly, thinking it was another die-hard fangirl who had one made or maybe even someone from his old team, because no way in hell could you be here right now watching him play when he'd walked out of your life and caused you so much pain and heartbreak one year ago. But then he saw the black purse, with a delicate pink floral pattern and gold highlights. The one he'd gotten for you on your birthday. He meets your wide eyes, your name is on his lips as he stares at your form.

But time moves again. And he grunts as his palm makes contact with the ball, making it fly into the corner and the other team turns and gapes at where surely there was a dent in the ground from the impact. They'd taken back a set, the score was 2-2. His team cheers wildly around him. The commentators rapidly fire off about the service ace- something he hadn't been able to do for a long time.

He's still staring at you in mid-air, but then he falls, meets the ground, his legs give out from under him and everything blurs.

You were good to me

You were good to me, yeah

You stare, lips parted as he collapses, slightly rising from your seat from worry. Had his knee gotten any better from before? Would he still be okay? Surely everything he'd worked for couldn't just end from a fall... but you realised if it did, it would've been your fault. You were, after all, the one who distracted him. Something punches you in the gut as you watch him get up, and he looks at you, the expression on his face one of pure shock and something you can't quite decipher. He keeps his eyes on yours as they shrug on his national sports jacket and carry him off, and you stare into his milky chocolate irises until the doors close behind him. Then you're pushing yourself through the crowd of seated anxious girls to find him again.

God only knows where our fears go

Hearts I've broke, now my tears flow

Oikawa finds himself in the hallway staring at the azure blue sky outside the window as a flock of birds soars past. The medics fuss over him, lifting his mildly sore leg and checking it once, twice, and he absentmindedly nods at their questions. There's a commotion at the door at the end of the hallway and he hears your muffled, strained voice. "No, please! I need to see him... you don't understand..." Eyes widening, he lifts himself up and hobbles over to the door at the end of the hallway, ignoring the protests of the baffled medics and guards. He puts his hand on the handle of the door and pushes, finding you arguing with a guard on the other side of the door. He hears his name from you, your voice giving him comfort. He smiles, albeit a broken one but still, a genuine smile, before he falls, his knee giving out again.

But this time, you're there to catch him.

You'll see that I'm sorry

Cause you were good to me

You were good to me

You hold Tooru as he sobs onto your shoulder. His tears cascade down his face as he clings to you, and he knows he doesn't deserve this, doesn't deserve you. Why had you tried to find him, after he broke your heart a year ago? You realise you're crying too when your vision blurs and all you can sense is the warmth from his skin on yours, his smell filtering the air around you. You take a deep breath in, honey vanilla with slight mint curling into your nose. People awkwardly stand by as they watch the reunion, mindful of the emotions and rawness in the air but also aware of the need to relieve pressure from his leg a bit. Eventually, someone bites the bullet and Oikawa sits down against the wall with you on his right. "You came here from Japan." Tooru hoarsely whispers. "Why?"

Before you could answer, the door opens and his teammate pops his head in, taking note of the people standing uncomfortably around.

"Hey Tooru, are you gonna be able to play?" he speaks in Spanish. He takes sight of you, a girl he's seen somewhere before, sitting next to his friend, and pauses.

"Wait, isn't that the girl on your wallpaper? I thought you said- never mind." He carefully speaks in broken English.

"Anyways, coach says if you're still fine we can send you in." You blink as Tooru puts his arm around you, a pout evident on his face. "I'm pretty sure I'll be able to play (the medic nods along in agreement), just give me a few moments." he answers. His teammate hesitates, nods, and closes the door. Tooru turns his head and rests his head on your shoulder, his fluffy brown hair tickling your neck. You nearly want to cry at what his teammate just told said. "Oh, Tooru..."

"You still haven't answered the question," he tells you. "Iwa-chan must've told you that I left because you deserved more than someone who couldn't be here for you. I don't deserve you, y/n-chan. You deserve to be happy, and... I'm not the one." He tucks away your air behind your ear. "But now that you're here, I can't help but want to be selfish. I want us to be together. I still want you."

You can't help laughing quietly at him, the little pout forming on his face again. "Oh Tooru... you wanted me to be happy. And you thought leaving me so brashly would achieve that? You forgot one very, very important thing." You lean into his shoulder, and play with his calloused fingers.

And now I'm closing every door

Cause I'm sick of wanting more

"If I'm ever to be truly happy..." You tell him, shifting yourself so you're cupping his soft cheeks and looking into his chocolate eyes. "Then you are, absolutely, essential in my life." His heart leaps, soaring at your words. After all that time, you still...

You tut at the dreamlike, adorable expression on his face. "C'mon, Tooru. Don't cry on me now. You've still got a match to win, don't you?" He breaks himself out of his reverie as you lightly pinch his cheeks, and grins ear to ear as you begin to move back to the stands. "Wait, wait." He shrugs his volleyball jacket off his shoulders and hands it to you. "Wear this over that, I want everyone to know you're still mine." You rolls your eyes at his childish request, "Your fangirls are going to kill me, I swear," but comply nevertheless. He's still smiling as he watches his oversized jacket swish around at your mid-thigh as you walk towards the doors. Anything else could come after the match, but for now, this was good enough for him.

You were good to me

You were good to me, yeah

For the rest of that match, for the first time, Oikawa Tooru flies. They do eventually win, 3-2. He's never felt more ecstatic as he pulls you in happily, kissing all over your face and handing you his Most Valuable Player award as you giggle from his childlike antics. The reporters rapidly take note of everything and theres a collective groan from the gaggle of fangirls somewhere, but it's you and him both in your own little world.

Swear I'm different than before

I won't hurt you anymore

Life goes on. You fly back to Japan, with a promise that he would never shut you out again. Sure, you would've preferred it if he was next to you, but you called and messaged each other so frequently that you found you had little to worry about. In rare spaces of time, he flew back to Japan to meet family and friends before spoiling you on dates, decorating your house ("Hey, we need to retake this photo! I'm even better looking now!") or cuddling on the couch together. Every relationship had its downsides, and long-distance relationships were even more a pain, but you were more than ready to take the troubles on if it meant you could still see his smiling face through the messenger call at 1am in the morning.

And you knew this time, he wouldn't stop you from trying.

Cause you were good to me

#oikawa tooru #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #oikawa imagine #song fics #oikawa oneshot #tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru imagine #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu oikawa

14 notes · View notes