Tumgik
#I’m crying a lot right now. just. crying for everyone who doesn’t feel loved
Text
Tumblr media
#i do not want to work tomorrow i want to lay in bed and be sad#i’m really realizing how miserable of a person i am i am always fucking Sad and when i do feel happy i cry when it’s over#and i can’t even resemble a human being without medication and i know that’s fine but i’m still always sad. it doesn’t go away#i feel like nobody deserves to have me weighing them down like i’ve cried in front of people three times this week and i know it’s fine#but i feel so fucking guilty about it and i feel guilty about everything i feel like i’m doing nothing right and i’m not dealing with thing#right and i’m not living right and i feel like it must be so fucking difficult to love me and i don’t know how people do it#i don’t even feel capable of asking for. any sort of love ever#i feel like i don’t deserve like anything. i feel like nobody actually wants to do things for me lol#every single dsy i’m like wow i want to be held and every single dsy i feel bad even asking for a hug from someone#when i need reassurance i’m afraid to ask because what if i’m just being annoying and overbearing and too much Bad#i never feel like too much good. only bad.#i know a lot of these shitty thoughts are just because i’ve been unmedicated (meds will be ready tomorrow lol) but it just like#it sucks to know medication just kinda hides these thoughts better and that deep down i feel like this because i don’t want to#i feel like everyone in my life doesn’t deserve someone who doubts everything all the time#i think my mother deserved a stronger daughter and i think my friends deserve someone that’s not always breaking and i just don’t feel Good#i don’t know why anyone keeps me around#sometimes i feel selfish for sticking around and that sounds so awful and i’m not gonna act on it but i just feel like a waste of a person#the last week has been so good and now i’m just a fucking mess and i feel so fucking guilty about that :)#i feel like no matter what i always just default to miserable#i don’t feel like i’m doing enough at all#i’m struggling in school i don’t work enough i can barely take care of myself#like i wouldn’t even properly take care of myself if taylor wasn’t helping me i feel so guilty about that all the time#i feel so guilty for even thinking any of this right now and i’m trying to remind myself that i’m unmedicated and i’ve had a long day#and my best fucking friend just went back home and i’m allowed to be sad about that but i just. feel like i’m making excuses i guess#it’s not immoral to be sad but maybe when i’m wanting to die all the time i’m the problem. idk#anyway i’m gonna go to sleep and i’m gonna try to convince myself tomorrow will be better#sndnsksjkakejdkalwosjhdkwosjdjsk. i will be fine
1 note · View note
cleo-fox · 6 months
Text
Overtime
Summary: Sometimes, working overtime isn’t all that bad.
Pairings: Loki x Female Reader
Warnings: Smut, 18+ minors DNI, sex, cunnilingus, teasing, light bondage, office romance.
Series: Overtime (I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel).
A/N: This was largely written prior to season 2 and posted right before episode 4, so it’s not entirely canon compliant and the parts that are may be compliant by accident.
Also, @give-me-a-moose and I were on a similar wavelength about Loki angrily reading romance novels and I would strongly recommend checking out her fic The Imagine Nation if you too are enthralled by this idea.
Tumblr media
You don’t think that Mobius intended to keep Loki’s desk behind yours.
“It’s temporary,” he tells you apologetically. “He just needs somewhere to go for now, until I figure out what to do with him.”
“You’re talking about him like he’s a stray cat that you found,” you say.
“You won’t even know he’s there, I promise.”
“You’re still doing it.”
Mobius sighs and puts on his most sincere, earnest expression—the one that he always uses when he’s about to ask you for a stupidly massive favor.
And it’s only because you almost never, ever see this look from him that you back down.
“Okay, fine,” you say. “But he’d better be on his best behavior.”
Mobius puts his palms together and tips them toward you. “Thank you. You will not regret this, I promise.”
You sigh and shake your head. “Just remember this next time you’re budgeting for raises.”
But then—in a move that you certainly don’t expect—Loki ends up sticking around. And, in the subtle way that the stray you’ve been feeding slowly turns into your cat, Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. And strangely enough, Mobius’ assurances turn out to be more correct than not: Loki does a lot of fieldwork and is often away; when he is at his desk, it tends to be because he is working on more complicated missions, the ones that require poring over mountains of files looking for patterns and trying to untangle the slippery mess of time itself.
Your work is decidedly less glamorous than Loki’s—almost no fieldwork, lots of files. Endless files. Some days you feel as though you must have seen every file in the TVA’s extensive library and then you’re immediately proven wrong by another wing of filing cabinets that you swear wasn’t even there before.
Although he is generally well-behaved as your desk neighbor, Loki’s presence has a way of distracting you. Even if you didn’t know who he was, your gaze would still naturally drift his way, lingering on those regal cheekbones, that ink black hair, that cunning smirk. The way that the fabric of his dress pants clings to his thighs certainly doesn’t help, to say nothing of how his forearms look with his shirtsleeves rolled up. He can make your heart start to race with no more than a casual glance in your direction and god help you if he gives you one of those devastating smiles. Luckily, you don’t think he takes that much notice of you. You have the sort of pleasantly dull exchanges of coworkers who don’t really know each other and he is almost painfully polite to you. It’s a strong departure from the way he interacts with others—with others, he is bold, charming, sarcastic, talkative, a far cry from the more subdued, almost courtly tone he strikes with you. It’s a difference that is so stark that you can’t help but attribute it to some sort of negative feeling on his end.
“How’s it going with Loki?” Mobius asks you during a one-on-one meeting a couple of months after Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. “He’s behaving himself, right?”
“It’s been fine,” you say, “though truthfully, I don’t think he likes me all that much.”
“What? Of course he likes you,” Mobius says. “Why wouldn’t he like you? You’re lovely.”
You shrug. “I dunno, he’s just different with me than he is with everyone else. Like…overly polite. It’s like he thinks I’m going to send him to the principal’s office or something.”
“Let me get this straight,” says Mobius. “First you were worried that he wouldn’t behave himself and now you’re worried that he’s too well-behaved?”
Privately, you realize he has a point. Outwardly, though, you’re not going to admit it. The sardonic tilt of Mobius’ mouth suggests that he knows this.
“No, I just…I don’t think he likes me all that much,” you say. “And he’s entitled to that. People don’t like each other all the time, it’s not a big deal.”
This is also a little bit of a lie—you do wish he liked you. Loki is so magnetic it’s hard not to want his attention. And with the matter of your silly little crush, well…that doesn’t help either.
Mobius sighs. “I think you’re overthinking this. He likes you, sometimes it just takes him a little time to warm up. He’s a bit of a prickly guy.”
You bite down the urge to point out that you’ve seen him warm to other people almost immediately. This conversation has already gone on longer than you want and you are edging dangerously close to having to admit that you care so much because you have a big stupid crush on him, which is obviously unacceptable.
“Well, the point is that it’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to project an aura of cool confidence. “I don’t have any complaints, he seems like he’s settling in, so let’s move on. Did you have any feedback on my recent report?”
The furrow between Mobius’ eyebrows deepens just slightly, the only indication that he doesn’t fully believe you. But for whatever reason, he decides to let it go and follows your change in topic without further comment.
This is one of the reasons you like Mobius as much as you do: he always seems to know the right moment to push and the right moment to bend.
You’re not sure if your relationship with Loki would have changed had it not been for the problem of Charles Berlitz.
The joke around the office is that after Mobius convinced Loki to work for the TVA, he needed something new to obsess over and Charles Berlitz was the next best option. It’s hard to say exactly who Berlitz is, as he has a tendency of showing up, well…everywhere. He is quite literally in every timeline, at least as far as anyone can tell. Sometimes he is an author, penning serious, scholarly essays on outlandish theories like the Bermuda Triangle and the Philadelphia Experiment. He seems to have a fondness for all manner of schemes—he was responsible for introducing both homeopathy and multi-level marketing to no fewer than sixty different timelines. His ability to peddle bullshit naturally led him to politics—pick any rebellion, coup, or campaign on any given timeline and there’s a good chance you’ll also find Charles Berlitz.
Scammers and con artists are not atypical in your line of work, but what makes Charles Berlitz an enduring mystery is that he has never been found. You can have reputable documentary evidence that Berlitz was present at a certain time and location, but if you show up to investigate, he is never there. There have been some glimpses over the years—a shadowy face in the back of a crowd, the hem of a cloak disappearing behind a corner—but nothing concrete or substantive.
“Our ghost in the timeline,” Mobius had said in one of his more poetic moments at an all staff meeting, his voice overly hushed and dramatic. You had seen Loki roll his eyes and you had to fake a coughing fit to hide your laugh.
Time moves differently at the TVA, so it’s hard to say how long Mobius has been working on this case when he makes a breakthrough, but it’s not terribly long after your conversation about Loki. A campaign button had been found in an apartment that Berlitz rented for two years in the French Quarter. That particular campaign button could only have existed in one specific timeline and its distribution was limited. You aren’t entirely clear on all of the details, but Mobius seems to have a plan.
And unfortunately, that plan involves you giving up most of your weekend to work.
It’s near quitting time on what passes for a Friday at the TVA. Loki has been in today and you can hear him starting to pack up. Technically, he’s got twenty minutes of work left, but you’re not about to tell him that.
You doodle absently on your notepad. Technically, you’ve also got twenty minutes of work left, but realistically: nothing is happening.
“Oh, great, you’re both still here.”
In general, this phrase has never meant good news for you and when you look up, you see Mobius with a sizable armful of files.
Also not a great sign.
Mobius plunks the stack of files directly on your desk. “There’s been a development with Berlitz. I need you both to review these now.”
“It’s Friday,” says Loki, affronted. “Surely it can wait until Monday.”
“No can do. I need this done by Sunday at the latest,” says Mobius. “This is an all hands on deck situation.”
Loki glances pointedly at the office around you, which has already started emptying out for the weekend.
“All hands on deck, but most hands are already in the field,” Mobius concedes. “Which is why I need the two of you—” He points to you. “You because you’re good—” He gestures to Loki. “And you because you’ve got desk duty.”
“I beg your pardon—” begins Loki.
“He’s grounded,” Mobius says to you in an exaggerated stage whisper.
This is not surprising to you: you had heard a rumor last week about an incident that had occurred on a mission to the inauguration of Richard Nixon and you suspect that these two events are likely connected.
You look at the pile of paperwork on your desk. You could probably get through it on your own in a couple of hours, but if Loki’s helping, maybe you still have a shot at having Saturday to yourself. You bite back a sigh. “What do you need me to find?”
“Anything that mentions anyone from the Lucchese crime family or Nero Variant N2815,” says Mobius. “I’ll go get the rest.”
Your heart sinks. Farewell, Saturday. “There’s more?” you say.
“It’ll be triple overtime, I already got it approved!” he calls over his shoulder
You sigh and glance at Loki who is scowling at the pile of files as though they’d wronged him personally.
There’s a long moment of silence before you speak. “Is there any truth to the rumor I’ve been hearing about the Nixon inauguration?” you ask.
“If it involved a hot air balloon, then yes,” he says rather tonelessly.
“Well.” You pause as you stare at the pile of papers. “At least it was worth it.”
That at least earns you a hint of a smile.
*
Several hours later, your stomach is growling and you’ve developed a rather impressive crick in your neck.
You lean back in your chair, stretching your neck to the side and rubbing the knot that is pulsing in your upper trapezius. Office work has done nothing positive for your posture in general, but tonight’s work has you hunched over more than usual and your neck is aching.
You and Loki have made good progress, but your pile of finished and sorted files is scarcely comparable to the full cart that Mobius had brought in. Back when the evening was new and you weren’t quite so tired, you’d been optimistic about possibly having half a Saturday free from work; that hope has slipped away the longer the evening has dragged on. Now you’re hoping that you’ll still have a bit of Sunday to yourself and even that feels unlikely.
Your stomach growls again. You should probably eat something—you’d worked through your regular dinner hour in a fit of misplaced optimism. The cafeteria is closed this time of night, but there’s a vending machine not far from your office that has shitty coffee and mostly edible sandwiches.
You stand and stretch, stifling a yawn as you turn around. “I’m gonna grab a coffee and some dinner,” you say. “Do you want anything?”
Loki looks up at you from the file in front of him, blinking somewhat dazedly and running a hand through his messy curls. “I’d like to stretch my legs a bit, if you don’t mind the company.”
You honestly didn’t expect him to want to join you. It’s a pleasant surprise, certainly, but also a little nerve wracking in the way that interacting with Loki always is. He’s so handsome and aloof and you’re not quite sure how to talk to him without acting like a total fool.
But you’re also not about to say no, either.
“Of course,” you say, “I don’t mind at all.”
The TVA is unusually quiet at this time of night—the steady hum of fluorescent lights and the murmur of distant voices is all that accompanies the tap of your shoes on the linoleum. It only heightens the jittery, nervous feeling you get from Loki—like your stomach is filled with drunk, lightning struck butterflies.
“Are you finding much?” asks Loki as you enter the hallway together.
You shrug. “A bit. Mostly on the Nero variant. I’m not having as much luck with the Luccheses.”
“I’ve got all of their property transfers, I think,” he says. “Renato Lucchese never met a vineyard he didn’t like.”
“Or racehorses, from what I understand,” you say. “I think that’s how he lost most of his money.”
You arrive at the vending machines. Loki looks at the vending machines and then back at you, a somewhat puzzled and troubled expression on his face.
“This is what you meant when you said you were going to get coffee and dinner?”  he says.
You shrug. “Yeah, what’s wrong with this?”
He points at the coffee machine. “Mobius calls that machine Satan’s coffeemaker, does he not?”
“Yes, but I know how to trick it into giving me something that’s almost palatable,” you say.
Loki gives you a rather dry look. “Something that’s almost palatable?”
“I mean, I’m just trying to manage your expectations. It’s still pretty shitty coffee, it just tastes less burned.”
He looks at you for a long moment before tilting his head toward the hallway. “Come on, let’s go.”
It’s your turn to look skeptical. “What are we doing?”
“We’re going out for dinner.”
*
He takes you to a twenty-four hour diner called Frank’s that’s maybe a five minute walk from the TVA. It’s one of those places with yellowing Formica tables and big booths covered in red faux leather patched with the occasional square of duct tape. It smells like coffee and grease with a faint odor of cigarette smoke despite the prominent no smoking signs.
“I wouldn’t have thought this kind of place was your style,” you say as you sit down in a booth next to the window.
“I’ve expanded my horizons,” he says, sliding into the seat across from you.
An older woman with greying blonde hair approaches your booth. She wears a nametag reading “Connie” in big capital letters, a sticker of a pink cat stuck on the space next to her name.
“How y’all doin’ tonight?” she says as she hands you each a laminated menu. She looks at Loki. “You want your usual?”
“Please,” he says.
“You got it.” She turns to you. “How ‘bout you, hon, can I get ya started with something to drink?”
“Coffee would be great.”
“All right, I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
You raise your eyebrows at Loki as she walks away. “You eat at diners and you have a usual order. My expectations are being completely upended.”
He returns your pleasantly amused expression. “And you have vending machine coffee for dinner. It’s a revealing night.”
“I mean, I don’t actively seek it out,” you say. “It’s a convenient option that I exercise only when I have no other choice.”
“No other choice?” A sly smile curls at his lips. “Do you not have the entire array of space and time at your fingertips?”
“Well, first of all, we aren’t supposed to use TemPads for personal errands without a supervisor’s approval.”
“Technically.”
“No, actually. It’s in the personnel manual. Like verbatim.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You would put yourself through the egregious physical suffering of vending machine coffee simply to appease the capricious whims of our cruel overseer Miss Minutes?”
You bite back a laugh. “You know she’s not actually our boss, right?”
“I can’t discount that possibility. She wields a concerning amount of power within the organization.”
Connie is back with your drinks—coffee for you and tea for Loki. “Sunday Special?” she asks Loki as she sets a metal teapot and empty mug in front of him.
“Please,” he says.
“You got it.” She looks at you. “Didya get a chance to look at the menu or do you need a minute?”
You’re feeling a little daring. “I’ll try the Sunday Special as well.”
“All right, two Sunday Specials comin’ right up,” she says, collecting your menus.
“So, what’s in a Sunday Special?” you ask Loki as you take a sip of your coffee.
“Boiled fish eggs, mainly,” he says, pouring the hot water into his tea mug.
“Liar,” you say promptly.
He raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t even look at the menu, how could you know?”
“Places like this don’t serve fish eggs,” you say. “Way too unusual and definitely the wrong price point.”
“I suppose you’ll just have to see,” he says with a playful glint in his eyes. The easy charm that you’ve seen him use with the others is on full display and it’s enough to make you giddy. Maybe he doesn’t dislike you after all.
“Well, if it’s fish eggs, you’re picking up the bill,” you say, “and I’ll be getting something else instead.”
“You’d really hold me responsible for your impulsive dinner selections?”
“Yep. And I don’t even feel bad about it.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you could be so unforgiving.”
“Well, you don’t know me all that well.”
“To be fair, you keep to yourself quite a bit.”
“A little bit,” you say. “But also to be fair, you haven’t really asked.”
“On work time?” he says, widening his eyes in mock horror. “That would mean write ups for both of us, I couldn’t let that happen.”
“I think I know enough about you to know that getting in trouble is not one of your primary concerns.”
He gives you a sly smile, like you’ve caught him out and he likes it. “That’s a diplomatic way to put it.” He takes a sugar packet from the dispenser on the table and tears it open before pouring it into his mug. “Well, we’re on break now, so you can safely tell me something about yourself.”
You drum your fingers on your coffee mug. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, this can’t be the only part of your life. Who are you outside the TVA? What did you do before this?”
That giddy feeling comes to a screeching halt and you take in a long, slow breath. It’s a simple question, one that most people can answer to some degree. For you, though, it’s a bit more complicated.
“Well,” you say. You take a sip of your coffee, mostly to give your hands something to do. “I don’t actually know—I chose not to remember when they gave me the option.”
You’re surprised by how gentle his eyes are when you look up. “My apologies,” he says, “I didn’t realize.”
“It’s okay,” you say and you really do mean it. “You couldn’t have known.”
Usually, you say something like this and then gently redirect the conversation, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes you want to continue. Like maybe he understands difficult things and doesn’t mind hearing about something that others would shy away from.
“When they told us everything and said they could fix our memories…” You clear your throat and focus your gaze just above his shoulder. “It’s weird, but I just had a feeling that it wouldn’t be good for me to know…that something really bad had happened. So I asked Mobius to check for me, just to be sure…” You swallow, blinking hard.
You remember how sad Mobius’ eyes were, how he’d gently placed a hand on your shoulder and said, “I think you’re making the right call, kid.”
“It’s not really okay, is it?” Loki says softly.
You shrug. “I mean, it’s…it is what it is.”
“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”
“It’s not a lie—”
He raises a skeptical eyebrow and you remember that he is, in fact, the god of lies.
“It’s more like…I can’t really miss what I don’t know, but at the same time, the reality of that absence hurts a little. So maybe not exactly okay, but not exactly not okay, either.”
There’s a lot of kindness in his gaze and you have to look away because it makes your head spin and your breath catch in your throat. “I’m not really sure if that makes sense,” you say.
“It does.”
There’s a silence between you, but it’s not uncomfortable.
“Do you…do you think you’d want to forget if you had that option?” You’re not entirely sure what prompts the question and you regret it almost as soon as it leaves your mouth. “I’m sorry, that’s probably too personal.”
He shakes his head and there’s a warmth in his eyes that you don’t expect. “I rather think I owe you one.” He pauses, running a finger around the rim of his mug. “Sometimes I do,” he says finally. “It can be quite painful remembering.” He worries his lip between his teeth. “But I’m not sure who I would be without the knowledge of my past, either.” His gaze flicks back to you. “What’s it like for you? Do you feel like you know who you are without those memories?”
It’s a good question—one you’ve never been asked. “I mean, it’s hard to say for sure. I think I do,” you say. “Sometimes I wonder if I was different in my timeline. Maybe I was kinder because I had different experiences that made me more empathetic. Maybe I wasn’t—maybe I was worse. Maybe I had a villain arc.”
He chuckles. “That doesn’t seem likely.”
“I dunno, maybe it explains the vending machine coffee and my fish egg related threats,” you say and you feel almost giddy when he returns your smile. “Or maybe I’m the same and all those experiences that shaped me are just scars I can’t see.” You shrug and take a sip of your coffee. “At the end of the day, though, that timeline is gone. I’m all that’s left. It’s sad, but it’s also freeing, in a way.”
He nods. “Mobius has said much the same.”
You smile slightly. “Our philosophies are similar, I suppose, though I think there are probably more bits of his past self in his present self than he realizes.”
Loki grins. “It’s the jet skis, isn’t it?”
“I mean, I just don’t think most normal people spend that much time expounding on the reliability of the Yamaha engine versus the pure, raw power of the Kawasaki.”
Loki holds up a finger. “But have you gotten the lecture about Yamaha’s braking system?”
“I think I have that memorized at this point.”
“‘The perfect choice for families.’”
“‘You just tap the brakes. Just tap them. Perfectly smooth stop every time.’”
“‘Reliability meets affordability.’”
“‘You can’t say no to that.’”
You think you probably could have riffed on this for a bit, but you’re interrupted by the arrival of Connie with your dinner.
The Sunday Special turns out to be a fairly traditional breakfast—eggs, hash browns, two fluffy pancakes, sausage, toast, a little bowl of strawberries.
“Definitely lots of fish eggs in this meal,” you say to Loki after Connie leaves.
His smile is small, but genuine. “You haven’t looked under the pancakes yet.”
You feel it then, but you don’t fully understand until later that this dinner has unlocked something important between the two of you. After months of awkward, stilted conversation, it’s like you finally understand how to talk to each other. And you’re surprised to find that even outside of your big stupid crush, you actually like Loki. You like his sly smiles and his dry humor and how easily the two of you fall into a routine of playful banter. You click in a way that surprises you, in a way that makes you mourn the lost potential of all those awkward, stilted months and feel giddy about the possibilities ahead.
Dinner is over too soon and you walk back to the TVA feeling revived from the coffee and the conversation. 
Disaster awaits you back at the office, though: you’d left a stack of the Nero variant files on your desk and evidently the construction was too precarious, as the entire pile had tipped off your desk and spilled to the floor, contents scattered everywhere.
“Fucking hell,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair. You’re not sure whether you want to laugh, cry, or scream. Possibly, it’s all three.
“Here.” Loki is bending down on the floor to gather the files. You studiously try to not ogle his ass or thighs. Or at least not obviously. “Clear off some space on your desk—I’ll help.”
Twenty minutes later, you’ve set up an entirely new system—Loki has dragged his chair over to your desk and the cart of unsorted files sits between you, like a surly metallic chaperone. And even later when you’ve sorted out all of the files from the floor, he remains parked at the end of your desk, a stack of new, unsorted files in front of him. Admittedly, it’s a lot more efficient for you to work like this: privately, though, it gives you a warm glow that has nothing to do with workplace efficiency.
“I’ve invented a new game,” he says some time later. 
“What’s that?”
“Every time either one of us finds documentation showing Renato Lucchese losing money on a racehorse he was told was not a good investment, I get to have a drink.”
You look up at him. “Look, I know you’re a god and everything, but I am pretty sure that will kill you.”
He sighs and tosses the file into the Lucchese pile. “I think it would add a little excitement to the evening, don’t you?”
You raise your eyebrows and look back at the file in front of you. “You mean this isn’t your idea of a fun Friday night?”
“My idea of a fun Friday night includes far fewer files and a lot more debauchery,” he says, taking a new file from the cart.
You glance at the clock. “Well, it’s only eleven. I don’t usually start body shots until after midnight.”
“What are body shots?”
For one horrifying moment, you think that you’re going to actually have to explain this to him, but then you get a good look at his expression.
He’s teasing you.
“You’re an ass,” you say, swatting him on the shoulder with the file you’re holding.
He wags a finger at you. “That’s workplace violence. I’m going to have to report that.”
You lean back in your chair and return to your file. “I’m pretty confident that you’ll be put off by the amount of paperwork that process requires.”
He shakes his head as he returns to his own file. “Uncontrolled bureaucracy is how bad actors escape accountability.” There’s a brief pause. “And…there’s another racehorse.”
You continue on like this for the rest of the evening, occasionally chatting and Loki proving definitively that the Renato Lucchese racehorse drinking game could not be played without resulting in a fatality. It’s nice, though. Yes, it’s sorting files and yes, it’s not the most intellectually riveting task you’ve ever done, but spending time with Loki is nice. It’s because of this that you find yourself trying to stay awake, pushing past your looming exhaustion.
But around two, you can’t quite fight the heaviness of your eyelids any longer and you doze off in the middle of a report on the sinking of the Lusitania.
“Hey.” Loki is gently shaking your shoulder. The way he says your name in that deliciously deep voice makes you want to swoon and you’re glad that you have the ready made excuse of sleepiness to explain any embarrassing behavior on your end.
“I think you’d better call it a night,” he says gently. “Get some sleep and come back with fresh eyes.”
“What about you?” you say. “Are you going to do the same, or are you just all talk?”
He smiles at you and it warms you to the very tips of your toes. You could bask in that smile like a cat in a sunbeam.
“I’m starting to fade a bit myself,” he says
“Very convenient,” you say and he grins at you.
“Come on, I’ll see you back home.”
Part of you wants to protest—there’s really no need for him to walk you home—but a larger, louder part of you wants to let it be, prolong the magic of tonight for just a little longer.
There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as you walk out of the office together. 
“What time do you think you’re going to come in tomorrow?” he asks as you approach the residential wing. “It’s probably sensible to coordinate our efforts a bit.”
“Yeah, that’s a good point,” you say. “I was thinking nine, but that will be dependent on how much coffee I have.”
“Yes, about that,” he says. “I cannot stand idly by and watch you torture yourself with vending machine coffee.”
“Well, the cafeteria will be open, so I was going to torture myself with cafeteria coffee, which is at least thirty percent less over brewed.”
He clicks his tongue. “You’re not making a compelling case for yourself.”
“To be fair, it’s quite late and I’ve been staring at files for hours.”
“All the more reason to get decent coffee,” he says. “We’re going out for breakfast.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, we are?”
“Consider it an intervention,” he says. “I’ll come collect you at eight.”
You’re not quite sure if this is just his natural confidence and swagger coming through or if he’s flirting with you and this counts as a date.
“Where are we going?”
“I know a place.”
*
The place in question turns out to be a food cart in Central Park in 1998.
“Should I even bother asking if you have supervisor approval for this?” you say, looking skeptically at the time door glimmering before you.
Loki scoffs. “I don’t have a supervisor.”
“You do. It’s Mobius.”
“That can’t be right, we’re peers.”
“You’re absolutely not. Did you read any of the onboarding materials?”
He ignores your question. “I don’t see why I’d even need a supervisor, honestly.”
You snort. “Need I remind you of what happened at the Nixon inauguration?”
He spreads his hands in front of him. “It’s not my fault that I’m the only one with a sense of humor.”
“I’m not entirely sure that was the problem,” you say. “Gerald Ford is never going to be the same, from what I understand.”
Loki waves a dismissive hand. “He’ll be fine, the tail isn’t permanent. Now, are you coming or not?”
You roll your eyes at him and make a halfhearted complaint about proper protocol, but you know that you’re walking through that time door and not looking back. You knew that before he even posed the question.
The food cart is owned by a man named Samir who has a wide smile and booming laugh. He talks to Loki like he’s a friend and he tells you that you have the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. You are fairly certain he’s exaggerating, but you stuff a few extra bills into the tip jar anyway.
“I can’t believe you fell for that,” says Loki as you walk away, each carrying a coffee and a brown paper bag with a breakfast sandwich.
“Fell for what?” you say, batting your eyes at him. “I do have beautiful eyes.”
“I’ve heard him say that on at least thirty separate occasions.”
“Yeah, but this time he really meant it. I could tell.”
He rolls his eyes and leads you to a park bench overlooking a wide, grassy field. The leaves are just starting to change and the air has a little bit of a bite to it. 
You sit down on the bench and take a sip of your coffee.
“It is good coffee, I’ll give you that,” you say.
“See,” says Loki, “you can’t go back to that vending machine sludge after this.”
“I mean, if it’s eleven o’clock at night and I’m on a deadline, I can.”
“Darling. You have a TemPad.”
“Loki. Read the personnel manual.”
He wrinkles his nose. “It’s not really my genre.”
You roll your eyes and take out your breakfast sandwich. “What is your genre?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Is that a serious question?”
“Of course it is,” you say. “I love talking about books.”
He gives you a slight smile and takes a sip of his coffee. “A little bit of everything, honestly,” he says. “Philosophy. Magical theory. History. Politics. Anything from Asgard, really, though it can be a bit more challenging getting some of those titles.”
“I’ve had pretty good luck with the Library of the Sacred Timeline—have you checked there yet?”
He frowns. “I’m not familiar.”
“Oh, you’d like it—it’s on the eighteenth floor. It’s intended to be a collection of the greatest works of literature from as many branches of the timeline as possible,” you say. “It started as a research project, but people liked it and it just kind of evolved into this huge collection. They’ve actually got a pretty sizeable collection of books from Asgard.”
It’s like you’ve told him that his personal paradise had been located on the eighteenth floor this entire time. “Will you show me?”
He is practically vibrating with the sort of anticipatory, manic energy that you typically would associate with Christmas morning right before you tear into presents. It’s sweetly endearing.
“Of course.”
Ten minutes later, you’re leading him through the winding hallways on the eighteenth floor. You’re not surprised he hasn’t heard about the library—it’s a bit out of the way and the eighteenth floor is so poorly designed that it’s not terribly easy to find.
The design of the library is a sharp departure from the rest of the TVA. The shelves and floors are made of the kind of dark mahogany that you typically see in the kind of estates that look like something directly out of a Jane Austen novel. Worn oriental rugs muffle your footsteps on the creaky wood floors and the air smells faintly of dust and paper.
There’s a subtle change in Loki when you walk through the doors—almost like a muscle in his shoulders finally relaxes and he seems truly at home for the first time since he arrived.
You touch his hand. “This way.”
You lead him into the stacks, back to the far corner, right after the books from Alfheim.
“You can borrow whichever ones you like,” you say softly. “There’s a sign out sheet at the front desk.”
He nods, though you don’t think he really hears you—he only has eyes for the shelves, his gaze sweeping across the spines like they’re old friends. You’re about to excuse yourself to give him a little privacy when his brow furrows and he exhales sharply. “Oh, you can’t be serious.”
“What is it?”
They have the entirety of the finest Asgardian literature at their disposal. Untold centuries of the writings of our greatest minds—” he plucks a book off the shelf, “—and they choose to include this?”
The title looks fairly innocuous—a red, leather bound book with the title The Cloistered Heart embossed in gold script on the front. You take the book from him and open it. “What’s the problem with this?”
“It’s inconsequential fluff, literary pablum of the highest order.”
This is the Loki that you’re more familiar with and a smile curls at your lips. Almost on cue, you flip the book open to a chapter titled “The Wedding and Bedding of Aloisa.”
You bite back a laugh and look up at him. “It’s a romance novel.”
“Precisely my point,” he says. “To think that this is on the same shelf as Nielsen and Auber.”
“That’s kind of how libraries work,” you say, flipping further into the book. The phrases “throbbing length” and “eager moans” draw your eye and you have to tamp down another laugh. “Oh, and it’s a sexy romance novel.”
“It appeals to the lowest common denominator, yes.”
“What, so you’re too good for a bodice ripper?”
He scoffs. “I prefer to do the bodice ripping myself, not read some overwrought description of it.”
You are glad you’re looking at the book because you’re pretty sure you’d disintegrate if you had to make eye contact with him while he delivered that line. “Oh spare me,” you say lightly, snapping the book shut and drawing it to your chest. “I’m gonna read this.”
He blows out a puff of air. “It’s a waste of your time.”
“I’ve got lots of time, I can afford to waste it,” you say cheekily. “Besides, I’m curious to see what kind of book turns the god of mischief into a pearl clutching prude.”
Loki sputters. “Prude? Darling, let me assure you, I’m no prude—”
“I’ll leave you to browse,” you say with a grin as you turn away from him. “Come find me at the front when you’re ready to go.”
You’re a few chapters into the book when Loki rejoins you at the front of the library, a small stack of books tucked under his arm.
You close your book with a snap. “This book is a delight. I think your real issue is just that you’re no fun.”
He scoffs. “I’m very fun.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
You bicker playfully back and forth as you check out your books and leave the library. A quick glance at your watch tells you that you spent much more time there than you’d planned. You can’t quite bring yourself to worry about that, though, not with the memory of Loki’s wonderstruck expression burning so bright in your mind.
There’s a bit of a lull in the conversation as you wait for the elevator.
“Thank you,” he says softly.
“For what?”
“For showing me that.”
“Of course. I’m sorry you didn’t know about it sooner.”
He looks at you, lips parting slightly like he’s about to say something. His tongue swipes briefly over his bottom lip and you would swear that his gaze drops to your mouth for just a second.
For just a second—one heady, slightly irrational second—you think he might be about to kiss you.
The ding of the elevator arriving breaks the spell, startling you just a little. You run a hand through your hair, trying to give off the impression of composure even as your heart beats wildly in your chest.
Loki gestures to the elevator doors. “After you.”
There is a group of analysts in the elevator already, chatting animatedly and completely obliterating any chance you may have had at recapturing that moment.
You try not to dwell too much in contemplating what ifs or timeline branches—often, it feels too much like work, something Mobius might assign you.
But you know that the possibility of that moment—what if the elevator had been a hair slower, what if those analysts had taken a different route, what if you were braver—you know that’s something that’s going to haunt you for a while.
*
You wouldn’t give up that time in the library for anything—it’s one of those moments that feels formative, something that you’ll return to again and again for one reason or another.
But it’s also true that it’s time that you probably could have used for sorting files and as Saturday ticks on, you can’t help but wish you had a way to pull another hour out of somewhere.
“We’re not going to be able to make this deadline, are we?” you say with a sigh.
It’s getting late into the evening and the cart of files still to be sorted still remains depressingly full, despite the fact that you’d brought both lunch and dinner back to your desk so you could continue working.
Loki eyes the remaining files. “I think we might. We made good progress today.”
You rub your eyes. “My brain feels like it’s about to leak out my ears.”
Loki takes the file you are working on and sets it back in the stack of unsorted files. “I think that might be a sign it’s time to turn in,” he says.
“There’s still so much left.”
“There’s still tomorrow.”
You reach for the file. “Well, let me just—”
He pulls your hand away from the pile. “You can come back to it in the morning. Besides, if you’re this tired, you’re not going to do good work anyway.”
He squeezes your hand and drops it. It’s brief enough to still be friendly, but unusual enough to make you wonder and send your mind racing back to that moment by the elevator.
You shake the thought away. It’s late and you’re tired.
You heave a world weary sigh and slump back in your chair. “I hate it when you’re right.”
To his credit, he only smirks a little. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”
Once again, there’s no reason for him to do this, but once again, you’re inclined to let him.
You pack up for the evening and walk out of the office side by side. You’re trying very hard not to think about the fact that this is likely the last night that you’ll do this, that tomorrow the assignment will be over.
As you near the residential wing, you start to hear distant shouts. If you inhale deeply, you catch a very faint whiff of explosives—you’re not sure what kind.
“I think someone brought work home,” you say with a sigh. 
This happens from time to time—things get out of hand in the field or something happens when retrieving an asset or a target and all hell breaks loose at the TVA. Mobius had once referred to it as “bringing work home” and the name had stuck.
“Wasn’t there an incident in this wing not long ago?” asks Loki.
“Yes.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I had to call off the next day—I got no sleep that night.” You listen carefully, trying to determine the source of the noise and the status of the problem. “But maybe it’s almost over,” you say with an optimism you don’t fully feel. “Sometimes these things are resolved really quick.”
Your heart continues to sink the closer you come to your home. The acrid burn of explosives only increases and you think you catch the low, dull roar of something not quite human.
And indeed, when you turn the final corner, you are immediately stopped by an electric blue barrier being monitored by a hunter. G-21–you’ve worked with her on a couple of missions before.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” slips out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.
“There’s an ongoing incident in this area,” says G-21 and you almost want to laugh because no shit. 
“How long do you think it’s gonna be closed off?” you ask.
She shrugs. “We’re at a code 54 right now, but it’s probably gonna escalate.”
With pitch perfect timing and before you can even try to remember what a code 54 means, there’s an almighty crash and a low bellow.
“Go!” she yells before running toward the commotion amid frantic calls for backup.
Loki is grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a run.
Your standard issue work shoes are comfortable enough on a day to day basis, but you certainly want to have words with whoever decided that leather soled shoes with absolutely no grips were a good choice for a building floored almost entirely in linoleum. In a low stakes situation, it’s meant occasionally you wipe out in the cafeteria and hurt nothing but your pride. In this situation, it means that Loki’s firm grip on your hand is the only thing keeping you upright.
But there’s a small mercy in that while you can still hear distant crashes and shrieks, whatever is happening down that hallway doesn’t seem to be following you and eventually, you both slow to a brisk walk and Loki drops your hand.
You haven’t even had a chance to consider where you are going to sleep tonight. You could probably curl up on that terrible couch in the office and just plan on getting up early enough to run back to your place for a quick shower and a change of clothes…assuming the incident resolves by then—
“You can stay with me,” says Loki, as though he can hear you trying to sort this out.
“Oh, that’s okay, I’ll just—”
“If you say you’re going to sleep on that terrible couch in the office, I will personally take you to the most boring governmental proceeding I can find and leave you there until you come to your senses.”
“Sounds like a great place to fall asleep,” you say.
His eyes glint, but his tone brooks no arguments. “You’re staying with me tonight.”
You sigh, but you can’t think of a counterpoint. “When did you get so bossy?”
“Darling, I’m a prince,” he says with a bit of a wry smirk. “It’s my birthright.”
Loki lives on the opposite end of the residential wing and his place looks quite a bit like yours—he’s got an extra window in the kitchen but the floor plan is otherwise the same. A lot of his furniture is standard issue, but there are little details that make it seem more personal: an area rug with a bit of fraying on the edges, a painting of what you think is an Asgardian landscape, a vase filled with dried flowers so delicate they look like they might disintegrate if you were to touch them. And books—so many books. Books on shelves, stacked on the coffee table, tucked into the little rack that you know is meant to hold magazines. Hardbacks, paperbacks, leather bound, dog-eared, well-worn and brand new. It’s no wonder he was so excited about the library.
“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “I’ll get some things for you.”
You sit down and he disappears down the hall. You idly examine the books stacked on the end table next to you. Many are quite clearly from Asgard and it sparks a pang of sympathy—it’s like his homesickness is on full display in his living room and there’s something sweet and sad about seeing that vulnerability laid so bare.
He returns a few minutes later with a pair of pajamas, a toothbrush, and a hand towel.
“Here,” he says, handing you the pile. “Bathroom’s just down the hall. I’ll make up a bed for you.”
“Thanks.”
In the bathroom, you realize that the pajamas he’s given you aren’t the standard set you can order from the TVA. These are made of a dark emerald silk that ripples over your skin like water, and somehow, that makes it feel a thousand times more personal than if he’d loaned you a standard set. They don’t fit quite right on you, but they’ll work well enough for tonight.
You brush your teeth and attempt to get through as much of your evening routine as you can before collecting your clothes and exiting the bathroom.
When you return to the living room, you expect to find that he’s made up a bed for you on the couch. These living units only have one bedroom—it would be quite reasonable to have you sleep on the couch.
You do not expect to find a pajama clad Loki stretched out reading on the couch, a blanket over his lap and his head propped up on a pillow like he intends to sleep there.
You exhale slowly. “Please tell me you are not giving up your bed.”
“Don’t be absurd, of course I am,” he says without even looking up from his book. “The point of this was to prevent you from sleeping on a couch, not simply put you on a couch in a different location.”
You wish you had something to throw at him. “You don’t even fit on that couch.”
“Luckily, my knees bend. Besides, you’re a guest,” he says, as though that settles it.
You roll your eyes and plunk yourself down in the armchair across from the couch, setting your pile of clothes on the floor. “I’m not moving until you give up the couch.”
He finally looks up from his book. “You’re really going to do this?”
You examine your fingernails, flicking away an invisible speck of dust. “I’m not the one being unreasonable. I’m simply meeting you at your level.”
“If you think that I’m being unreasonable and you’re also saying you’re meeting me at my level, does that not mean you are admitting that you are being unreasonable?”
“It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning. I’m not arguing semantics with you.”
“Fine.” His eyes glimmer as he sets his book down and slowly rises to his feet. “But you’re still not sleeping on the couch.”
“Oh, you’re going to be so disappointed when you realize how wrong you are,” you say. You think you see your opening and you try to play it cool.
He’s walking toward you, leaving your path to the couch wide open. In your head, you can see exactly how this works: you’ll spring from your chair and dart around the coffee table before diving onto the couch like a baseball player sliding into home plate, soundly defeating Loki. Easy peasy.
Instead, what happens is that you spring to your feet and Loki moves with inhuman speed, grabbing you around your waist and pinning you to the front of his chest, stopping you in your tracks almost immediately.
“I suppose I should have expected that,” he says. Your back is facing him, but you can almost hear the dry, sardonic look he’s giving you.
“Probably,” you say. “God of mischief and all.” You struggle fruitlessly against his iron grip. “You can let me go now.”
He laughs. “I’m afraid I can’t. It was clearly a mistake to trust you. I won’t be making that error again.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, trying again to squirm away from him. “Let me go.”
“The interesting thing about all of this is that you’ve made a rather substantial tactical error,” he says, continuing as though he can’t hear you.
“You’re bluffing,” you say with more confidence than you feel.
“Fascinating theory,” he says, “but I don’t think it’s going to work out for you.”
With that same ridiculous speed, he’s suddenly spinning you around and lifting you, tossing you easily over his shoulder.
“Hey!” you shout in protest.
“I warned you,” he says, his voice full of mirth as he carries you toward the bedroom.
This is not exactly how you’ve imagined being carried off to bed by Loki.
Though, admittedly, you do have a nice view of his ass.
“This is ridiculous,” you say.
“You brought this upon yourself.” He’s walking into the bedroom and a moment later, he’s lifting you from his shoulder and tossing you unceremoniously onto his bed.
You scramble to your feet and try to lunge toward the door, but he’s clearly expecting that. Before your feet even hit the floor, he catches you around the waist and hauls you back to the bed. Your back hits the mattress and you try to leverage the momentum to propel yourself back onto your feet.
He catches you immediately and you find yourself back on the bed again.
“I don’t mean to be patronizing,” he says, failing to bite back a laugh, “but it’s adorable that you think you can outmaneuver me.”
That is deeply offensive and the only way you can earn my forgiveness is by letting me take my rightful place on the couch.” You can’t quite keep the laugh from your voice.
He grins. “Not a chance.”
You attempt to dive off the opposite side of the bed, only to have him grab you by the ankles and pull you back. You manage to dislodge him and lunge in the opposite direction, only to be immediately thwarted.
It becomes increasingly hilarious the longer it goes on and soon your sides are aching from laughter. Loki is laughing too, but it doesn’t seem to affect his strength or speed at all.
Eventually, he wrestles you back down onto the bed and you are fairly certain there’s no way out of this one—he’s got your wrists pinned above your head and his legs locked around yours. You’re both a little out of breath.
“Yield,” he says.
You shake your head. “Never.”
His gaze flicks to your lips and back to your eyes. “Yield.”
“No.”
Something has changed. There’s an electricity and intensity that crackles in the air between you, possibilities blooming in both of your gazes. It feels a little like that moment by the elevator, but you’re afraid to hope, afraid to even wish because the idea of him wanting you still feels as impossible as capturing smoke with a net. 
But the way he’s looking at you, the way his gaze keeps drifting between your eyes and your lips…that’s not nothing.
“Yield.”
You lick your lips, your heart beating wildly. “No.”
Is it just your imagination, or did his breath hitch when you licked your lips?
“Yield.”
God, he’s so close and you want him so badly. 
“No.”
He looks again at your lips and this time, he closes the distance between you.
They call him Silvertongue—you’ve heard the jokes, you’ve rolled your eyes at all of them. But as he kisses you, you realize that there’s an element of truth there because only seconds in and you’re ready to sign away your soul to live under the power of Loki’s tongue. The slow, warm slide of it against yours, the way he guides your mouth against his, the way he lets out a soft sigh as he tastes you—you would give up everything if it meant you could stay like this.
“Yield,” he breathes against your lips.
“No,” you say.
He deepens the kiss, catching your lower lip between his teeth and gently tugging until you whimper and arch against him.
He still has your hands pinned against the bed, his grip unyielding when you try to wrestle them away.
“Let me touch you,” you say when he draws back. You want to touch him everywhere—run your hands along every muscle you’ve admired from afar. 
“Then yield,” he says with a grin, his eyes flashing with devilish intent.
You consider this for a moment. You could give in—there aren’t really any stakes at this point and you’re pretty sure you’re both going to end up sleeping in his bed tonight anyway. But that glint of mischief in his eyes also promises some intriguing possibilities if you stand firm.
“No,” you say.
“Such a pity,” says Loki, though his expression is one of hungry delight.
His hands slip free of your wrists then, but they stay pinned to the bed by some invisible force.
“Cheater,” you say. 
“I think this is only fair,” he says, his hands sliding to your hips. “I’m clearly the victor, am I not entitled to my prize?”
You shiver. “Your prize?”
“Yes.” He kisses down the column of your throat. “My lovely, lovely prize.”
“How can I be your prize if I’m also your competitor?”
“You think too much,” he mumbles against your neck.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Generally, it’s not.” He sits back on his heels between your legs, looking you over with satisfaction. “But in this case, it’s distracting you from more pressing matters.” His hands creep under the hem of your shirt, stroking the small of your back, thumbs tracing teasingly along the waistband of your pajama pants. 
“Have I mentioned how much I enjoy seeing you in my clothes?” he asks. There’s a husky depth to his voice and a hunger in his eyes that sends a flood of arousal to your cunt.
“You have not,” you say.
“A casualty of too much thinking,” he says solemnly, his thumbs gently grazing the skin at your hipbones. “You look utterly delectable. I almost want to leave them on.” His eyes glitter with mischief. “Almost.” His hand strays to the bottom button on your pajama top. “May I?”
You nod. “Yes.”
He slips the button free and slowly makes his way up until your shirt is open. He carefully pushes the fabric aside, baring your breasts to his sight and touch.
You’ve never felt more beautiful seeing Loki stare at you, lips slightly parted, eyes wide and hungry. He trails one hand up your stomach and rib cage and slowly brushes a thumb over your nipple. You gasp and the sensitive skin puckers and stiffens as he palms your breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“Gorgeous,” he murmurs as he lowers his mouth to your breast, his tongue and lips taking up the role of his hand, while his other hand moves to cup your other breast. You whimper, wishing you could run your hands through his hair. “That’s it,” he purrs, “I want to hear all the sounds you can make, my love.”
You rock your hips forward and arch your back as he lavishes attention on your breasts. It’s the most delicious kind of torture, having him so close, but not being able to touch him.
He’s taking his time, which you both love and hate. He feels so good, but you need him to touch you, you need to touch him, you need him inside of you. You wait until you can’t take it any more and breathe his name like it’s a prayer.
You wonder if this is what he was waiting for because with little more than a brief smirk and a wicked look, he starts kissing his way back up your chest and neck. You whimper when his lips meet yours and you can feel him grin as he kisses you. He fits his hips against yours, angling himself so that his cock rubs up against your clit just right and you moan into his mouth. You can tell that he’s big and part of you wants to savor the anticipation even though you feel like you might go mad if he doesn’t fuck you now. You rock your hips against him, trying to feel that friction.
His large hands frame your face, one hand sliding to cradle the back of your head so he can draw you deeper, the other trailing from your cheek to your throat.
Both hands soon stroke down your sides, lingering teasingly at the waistband of your pajama pants. He hooks his thumbs underneath the waistband and you lift your hips. He slides your pants down maybe an inch and you can feel him smiling as he kisses you. You lift your hips again and your waistband creeps down another inch.
“Loki.” His name falls from your lips with a sigh.
“What is it, my love?”
“Touch me,” you breathe. “Please.”
You lift your hips again and this time, he pulls the fabric fully down and off your legs. He guides your legs apart and stares appreciatively at your bare cunt, his teasing expression replaced by a rapt awe.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs. 
You believe him.
His hands stroke your thighs, seemingly in no hurry, despite your pleading whimpers and the way you arch against the mattress. He draws his thumb gently along your slit, barely grazing your clit.
“Do you know what an utter distraction it’s been sitting behind you?” he asks, tracing your clit in the slowest, lightest circle.
You arch upward, hands still bound by his magic. “Tell me,” you breathe, your hips rising to chase his hand.
“Every time you stood up, I could only think about bending you over the desk.”
You manage a sly smirk. “And here I thought you didn’t like me much at all.”
His thumb presses a little more against your clit and you moan.
“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you,” he says, rolling his thumb in a slow circle. “I kept you at arm’s length partly as a matter of protection.”
For who?”
“You,” he says. “I’m not fully redeemed in some eyes and you being involved with a dangerous variant—”
“You’re not,” you say.
“Some would disagree.”
“Well, they’re wrong,” you say. “You’re not a dangerous variant. You’re Loki Laufeyson and I want you just as you are.”
There’s something unreadable in his expression and it makes you wonder how many people have told him that he can just be himself.
“You should be careful saying such lovely things to me, you know,” he says solemnly.
You raise an eyebrow. “Oh really? And why is that?”
“Because it makes me want to do very wicked things to you.”
You’re surprised you’re not shaking, you want him so badly. “What kinds of wicked things?”
“Oh, all manner of wicked things.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, his tongue swiping briefly against your skin. “Things with my mouth...” His thumb rolls over your clit again, his index finger teasing your entrance before retreating. “…my hands…” He drags his gaze over your naked form before locking eyes with you. “My cock.”
A shiver works its way up your spine. “So if I talk about how I think you’re really clever and funny and I find it unbelievably sexy, what sort of wicked thing would that merit?”
The intensity of his gaze makes you shiver again. He crouches down and presses another kiss against the inside of your knee, slowly moving upward. “If you keep talking like that, I’m not going to let you leave my bed for days.”
“You know that’s not a disincentive, right?” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as he nips at the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I’ve wanted you for such a long time, Loki.”
“I’ll make it weeks if you’re not careful.”
“Again, not a disincentive.” You gently tug at your bound wrists and find that they’re still firmly secured. It’s exhilarating, even though you really wish you could run your hands through his hair, especially if he ends up where you think he’s going.
“What else should I tell you?” you muse as he continues his agonizingly slow path along your thigh. “You know, half the reason I kept to myself was that I wanted you so much I was certain that I’d make a fool of myself.”
That earns you a few circles of your clit with his thumb, but his progress up your thigh remains slow. You have a theory about what might move the needle, though.
“I know you like to act like you’re this sort of barely reformed villain, but I think there’s more good in you than you’d like people to believe.”
This time, he moves up to the crease where your thigh joins your hip, close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath ghosting along your labia. His tongue traces a line along your skin and you briefly wonder if you’ll be able to hold it together enough to deliver the last part.
“And,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “yesterday and today made me want you even more because I feel like I finally saw who you really are and you’re even more wond—”
Your words abruptly give way to a breathy moan because his perfect, skilled tongue has finally found its way to your clit.
You had a plan from here, but whatever it was has dissolved into nothing under the skilled caress of Loki’s tongue. You suspected he would be good at this from the way that he’d kissed you earlier, but you could not have imagined that it would feel like this.
“Oh my god, Loki.” Your thighs are already quaking. You tug again at the invisible bonds on your wrists, but they hold fast. Something about the way the bonds are keeping you gently stretched along the bed combined with how his large hands have your thighs spread open seems to heighten every sensation. There’s no wiggling away from him or adjusting yourself so that you feel more or less of the onslaught of his tongue on your cunt. You are completely at his mercy and you’re not entirely surprised that you fucking love it.
He slides a finger into your aching channel and your cunt shudders around the thick intrusion. The warm, roiling center of your orgasm starts builds in your hips with every stroke of his tongue, spinning faster and faster, like ocean winds whipping up into a hurricane. Your back arches and his tongue presses flat against your clit, and suddenly you know that this is going to be what takes you over the edge.
Loki seems to know it too, at least from the way that he presses his tongue more firmly against you, one arm slung across your hips to hold you in place. His other hand slides two fingers inside you, rocking and curling against that aching, tender spot.
You whimper, your hips bucking wildly. It’s so good and so much and you are almost there.
You look down at him then, his hair wild, hollowed cheeks flushed pink as his tongue works you over, his eyes closed like he couldn’t imagine anything more blissful than being in between your legs while you come undone.
This is ultimately what tips you over the edge. The storm that has been forming inside you is finally let loose and you arch your back and cry out in a wordless scream as your climax crashes into you.
Only then do the bonds around your wrists release and your hands fly down to grab his hair as your body shakes with pleasure.
It takes a moment for you to get your breath back and reacquaint yourself with the concept of speech, but when you do, you find Loki looking up at you, his expression pure mischief.
“And to think you wanted to sleep on the couch.”
“It wasn’t that I wanted to sleep on the couch, it’s that—” Your voice cuts off as his tongue starts stroking your clit again.
“It’s what?” he asks in between strokes, his smirk obvious in his voice. The lingering ripples of your orgasm are coalescing around the path of his tongue, tightening that coil in your belly again.
“Fuck—you’re not playing fair, you can’t just—” You lose your sentence to a low moan that rises up from your chest. “You can’t just—fuck, yes—you can’t…oh god, yes, just like that.”
His laughter rumbles against you as your hips start rocking against his mouth. How are you already so close?
“You can’t just—fuck—win an argument by—”
You’re trying to say that he can’t expect to win an argument by making you come and you think he might understand this based on how determined he seems to be to prove you wrong. His fingers curl again until he finds that soft, tender spot that is so often the key to your unraveling.
You have stopped trying to complete that sentence—you moan, your hands tangling in his hair, urging him on as the swell of your climax rushes up, inevitable as a tidal wave looming over a seaside village.
You cry out as it crests and breaks, falling down over you in a rush of tingling pleasure that feels like champagne and fireworks all at once.
“Now, what was it you were saying, my love?” he asks as he releases your clit a moment later. “Something about how I can’t just win an argument by making you come? I couldn’t quite hear you over the sound of you coming completely undone on my tongue.”
“Oh, you think you’re so smart,” you say, giving him a stern look as he crawls up your body.
“You know what I think?” he says, settling himself on his side next to you. “I think you liked submitting to me.”
You shiver before you can even think about hiding it and his smile turns decidedly vulpine. 
“You did, didn’t you? You liked having your hands bound and being completely at my mercy while I licked your pretty cunt until you came undone in my mouth.”
“You are enjoying this far too much,” you say.
“I am enjoying it the correct amount.”
You realize your hands are now free to explore his body and you tug at his pajama shirt. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes,” you say.
He gives you a wicked grin as he lets you pull his shirt over his head. “Yes, perhaps it’s time we even things up.”
You pull the shirt away and rake your eyes over him greedily, your hands following the path of your gaze. He is as perfect as you imagined, unfairly beautiful in the dim light of the bedroom.
You hook your thumbs into the waistband of his pajama pants and lower them an inch, a cheeky parallel of how he teased you earlier. His lips curl into a sharp smile when he realizes what you’re doing.
“Interesting strategy.” There’s a bit of a growl in his voice, a rough desperation that makes your cunt clench. “But I think you forgot that I have the upper hand here.”
He raises his hand and with a twist of his wrist, his remaining clothes dissolve in a shimmer of green and he is bare before you.
Your breath catches in your throat. His cock commands your immediate attention, nudging up against your thigh—he’s big, as you suspected, but completely bare and rock hard, he somehow seems longer and thicker than he had when he was grinding against you.
He pulls you into a slow kiss as you reach for his cock. You wrap your hand around him, delighting in the silky hardness of him, the way he throbs in your hand and the low groan he makes as your hand moves from base to tip and back, the way his hips thrust along with you. Your cunt clenches in anticipation.
After a moment, though, he places his hand over yours, slowing your movements.
“I need to be inside you,” he rasps.
“Yes,” you breathe.
He rolls on top of you  and you’re not sure that you’ve ever felt anything quite as wonderful as the heat of his bare skin and yours pressed together. This feeling means intimacy, a closeness that you’d longed for but never expected even in your wildest daydreams.
He pulls you into a kiss, slow, soft, and languid, like you have all the time in the world and he intends to take it. It’s decadent and dreamy and perfect.
But the heavy weight of his bare cock resting against your stomach combined with the ache between your legs—an ache that would be so perfectly soothed by the hard column of flesh currently throbbing against you—proves to be a force too powerful to resist for very long.
You cant your hips against him, snaking one leg around his waist, hoping he’ll get the hint.
He does.
He braces himself on one hand, the other sliding between your bodies to rub his cock along your slick folds. He positions himself at your entrance, waiting for your breathy plea to begin to ease himself slowly into you.
He fills and stretches you in the most wonderful way, but even more than that, he feels like home. The thought strikes you quite suddenly and you’re not entirely sure about everything it means, but you know it’s good and right.
He pauses for just a moment, seeming to savor the feeling.
“You feel better than I ever imagined,” he says.
You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You imagined?”
He gives you a hungry smile as he leans in to kiss you. “Like I said: it has been an utter distraction sitting behind you.”
His rhythm is slow and easy, like he wants to take his time learning every inch of you and memorizing how you react to his touch. His mouth moves over yours in a slow kiss that’s somehow both languid and demanding, his tongue gliding in and out of your mouth in the same rhythm of his hips rocking into you. His cock bumps up against that sweet spot inside of you that his fingers had teased earlier, each stroke inching you closer to bliss.
He shifts the angle of his hips so that his pubic bone grinds against your clit and it feels so good you almost see stars. You can feel your orgasm building, your cunt growing slicker and tensing around his thrusting cock.
He draws back to look at you, eyes hazy with a loose, dreamy kind of pleasure.
“Do you have any idea how good you feel?” he breathes.
You are shaking. “Loki, I’m gonna come.”
“I know you are,” he purrs. “Let go for me, let me feel you, my love.”
With two more thrusts of his hips, you unravel.
He groans as you tremble around him, but mostly, he watches your face, rapt by the way you throw your head back against the bed and gasp his name like it’s the only thing that will save you.
“You’re beautiful when you come,” he breathes. “Absolutely stunning.”
He waits until you catch your breath before he kisses you again, slow and sensual. His hips are still rocking in that beautifully slow rhythm and you don’t know how it can still feel so good.
He keeps moving against you, his touch and his low murmurs of praise invoking a symphony of sensations. He presses deeper and your body sings with every thrust, your muscles tensing and tightening around him like you never want him to leave. Your climax swells again and you come with a whimper, your whole body shaking as he fucks you through it.
You want him to come, want to hear the sounds he makes and feel his sweet, hot release burning inside of you.
“I want you to come for me,” you breathe.
He grins at you. “Oh, I will, but not yet. You’re not done yet.”
You whimper. “Loki—”
“Two more, my love, two more and then I’ll come for you.”
Somehow, you give him three. By the second one, he’s panting and his words have become rough, his voice a growl as he utters some of the filthiest praise you’ve ever heard. The third builds quickly after that and you know instinctively that you’re going to take him over the edge with you this time.
You fight to keep your eyes open against the tidal wave of pleasure blooming again in your hips. You need to see him come undone.
As in everything else he does, he’s unfairly beautiful—he throws his head back, letting out a low groan that you can feel all the way to the tips of your toes. His cheeks are flushed, a few ink dark curls plastered to the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. You can feel him emptying himself inside you, his release hot and hard won.
It seems to last a long time and it’s another minute before his hips slow to a halt. He kisses you, so soft and sweet it would almost seem chaste were it not for the fact that his cock is still throbbing inside of you.
After a moment, he slowly eases out of you, rolling over onto his back, his arm snaking around your waist and pulling you to him like he can’t bear to be parted from you even for a moment.
You curl up against his side, your legs tangling with his. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours before resting your clasped hands on his heart.
You could fall in love like this, you think sleepily to yourself.
You don’t know it then, but you’re right.
*
Time moves differently at the TVA, but a couple years later, there’s a ring in a box on your desk.
Loki likes a spectacle and you’d daydreamed about a traditional wedding, but when you talk it over, you both agree that you want to do something different, something quiet, something just for the two of you.
“I do think we should tell Mobius beforehand,” you say to Loki.
“Isn’t the point of eloping that no one knows until after it’s done?” says Loki.
“Yes, but I feel like we could make one exception,” you say. “If we’d done a full wedding, I would have asked him to give me away.”
Loki’s gaze softens a bit then and he pulls you close. “All right. But we only tell him right before we leave. The man can’t keep a secret.”
But Mobius doesn’t seem terribly surprised when you tell him—in fact, he seems far more concerned about your wedding gift.
“I didn’t have a chance to wrap it yet,” he says. He’s retrieved a large picture frame that had been propped against his desk, though he keeps it turned away from you. “So…this also requires a bit of an overdue confession for context.”
You raise your eyebrows. “A confession?”
“A confession,” says Mobius.
“Will I be angry about this?” asks Loki at the same time you say, “Is this like a go to jail confession or a misdemeanor confession?”
Mobius gives a good natured chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “God, the two of you. Always so dramatic. No wonder you ended up together.” He takes what feels like an unnecessarily long drink from the coffee mug on his desk. “It’s not bad, I promise.” Another sip of coffee. 
Loki sighs. “He always does this,” he says to you. “Have you noticed? Whenever he has something that you want to know, he stalls and drags it out just to torment you.”
“Okay,” you say, “but you jumping in to bicker with him probably doesn’t help.”
“I’m not bickering,” says Loki. “I’m simply pointing out that he’s stalling—”
“What was it you were saying, Mobius?” you say brightly, nudging Loki with your elbow.
Mobius’ eyes twinkle. “See,” he says to Loki, “I always liked her. It’s a good match.”
You don’t have to look at Loki to know he’s rolling his eyes, though he also makes a point of surreptitiously pinching your ass, a detail you hope Mobius doesn’t notice.
“Anyway,” says Mobius, taking a deep breath, “it was pretty clear to me from the start that you liked each other. And you also seemed absolutely determined to get in your own way.” He points to Loki. “Especially you with your whole stilted Asgardian prince thing.”
Loki frowns. “What are you talking about?”
Mobius sighs. “Anytime you like someone, it’s like your brain gets a factory reset and you get all overly polite and courtly.”
Loki scoffs. “I don’t do that at all.”
“You do. It’s deeply weird. You’re like a mannerly robot.”
Loki turns to you. “Darling, tell him he’s being absurd.”
You reach over and squeeze his hand. “You did call me ‘my lady’ a couple of times in the early days.”
Loki sighs and looks back at Mobius. “What was your point in mentioning this?”
“Well,” says Mobius, “you seemed pretty determined to get in your own way, so nothing was happening. And eventually I got sick of all of the pining, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.”
“What do you mean?”
Mobius pauses, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “There wasn’t a breakthrough with Berlitz that weekend. What there was was a surplus in the overtime budget and a high priority indexing project for Archives.”
Your lips part as your brain slowly puts the pieces together. Mobius’ eyes twinkle.
“Wait,” you say, “you lied to us?”
“I did not lie,” says Mobius, his demeanor suddenly becoming very serious. “That would have been wrong.” He nods at Loki. “Also, it would’ve tipped him off and that would have ruined the whole thing. I simply failed to mention that the cart of files that I gave you needed to be sorted for indexing for the Archives department and I peppered in a couple of unrelated things about Berlitz.”
“But the office was empty that weekend,” says Loki.
Mobius snaps his fingers. “Right. I did make some adjustments to the schedule that weekend.”
“And the disturbance that prevented her from returning home on Saturday night?”
Mobius spreads his hands wide and grins. “All me, buddy. Paid G-21 five hundred bucks for that one.”
Loki pauses for a moment and then looks at you. “I don’t think I can be mad about this. I’m genuinely impressed.”
“I mean, I can’t argue with the results, but Jesus, Mobius, you could’ve just set us up on a blind date,” you say.
“Ah, but that’s not as fun,” Mobius says. “Plus, it wouldn’t have made for as good a wedding gift.” He turns the frame around and hands it to you both.
It’s both your timecards from that pay period, neatly framed side by side. Your eyes well with tears and Mobius smiles.
“Honestly, I’m just relieved it’s not a jet ski,” says Loki.
“He's deflecting,” you say to Mobius in an exaggerated whisper.
“I know,” he whispers back.
But you can’t help but notice that Loki’s eyes are brighter than normal.
“Okay, now get out of here,” says Mobius. “You’ve got a wedding to get to.”
Twenty minutes later, you’re wearing a simple white dress and standing with Loki in front of a time door, your hand clasped in his.
“Technically, we don’t have a supervisor’s approval for this,” you say with a wry smile.
He looks at you, eyes dancing with mirth. “I had Mobius sign off on the paperwork while you were getting ready.”
Your heart swells and your smile is so wide that you feel like your face might split in two. “Then hurry up and marry me, Laufeyson.”
He grins and tugs you through the time door.
-------
But wait! There's more: I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel.
5K notes · View notes
crushmeeren · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
SFW & NSFW Bakugou Headcannons
Everyone involved in this fic is aged up/18+; continue scrolling or block if you aren’t into this
Note; These are Random SFW & NSFW Bakugou headcannons that exist to me 😫 sometimes I can’t stop thinking about Bakugou and the things he may do. I needed to just get them out even if it isn’t a one shot. Please enjoy these with me 💥 Also, these were only a few, I had a lot more but didn’t wanna make it too cluttered
Warnings; making out, pussy eating, hickies, choking, bit of dirty talk/praise, not so vanilla vaginal sex/anal sex, aftercare
Another note; I may have gone a bit overboard with this… anywho I really really liked writing this, just something to post in between my one shots, I could write more for him as well as other characters, feel free to suggest one! 💕
If this gets 1,000 notes I’m gonna shit myself
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Katsuki who constantly paints his nails black and has piercings lining from the lobes all the way up on both sides of his ears, plus a tragus on the left and a daith on the right (black and silver jewelry only)
Katsuki who also has a damn eyebrow piercing, who also has tattoos all over his arms and chest (mostly black & gray), it all, unsurprisingly, makes you drool
Katsuki who is actually left handed, who places his right hand on the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he drives because he always wants to touch you (the fucker squeezes a bit too hard when someone cuts him off, road rage for real with him)
Katsuki who only listens to Japanese rock and heavy metal at full fucking volume, who rolls the windows down during summer and blasts it while you drive down the highway (but you love the music too, so you digress)
Katsuki who religiously wears all black, who loves Doc Martens and Vans, who has an unbearable amount of SiM band T-shirts (which you steal, but he doesn’t mind)
Katsuki who plays the drums and learns your favorite rock song just so he can play it for you (spoiler- you cry)
Katsuki who says fuck almost every other word (but so do you)
Katsuki who introduces you to Eijirou & Denki, who become some of your closest & best friends (you’re so grateful for this, you love those idiots, they’re at your house often)
Kastuki who flushes a soft peachy color to the tips of ears the first time you call him Katsuki
Katsuki who bakes you any desert you want, whenever you want, who always makes you dinner (it’s like an orgasm in your mouth)
Katsuki who encouraged you to get into fitness in the first place, who has supported you every step of the way, who loves you no matter what you look like, but wanted to share his passion of working out with you (Eijirou is often there with you)
Katsuki who helped you learn how to love yourself, who has always been your weight lifting/running buddy (you complain, but now you secretly love going to the gym with him. Plus Bakugou in gym clothes? Dear god.)
Katsuki who pushes you outside your comfort zone, who is stern but that’s what you need to stay focused
Katsuki who can tell when you’re getting overstimulated at the grocery store, so he moves as fast as he can, giving anyone around you the bitchiest look he can manage, while holding your hand and whispering sweet words to you
Katsuki who loves you unconditionally, who you trust wholeheartedly, who is your best friend, who you want to spend the rest of your life with, and he feels the exact same way
💥Little Warning, the NSWF part is below this 💥
Katsuki who fucking loves making out, who gets warm shivers, cock throbbing when you lick behind his teeth and over the roof of his mouth
Katsuki who sucks your soft nipples into his mouth one at a time, who likes to tease you, giving you the erotic view of his warm tongue swirling around one, sucking with plush lips, who bites and pulls making your skull dig into the pillow
Katsuki who sharply bites hickies into the underside of your tits, dull teeth making your skin ache, forcing you to squeal as he liters you with bruises
Katsuki whose voice is gravelly and low when he whispers to you that you’re his needy little bitch and his sweet girl in the same goddamn sentence (you think you could cum just from his nasty mouth)
Katsuki who wraps his pretty lips around your clit making you see stars, sucking gently, who slips his middle two fingers into your slick pussy and swirls his tongue around your sensitive bud until your dripping, badly aching for his cock
Katsuki who gets you so motherfucking wet his thick cock slides in all the way in at once, curly blonde pubes brushing your clit, who sends heat flaring up your spine, out to your limbs as you feel every inch of his dick slide in and out
Katsuki who bites roughly at your calf (he really loves biting you), who leaves teeth marks near your ankle bone as he wraps his fingers around one leg, hooking your knee over his shoulder as he folds you in half
Katsuki who lets you wear his fingers as a necklace, squeezing the sides just right, so you feel dizzy, lightheaded with pleasure when he makes you cum like that
Katsuki who gets so sweaty during sex you watch as it drips down the side of his face, down his neck, who laughs, making you feel filthy when you can’t resist the urge to sit up and lick the liquid from the hollow of his throat
Katsuki who actually fucking loves anal because your ass sucks his cock in just right, who fucks you from behind while he stretches your ass open (little bit of double penetration with his fingers, it’s so damn good)
Katsuki who lets you guide his cock slowly into your ass, panting, whining, growling about how hard it is not to flex his cock so he doesn’t rip you in half
Katsuki who lets out high pitched whines/moans when he starts to really fuck your tight ass, who pushes down on your upper back, nails digging in, forcing you into the mattress
Katsuki who fucks your ass so well your fingers almost rip the sheets, who has you screaming Katsuki! so loud you muffle your shouts in the mattress, whose hips bounce off your ass so hard it turns your skin red
Katsuki who nails your sweet spot through your ass, who makes you makes you cum so hard you get chills, who makes you scream out that you can’t take it (but you can and he knows, your safe word is dragonfruit after all)
Katsuki who is so mean, gripping your hips so tightly, pulling you back into his thrusts, who speaks condescendingly when he asks you where the fuck you think you’re going, because he knows you can take his thick cock, cuz you’re his good little girl
Katsuki who fills your ass, your pussy, cums anywhere he fucking wants because he can, covering you in thick, warm ribbons of his release
Katsuki who cleans you up after, who helps you get dressed, who trades sweet kisses with you in the dark as he holds you until you pass out, head resting on his chest as he snores softly
2K notes · View notes
ronwestbreeze · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
you're gonna go far | 9
pairing: jake sully x neytiri x tsu'tey x fem!human! reader summary: a scientist arrives on pandora (unwillingly) a year after the exile of the rda. now she must deal with the likes of a clan leader, a great warrior, and a thanator rider. word count: 6.3k warnings: mentions of suicide (not explicit!)
read on AO3
Tumblr media
Tsu’tey remembered when he first came back from death.
It was like clawing out of the ground and feeling as though there was dirt filling his lungs. He remembered Arvok hugging him and crying into his shoulder when he found him awake. He remembered his father sitting nearby and quietly thanking the Great Mother for this second chance, for this mercy, even though they didn’t deserve it. He remembered his mother calling him a gift and that Eywa favored him, that he was the true and chosen Olo’eyktan to the People. Like he was some type of god that Eywa created herself.
He remembered feeling so horrible that his mother didn’t even see him as her son anymore. But a god of sorts. An idol to look to.
Someone so perfect that no one, not even a demon or the daughter of a “simple” Tsahik deserved his attention or praise.
The People celebrated once they learned that Tsu’tey had survived the battle, even when all the odds were against him. In a way, they looked to him as some sort of god too. Not to the extent that Artsut did but idolized him, nonetheless. Tsu’tey remembered feeling frozen as if he were turned to stone, hardened into an empty vessel.
He didn’t feel like himself. He just felt exhausted.
All. The. Time.
And no matter what he did, that exhaustion or feeling of wanting to sleep for a long, long time, never left him. He was just stuck in this state where he was both living but half buried in the ground.
It wasn’t until Tsu’tey confessed to what he was feeling to Jake who then put everything he felt into words that he could not—still couldn’t—quite understand.
“It’s a common thing we humans feel,” Jake explained once when it was just the two of them in the middle of the night.
Sitting in a tree, watching a lively celebration far below. That world seemed so far away at the time. And it was then that Tsu’tey felt like the god his mother praised him to be. Disconnected from the world that he so cherished but watched over them with a protective heart.
“That exhaustion, truthfully, that probably won’t ever go away. This depression can wear us down until all we want to do is sleep without worrying about waking up. Living doesn’t feel the same anymore. Almost like it’s a burden to both you and everyone around you. And then comes the exhaustion.”
Tsu’tey stared at Jake, both thoughtfully and to memorize every detail of the dreamwalker’s face. “Have you felt this?” It was the predictable question at the time. He seemed to know exactly what Tsu’tey felt, so much so, that it sounded as if he lived through—still went through this experience.
Humans were as peculiar as they were dangerous. They hid their feelings. They didn’t allow themselves the freedom to feel as if someone or something was holding them back. They were often birds trapped in a steel cage when the way out was right in front of their face.
That was a certain observation one would notice if they paid close attention. Tsu’tey paid Jake a lot of attention. Memorized his micro-expressions. Noted the way he hid behind an impenetrable wall with a single window he only allowed certain people to look through.
It’s what Tsu’tey imagined loving Jake would be like. Finding ways to climb over that wall to embrace that lonely soul on the other side.
Which was why he was keenly aware of the fact that Jake never answered his question. But instead said, “Many people don’t always have someone to keep them above the surface. That is why most end up drowning forever until they fall asleep. It’s okay to feel these things, even if they’re hard to acknowledge. And if you need to talk, I’m always here. I’m too human not to help you, even if you don’t approve of me.”
While Jake’s words were somewhat flowery and cautious in delivery, there was Neytiri, who grounded him with her very blunt words.
“You are not a god. You are Tsu’tey.”
She did not see him as a god. And he was grateful for that.
Perhaps that was why he so easily fell for her after the war. Or, rather accepted his feelings after forcing them back because of his guilt with Sylwanin.
You did not see him as a god.
And he was relieved by that.
Yet that relief would soon be buried beneath the horror of something else he saw whenever looking at you.
It was himself.
Half alive. And half buried in the ground.
And Tsu’tey had this strong urge to start digging at the ground with his bare fingers. Until his nails were filled with dirt. Until his clean skin was dirtied. Until they bled.
He owed you that much.
“That demon did this!” His mother, Artsut hissed while she knelt next to Arvok’s sleeping body in some form of protection. She stared up at him, pleading, desperate, and angry. “Will you let that creature run free like you did before? Look what that thing’s done! She’s hurt your blood! Be Olo’eyktan and exact punishment on the ones that hurt your family!”
“Reeds didn’t do this.” His mate, Jake protested calmly—as calmly as he could when it came to Artsut. His arms were wrapped around him so tightly his muscles twitched whenever he moved, tail lashing behind him as he continued. “Arvok had already explained what happened. The Tipani warriors were going for Hell’s Gate. Arvok had tried to stop them, they got pissed and injured him—”
“And who’s fault is that?!” Artsut snapped viciously, eerily resembling that of a palulukan. “If that demon hadn’t landed here none of this would be happening!” She turned her fiery gaze onto Tsu’tey, her pleading becoming more adamant as she spoke. “You must kill it! This is your doing, you never should’ve let it live! And now our clan is in danger because of that creature—”
Jake scoffed, his tail swinging now, “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
Artsut hissed at him, “You do not deserve to speak, demon! I should have connived my son to kill you the first day you came to us—”
“Enough!” Tsu’tey hissed as he stalked forward and grabbed his mother by the arm.
“Tsu’tey—” She tried protesting only to be interrupted by his hiss.
“Be quiet, mother.” He led her out of his shared hut and went outside.
Once they were further away from the entrance, he let her arm go.
“My son—”
“No, mother.” Tsu’tey didn’t want to hear any excuses or laments that would make him feel awful for putting her in her place. “I’ve warned you and you’ve gone too far many times now. You are my mother, I do not wish to remove you from my children’s lives—”
She gasped and grabbed his wrist, “Do not be so cruel to your mother! You would prevent me from seeing my own grandchildren?!”
“You do not even accept the one son that I have!” Tsu’tey snapped but stopped when her eyes widened. He did not wish to shout. He did not wish for any more division. But she wasn’t making it any easier on him. So he continued slowly, “Jakesully is my mate. Neytiri is my mate. I will not allow you to keep disrespecting them. They are a part of my life, they make me happy. Shouldn’t that be what you wish for your own son? Do you not want me to be happy?”
Artsut scoffed in disbelief as if what he was saying were unbelievable, “Of course, I do. I wish for nothing but eternal happiness for my one and only boy—”
“I am not your only child.” He said gently, his heart falling. “Your son nearly died—”
“I know this! Do you think I do not know?!” Her eyes became glassy, her grip on his wrist tightening. “But know this, son. I do want your happiness. That is what any mother wants for her children.”
Tsu’tey watched her with a frown. He wished, he really wished he could believe her. Maybe a part of him did—wanted to. But he couldn’t help this unease in him whenever she was around him and his mates. He’d always feel her disapproval. No matter what flowery words she’d say, she would not change her opinion of Neytiri, Jake, Neteyam, and even their unborn little one.
But today he would not push any further. Today he was simply too tired.
“You should return to your home.” He told her and pulled his wrist free from her grasp. “Arvok will stay with us tonight—”
“Tsu’tey—”
“It is closer to the Tsahik’s where she can come and go freely to check on him.” He turned his back to her as the next words spilled out of his mouth like blood. “I do not want you near during that time. Or for a while. Not until I say you can come.”
There was a beat. And then there was sniffling. Tsu’tey refused to look at her. “You are abandoning your mother! You would do this to your own mother, who carried you for so long—” Tsu’tey ignored her words and ignored the pang in his chest as he forced himself to walk away. “It is that demon that has done this to us! They keep destroying everything we hold dear! If you will not kill it then I will—”
At that, Tsu’tey whirled around and stalked toward her as he spoke warningly, “You should be thanking Eywa that your son isn’t dead! You should be thanking our Great Mother that the demon had brought Arvok back instead of leaving him for dead! You should be thanking her that the arrow did not hit him but the demon instead! And yet here you are, plotting to kill Eywa’s favored!”
At this, Artsut scoffed, “Eywa would not favor a stain on her beautiful creation—”
“As Olo’eyktan I order you to stay away from the de…” He winced, not wanting to sound as venomous as his mother did. “—from the dreamwalker. I will carry out the will of Eywa as I intend to do. As this clan is intended to do. And because of that, she is under my protection now. She has saved my brother—your son.  She has earned this right. You will leave her alone.”
“And what if I don’t?!” Artsut shouted as Tsu’tey turned his back away from her and began stalking back to his hut. “Will you punish your own mother?! Will you kill me?! Tsu’tey? Tsu’tey, answer me! Do not turn your back on me! Tsu’tey—”
Her cries continued to ring in his ears, making him tremble.
He did not feel like a god.
He just felt like a failure.
Failure of a son.
Failure of a mate.
Failure of a leader.
He did not return to his hut.
Tumblr media
You were lost. That was fine.
To be honest, you weren’t even focusing enough to go where you wanted. Frankly, you weren’t even sure how to get to your mother’s burial from here. All you did was wander around until you were far enough from the clan, until all you were surrounded by was forest until your legs gave out to the point where you couldn’t walk anymore.
There was a large leaf nearby, big enough for you to duck under it and sink to the ground as it covered your head from the rain. There was still a bit of daylight out, so you had more than enough time to stay there. Because getting back up was going to be difficult.
And you weren’t even sure if you wanted to keep going.
Your mother’s songcord was dangling from your hands now as silent tears spilled down your cheeks. You cried. And cried. And cried. And cried. And cried. Until you were hallowed. Until you weren’t sure if there was anything left of you at this point.
God, you hadn’t cried in so long.
You were dead. Your real body was dead. That wasn’t even your choice either. You had been poisoned, you died, and now you were in a new body.
None of it had been your choice. You didn’t want this. If you had the choice—if it were really up to you—you would’ve let the poison kill you. Anything was better than living in this hell where everything just seemed to be against you.
No matter what you did to make your situation better, something always came along and tackled you back to the ground, pushing you further and further until you began sinking again.
Death could’ve ended all of that.
But even that choice was taken out of your hands.
You could’ve done it now.
You could’ve gone back to Hell’s Gate, grabbed your knife, and…
And—and—and—
For a moment, your mind was quiet as you stared at your mother’s songcord. As you stared at the bone that ended the string.
You were a coward.
Something rustled a few feet away from you. Your body froze and considered the sounds around you. The rustling continued, drawing a little too close for your comfort.
With that, you ducked from under the leaf and moved away from the sounds.
Because even if you somewhat wanted to die, you sure as hell knew it wouldn’t be at the hands of a palulukan.
No. You were just a coward.
Dying took bravery. And you didn’t feel too brave at the moment.
All you could do was stagger forward until you found something to latch onto. To take you away from this until you felt brave enough.
Until then, you kept wandering through the forest. Letting rain pour onto your already wet and somewhat matted hair.
You tugged at one of the locks and hummed to yourself. You should do your hair.
At that, you kept going until eventually you found a waterfall. By then the rain had finally let up, the air was cool, and the smell of rain stayed with you despite the downpour disappearing.
It would’ve been calming if you allowed it to be.
The area itself was beautiful even in this dreary weather. You found a rock just a few feet away from the mainland and jumped onto it. Sitting down with your legs crossed, you leaned over the edge a bit, staring back at your reflection in the water.
Well, you supposed you looked as horrible as you felt. Your hair was one of the main things contributing to that. The braid that Neytiri made was still intact but the rest of your hair was just a wild mess. It was beginning to mat together and form dreads.
So, not particularly happy with the look and wanting a good enough reason to distract your hands and mind, you began doing your hair.
Diving into the waters wasn’t a good idea considering your healing injuries. Instead, you ducked your head into the waters. It was nice. Feeling the cool water against your skin, waking you up slightly. You would’ve stayed like this for a while and you did, considering you could hold your breath for a while.
The tension in your muscles relaxed and right when you were feeling yourself being pulled to sleep, something yanked on your queue, bringing your head out of the water and causing you to fall onto your back.
“Ow!”
“Skxawng!” You looked up only to regret it when you found Tsu’tey scowling down at you.  “What do you think you are doing?!”
You rolled your eyes and tugged your queue out of his grasp, “Obviously I came to drown myself. Congrats, you just saved the inconvenience.” Tsu’tey frowned, looking incredibly serious. You looked up at him and sighed, “I’m kidding. Do you guys not make depressing jokes now and then? Or is that only a human thing?”
He didn’t respond and you weren’t exactly waiting for one. Instead, you turned away from him and began parting your hair. You didn’t have a comb so running your hands through your thick curls was the best you could do for now. The best you could do at this point was take two strands and begin twisting them.
Tsu’tey appeared next to you, looming and watching you do your hair with a huff, “You’re doing that wrong.”
You glared, “I know how to do my own hair thank you.”
He didn’t move and you ignored him as you kept going with your hair. That was until you felt longer fingers wrap around yours and remove it from your hair.
“Hey—”
You felt his hands in your hair. Instantly, you went to yank yourself away from him only to stop when you felt his fingers move. It wasn’t rough or harsh, it was actually rather careful and precise. Any other day you would’ve shoved him away and told him to never touch your hair again but seeing as his braids were pretty neat and concise, you reconsidered.
Hell, maybe you’ve lost it. You were seriously letting Tsu’tey—the man who hated you the most—do your hair.
Maybe when you died you somehow went into a whole other universe. Yeah, that had to be it.
He was mumbling under his breath in Na’vi. You caught some words here and there like “humans” and “useless” a few times. But other than that his voice had been too quiet and quick for you to understand or at least translate some of the things he was saying.
Eventually, his hands disappeared from your hair. “There.” You watched as he stepped away from you to grab a bow from the ground, stretching his fingers, his face turned away from you so that you couldn’t see his expression.
You felt your hair to find some of it braided while the rest would’ve been left to mat together again. You tugged on it thoughtfully, perhaps you could let them turn into locs. It would be easier anyway. A lot more manageable considering you often forget to do your hair these days.
Next to you, Tsu’tey had also grabbed an arrow and approached the edge of the rock, pointing his bow down at a group of fish floating around the rock the both of you were on. You halfheartedly watched as the arrow flew into the water seconds later and hit one of the fish.
Absentmindedly you tugged on another braid as he went into the water to grab the arrow, “The Tsahik is looking for you.” He took the arrow from the water and yanked the fish off the tip. “She says you should not be up right now but resting. She is very upset at your disappearance.”
You didn’t respond. Tsu’tey looked back at you expectantly and you frowned, “So you came looking for me?”
A part of you was half-joking and half-annoyed when asking the question. You just wanted to be alone for a while. And dealing with Tsu’tey was the last thing you wanted right now.
“Yes,” Tsu’tey responded easily as he threw the dead fish to the spot next to you. You cringed away from it as he drew back another arrow. “And by the time I am done here, you will be coming with me to be checked by her.” You glared at the ground. A beat went by. “I will not take no for an answer. Your wounds are still healing—”
“Can we just, can we wait for a while?” You dropped your hands from your hair and into the waters. “I just—I need a place to breathe, okay? Back there, it’s just too suffocating. And I really don’t want to fight today. I’m too tired, so please…”
You didn’t look at him. But you did hear the arrow release and hit the water. Another beat went by. The waters slushed as he moved, “So you came here. For peace.”
It wasn’t a question but more of a statement like he understood it.
And reluctantly, you nodded in response.
For a while, you were quiet. Both of you. Tsu’tey grabbed the arrow and tossed the fish onto the rock. The water filled the silence, bringing you a sense of comfort in this long silence. You didn’t feel obligated to speak and Tsu’tey didn’t bother to conversate either. A big difference between him and Jake who would probably be talking your ear off with stupid jokes and infuriating jabs.
Not that it wouldn’t help a bit.
But right now, all you felt was exhaustion. Even Tsu’tey allowed himself to appear somewhat tired, at least from what you saw whenever his face was turned in your direction.
 “I thank you.”
You looked at him then, his back was still turned to you as he continued, “For saving my brother. Arvok. The arrow, he could have died if you hadn’t taken it for him. You—”
“Anyone would’ve done it.” You shrugged off, not wanting this type of attention. Especially not from him. What you did may have been somewhat heroic but you sure as hell didn’t feel that way. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“But I will.” Tsu’tey drew his arrow back again. The arrow flew again and hit another fish. “Even when I treated you horribly. You still saved him.”
You frowned and shook your head. His thanks for some reason made you feel worse. You didn’t know why but you wanted it to stop. “Like I said, anyone would’ve done it if they were in my position.”
“Hmph.” Tsu’tey tossed the third fish onto the rock and jumped back onto the rock with you. He grabbed the three fishes by the tail and nodded toward the forest, “Come, we should head back—”
“No.”
You heard him sigh, “Dreamwalker—”
“I can’t go back right now.” You blurted out, your hands clenching into fists as you glared down at your reflection. “I just can’t, okay? I can’t go back and face the pitiful looks Norm will send me. I can’t go back to Neytiri telling me that Eywa saved me or gave some fucking second chance that I had no say in. I can’t go back to hear Jake apologize over and over and over again until I go fucking crazy! I just can’t!”
You buried your face into your hands, not wanting to look at him, not wanting to face the world. All you felt, all you wanted to do was just crawl into a hole and hope that everyone left you alone. You hoped that you could lie down and become stone. You hoped you could become the tragedy that was amid the beautiful Pandora.
You hoped—You hoped—You hoped—
Something within your body told you that you were crying but no tears came.
Half alive and half buried.
Until they bled.
Something heavy landed on top of your head. It took you a moment for you to realize it was a hand—Tsu’tey’s hand. You dropped your hands from your face and frowned, reluctantly looking up at him to find him staring back at you.
God, these people were straightforward when it came to expressing themselves. Even Tsu’tey, who you considered the hardest to read out of the three.
“It is sad.” Tsu’tey squatted down next to you, his hand gently ruffling your hair. Your ears twitched, “I am sorry.”
You were taken aback, to say the least. Never in a million years could you imagine Tsu’tey out of all people, comforting you. Frankly, you never thought he felt anything toward you to enact such a strange reaction from him. And yet you didn’t move. Too afraid that if you flinched then he would take his hand away.
A part of you felt awful that he had to do this. And a part of you…
“You don’t have to do this.” You mumbled.
He huffed, “I do what I want. And I choose to be here. You saved my brother.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to comfort me.” This unyielding guilt was overwhelming, You almost wanted to shove his hand away. “I feel like I’m using you.”
“Then use me.”
You shook your head again, his hand remained firm, “You’re impossible—as usual.”
“Hmph.”
The both of you stayed like this for a while longer. It was getting dark. Creatures would start coming out soon. Perhaps you should stop being so stubborn and move already.
Tsu’tey didn’t say anything though. He was rather still and quiet. You looked over, for a moment wondering if he was asleep.
Only you found his yellow gaze staring at something intensely. Frowning, you followed his gaze.
Floating toward the both of you was an atokirina. Huh, you hadn’t seen one of these in a while. And even now they were still as pretty as you remembered them. Last time there were multiple, but this time it was one.
You stood and Tsu’tey followed seconds after.
Even for this, you remained still. As if moving would somehow scare it off. Tsu’tey must’ve had the same thought, standing as still as a statue next to you as the atokirina floated over your heads. The pure creature hovered over Tsu’tey’s forehead for a bit until it came over to you, tickling your nose.
Tsu’tey watched you and the atokirina in astonishment. It floated between the two of you for a moment before finally floating away.
You watched it in for a moment longer before your arm began to throb. Tsu’tey noticed you rolling your arm back uncomfortably and finally snapped out of his trance, “Is your arm bothering you?”
“A little.” You admitted reluctantly.
With a nod, he grabbed the fish and then the bow as he gestured toward the forest, “Come. We should return now. Mo’at is waiting.”
This time you did not protest. You glanced back toward the direction the atokirina disappeared before finally following after Tsu’tey.
Tumblr media
When you got to Mo’at’s hut, she was already scowling at you. And surprisingly it was rather scary. So much so, that you unconsciously shrunk behind Tsu’tey so you wouldn’t feel any of her wrath. Jake and Neytiri were there as well, for what you did not know, but they appeared to have been waiting for yours and Tsu’tey’s return.
“Well, now we know you are well enough to foolishly run off.” Mo’at huffed as she pointed toward the spot on the floor. “Sit.”
Without waiting for you to respond, Mo’at dragged you to the spot and sat you down on the floor. Tsu’tey remained near the entrance and watched you silently. He hadn’t said anything ever since you started your walk back to their base. You wondered if he was at all bothered about seeing the atokirina. Or if it was on his mind at all.
While Mo’at wiped the dried mush from your arm, Neytiri squatted down next to you, “How are you feeling?”
“I died.” You said dryly. “Other than that, I’m swell.”
Jake sighed from his spot closest to Tsu’tey and the entrance, “Well, her snark’s intact. You sure she’s not back to normal?” You rolled your eyes, Neytiri rubbed your back while glaring at Jake.
“We saw an atokirina,” Tsu’tey spoke for the first time since you left the waterfall. “It came to the demon and I…” He said the rest of his explanation in Na’vi. You frowned, looking at Jake and Neytiri to gauge what exactly he was saying. You watched Neytiri’s ears twitch as her eyes brightened. Then there was Jake who looked completely serious, tail swinging behind him. Mo’at gave nothing away as she added more mush to your arm. You held back a scoff, irritated that you were the only one who couldn’t understand a single word.
“Another sign from Eywa,” Mo’at spoke in English. She looked at you almost knowingly as she continued. “This dreamwalker is here for a reason. Maybe for the same reason, Jakesully had come to us. Or something completely different. Perhaps this is her way of choosing a fourth for you.”
Neytiri perked up instantly, her hand squeezing your good shoulder gently. Jake’s head was bowed, hiding his expression. And Tsu’tey just frowned. And you felt your entire face grow hot. Suddenly you were rather aware of everything around you. If you had been standing, you would’ve fainted.
“Or maybe it’s something else?” You offered, trying to move the conversation forward instead of enduring this awkward and uncomfortable silence.
Mo’at watched all four of your expressions and huffed, “Come. We will just ask the Great Mother ourselves—”
“No, we don’t have to.” Jake stood straighter, tail lashing behind him.
Neytiri stood and sent him a look, “Ma’ Jake—”
But he shook his head, “I’m not doing it. I’m not taking her as a mate. That’s not fair and you know it—”
“And if it is in Eywa’s will?” Mo’at challenged, raising an invisible brow. “What then, Jakesully?”
“Don’t I get a say in this?” You added, already growing irritated by this conversation.
“Yeah, you’re right. You do have a say in this. But I’m gonna make this easy for you.” Jake nodded steely. “We’re fine as three. There is no room for another—especially her.”
“Fuck you!” You snapped, shooting to your feet. “Who the hell do you think you are—”
“Hey, I’m on your side here!” Jake argued. You failed to see the surprised reaction from your outburst, you failed to see the way he raised his hand as if easing you like you were a dangerous animal about to pounce—no you saw that actually. And it only pissed you off even more. “Do you want me to lie and welcome you into my family with open arms just like that? Or do you want the honest truth, Reeds? You value that, right?”
You let out a humorless laugh, skin boiling in anger now, “You really are full of shit, you know that, Sully? So you think it’s okay to just discard me then? As if I don’t have any fucking feelings? Am I just an emotionless body to you, Jake? Am I not supposed to be offended? ‘Especially her’? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”
“That’s enough—” Neytiri started only to be stopped by Mo’at who watched the two of you keenly. Even Tsu’tey didn’t even speak up. He didn’t snap at you nor did he stop Jake. He just watched on in grim silence that neither you nor Jake bothered to notice.
“I’m doing this for you—I’m not sayin’ this just to be an asshole, Reeds!”
“Could’ve fooled me.” You snickered mockingly. Honestly, you had no idea why you were so angry. You were just tired. Tired of him. Tired of this. Tired of all this bullshit. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, Sully, you’re not exactly prize material either, so there. Why don’t you just say that instead of hiding it behind some horse shit—”
“Jesus Christ.” He muttered in disbelief. Jake looked to the sky, struggling to respond. Struggling to string the words together.
But it shouldn’t have been that hard. “You’re right, I do value truth, Sully. So be fucking honest and just spit it out. Enough of the trying to protect me bullshit—I’ve heard enough of it and I don’t need any more of it. Say what you want, do hide now. It’s easy when it comes to me, right?”
You were just angry. So, so angry. You weren’t even sure if this anger deserved to be directed at him. If this anger was even about this conversation. You weren’t even sure why you were fighting so fiercely.
Jake scoffed, “And you think you make being around you easy? You don’t think maybe there’s a reason I blow up at you? You don’t think maybe it’s because you can be a huge asshole sometimes?”
“Oh yeah, this mate shit is going to work out perfectly.” You snorted.
“I can’t mate with someone I don’t love,” Jake spoke more bluntly toward Mo’at, Neytiri, and Tsu’tey. “I don’t know how much more honest I have to be about this. I can’t love someone like her. How can I? Not even a fucking miracle could ever get me to, and that’s the truth. You happy now? Is that what you want to hear?”
The tent was silent by then. Neytiri, in the former of your eye, had her tail lashing behind her. Tsu’tey, who stood further back behind Jake held an unreadable expression instead of his usual severity but offered nothing. Mo’at just waited with her keen eyes on all four of you. She then sighed and shook her head, mumbling something in Na’vi.
You wished you weren’t so affected by his words. “Fine. Don’t love me, Jake.” You wished your heart didn’t sink to the pits of your stomach. You wished your heart wouldn’t take this much hut. You didn’t even want him. You didn’t even want a mate.
But you were knowable. Unlovable.
You’ve always known this. So it shouldn’t have hurt so much for someone to tell you this straight to your face.
“Earn that shit.” You muttered, schooling your face into your usual impassive mask despite your achy eyes. Now you looked to Mo’at who was watching you in particular, “Is that all, Tsahik?”
You failed to see Jake’s shoulders fall and his ears lower, “Reeds—”
Mo’at spoke over him, “I want you back here in two days. Your wound is not fully healed yet.” She then looked at Tsu’tey, her eyes seeming to want something from him, “Is there a problem with that, Olo’eyktan?”
At this, Tsu’tey shook his head stiffly, “No. You are Tsahik. You must continue your work.”
“Mmph.” Mo’at huffed in what appeared to be disappointment. “Then you may leave, dreamwalker.”
You nodded and stalked toward the entrance. Neytiri tried reaching for you but you had been to quick for her grasp to catch, “Ma ‘tanhi…”
Jake avoided your gaze as you passed him, “I’ll see you later, Neytiri.” You stepped out of the hut, not bothering to look back.
After jumping down a few branches and landing on the ground, you found that two warriors were waiting for you on pa’li. One of the warriors guided a pa’li toward you, which you got on without much difficulty.
And without looking back, the pa’li began to move. You were cold. And tired.
Half alive and half buried in the ground.
Tumblr media
“I will make sure my warriors return her safely to the human base,” Tsu’tey spoke stiffly as he ducked out of the hut. Jake watched him go, uneasy about what his mate could’ve been thinking at the moment. It was the most difficult when Tsu’tey was like this. He was hard to read and wouldn’t let up until he confessed to what he was feeling. So, all Jake had to do was wait until then.
But right now, he did know one thing.
Fuck.
He’d gone too far.
Neytiri had watched you go just a few feet from the entrance of the hut and by the time you were long gone she stalked back inside. Jake flinched when her glare stabbed him through his thin skin when it came to her fury, “Why did you do that? Why were you so cruel? Why are you trying to push her away?”
His ears flattened again, “Tiyawn—”
“No!” She shook her head and backed away from his reach. “You humans and hiding your true feelings. I know you, Jake. I know what you said wasn’t true and yet you chose to hurt her anyway. Why? Why do this?”
Jake frowned, his body tensing, “How do you know this isn’t how I feel—”
“Baah!” Neytiri hissed, smacking his shoulder. “Even if what you said was true, you did not need to be cruel! You do not need to hurt her! Do you even care?!”
“Of course I do!” Jake argued. He wasn’t heartless. Of course, he saw how his words affected—continued to affect you.
God, why did you always react that way when it was him? Why did his heart always feel heavy whenever it came to yelling at you these days? You weren’t like this with Tsu’tey, you always fired back. Why was it different with him? “What I said was true. I am doing this for her! I’m trying to protect her—”
“From what?” Neytiri hissed as if the words he was saying were false. “No more excuses, Ma’ Jake, what is it that you are so afraid of?!”
How did she do it? How did she fiercely protect you like this without a care in the world? How did she fiercely care about you without being frightened of the consequences? “You weren’t there when Artsut threatened her life.” At this Neytiri faltered, her ears lowering slightly but Jake continued before she could interrupt her again, “She’s already being pulled into this mess with the clans. What happens if Artsut, a woman with great influence within this clan, comes for her? What happens when we take another human mate that she doesn’t approve of? What then? It’ll be our fault that Reeds becomes ruined. It’ll be our fault for not being careful—”
“That is not for us to decide,” Neytiri told him bluntly but her face softened—only a bit. “Your heart comes from a good place but your words are misguided.” She gingerly grew closer to him until her hand could reach the curve of his cheek as she gently caressed it. “Make this right. Enough of this fighting. Can’t you see she’s tired?”
Mo’at, who had been crushing some herbs in a bowl, did not refute her daughter’s wise words.
Jake was outnumbered. But he was also tired too.
Tumblr media
You came back to Hell’s Gate to find a white sheet over your former body, right in the middle of a nearly empty room.
Cry. Just cry. Cry.
Instead, you stayed in that silent room. You did not look away from the body.
Half alive and half buried in the ground.
All you needed was a tombstone.
Tumblr media
boom! chapter 9! this one chapter i was definitely nervous to write because we see jake and reeds at, in my opinion, their worst in their slowly developing relationship and a peek at the beginning of tsu'tey and reeds' future relationship.
hope you enjoyed it! chapter 10 should be coming soon!
Tumblr media
(i'm not adding any more people anymore!)
taglist: @doggyteam2028 @bigbootahjudy @innercreationflower @n7cje @celi-xxmoon @readerofallthingss @sillyblues @saturnhas82moons @1mawh0re @aprosiacperson @loserwithnofriends @garfieldsladybird @slutforsmut4ever @lik0
Tumblr media
570 notes · View notes
snailmail444 · 4 months
Note
ohhh, can you do hcs for what the sdv bachelors say during sex?
Bachelor Volume Headcannons
18+ 🌱 NSFW 🌱 MDNI
PART II of the double feature!!! Happy New Year lmao I hope you enjoy this filth 😈 shoutout to @hopefuloverfury who did a HOT bachelor volume headcannon list very recently that I ate UP. Check that out Here
Poll said post as you finish and I had this finished so here you are everyone. As always, MDNI, NSFW content under the cut.
Tumblr media
Harvey-
💚 Kinda loud, tbh.
💚 I envision him as captain dad noise already, so I think during sex it carries over and he’s groaning and grunting these hot gravelly moans.
💚 Genuinely. I could go on about the sounds this man is sure to make. Because DAMN. Somebody get him into ASMR sex audios he’d make a fortune.
💚 Now that said I don’t see him as much of a dirty talker.
💚 It doesn’t come naturally to him. He’ll do a bit and try his best to appease you if you’re into it, and he’s definitely a person who could learn, but it’s never been easy for him and won’t be.
💚 Gets too in his head about if what he said was hot or if it was weird. Takes him out of it worrying that he’s taken you out of it. Which, relatable.
💚 But he does know through empirical evidence that his sex noises are hot, so he doesn’t hold back. Especially if you two are going at it rough, or you’re sucking him off, it’s obscene.
💚 Will praise you with that same sultry rasp, because that’s another thing he thinks is safely in the always-hot category.
💚 Such a good job baby, feels so good, etc. Can never go wrong.
💚 Loud to the point his voice cracks when he cums 😇
Elliott-
❤️ My hot take is that I think Elliott would say the filthiest things you’ve ever heard during sex.
❤️ HEAR ME OUT!!!
❤️ I just think that as a man who is incredibly well read he knows what’s hot. And he’s not afraid to say it, either.
❤️ Especially with some of those dime novels that are his guilty pleasure, he’s picked up a thing or two.
❤️ Of course it’s still in a very Elliott way, but he’s a dirty talk king.
❤️ He’ll be worshiping your body while he details everything he wants to do to you. How he’s going to mark you with hickies where everybody can see that you’re his, how hard he’s going to ravage you with his cock, how many times he’s going to make you cum, etc.
❤️ Matches it with equal praise and romantic lines, too. It’s all about balance, and he wants to fuck you like a beast while still reminding you that you’re precious to him.
❤️ Grunts and huffs and moans, but not a lot unless he’s right about to cum. Man’s got more important uses for his mouth!!
❤️ Kind of irrelevant, but I see him as the type to passionately fuck you against the door to his cabin or overtop his writing desk or deep into the mattress. It’s not often that the furniture isn’t creaking and knocking in time to his thrusts.
Alex-
🤎 Okay so another hot take. But I think Alex is secretly incredibly shy and romantic.
🤎 Empirical evidence includes: his heart events imply that he puts on the machismo front as a defense mechanism, and he was raised by the most lovey-dovey old people you’ve ever seen.
🤎 SO. I think he would be very sweet in the way he talks in bed.
🤎 Lots of softness and nerves, but he’s still kinda noisy.
🤎 Tries to muffle himself because he’s embarrassed about making too much noise, but he can’t help it.
🤎 He’ll be about to tell you how good you’re doing, how much he loves it, and his words will warp off into a whimper because it’s too much.
🤎 I feel very strongly that he is a whimperer. I’m sorry. It makes sense.
🤎 Especially with his insane physical endurance he ends up overstimulating himself because he can’t get enough.
🤎 Like he can go a third round, sure, but he’s overstimulated and his voice is cracking and his cheeks are bright pink with exertion.
🤎 Lowkey he’d love it though I mean let’s be real. Let’s be so real. He wants to come until he’s crying. And he will.
🤎 Please don’t come for me abt this it’s just my take.
Shane-
💙 The curse words. The curse words.
💙 Listen. This man is already somebody who swears a lot so in bed? He’s letting FLY.
💙 Fuck that’s so good, you’re so goddamn tight, holy shit that’s hot, et cetera.
💙 Not much for moans but he does grunt so like. Same difference?
💙 Like it’s not that he’s stifling himself he just grunts and groans and swears instead of moans
💙 No whimpering I’m afraid 😔
💙 But he makes UP in dirty talk good lord.
💙Since he’s not a mean person just prickly from his defenses he’s well practiced in being mean even when he’s not.
💙 So ladies gentlemen and those of us that know better, we’ve got the makings of the PERFECT mean dom
💙 Dirty little slut, you’re so fuckin’ pathetic for it, beg on your knees just for the privilege, I could Go On.
💙 Only like that if you want it of course, but like with his gravelly sex voice asking if you think you’ve earned the right to cum yet? Somebody take me AWAY.
💙 Cums with a bit of a yell.
Sam-
🩷 It’s been said before I know.
🩷 But I must also agree. Sam is the loudest in bed. Far and away.
🩷 Good LUCK getting him to shut up honestly, between his whines and whimpers and moans he’s either apologizing for his lack of control or thanking you profusely for letting him hit.
🩷 Because Sam genuinely can’t control himself when he’s fucking half his vocabulary consists of sorry. He wanted to do it slow and sweet, but fuck, you’re so hot and tight around his cock he’s pounding you instead and he’s really sorry but he just can’t help himself.
🩷 I don’t see him swearing much tbh, not unless he’s completely fuck drunk. If he’s not babbling some pseudo-polite good boy nonsense, he’s whining. Maybe the stray shit or fuck, but not to excess.
🩷 Also throws in a ton of compliments. You’re so hot, you feel so good, you sound so beautiful, and so on. I just see him as an open complimenter, and when his mental circuit board is on overload he’s unable to stop himself.
🩷 Gag this man. Do it. I dare you.
🩷 He’ll be moaning and whimpering and drooling all around the gag, his eyebrows drawn up and in, eyes pleading for you to let him moan properly.
🩷 The most pathetic man you’ve ever seen and all because he can’t whine for you. God somebody just take me away, lock me up.
Sebastian-
🖤 King of being amused by how turned on you are.
🖤 He’s chuckling, huffing, asking incredulous rhetorical questions like “yeah? Already?”
🖤 I could see him falling hard and fast, so he’s probably using his dry sense of humor to hide how fucking gone he already is.
🖤 Because emotional vulnerability isn’t his thing so it gives him some distance while still allowing him to enjoy how fucking hot and adorable everything you do is.
🖤 As far as his own sounds, though, he’s not moaning or whining a whole lot.
🖤 He does whisper a lot of swear words, and he’s HEAVY on the panting, as a consolation prize.
🖤 Dirty talk gets a little spicy with him just because he lives to tease. He’s not the heaviest dirty talker even on this list, but he can definitely turn up the heat.
🖤 Lowkey I can see him being a hand holder because he can’t help himself. He can only keep his affections at bay so much.
🖤 And I bring that up only because he’d lose his breath the moment your fingers twined with his and reward you with a soft, stuttering moan.
🖤 Definitely bites you to keep from making noise when he comes. He’d probably end up whining if he didn’t.
Tumblr media
844 notes · View notes
lovelyverosika · 2 months
Text
I keep thinking about his angel eyes
Hazbin Hotel! Adam x Fem!reader
Part 3 —> Part 1 | Part 2
Warnings: talk about self hate
Tumblr media
A/N: Here is the part 3 everyone wished for. I decided to make a total of 4 parts, so you sadly still need to wait a bit for the end :,) Like always I’m sorry for any grammar mistakes.
Y/N POV:
I found myself in a room similar to a movie theater. I’m not able to move a single muscle in my body. Suddenly a movie started playing, memories of my life in heaven or more specially about Adam and me. I smiled and felt all warm and fuzzy inside as the memories of our growing relationship were displayed right in front of me.
The first time we met, how we fought at work, how we began to spend more time with each other, our first dates and how he took his mask down for the first time. This may sound exaggerated but that was the proof of how much he trusts me and oh lord was he gorgeous. His golden eyes had me captured the moment I looked into them…his beautiful angel eyes. Nothing was more beautiful than seeing his true emotions reflect in them. Everyone knew him as "The first man" or the self quoted "Dick master" but I know it better. Deep down he’s a insecure soul who’s desperate for admiration and affection, especially after loosing his two previous wives to the same man.
Of course he was a total asshole when I first met him but he changed for the better and that out of his own will, that is something not everyone is willing to do. In a flash of seconds more memories were shown: Our first kiss, anniversary and lastly our wedding. It was a very magnificent day, I never ever thought I will find a lover let alone get married to someone. Everything was just perfect until the court accident today.
Suddenly everything went black. I don’t know where I am or what to feel, this is stranger than any dream or nightmare I ever had. I slowly stood up as a sudden blow of cold air hit me. I wrap my arms around myself as I start walking around in this strange void. All I can hear is my own heartbeat,breathing and the sound of my heels clicking on the ground. After what felt like an eternity I found a single white door in the middle of this nowhere.
Not knowing what else I should do I open the door and enter another black space with a single mirror standing in the middle. This is all so strange and overwhelming I couldn’t prevent myself from tearing up..pathetic that’s what I am. I took a deep breath and walked towards the mirror. I looked like an absolute mess with my eyes puffy from all the crying.
Suddenly the reflection changed in how I used to look like back then in hell. "Helloooo, redeemed or not I’ll always be a part of you.”, my reflection said. I was completely stunned…how is that even possible? "Do you remember what you used to tell your friends back then in hell? You said and I quote: You don’t need to be perfect to be worthy of being loved or deserving a better life. Everyone deserves a second chance and that goes for you too." My old self gave me a big smile and I couldn’t help but smile too.
In a way she is right but accepting yourself is much harder than people say. It takes lots of time, patience and willingness. My reflection gave me a look full of pity before she started to speak. "You probably think he will leave you, hm? Of course that can be an option but would he really? It’s like Rosie said it’s difficult to admit things you’re not proud of but you’re still you. The fact you used to be a demon doesn’t change the person you really are, the person he grew to love and cherish. It seems like we’re running out of time..it was nice seeing the person I became. You’re much stronger than you think.", she chuckled and waved at me. "Farewell Y/N..it’s time to wake up now. Emily must be going insane from how much she worries about you."
My reflection disappeared and left me with a warm feeling inside my heart. With a smile on my face I walked through the mirror and woke up in a bed, which must belong to Emily. In less than a few seconds Emily wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tightly. "You’re awake, I was so scared you wouldn’t wake up.", she said while sniffing onto my chest. I couldn’t help but smile, she’s such a sweetheart. "Shh, I’m here now.", I said while patting her back.
Part 4
369 notes · View notes
glassartpeasants · 2 months
Text
I was doing a writing warm-up and made this piece. I kinda like it and might make a fic series about it if anyone is interested. Also, I call Kid 'Eustass' in this because it felt right for some reason?
Eustass Kid/ Trafalgar Law x F!Reader
warnings: Angst, small amount of blood, cheating, slut shaming maybe? Modern Au
~~~
“Does he think I’m a fucking idiot?! Does he think I can’t see the way his eyes follow girls’ asses as they walk by?” Gripping the edge of the bathroom sink, you struggle to hold back tears as you talk to your best friend on the other line.
“What am I doing wrong (....)? I’ve done everything right! I gave him all of me, and he’s out here eyeing other women!”
“That’s just the way he is (Y/N). I tried to warn you about him. You can’t change someone who doesn’t want to change.” You bite your lip as your body shakes. Emotion overwhelmed you to the point you could no longer hold back tears.
“I don’t understand. He told me he loved me and that he couldn’t imagine a life without me. He made me a matching ring to his. He promised me that his playboy days were over…”
“Well, if he’s staring at other girls, then obviously he broke his promise.”
~~~
You're feeling a lot more numb than you thought you would. At first, you thought you’d be yelling, crying, and screaming. Asking him why? But now that you're actually hearing his moans along with an unknown woman's echoing in your shared bedroom, no tears fall from your eyes. 
Maybe your heart and mind were mentally and emotionally ready for this. There were many signs he was starting to stray. Staring at other women, no longer being affectionate in public, you even saw him take off his ring once. He hasn’t done it again, but that was the last straw your heart could take when you tried to ignore the signs.
You should've known it’d end like this. He’s been a fuck boy all throughout high school and college. Slithering his way into vulnerable hearts and crushing them without a care about the people he’s heart. How you’ve been friends with him for so long and knowing what he was doing was something you criticized yourself for. 
While you weren’t best friends during high school and college, you both always had a class together. The two of you just ended up talking during each of them. Well, him hitting on you and you always telling him that you rather swim in hell’s flames than get with him. All throughout high school and college, he’d do this. In a way, you said no to avenge all the hearts he’s broken. But once college started, you accidentally started growing feelings for the idiot. Yet, you still said no until graduation day. He came up to you with a bouquet of roses made of metal that he made in shop class. Every rose was made individually, letting you pluck one out and hold it in your hands. Everyone in said class said he’d been working on it forever. Throwing away and remaking it more times than anyone could count. All to make sure it was perfect. It was then that you finally said yes. No one had done anything so thoughtful for you before. 
But when you told your best friend the news, she wasn’t happy.
“What?!”
“Listen, I know it sounds stupid-”
“That’s because it is stupid (Y/N)! We both know his past and how he still was before you agreed to go out with him! How are you sure he isn’t gonna do the same shit to you?!”
“He’s been asking me for years and actually made me this metal bouquet of flowers. Aren’t they beautiful, though?” Showing her the flowers, you watch her sigh. 
“What happens when he breaks your heart? What will you do then?” You were silent as you looked away from her. Her hands go to your shoulders, and it makes you look at her. 
“I just don’t want you crying over someone like him. I’m just worried about you, okay?”
“I know. Thank you for watching out for me. I’m going to give him a chance. Maybe he’s ready to grow up? But if I get my heart broken. Then you’ll get to say, ‘I told you so’.” Laughing at the last part, you pull (.....) into a hug and enjoy how you could always rely on her to be by your side.
Your eyes caught the metal bouquet on the kitchen table. The sun hit it just right to where it shined in your eyes. Furrowing your brows, an immediate disgust came over you as you looked at them. The one thing that had you thinking he’d changed was laughing at you and calling you a fool for falling for it.
Turning away from the bedroom door, you carefully and quietly walked to the metal sculpture. You pull one of the roses out from the vase they resided in and look at it. You twirled it with your fingers before gripping it tightly. Using your other hand, you encase the metal rosebud with the palm of your hand before twisting it harshly. 
The sharp metal cut into your hand as you ripped off the rose head. A small hiss escaped you, yet you continued. Putting down the first destroyed rose, you move on to the second one. Then the third, fourth, fifth, until every single rose had been ripped apart. By the time you were finished, the stems of the flowers were scattered across the kitchen table, as well as the blood-covered roses. A good representation of a broken heart if you say so.
You could still hear the moans coming from the bedroom, and the more you listened and paid attention, the more you swore you recognized the tone of voice. Tip-toeing to the door, you place your ear against the wood. Taking a few seconds, you listen carefully to try to pinpoint who it could be.
“Eustass~”
As soon as the words were heard, you felt your world shatter. That was (.....)’s voice. That was (.....) in there fucking your boyfriend. And your boyfriend was cheating on you with your best friend. The two people you cared about the most stabbing you in the back. It’s even worse knowing that (.....) was cheating on her own boyfriend, Trafalgar Law. The smartest person you’ve ever met. He was valedictorian in high school and had the highest grades in college. He's now a world known respected doctor who’s saved so many lives. Everything he’s done, and this is what happens to him? How could Eustass and (.....) pull this on you and Law?
A rage washed over you as soon as you heard her moan his name again. Grabbing your phone from your pocket, you unlock it and call Law. You thankfully had his number after a project you guys did together a month before college ended, and you just never remembered to delete it. 
“Come on, Law. Pick up.” Whispering, you cross your fingers.
“(Y/N)-ya? Why are you-”
“I really need you to stay on the line, okay? I’m going to facetime you now, alright?”
“What? Why? (Y/N)-ya, I have to go back to work-”
“(.....)’s cheating on you with my boyfriend right now as we speak. Don’t believe me? Listen!” You put your phone against the door, and all you heard was silence on Law’s side of the phone. A groan of (.....)’s name leaving Eustass’s mouth finally made you snap.
“That’s it!” Busting open the door, your met with a half-naked Eustass and a very naked (.....).
“Shit (Y/N)!”
“(Y/N)! It’s not what it looks like!” Clutching your phone tightly in your hand, you finally feel your anger bubble over.
“Don’t pull that shit with me! If your gonna be a backstabbing whore at least admit it! Fucking my boyfriend?! The boyfriend you hated?! Did you just want to fuck him the whole time?! How long has this been going on?!” You watched as (.....) scrambled to get her clothes on, and Eustass pushed his dick back in his pants.
“This is the only time it’s happened, I swear!”
“This is all an accident (Y/N), okay? I promise-”
“Oh, so your dick accidentally found its way into her? I don’t believe that for a second! And don’t tell me about your bullshit promises!” You can feel the cut on your hand finally start to sting as blood starts to puddle against the floor. The cut must have been much deeper than you originally thought.
“You're bleeding! (Y/N) are you okay?!-”
“Oh, don’t act like you care (.....)! If you actually cared, you wouldn’t be fucking my boyfriend in my bed! If you actually had a fucking heart, you wouldn’t have cheated on Law either!” The mention of Law's name has a look of horror appear on (.....)'s face.
“Please don’t tell him (Y/N)! I love him, and I don’t want him to leave me!”
“I’m breaking up with you.” (.....)’s face dropped when she realized Law heard everything. Tears start pouring down her face.
“That makes two of us.” You take off the ring Eustass gave you before walking over to (.....) Plopping it into her hand, you look at her with hatred and a disgusted smile.
“Obviously, this was meant for you since he loves you so much he can’t stop saying your name.” You grab the bag you left by the bedroom door before turning around and start to collect things around the apartment that you need.
“I’ll make sure to tell the landlord that my name’s off the lease and that I’ll gather my things tomorrow morning.” Holding everything you could gather at the moment, you make your way to the front door.
“Where do you think you're going?!” You feel Eustass grab your wrist and bring you closer to him. Looking into his eyes, you see panic, fear, and anger swirling around in them. 
“Leaving, obviously! I’m not gonna stay and shatter my heart more after seeing a man I loved, wanted to marry even, fucking my now ex-best friend.” The panic grew more evident as he pulled you to his chest. Both arms wrapped around you so you couldn’t leave.
“You can’t leave, alright! I know I fucked up, but please, let’s talk about this. She means nothing to me! She’s just some slut-”
“A slut you fucked knowing you were taken.” Tears started spilling from your eyes as you felt him hold you closer. 
“Why? Why would you do this to me? Why’d you say you loved me when you out fucking my best friend? How dare you hold me close and act like the stench of sex and her perfume isn’t surrounding you?”
“I’m outside in the car (Y/N).” Hearing Law’s voice shocked you as you remember you never hung up on him. He was so quiet, and you heard nothing on the other side of the line. Having him even show up was surprising, but you weren’t gonna throw away this opportunity to get away from Eustass and (.....). 
“Alright, be right there-”
“No, she won’t! Fuck off, Trafalgar, and take your bitch with you!” Eustass grabbed your phone and hung up before throwing your phone on the couch.
“Eustass! Are you-” You feel one of his hands push your head to his. His lips met yours, and you could feel the urgency in his kisses.
“Please don’t…leave me…” Kissing your between words only had your heart shattering more. How could he kiss you like he loves you after pulling a stunt like this?
It took almost everything inside you not to dig your fingers into his hair and kiss him back. You wanted it all to be a dream and that when you woke up, you’d be sleeping against his chest. 
Putting your hand against his bare chest, you feel his bare skin against your open wound. It made him pull away from his panicked kisses when he felt your bloody hand on his chest.
“Jesus (Y/N)! What happened?!”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Stay here, I’m grabbing bandages!” Letting you go, you see him rush to the bathroom. Taking this chance, you grab your phone and start running out the door. Anything you can carry in tow, you run down the stairs as you hear (.....) scream your name and Eustass yelling at you to stop. 
But who was he to tell you what to do?
Bursting out the apartment complex’s door, you see Law’s car parked waiting for you. Using all your strength, you run as fast as you can. Grabbing the car door, You swung it open before slamming it shut. Everything you brought with you on your lap.
“Drive!” Wasting no time, Law stomps on the gas, and as you see Eustass run out of the apartment, watching you and Law drive away.
~~~
If you guys do want this to be an actual fic series, let me know cause this concept is quite interesting to me.
354 notes · View notes
januaryrabbit · 11 months
Text
how seventeen would act around their s/o while drunk heheee
pairing: seventeen x gn reader, established relationship, fluff
word count: 1.8k
warnings: alcohol, cursing, mentions of sleeping over and physical affection w/ the boys but it’s meant in a fluffy context, not a suggestive/mature one!
other disclaimers: lowercase intended, probably typos, setting is hanging out with all the boys and with you!!!!!
a/n: i just realized in my wip post i said "crush" instead of "s/o"........WOOPS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BUT ANYWAY hello everyone, i’m finally back with another post! i;m sorry for the very long hiatus, i p much always have something going on in my life lol @-@ but i have time now to actually write!!! i hope you enjoy this one hehe -mina
✩‧₊˚clingy drunks:
mingyu: this man will not leave you alone. he is in love with you. and he’s cheesy! in a sweet way :) will kiss your hand every few mins, lean on you, or put his arm around you so you lean on him hehe. i think he would also want you to reciprocate the clinginess too hehe,,,it makes him feel loved :3 i can see him moving your hand to his hair to ask you to play with it, and if you stopped, he would just take your hand and put it back in his hair LOl. he strikes me as someone who would take care of you (kinda like how he takes care of drunk hoshi hehe) and makes sure you're ok, even if he's drunk himself :]
seungcheol: omg omg HES GOING TO DOTE ON YOU SO MUCH!!! “jagi are you ok” “jagi do you need water” “jagi i’ll walk you to the bathroom, be careful”...he doesn’t realize that he himself is wobbling around and spilling water, LMAO. he just wants to help his baby!!! would def ask where you’re going if you get up, ask you to stay over with him, etcetc. would always have an arm around you and constantly LOL. would also go on a random rant about how protective he is of you HAHAHA!! like “Y/N . IF ANYONE MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. TELL ME RIGHT AWAY . I WILL DEFEND YOU TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH  EVEN IF IT’S MY OWN FRIENDS I DONT CARE WHO I HAVE TO BEAT UP (svt: BRO WTF?????) . GOD I LOVE U SOMUCH .” pls give him some water and a kiss!!!
junhui: i don’t think he’d necessarily be like talkative or doting, but i think he’s the type to just want to be around you and would sit really close to you :3 he almost gives me like Protective Bf vibes in the way that he’d just wanna be by your side to make sure you’re feeling ok too. plus, junnie just likes your company! i can picture him sending a lot of smiles toward you every few minutes because he’s so happy you;re his partner and he feels so comfy with you next to him :) also he likes leaning his head on your shoulder and he WILL show you cat pics the entire night…..pls comment on all of them or he’ll get sad. he also gives me the vibes of someone who has lazy days with his s/o after a night of drinking hehe…napping, hotpot and movies :)))
✩‧₊˚loud/emotional/(verbally) affectionate drunks:
soonyoung: MESSY U WILL HAVE TO CARE HIM !!!! did you see him on lee youngji’s show?? so cuteeee :( he would just shower you w/ affection heheh. im picturing him hugging you from behind like how he hugged the ice in the youngji ep and he would nestle his head into the crook of your neck and reach over to kiss your cheek :3c he would announce like every 20min how much he loves you to the whole room like "THIS IS MY PARTNER I LOVE THEM VERY MUCH THANKS!!!" and would post blurry pics of the two of you on his story with typos "i lvoe tehfm sonmchch" HAHA!! youll definitely have to sober up to take care of him hehe. would definitely start crying bc he loves you so much and YOU have to comfort him……you and mingyu get him to the car that night because he can’t walk by himself. the next morning hes like babe that was so fun round 2 of drinking tonight???????????? (horanghae pose)
seungkwan: BRUH KWAN GETS INTO (JOKE) ARGUMENTS WHILE HE’S DRUNK I HAVE NO DOUBTS!!! 90% of the time he’s trying to pick a fight with mingyu or chan i just know it I KNOW IT TO BE TRUE!! but with his s/o, i think he’s the type to be like HONEY THIS ONE IS FOR YOU and he starts belting a love ballad and singing directly to you HAHA!!! (vernon: why are u always trying to outsing everyone. no one else is singing.) seungkwan ignores vern’s comment and keeps going tho. he almost moves himself to tears by how much he loves you and how much love he’s pouring into his performance LOL. you tell him you love him too and that he doesnt have to sing VERY LOUDLY IN PUBLIC to profess his love !!! its not that serious pls sit down!!! and hes like MY LOVE FOR YOU IS SERIOUS . and that’s how you end up with a pouty and drunk kwan!!!!!!!!!
chan: oh my sweet chan,,he would just shower you with affection LMAO like “i love you. you’re amazing. you look so beautiful right now, you know that?” type of thing. he’s just the biggest simp hehe. i think hes also the type to just wanna have fun, he'd prob cheer you on if you took a shot like FUCK YEAH BABE GO OFF!!!! but i also think that he would be doing EVERYTHING for you. "i'll pour your shot!!!!! don't lift a finger SERIOUSLY!!!!!" asks you every 30min if youve had water. (you: yes. i had some 30min ago. when you GAVE ME SOME.) gets you snacks. if you needed to throw up he WILL hold your hair with a drink in the other hand (for him)!!!! he also helps you put your jacket on at the end of the night. it doesn't matter how drunk he is, he's firm on taking care of YOU!!! <3
✩‧₊˚(physically) affectionate drunks:
wonwoo: he’s all smiles for you hehe. clings onto your arm whenever you’re near him. he wouldn't be too loud or anything, but i think he'd shyly whisper compliments to you now and then about how you look nice or how much he loves you. i think he’d be one of the more chill people, he just feels happier than usual bc of the alcohol hehehhe. usually, wonu is pretty good at keeping himself composed when you show him affection. but when he’s drunk, i think he’d react a little more…he strikes me as someone who’s more verbally/physically affectionate when it’s just you two, but around friends/family he tones it down. but when he’s drunk i think he would be comfortable having you sit on his lap or having an arm around you <3
jihoon: i am convinced lee jihoon is a different man when he’s drunk!!!!!!!!!  i have a hot-ish take when it comes to drunk uji…omg woozi would SOOOO open up physically and emotionally to you..and he’d be the type to always, Always have an arm around your waist and constantly hold your hand, looking at you with a smile that leads all the way up to his eyes. he’s someone who has dealt with a lot in his life, but in this moment, he’s so grateful to be here with his friends, and someone he loves that also loves him for who he is. the reason i think he’d be like this is juts because like. he doesn’t drink much, but when he does, feelings he’s been keeping to himself finally come up to the surface. also his face, neck and ears are constantly bright red because of the alcohol LOL. but ALSO they'd be red the next day when he realizes how he behaved in front of you hehe…. don't tease him too much about it or he'll die of embarrassment!
seokmin: dont ask me why bc idk but i think he would ruffle your hair constantly because youre so cute. then he would get distracted and talk to the bros for a bit, look at you again and remember how cute you are and ruffle it again sorry i dont make the rules!!!!!!! dk is definitely the loud/funny drunk hehe…hes the type to be giggly/try to make everyone laugh :) but i think he’d definitely try to make you laugh the most !! mostly in terms of physical affection though, i think he’d just dote on you a lot…like you know in the dingo video how he kept kissing woozi??? yeah he does that to you. along with the hair ruffles. and the attempts to get you to laugh. good luck. you’re going to drown in affection from this man LOL. 
✩‧₊˚happy/chill drunks:
vernon: HE WILL CARE YOU this man is all vibes. he’s just here to have a good time lol. you’ll probably be the drunk one who needs to be taken care of :3 but if he was somehow convinced to get really drunk, i think he would still just be vibes. but happier vibes. i think he would just laugh at everything and keep a hand constantly on your knee heheh. also i think he would encourage seungkwan’s antics more when he’s drunk i’m just saying .
minghao: minghao is just relishing in the moment of enjoying his time with his friends and partner~ he doesn't strike me as someone who drinks much, kinda like vernon. he'd be more focused on having a good time with everyone! i think he's the type to have hangover remedies ready for you at home for the next day. i think he would also be the type of bf to know when to cut you off LMAO like “y/n’s had 4 shots….hyung STOP pouring them another one!!!!!!!!” he just seems like he'd be prepared to take care of his partner :) you're so lucky!! he’s also the type to observe you and take pictures/videos if you’re doing something funny while you’re drunk LMAO!!!!
joshua: josh is a giggly drunk i have no doubts. also in the dingo video that man was RED af!!! would probably be like “im fine im SO SOBER RIGHT NOW…BABE TELL THEM HOW SOBER I AM!!!” he is not sober. i also think he would be the type to compare hands with you LMAO. you’re just like ???? you know how big both our hands are???? you’re literally my bf???? and hes like I JUST WANTED TO CHECK OK!!! tbh he seems so fun to be around LMAO like he on the way to the hangout hes like “babe lets match each other if u drink i drink” and ur like HELLO SIR???????? WHO IS DRIVING US HOME?????? (jeonghan does and he sleeps over.)  he just wants to have FUN and let loose with the homies and his partner!!!! consequences are for TOMORROW, y/n!!!!!! (he might start sulking if you don’t agree to match him but it’s fine you both know your limits hehe)
jeonghan: i see him as someone who doesn’t go too wild when drinking. kinda like vernon and minghao, i think he’s more there for vibes than getting fucked up lol. if anything, he’s doting on you because he finds you so cute, especially when you’re drunk hehehe. HE would be the one to ask you to do aegyo or something and when you do he just dies of cuteness lmao. i think he would also tease you in silly ways, like convincing you that he and s.coups are actually long lost brothers who found each other in college, or that seungkwan is a natural blonde. and of course you believe him which is the funniest shit ever to him!!!! LMAO!!!!! your shock and wonder at his blatant lies is the cutest thing to him. don’t worry tho he’ll tell you the next day nothing he said was true, except for when he said he loves you :)
2K notes · View notes
lovebugism · 7 months
Note
Spoooooky request, what if the gang went to a haunted house and everyone made fun of reader for being scared, but Steve holds her hand and walks with her 👻
thanks for requesting angel! i switched it up a bit and did a sort of second part to this fic! you def don't have to read it but it'll give some context :D — you're still getting used to the world post-vecna, but it's easier with steve holding your hand
fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)
The haunted house off Fifth Street looks strangely familiar. Two stories, faded cornflower paint job, boarded up windows. It looks like a dollhouse from hell. It looks like the goddamn Creel House. It’s like some kind of sick joke.
It didn’t take Hawkins very long to recover from last spring. Mostly because it was just an earthquake to everyone else. No one died, nothing was ruined beyond repair. To the rest of the town, it was just a minor natural disaster — an inconvenience more than anything.
No one knows that a thirteen-year-old girl killed the monster trying to end the world. No one knows that the local freak nearly died saving a bunch of teenagers. No one knows that one song, one heavy metal guitar, and one good memory just narrowly saved your life. 
It’s secrets all of you are gonna have to keep for the rest of your lives. It weighs you down accordingly.
“Am I crazy, or is that…?” Robin trails off, freckled chin tilted towards the velvet blue sky as she gapes at the artificially rotted house. It glows a sickly green color on the outside. The windows light up red every now and then, in time with the screams echoing from the upper story.
“Yeah,” Nancy answers, breathless and equally dumbfounded. “I think it is.”
A beat of silence falls over the group of you. It doesn’t feel so heavy with the surrounding chatter. The crowd continues to bustle around you on the street, falling over themselves with laughter and lingering fright. They have no idea the ghost story they grew up with nearly destroyed the world.
The bitter realization makes your chest ache. Steve seemingly understands this and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. You wonder if he can feel the way you tremble.
Eddie scoffs a cynical laugh from the other side of you. A pink, sadistic grin tugs at his lips, almost as wild as his curls billowing in the autumn breeze. “It’s basically kismet then, huh?”
Steve shoots the boy a half-hearted glare, then deflates because he realizes he can’t really be mad about it. Those damn demobats might’ve taken a pound of flesh from his stomach, but it’s nowhere near the feast they made out of Munson.
“C’mon on, dude,” he murmurs quietly with a subtle nod down at you.
“What?” Eddie snorts. “If I don’t laugh bout it, I’ll start crying, so… Take your pick, man.”
Steve wants to tell him that there’s no shame in crying. That he’s done it plenty of times since the fall of ’84. He’s cried for you, for himself, for the kids who will never get to be kids again. He figures it’s better than letting it all build up until you damn near explode. 
But now’s probably not the best time for that talk. Or any time, really. He’ll get you to get all serious and sappy with Eddie about that another time, just like you did for him.
“I’m gonna, uh— I’m gonna go get the tickets,” Jonathan murmurs with his usual Byers mumblings. 
He wasn’t around for the whole Vecna ordeal — just the weird shit in California and the secret lair thing in Nevada. He feels like he can be a bit braver about the whole thing for the four of you.
Nancy brushes a kiss to the boy’s cheek before he leaves. She does that a lot now, with Jonathan and all the rest of you. She always feels like she needs to say a proper goodbye and I love you whenever someone leaves. Just in case the world decides to end again.
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Steve mutters to you, gaze twinkling with sincerity but stern still. “You know that, right?”
He knows that you know, but he feels the need to say it anyway. Mostly because he knows you were already scared of most things before everything went to shit. You’ve always been delicate, tender, like an open wound. Now, you can’t step outside without shaking. You’re always shuddering with the distant fear that the curse might return and no one will be there to save you.
Steve knows this, too. That’s why he holds so ardently to your trembling hand. It’s a silent reminder that he’s there, that he won’t let anything happen to you again, that he’ll always be around to save you when you need him.
“Oh, my god,” Robin groans, eyes wide and head tilted back. “Leave her alone, Steve! She’s fine!”
You know she’s just trying to be supportive. She thinks Steve’s coddling you because you’re quiet — that he’s sticking up for you because he thinks you can’t stick up for yourself. 
He is. And you can’t. But still, she’s only trying to help.
Steve looks to his left to glare at her. They seem to communicate telepathically for a moment. His eyes soften again when he turns back to you. His deep cinnamon gaze swims with a honeyed concern, a silent “Are you fine?”
You nod. “I’m okay,” you tell him, mustering a soft smile that wavers at the edges.
He doesn’t believe you, not completely, but he doesn’t press it any further.
Jonathan returns with the ticket stubs. They’re black and blood red. You take the one he gives you with hesitant, clammy hands. He seems to notice how terrified you are without you having to say a single goddamn word.
“I’m not a huge fan of these things either,” he confesses with a thin-lipped smile. A light-hearted way of telling you that you’re not alone in the fear you keep hidden (very poorly hidden, you figure).
You smile back at him, but it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. 
Your fingers fidget with the paper stub — maybe a distraction for yourself or maybe to hide how you’re too anxious to stay still. Steve figures it’s a bit of both. ‘Cause he knows you too well and not a thing gets by him. There’s nothing about you that he doesn’t notice.
He turns to face you completely while everyone else gets their ticket. He keeps his wedged between his middle and forefinger as his hands curl around the outsides of your elbows. He’s serious, but still soft — gentle, but still firm. 
“Babe—”
“Stevie,” you interject with a similar tone. “I’m okay.”
“You heard her, Stevie. She’s fine!” Robin retorts, curling her maroon-tinted lips into a smirk. She scoffs out a laugh and gestures up to the fake haunt across the street. “This shit is basically for kids. No one’s dying here, alright?”
You know what she’s doing. She’s sticking up for you and taking the piss out of her best friend at the same time. It’s nothing new — hell, it’s her favorite hobby. She’s got your back now the same way she had it in that house last spring. 
But still, her words sting a little.
Because she’s right. This place is for kids. And you still feel a bit like you’re dying.
Steve knows this, too. He knows everything about you. Even the stuff you wish he didn’t.
His sneakers scuff against the pavement when he turns to Robin. His eyes narrow in a challenging squint as he crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn’t look quite as intimidating as usual in his fluffy, cable-knit sweater. 
“Well, you know what? I’m scared, actually. I don’t wanna do it, okay? You got me, Rob.”
The girl grins something cynical. She shakes her head all slow, like she’s just caught him in some kind of lie. “I knew it. You little baby.”
Steve lets her tease him. It’s not like he isn’t used to it by now. He just rolls his eyes and bears it, lets her laugh about it with the rest of the group as they head towards the haunted house. 
You watch with an attentive gaze while they head inside, flinching softly when you hear a thunderous boom and the sound of their screaming a second later. It leaves you secretly grateful that you hadn’t gone in behind them. 
A wavering sigh tumbles from your lips, a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
Steve exhales a gentle laugh from beside you. He smooths a wide palm up your spine and down again. He leans over to press the side of his hip against yours.
You cross your arms over your chest to make yourself as small as possible while you glance over at the boy beside you. You look at him so far beneath your lashes you’re basically peering at him from the corner of your eye.
“Thank you,” is all you say. It’s all you need to say.
Steve shrugs with a plush, crooked grin. “’S okay. I know you’re too sweet to say no, so…”
“I wanted to do it,” you confess, clearing your throat when your voice breaks.
“I know.”
“I guess I’m not… as used to everything as I thought.”
“I know,” Steve repeats. His hand curls around your waist and makes a home in the very center of it. He pulls you closer with the urge to melt into you. His brows raise, eyes sparkling when his smile widens. “But that’s why I’m here, though, right? We’re gonna get better together.”
You nod up at him, smiling more sincerely now. 
Arms still crossed, your hands ball into fists to fight the urge to smooth a hand through his hair — to push back the rogue chestnut strands hanging over his forehead.
You hesitate, so he beats you to the draw. He swipes a golden hand over his head right before he leans down to kiss you. 
He smacks a sweet peck to your smile. A bright light flashes with another thunderous boom a moment later. You flinch and pull back. You swear you hear Eddie screaming, “jesus fucking christ!” from the upper story. You forget to be scared.
You didn’t think it was possible. The whole getting better thing.
Steve makes you feel like could be.
617 notes · View notes
darkbluekies · 9 months
Note
Don't know if anyone asked but what would the yandere's reaction be to the reader patching them up after they get injured?
Warnings: mentions of cuts, blood, killing, yandere, feeling depressed? (I'm not sure what to call it)
Tumblr media
Silas: 
He is strongly against you seeing him in this kind of condition. He’s supposed to be your protector, supposed to take care of you … not the other way around. But you manage to push him down on the toilet and start to clean his wounds while he hisses and curses, although afterwards, he’ll shower you in kisses and tell you how grateful he is.
“You’re not supposed to — fuck — do this. I can take care of myself, you know. Give me that — oh motherfucker — that disinfectant and I’ll do it myself. Yes, I am happy that you’re worried about me, but this isn’t my proudest moment, baby. Let me spare some damn dignity.”
Tumblr media
Dr Kry: 
He has cut his palm deeply on one of his sharp tools while cleaning up after a surgery. He returns to your room where he keeps all of his stuff. His hands are shaking too much to be able to clean it. You decide to help him before he bleeds out. Dr Kry guides you through the process to make sure you do everything as you should.
“Take that and pat it on my hand. Be careful though, that disinfectant is pretty strong. Ouch — I’m fine, don’t worry. Then you have to take the bandage and wrap it around my hand nad wrist. Don’t wrap it until my hand turns blue, but make sure that its tight. Good job, Y/N. I think I’m good now. But now you need to get back to bed, you know that you shouldn’t be out too much … as a thank you, I can get you dessert after dinner, alright?”
Tumblr media
King Edmund:
Cut in the shoulder by a sword. An enemy had caught him in a vulnerable moment. You sit him down on the side of the bed and remove his shirt before starting to clean the wound. Edmund groans and throws his head back to avoid seeing the mess. Although complaining a lot, he doesn’t want anyone else treating him. No one but you are worthy enough to touch his body.
“Hurry up, please! For the love of all mighty, aren’t you done soon? I’m going to die! Yes, I am, you wouldn’t know. I’m going to mangle that scum who had the nerve to dislocate my shoulder. Y/N, you are going to take care of me until I’m well again, won’t you? You have to. I’m your king … your husband. You need to take care of me.”
Tumblr media
Jerry:
Another one who’s extremely against you seeing her in this condition. She tries to push you away when you try to help her, but she’s too weak. In the end, you manage to corner her in the bathroom and treat her bloody wounds. For once, her hard demeanor seem to fall. She’s quiet, limp. You ask what’s on her mind, fearing for why she’s not being her normal dramatic, sarcastic self.
“I honestly thought that I was going to die … I have never been so … scared before. I’m pathetic, aren’t I? Yes, I am. Don’t try to tell me otherwise. I know it already. You should have left me alone, Y/N. You shouldn’t patch me up. You should have left me to die. I love you. I know I don’t say that a lot, I just wanted you to … know. Sorry for being a pathetic pussy … I just … nevermind.”
Tumblr media
Hedwig: 
She’s crying while you clean the wound on her cheek. She had been shaving off some baby hairs — a trick she’d seen online — but had been too uncertain, resulting in her cutting herself. You clean it softly and place a bandaid over it. 
“I look so ugly, don’t I? I can’t go to school like this! People will laugh at me. Everyone will know that i tried to shave and that I couldn’t do it. Please stay with me, Y/N, stay with me forever. You’re the only one who doesn’t care what I look like. It doesn’t look … that bad … right? I never want to be without you, i dont think i could do it.”
674 notes · View notes
absolutebl · 1 month
Text
This Week in BL - People of Earth we have VERSE rep in 2 Thai BLs! Amazeballs!
Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.
March 2024 Wk 3
Tumblr media
Ongoing Series - Thai
Deep Night (Thurs iQiyi) ep 2 of 8 (10?) - Everyone seems to be a bit of a player and I’m not mad about it. It’s nice to see high-grade flirting, and I really love how very gay the leads feel. Not BL gay. Actual gay. We shall see how it goes, I suspect we are in "messy gay" territory in which case, I predict utter carnage and that this show will drop ranks precipitously for me. But right now? Of all the Thai BLs airing, I'm enjoying this the most. How bizarre. 
I like the side couple (thrupple?) too, despite the prat fall kiss and possible cheating. They very pretty:
Tumblr media
To Be Continued (Thai C3 Thailand grey) ep 4 of 8 - oh dear NO honeychild, face masks are gross tasting!
Rule no 966 of the BL world. He’s never asleep. 
Argh Achi wants Ji so bad. Nice mutual kiss tho, despite Ji's baggage. I guess Ji knew what would happen if Achi stayed? But why is he so scared? Just deeply closeted? The backstory is very high school achy and I feel like it explained Achi but not Ji. And the crying in the movie was lovely, so we totally understand Achi's but Ji is just messed up and confused? I admit to being a bit confused too. Why is Ji the one so angry?
On a totally different aside, I really like how the set dressing is done in Ji’s apartment. It looks lived in and not staged. Super rare in Thai BL. I'm reminded of Ai & Pond's dorm room in Love By Chance, which actually looked like a real college dorm.
Tumblr media
City of Stars (Fri iQIYI) ep 7 of 12 - Why is it always the pulps that actually trot out the best communication, conversation, consent, and healthy relationships? Yes I'm still wincing over the truly bad acting but I’m enjoying their good relationship. The sex scene was sweet and tender, although the likelihood of rose petals getting stuck places wigs me out. (Flower petals + lube = terrible combination. Just FYI.)
ALL PRAISE VERSE REP! And a bottom who owns it! Yay! 
Tumblr media
1000 Years Old ep 5 of 12 - How ridiculously colorful and flirty they all are. There is nothing at all vampire about this show. I’m a bit bored by the restaurant plot but I'm tuning in for the bonkers approach to goth. How dare they be so cheerful with my precious emo youth, but also, how very Thai pulp of them.  
Tumblr media
Ongoing Series - Not Thai
Unknown (Taiwan Tues Youku YouTube) ep 4 of 11 - oh it’s SO GOOD. Reading the yaoi and crying. COME ON TAIWAN HAVE MERCY. The red wrapping of the hands (red thread, yes yes we get it). The boy who doesn’t want to box for so many reasons. Not the least of which is how unpleasant it is to spar with a lover. 
This is easily the best BL currently airing and it is going to hurt us. But I don't care. I love it.
AntiReset (Taiwan Fri Viki/Gaga) eps 8 of 10 - This show is dangerously cute and I’m scared for everyone involved, including me.
Tumblr media
Love is Better the Second Time Around AKA Koi wo Suru nara Nidome ga Joto (Japan Gaga) ep 2 of 6 - Poor baby thrown in all willynilly amongst a pack of queeny bitchy gay intellectuals. I'd be lost too. It's the worse kind of fight, one you have to philosophize your way out of.
Although I Love You and You AKA Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 10fin - They are extremely adorable and it was a very good ending - mature, adult, and bittersweet. I liked it a lot. But I didn’t love it the way I wanted to.
The promise of this show, younger cook courts older divorced office worker, should have been my catnip. I mean if someone pitched this to me in an elevator I would have downloaded it by the second storey. Unfortunately, it did not exactly fulfill that promise, not in the way I'd hoped. Did I still enjoy the ride, yes, but I feel just a little let down. 8/10 
My Strawberry Film (Japan Thurs Gaga) eps 5 of 8 - Honestly now I’m just shipping the two girls getting together. Frankly, I really don't like this show, and normally I'd DNF but there's only a few eps left and nothing else is airing rn.
It's done, ready to binge, maybe I'll finally get to it this weekend
What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps
The Servant and the Young Master (Vietnam YouTube)
Began Beginning (Myanmar YouTube) - A Burmese BL? @heretherebedork vouched for it, so I will watch eventually.
It's airing but...
Time the series (Tue Gaga/YT) 10 eps - it's finished now, I dropped it at ep 4. Should I bother?
Close Friend Season 3: Soju Bomb! (Thai ViuTV grey) 10 eps - I'm exhausted by this franchise and the variety pack style of BL. If there is a particularly good couple (or installment) I might watch it, but I'm letting others decide for me.
A Secretly Love (Thai WeTV grey) 10 eps - I watched the first ep but grey is too much work for this inferior of a show. I may pick up and binge if it gets distribution but for now, it gets a DNF from me. KimCop might have held this crap together but Kim without Cop? No thank you.
Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school, not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing for some reason.
Tumblr media
Gossip
The choreo controversy - Deep Night vs OnlyOneOf. Look, like a musical rift, or a styling photoshoot, there are no new ideas in choreo, I feel like Madonna did this pose too, a long time ago. Certainly someone in the 80s. Or whatever. Anygay, it's an ironic thing to see a Thai BL being called out by a gay-branded Kpop group when both are exploiting eroticized homosexuality for commercial profit... just saying. (HOW DID WE GET HERE?) Not to mention that BOTH are ALSO exploiting the kink community. We live in interesting times, BLabies. In the end, it's a good publicity stunt all round. And I think Nine knows exactly what he's doing (and why he is doing it). Finally: Drama drama drama around coreo? That is V gay boys. Fun fun fun, carry on everyone.
Strike a pose.
You're being recorded for posterity.
Tumblr media
Next Week Looks Like This:
Tumblr media
Starting
3/21 Two Worlds (Thai IQIYI) 10 eps - One of those "he's dead Jim so time travel" thingames staring MaxNat. I'm over this concept but Asia flipping loves it and I do enjoy MaxNat. Phupha (Gun) and Khram (Nat) love each other but Phupha is murdered. Then Khram is pulled to a parallel world where, 12 years ago, Khram and Tai (Max) were in love. However, Khram was killed by Tai’s dad. Now Tai finds alter-Khram apparently alive. But then there is ALSO an alter-Phupha to deal with. (Phupha is played by Gun Thanawat who was Khom, the repressed butler bodyguard from Unforgotten Night. We like this, we scared of the love triangle aspect.)
Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.
Tumblr media
Forgive me a moment of industry noodling?
Have ya noticed that it's slender pickings right now but it shouldn't be? This is not the mid summer slump nor end of year lull. We should be getting some heavy hitters on first quarter release. (Side eyes GMMTV. Perhaps those painful Japanese acquisitions were a bigger issue than any of us realized?)
Anygay, IMHO, Thailand's BL bubble has popped and sponsor money is drying up. This is my shocked face:
Tumblr media
Look, the 2021-2023 level of release and growth (exponential) was never gonna be sustainable, so I'm not surprised. I suspect that in 2024 Thailand will actually produce fewer BLs than 2023 (73, 64 in 2022, and 40 in 2021).
I know I'm sticking my neck out predicting any film industry but... I have seen this kinda thing before and it just *feels* like shrinkage. Thai BL's load has been shot, my peeps. (Not to be crass or anything.)
Oh, don't worry you pretty head about it, it's not going away, just getting less prolific.
Don't we all in our old age?
THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS
Tumblr media
My favorite trope, sniff him!
Tumblr media
Queen. (both Deep Night)
Tumblr media
King. (City of Stars)
Verse rep verse rep verse rep!!! Can you see me doing a little dance this side of the screen?
(Last weeks summation)
Streaming services are listed by how I'm (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are too much work.
The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog
If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy.
162 notes · View notes
harlowsbby · 2 months
Text
Snooze 💘
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Requested, Jack admits he has a crush on the readers but wonders if she feels the same way.
“What if she doesn’t feel the same way? What if I ruin our friendship by telling her how I really feel.” Jack worriedly asked Ace.
“I’m telling you nothing will be ruined because I know she feels the same way.” Ace reassured Jack but he was still on edge.
Jack and You have been best friends since first grade and he’s had the biggest and fattest crush on you ever since. It’s been hard for him watching you go through life with other men that weren’t him.
But this time around he was going to make sure that you knew he loved you and not just as friends he wanted to love you outside of being friends, he wanted to make you his.
“How about tonight when everyone is asleep you take her out somewhere maybe to the movies or to the park to look at the stars? Didn’t you say your friend Jade has a ranch near by?” Ace suggested.
“She does! I’ll message her right now and see if she can set up a little picnic type thing under the stars.” Ace smiled. “I hope tonight ends well for the two of you.”
Jack nodded his head. “I hope so too Ace.” He sighed.
There was a lot weighing on Jack tonight it was either he’d gain you as his girlfriend or he’d lose you as his one of his best friends. He wasn’t sure how tonight was going to end up but he could on wish for the best.
“Imagine she turns you down?” Druski joked. “Gosh he’ll be crying about it forever and forever.” Urban said.
“He’ll be rapping about Y/N next.” 2fo added on.
“He’ll be like true love? What is a true love all I know is heartbreak man fuck out of here with all this love shit.” Druski attempted rap.
“You’re all idiots.” Jack mumbled and stepped outside to get some air as the guys laughed. “Please let tonight end well.” He talked to himself.
————————————————————————
“Where are we going Jack?” You questioned him as the two of you pulled him to Jade’s ranch. “Do you trust me?” He asked when the car was finally put into park.
You looked up and tried your best to inspect the area it looked like a farm but there wasn’t any animals around at all, just a few lights and lots of apple trees.
You looked at him with your eyebrows raised wondering what he had up his sleeve. “I do?” You stated but you were a bit unsure. “So just follow my lead.” He said.
Jack got out the car first and made his way over to your side of the car and opened your door for you. “Thank you.” You stated. “You’re welcome, now come on grab my hand.”
Your stomach started doing flips when you grabbed his hands. Your feelings for Jack have always been there you’ve just been way too scared to admit them to him, you didn’t want to ruin a good friendship by telling him that you wanted to be more than friends.
Even though you had lots of boyfriends growing up you mainly only had them to try and hide your feelings for Jack. You were in denial at first because there was no way you could ever fall for your best friend right? Well you were wrong.
Jack walked the two of you to the back of the ranch and you gasped upon seeing the picnic table with a few candles spread out, a red and white checkered table cloth and a picnic basket that had a few of your favorite snacks inside.
“What’s all this for?” You turned to Jack who was already looking at you. “We’re going to be watching the stars tonight so I figured we’d have a little like picnic while we did.” He smiled softly.
“This is so cute!” You squealed and gave him a side hug. “You’re cuter.” He mumbled under his breath.
“What was that?” You innocently asked him. “Oh I said let’s go sit yeah? I heard there was going to be a few shooting stars tonight.”
The two of you went ahead and sat down at the table and you looked up at the sky looking at all of the different stars. “I love watching the stars I wish I could be one.” Jack chuckled.
“Why?” He asked and looked at you and watched the way you admired all of the different stars in the sky. “Because not every star is the same every star is different and original in its own way kinda like you.”
“I’m original?” He asked. “Yeah you’re one of a kind Jack.” You smiled softly. “Ooo look a shooting star!” You pointed to the sky.
But while you were looking at the shooting stars Jack was too busy admiring you his heart started to race a bit with the thought of having to confess his feelings to you.
You knew he needed to do it sooner or later or else you’d become someone else’s. “Y/N.” He said and your head whipped over to him.
“Yes Jack?” You asked him nervously. “Uh.” He scattered the back of his neck nervously he didn’t know how to start the conversation.
“Well you see the thing is.” He gulped. “What’s wrong? You’re making me scared.” You nervously laughed.
You weren’t sure why you were so nervous but you just had this gut feeling in your stomach that something was going to go down tonight you just weren’t sure what.
“Fuck shit.” He chocked and you giggled. “Fuck shit?” He sighed heavily and stood up and rubbed his hands against his face. “I can’t do this.” He said.
“Jack?” Your lips turned into a small frown when you noticed just how frustrated he was getting.
“What’s the matter? You know you can tell me anything right?” He removed his hands from his face and sighed.
The two of you were now face to face. “I like you like I really like you, like you Y/N. I wanna be more than friends with you I really wanna be your man and I want you to be my babe, baby, honey pie, baby girl.” He kept rambling and you giggled.
“How about this for your answer.” You grabbed his face and connected your lips to his he was shocked at first not expecting for you to react like that but he nonetheless melted into the kiss.
You both pulled away for air eventually and both laughed softly. “I’ve always liked you for the longest Jack I was just scared on what it would do to our friendship.” You expressed to him.
“Me too but I promise I’ll never do anything to break your heart, will you be my girlfriend?” You smiled and nodded. “Of course I will.”
After some time the two of you decided to head back home to get some much needed sleep but one your way back to the car you had gotten a call from the guys.
“It’s one in the morning what are you guys doing up?” You put the phone on speaker so Jack was able to hear.
“Sooo are you finally Jack’s little boo thing?” Urban teased. “Yeah I bet they were kissing and making out all night.” Clay said and made kissing noises.
“You guys are annoying.” You giggled. “Mhm you say that now but you know we’re right just remember keep it wrapped up Jack.” Jack’s jaw dropped as you bent over in laughter.
“Alright we’re gonna go now we’ll see you guys later.” The guys chuckled. “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.” They teased before hanging up.
(Sorry this is out so late a bitch been working 😭)
159 notes · View notes
cleo-fox · 7 months
Text
Fic Preview: Overtime
Full fic now posted
@sarahscribbles convinced me to post a preview of my TVA office romance fic. It doesn’t have a proper summary yet, but the text of the preview is kind of a good summation of the setup.
Warnings: None in this excerpt. There will be smut in the full fic.
Tumblr media
You don’t think that Mobius intended to keep Loki’s desk behind yours.
“It’s temporary,” he tells you apologetically. “He just needs somewhere to go for now, until I figure out what to do with him.”
“You’re talking about him like he’s a stray cat that you found,” you say.
“You won’t even know he’s there, I promise.”
“You’re still doing it.”
Mobius sighs and puts on his most sincere, earnest expression—the one that he always uses when he’s about to ask you for a stupidly massive favor.
And it’s only because you almost never, ever see this look from him that you back down.
“Okay, fine,” you say. “But he’d better be on his best behavior.”
Mobius puts his palms together and tips them toward you. “Thank you. You will not regret this, I promise.”
You sigh and shake your head. “Just remember this next time you’re budgeting for raises.”
But then—in a move that you certainly don’t expect—Loki ends up sticking around. And, in the subtle way that the stray you’ve been feeding slowly turns into your cat, Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. And strangely enough, Mobius’ assurances turn out to be more correct than not: Loki does a lot of fieldwork and is often away; when he is at his desk, it tends to be because he is working on more complicated missions, the ones that require poring over mountains of files looking for patterns and trying to untangle the slippery mess of time itself.
Your work is decidedly less glamorous than Loki’s—almost no fieldwork, lots of files. Endless files. Some days you feel as though you must have seen every file in the TVA’s extensive library and then you’re immediately proven wrong by another wing of filing cabinets that you swear wasn’t even there before.
Although he is generally well-behaved as your desk neighbor, Loki’s presence has a way of distracting you. Even if you didn’t know who he was, your gaze would still naturally drift his way, lingering on those regal cheekbones, that ink black hair, that cunning smirk. The way that the fabric of his dress pants clings to his thighs certainly doesn’t help, to say nothing of how his forearms look with his shirtsleeves rolled up. He can make your heart start to race with no more than a casual glance in your direction and god help you if he gives you one of those devastating smiles.
Luckily, you don’t think he takes that much notice of you. You have the sort of pleasantly dull exchanges of coworkers who don’t really know each other and he is almost painfully polite to you. It’s a strong departure from the way he interacts with others—with others, he is bold, charming, sarcastic, talkative, a far cry from the more subdued, almost courtly tone he strikes with you. It’s a difference that is so stark that you can’t help but attribute it to some sort of negative feeling on his end.
“How’s it going with Loki?” Mobius asks you during a one-on-one meeting a couple of months after Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. “He’s behaving himself, right?”
“It’s been fine,” you say, “though truthfully, I don’t think he likes me all that much.”
“What? Of course he likes you,” Mobius says. “Why wouldn’t he like you? You’re lovely.”
You shrug. “I dunno, he’s just different with me than he is with everyone else. Like…overly polite. It’s like he thinks I’m going to send him to the principal’s office or something.”
“Let me get this straight,” says Mobius. “First you were worried that he wouldn’t behave himself and now you’re worried that he’s too well-behaved?”
Privately, you realize he has a point. Outwardly, though, you’re not going to admit it. The sardonic tilt of Mobius’ mouth suggests that he knows this.
“No, I just…I don’t think he likes me all that much,” you say. “And he’s entitled to that. People don’t like each other all the time, it’s not a big deal.”
This is also a little bit of a lie—you do wish he liked you. Loki is so magnetic it’s hard not to want his attention. And with the matter of your silly little crush, well…that doesn’t help either.
Mobius sighs. “I think you’re overthinking this. He likes you, sometimes it just takes him a little time to warm up. He’s a bit of a prickly guy.”
You bite down the urge to point out that you’ve seen him warm to other people almost immediately. This conversation has already gone on longer than you want and you are edging dangerously close to having to admit that you care so much because you have a big stupid crush on him, which is obviously unacceptable.
“Well, the point is that it’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to project an aura of cool confidence. “I don’t have any complaints, he seems like he’s settling in, so let’s move on. Did you have any feedback on my recent report?”
The furrow between Mobius’ eyebrows deepens just slightly, the only indication that he doesn’t fully believe you. But for whatever reason, he decides to let it go and follows your change in topic without further comment.
This is one of the reasons you like Mobius as much as you do: he always seems to know the right moment to push and the right moment to bend.
You’re not sure if your relationship with Loki would have changed had it not been for the problem of Charles Berlitz.
The joke around the office is that after Mobius convinced Loki to work for the TVA, he needed something new to obsess over and Charles Berlitz was the next best option. It’s hard to say exactly who Berlitz is, as he has a tendency of showing up, well…everywhere. He is quite literally in every timeline, at least as far as anyone can tell. Sometimes he is an author, penning serious, scholarly essays on outlandish theories like the Bermuda Triangle and the Philadelphia Experiment. He seems to have a fondness for all manner of schemes—he was responsible for introducing both homeopathy and multi-level marketing to no fewer than sixty different timelines. His ability to peddle bullshit naturally led him to politics—pick any rebellion, coup, or campaign on any given timeline and there’s a good chance you’ll also find Charles Berlitz.
Scammers and con artists are not atypical in your line of work, but what makes Charles Berlitz an enduring mystery is that he has never been found. You can have reputable documentary evidence that Berlitz was present at a certain time and location, but if you show up to investigate, he is never there. There have been some glimpses over the years—a shadowy face in the back of a crowd, the hem of a cloak disappearing behind the building—but nothing concrete or substantive.
“Our ghost in the timeline,” Mobius had said in one of his more poetic moments at an all staff meeting, his voice overly hushed and dramatic. You had seen Loki roll his eyes and you had to fake a coughing fit to hide your laugh.
Time moves differently at the TVA, so it’s hard to say how long Mobius has been working on this case when he makes a breakthrough, but it’s not terribly long after your conversation about Loki. A campaign button had been found in an apartment that Berlitz had rented for two years in the French Quarter. That particular campaign button could only have existed in one specific timeline and its distribution was limited. You aren’t entirely clear on all of the details, but Mobius seems to have a plan.
And unfortunately, that plan involves you giving up most of your weekend to work.
It’s near quitting time on what passes for a Friday at the TVA. Loki has been in today and you can hear him starting to pack up. Technically, he’s got twenty minutes of work left, but you’re not about to tell him that.
You doodle absently on your notepad. Technically, you’ve also got twenty minutes of work left, but realistically: nothing is happening.
“Oh, great, you’re both still here.”
In general, this phrase has never meant good news for you and when you look up, you see Mobius with a sizable armful of files.
Also not a great sign.
Mobius plunks the stack of files directly on your desk. “There’s been a development with Berlitz. I need you both to review these now.”
“It’s Friday,” says Loki, affronted. “Surely it can wait until Monday.”
“No can do. I need this done by Sunday at the latest,” says Mobius. “This is an all hands on deck situation.”
Loki glances pointedly at the office around you, which has already started emptying out for the weekend.
“All hands on deck, but most hands are already in the field,” Mobius concedes. “Which is why I need time two of you—” He points to you. “You because you’re good—” He gestures to Loki. “And you because you’ve got desk duty.”
“I beg your pardon—” begins Loki.
“He’s grounded,” Mobius says to you in an exaggerated stage whisper.
This is not surprising to you: you had heard a rumor last week about an incident that had occurred on a mission to the inauguration of Richard Nixon and you suspect that these two events are likely connected.
You look at the pile of paperwork on your desk. You could probably get through it on your own in a couple of hours, but if Loki’s helping, maybe you still have a shot at having Saturday to yourself. You bite back a sigh. “What do you need me to find?”
“Anything that mentions anyone from the Lucchese crime family or Nero Variant N2815,” says Mobius. “I’ll go get the rest.”
Your heart sinks. Farewell, Saturday. “There’s more?” you say.
“It’ll be triple overtime, I already got it approved!” he calls over his shoulder
You sigh and glance at Loki who is scowling at the pile of files as though they’d wronged him personally.
There’s a long moment of silence before you speak. “Is there any truth to the rumor I’ve been hearing about the Nixon inauguration?” you ask.
“If it involved a hot air balloon, then yes,” he says rather tonelessly.
“Well.” You pause as you stare at the pile of papers. “At least it was worth it.”
That at least earns you a hint of a smile.
*
Full fic now posted
443 notes · View notes
pablitogavii · 6 months
Text
No more distance
Tumblr media
“She doesn’t want to leave the bloody apartment Pablo! How am I supposed to talk her into this???” Your friend was secretly on the phone with your boyfriend who was on his way to surprise you since it’s been awhile since you’ve been together.
“Take her to sushi…she loves sushi!” He said and she agreed sending him the address of the place they will be so he can just show up and surprise you.
“I don’t want to leave this bed!!! Just leave me here!!!” You were whining for half an hour while she tried to get you to get ready.
“Not even for sushi???” She used Gavis advice which was working like a charm. You were up and going in a few minutes.
“I know it can’t be easy girl…being so far away? But you love each other a lot and you will survive this!” She said but you were still in the bad mood really missing Pablo little extra lately. It’s been a long time since you were close to each other…close enough to touch and kiss like a real couple…
“I miss him a lot…” you sighed feeling someone place hands on your eyes and you screamed making the whole restaurant pay you attention while your friend giggled.
“Would you giggle if someone kidnaps me too!??” You said touching the obvious manly hands as your heart started racing as tears fell down your cheeks wetting Pablo’s hands.
“You’re not real…you can’t be really here…I’m dreaming again…it’s a dream!!!” You said and a Pablo’s heart melted when he felt you crying as he moved closer squatting down and removing his hands but you were still keeping your eyes closer.
“Amor, open your eyes preciosa…” Pablo was drying your tears seeing your friend smiling at the two of you.
“If I do that…you will disapper” you Said sadly AND Pablo smiled leaning in AND kissing your wet cheeks.
“I’m not going anywhere…not without you…again” he spoke while kissing and you were blushing hard at the thought of everyone watching you two right now.
“Um…Pablo?” You say reaching your hand and placing it on his face without watching and he chuckled.
“Yes, amor???” He answered kissing your fingers on his mouth.
“You promise???” You ask and he nodded which you felt under your hand.
“I promise…open up and look at me preciosa” he said and you slowly opened your eyelids smiling wide when you say that he was really there with you.
“P…p..ablo” you said and he smiled leaning closer and kissing your lips this time as everyone cheered before returning to their dinners.
“Hi…” he said after pulling away and you snaked your arms around his neck staring at him in utter awe.
“Hi…” you repeats as he kissed your nose playfully.
“We’re gonna…” Pablo started and your friend nodded smiling at you being happy again with him together.
“Go..!” She said and you two ran out of the restaurant holding onto each others hand very tightly.
Pablo took you to get some ice cream and you were currently cuddling in bed chatting about any random thing that came to mind.
"I can't believe you're really here Pablito..." you said nuzzling your face into his neck and he smiled kissing the top of your head.
"I missed you so much preciosa...having you sleep in my arms like this. It's priceless...so please come to Barcelona with me?" he said and you were currently tearing up feeling so happy that Pablo didn't want to leave you again.
"Are you sleeping or choosing to ignore my question amor? " he giggled feeling a little worried of scaring you off but when you looked up at him with those happy eyes he knew already what is your answer.
"I want to go to Barcelona with you Pablo...no more distance!!!" you said and he leaned down to kiss your lips loving;y.
"No more distance amor<333" he said after you pulled away excited for your future togehter while holding tightly onto each other and getting some well deserved rest.
Might not be long...but cute nevertheless <333 for y'all!!!
250 notes · View notes
Text
Feels Just A Little Bit Better
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~700
Warnings: being sad for unknown reasons, just feeling down, spencer being such a sweetheart to you <3
Request by @matthew-gray-gubler-lover: Hello i would like to request a story i have been having a really hard time lately a lot of crying and sadness, could i please have a story where spencer Reid sees how sad i have been and he helps me, fluff & smut please, thank you so much 💗 
Summary: There are days when your depression and sadness hits you out of nowhere, and you can't go to work much less get out of bed. When Spencer sees you're not at work, he knows exactly why and decides to take care of you.
Square Filled: going into hiding for @badthingshappenbingo
Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3
Tumblr media
x
Not everyone will have good days and it’s not expected for anyone to always have good days. There will be times when you get to work and have the energy to solve the case with enthusiasm and hope, and then there will be times when the only thing you have the energy for is to get out of bed.
But you don’t even have the energy for that right now. There is a weight weighing heavily on your chest that makes getting out of bed the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. This kind of sadness, this kind of weight sneaks up on you when you least expect it, not allowing you to get over it until a couple of days later. There is no way you can go to work like this so you grab your phone and send a message to Hotch.
So sorry but I don’t feel so good. I won’t be able to make it to work.
That’s fine. Stay home and get some rest.
The B Team is out right now so that lets your team catch up on paperwork and other things you’ve missed while being out. Hotch doesn’t mind if you sit this day out since it’s a break from the grueling work you see every day.
Spencer comes to work with two coffees in his hands, one for you and one for him. All he hears is how much you love the coffee from the local coffee shop and he has your order memorized like it’s his own. He doesn’t see you at your desk when he comes in so he sets your coffee down on your desk and waits for you. He waits ten minutes and gets concerned when he doesn’t see you. He leaves both coffees alone and heads to Hotch’s office.
“Hotch?” Spencer asks as he knocks on the open door.
“Come in.”
“Where’s Y/N?”
“She called in sick.”
Spencer knows you lied to Hotch. You’ve been feeling down this entire week when he noticed you not engaging in conversation with the rest of the team. You always have something to input so when you were silent, he knew something was wrong.
“Can I bring her some soup? I’ve already completed all my paperwork. You can call me if you need me here.”
“Yes, I know,” Hotch chuckles and pats the enormous pile of files on his desk. “That’s fine.”
“Thank you.” 
Hotch has a lot of faith in his team so when they make requests like this, he’s encouraged to say yes. Plus, he knows if he calls Spencer, he would return immediately. Spencer packs his things and leaves without another word. You live fairly close to the BAU since you don’t like driving. It’s either a long walk or a short bus ride away, and you two would often ride the bus together.
Spencer is the only one who has a key to your apartment so he doesn’t bother knocking on the door.
“It’s me. I’m coming in,” Spencer announces. He walks to your room and sees you beneath the covers. The only part of you that is showing is your face and he can see the clear wetness of tears on your cheeks. “What’s wrong?”
All you can do is shrug. He leaves your room to gather supplies he knows won’t take your sadness away but will certainly help. It takes ten minutes for Spencer to grab what he needs and comes back with movies, some snacks, a book, and some water.
“What are you doing?” you mumble.
“Keeping you company,” he smiles.
“Go back to work, Spencer.”
“I already talked to Hotch about this. He’s cool.” Spencer gets into bed next to you and lays all the snacks out for you. You turn to face him with dried tears and wet eyelashes. “I know you’re not probably hungry but I brought these just in case. If you get bored with the movies, I have a book I can read to you.”
“What are you really doing here?”
“I know you’re sad. You don’t have to tell me why but I’m gonna keep you company until I know you’re gonna be okay.”
A new wave of tears wash over you from how nice he’s being. He wraps an arm around you, pulls you into his chest, and plays the movie. You can’t tell him why you’re sad because you don’t fully know yourself. The only thing you do know is that you feel ten times better in his arms, and for that, you smile.
Tumblr media
x
Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)
355 notes · View notes
farfromstrange · 5 months
Text
Do No Harm
CHAPTER ONE: Night Shift
Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader
Summary: Matt has to accompany Foggy to the ER in the middle of the night because he dislocated his shoulder. In need for some peace and quiet, Matt wanders the halls of Metro General and instead finds you crying in one of the abandoned hallways. A conversation ensues.
Warnings for this chapter: Slight angst, mention of injury.
Word Count: 4.3k
A/n: My brain gets the strangest ideas for fics and then I have to write them or else I will go crazy. This is how this baby was born. Keep in mind, I’m not a doctor. I simply watch a lot of medical dramas and I like to research medical terms for the fun of it. Heed the warnings for the entire series (see Series Masterlist) but also chapter-specific warnings that apply, as seen above. I hope you enjoy!
Read Chapter 1: Night Shift here on AO3
Tumblr media
Ever since he can remember, Matt has hated hospitals. The antiseptic scent that lingers in the air, the sterile white walls that seem to close in around him—it all brings back memories of days spent in agony, tied to an uncomfortable bed, and seeing nothing but an endless void of black.
He can only tune out so much. The stench, the sirens, and the overlapping voices in an emergency room—they could easily kill him. 
Hospitals remind him of what he lost. He lost his vision, he lost his father and in the process, he lost his innocence. Matt lost everything, and even though he is well aware that it isn’t the hospital’s fault that he decided to save a man or that his father made a deal with the devil and got himself killed, he still hates the same empty walls that made him feel so small to begin with.
Matt doesn’t want to be a liability, he doesn’t want to be the reason the people he loves get hurt, and yet it continues to happen time and time again.
Maybe he’s cursed. It’s the only explanation for how things are going for him now. Maybe God has a grudge and finally decided to exercise his right to make his life a living hell. There is an infinite number of possibilities, but none of them make sense. 
He’s the anti-hero of his own story and that of everyone else who has ever dared to let him into their lives. He’s his own worst enemy, his personal saboteur. His unwavering pride has a tendency to get in the way of his happiness, which often leads to more bad than good, but admitting that would leave him vulnerable and exposed—and he can’t let himself get hurt again. 
It’s better to push the people he loves away before he can hurt them and force them to walk out on him the same way everyone else in his life has walked out on him ever since he can remember. At least in his twisted mind, that’s true. 
He never thought he would find himself in Metro General again, not since Claire came into his life. Claire, the caring nurse who saved him when he was on death’s door and continued doing so until she realized that falling for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its own set of risks. 
Foggy dislocated his shoulder. 
It’s almost laughable. Out of everyone, he chose Matt to come to the hospital with him. Not Karen, Matt. He had the choice between the most empathetic person either of them have ever met, and Matt, someone so far out of touch with his own feelings, living in denial has become the standard for him. Foggy chose the latter, for whatever reason he doesn’t even seem to know himself. It just felt like the most natural thing to do, he told Matt when he asked his best friend, “Why me?”
He should feel honored that he trusts him that much, but being trapped in the sterile four walls of the hospital he only connects bad memories to while Foggy is stuck in the queue for an X-ray feels more like torture than an honorable act. 
The loud, demanding voices of the nurses, the painful groans and soft cries coming from the patients in the waiting area of the emergency room a few doors down, and the obnoxious beeping of the machines lining the walls in every room are like a swarm of bees in Matt’s inner ear. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get them out. He’s allergic to them.
The room smells of disinfectant, blood, and other bodily fluids. He tries to focus on his cologne and the scentless laundry detergent he has grown so accustomed to over the years, but the balm only lasts for a few seconds before the wound reopens and his senses are flooded.
Matt keeps rhythmically tapping his fingers on his thigh. How much longer he can sit on this uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology area and wait for Foggy to return, he doesn’t know. It won’t be long now until he loses his mind. He is about to drown in his own misery.
He feels the desperate urge to land his fist in the wall next to him. He wants to scream, cry, maybe even both—this night is not going well. He hasn’t had a good night in weeks. Tonight though, he’s stuck in the hospital rather than outside, doing something against the injustice he is forced to listen to every day.
The hits he took the previous night were pretty severe, and his ribs still hurt. The numb ache that tears through him whenever he moves is a temporary relief from the pain induced by the noise around him. Whatever bits of sanity he tries holding onto eventually slip through his fingers. 
Eventually, he can’t take it anymore. He gets up, his head tilting toward Foggy’s elevated heartbeat. He’s still in line. Fifth, probably.
Matt taps his cane against the floor, making his way down the hallway. He’s not quite sure where he’s going or where he will land, he just knows that he needs to get out of there as fast as possible.
Rounding the hundredth corner of the evening, the sound of clattering metal trays and medical supplies disappears behind layers of drywall and automatic doors. Matt takes a moment, and he realizes that right here—right where he is now—he can finally breathe again.
The sound travels more easily. The air wafting through the vents and over the cotton sheets on a row of empty beds is the only sound that meets his ears. They’re lined against one side of the wall. The rooms are empty, the doors locked. It seems as if in a moment of desperation, he found his way to one of the abandoned parts of the hospital. 
A lack of funding caused Metro General to cut their losses. It certainly wasn’t an easy decision, but with capitalism on the rise, public hospitals are barely holding on.
Even though the truth is depressing, Matt still can’t believe his luck when he realizes how quiet it is. That may be a selfish thought, but he can't help it. The world is always so loud and uncomfortable. Finding someplace quiet after torturing himself in the waiting room for hours feels like heaven on earth on such a busy night.
The fog dulling his senses finally dissipates. He takes a deep breath. The air is cleaner here. No disinfectant, only the faint scent of plastic and dust; he wouldn't have thought it possible that he would ever consider that combination a blessing.
That’s when he hears it—a slightly elevated heartbeat followed by a series of muffled sobs. He got so caught up in the fact that he finally found what he was looking for amidst the chaos that he forgot to fan out his hearing.
Despite what he originally believed, he isn’t alone.
The air smells of the salty essence of human tears. Matt stops dead in his tracks, not sure whether to continue his journey or to turn around and return to the uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology department.
“This nervous breakdown space is occupied,” your soft voice bounces off the high walls. It’s thick with exhaustion. Pain. Loss. He almost recoils at the all-too-familiar feeling it elicits in him.
Matt keeps his cane hugged tight to his chest, his knuckles whitening with how hard he is gripping the base. “Oh, I...I’m sorry,” he says, careful to keep his voice light. “I didn’t catch you there.”
You’re essentially a stranger to him. A troubled one, at that. You must have your share of problems or you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be crying your eyes out. He doesn’t want to intrude, but he also can’t turn around. Not now, not anymore. You’ve already noticed him.
You sniffle, your hands wiping against the soft skin of your reddened cheeks. For a moment, your heartbeat picks up in speed before returning to its normal rhythm. “It’s alright,” you assure him.
Matt picks up on the faintest hint of disinfectant and the scent of antibacterial soap on you now, maybe a little blood, and definitely antiseptic laundry detergent—you’re wearing medical scrubs.
Your shampoo smells of vanilla and some herbal element he can’t quite identify just yet. Your perfume isn’t expensive, just enough to last through a long shift and filter the sweat that is seeping out of your pores. It’s not unpleasant. You smell like someone who’s been working hard and far past your limits, too.
“Do you need something?” you ask him. 
He pauses for a moment, rethinking his answer. His lips purse. He’s not sure how to answer that without completely giving himself away.
Your eyebrows raise slightly.
“Oh, just…some peace and quiet,” Matt says, finally finding his voice again. It sounds a bit more nervous than he would like to admit.
The chuckle you exhale is one of surprise and possibly even a bit of genuine amusement. “Yeah,” you sniffle, “I know that feeling.”
“Well, I’ll, uh, leave you to it. Sorry again.”
“No. Don’t.”
Matt stops in his tracks when the words pass your lips. 
You pat the space beside you. Your perfume becomes a little clearer. It’s so natural, so… you. He could get high off of it. Or maybe it’s just the sleep deprivation catching up to him. 
“This is the only quiet corner in this hospital,” you tell him. “Trust me. Underfunding has its perks for introverts. Rest in peace to about thirty internal medicine beds, but lucky me.”
Your chuckle echoes bitterly off the walls. You use humor to cope, apparently, but you’ve run out of strength to pretend.
His cane begins to gently pave the way as he makes his way forward. “Do you mind?” Matt nods toward the bed you’re sitting on. 
You pat the mattress again with a shake of your head. “Not at all.”
Gentle seems to be the one word that is consistent with everything you do. He can’t get this picture he has painted of you based on the sound of your voice out of his head. Maybe you’re an angel and he has officially gone insane, or maybe there are just a lot more good people left in this world than he originally thought. 
Matt folds his cane and skillfully sits down on the edge of the mattress. You smell even better up close. Your heartbeat reminds him of a beautiful symphony, no longer as erratic as when he first picked up on your presence. 
“I’m Matthew, by the way,” he says.
He can hear a sudden uptick in your heartbeat. He may have just imagined it. You suck in a sharp breath, and he’s sure he didn’t imagine that, but then you lift your hand to take his.
“Olivia,” you say. 
Matt listens closely. You have no reason to lie about your name. Your heartbeat may be faster, but it isn’t a lie. You just seem a lot more nervous and unsure than before. It doesn’t quite make sense why you would be unsure about your own name.
“Nice to meet you, Olivia.” His lips curl into a soft smile.
You smile back, he can hear it, but it lacks an essence of truth. You’re trying hard to seem like you’re okay. It’s not your fault that his senses are sensitive to all changes in the human body, even in that of a stranger he just met.
You’ve been crying, so of course, you wouldn’t be alright. The question is, why? 
“I take it you’re not part of the staff,” you say into the silence.  
“No.” Matt chuckles. “I, uh, have a friend with a dislocated shoulder,” he says.
“Ah! Let me guess, his doctor in the ER reduced the dislocation but insisted on doing an X-ray just in case, so now you have to wait because radiology has a hold-up longer than the Nile?”
A laugh rumbles through his chest. “Yeah, that… that’s pretty accurate.”
“It’s always like this,” you say. “A dislocated shoulder doesn’t have priority. We have bigger fish to fry.”
“You work here?” he dares to ask. 
You pull at the bottom of your scrub top. “Guilty as charged. Trauma surgery. I’ve been an attending here for a little over two years now.”
“Oh, wow! That’s…that’s incredible.”
Matt has encountered his fair share of doctors in the past, but no one has ever been quite like you. You’re unique. Mysterious. An enigma. You have piqued his curiosity, to say the least, and your profession only adds to the pile of interesting things he can ponder about.
You smile at him again, but it’s still not a genuine one. “Thanks,” you drag the last syllable out, the air deflating your lungs.
He swallows. “Or it isn’t. I didn’t mean to–”
“No, that’s not… some days just aren’t that rewarding,” you say. “That’s all.”
“And today has been one of those days?” Matt asks.
“Yeah, something like that.”
Your eyes roam over him once again.
He reaches for his hair, running his hand through it. He ruffles the brown strands until they’re covering his left temple. Matt’s not sure if you saw; there is a high chance that you did, but he can't anticipate your behavior. Not yet. 
You let out a longer breath. “Not a fan of hospitals, I take it?” you ask.
He shakes his head. “It gets… loud,” he says. 
“Sensitivity to sound.” You nod. “Noted.”
He hears the fabric of your scrubs brushing against your skin and the cotton sheets on the bed. You cross your legs, opening yourself up to him just slightly, and he wonders if you really are comfortable around him or if you’re just being kind. 
“Probably to smell as well? Feeling? Taste?” There is a soft smile laced in your voice. This time, it’s real. 
Matt chuckles. You hit the nail right on the head. You’re simply not aware of how sensitive he is to these things. “Pretty sensitive, yeah,” he says. 
That about sums it up. You nod, but you don’t push him any further. 
“Well,” you say, “The ER is pretty disgusting. And loud. And to be forced to wait in front of radiology is probably a scenario they offer as a torture device in one of the seven circles of hell.”
He can’t help himself, “It’s nine, actually.”
“Sorry?”
“Nine circles,” Matt clarifies, his lips twitching in a faint grin. “Dante’s Inferno. A good Catholic boy’s guilty pleasure.”
You let out a genuine laugh this time, and it warms his senses. It’s a rare sound in a place filled with so much pain. He can almost hear the weight from your shoulders hit the floor. The tension in the air seems to ease, if only for a moment. You allow to let yourself go. 
Your grin turns into a smirk. “Catholic, huh?” you retort. 
“Since the day I was born,” he says. “Are you religious?”
That seems to steal your breath away. You have no words. For a full minute, silence settles in between the two of you. It’s almost uncomfortable, and Matt fears he must have crossed a line. He just doesn’t know how to apologize for something he is truly curious about. 
The topic of God and religion seems to hit a nerve when it’s not used in a humorous context. There are many reasons why that could be. He spends every day battling his own religious trauma and the demons that he feels he’s harboring deep inside, but he still holds on tight to his faith. If he doesn’t have an excuse—if he doesn’t have anything to hold onto other than what broken self-respect he has left—where would he be?
You finally clear your throat after what feels like an eternity. “No,” it’s a simple answer. “I don’t believe that there is a God.”
Your mouth stays open. You want to say something else, but your lips close within seconds after the thought has passed by you, and you swallow it. He wonders what he could have learned about you if you had allowed yourself to say what you were truly thinking when the words first left your mouth. You’re holding back, and it is audible. It might even be visible. Your cheeks are running hot. 
Matt nods. He doesn’t question you. Your beliefs are yours. Most of the time, he doesn’t even believe that there is a God himself. 
“It’s hard to keep the faith in this world, especially when you work so hard every day trying to save people’s lives. When you are forced to see what the system does to those who can’t defend themselves over and over again, but you can’t do anything about it. Or when you see what people do to each other. I mean, the cruelty of human beings is unmatched, and it makes you wonder if God is just a sadist, or if maybe he isn’t even real because a gracious God wouldn’t let innocent children die,” you cut yourself off in an instant, and he tilts his head toward you in surprise. 
Your breath shudders. “I… I’ve seen too much bad to believe that there is an all-merciful God,” you say. “So I simply don’t.”
You try to meet his eyes, but all you see is your reflection in the red of his rounded glasses. Your heart breaks a little, he can hear it. Your shoulders slump. You’re defeated.
He isn’t sure how to react to that. How to help. How to be a decent human being. Matt just doesn’t have the answers you need, and it makes him question his own faith for a minute. Not that he has ever not questioned it; his relationship with God is as complicated as it gets.
You catch yourself after a moment of staring into the void of his glasses. “But… that’s my opinion. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I’m not offended,” Matt says.
You were smiling, and now you’re not anymore. He doesn’t like that. He liked it more when you were more open with him. Your legs have moved back to your chest, your arms clinging to them. You’ve retreated. 
“Sorry,” you whisper. The edge in your voice breaks his heart. 
He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I get it. Injustice…it’s a parasite. I’ve encountered my fair share of good people who deserved better than what they got. You try and you fail over and over again because the world isn't fair. I’d be the last person to judge you for not sharing my beliefs.” He breaks off in a chuckle. “I'm not that kind of guy.”
Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “What is that you do again?” You didn’t ask that question before.
“I’m a lawyer,” he states. “Defense attorney.”
“Wow,” you let out a soft puff of air, “And you chose to go to Metro General instead of jumping on the big money train to the Upper East Side?” 
Although your tone is joking, Matt can tell that there is an ounce of truth in your words.  
He hides his laugh behind a cough. He’s not sure if he’s surprised or if he actually finds that assumption hilarious. Maybe a bit of both.
“Oh, no.” He shakes his head. “I have never even been in the same station as the big money train.”
“Oh?”
“No. We, my partner and I, do pro-bono work. We don't get paid for our services. Well, other than baked goods and overdue bills in the mail, of course.”
You chuckle. “That’s a relief. Not so much for your bank account, but ethically.”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry for assuming. That was prejudiced of me,” you say. “I’m not trying to judge you. I’m sorry. Rich or not, it’s none of my business.”
Matt shrugs. “It's okay. Lawyers and doctors are the two professions so many think make millions of Dollars a year, and while that may be the case for a few, a lot of us just… don’t,” he says.
“Amen! If I had a drink, I’d toast to that.”
“Yeah, well, an intoxicated doctor would not fare well in the legal sense.”
“You think that would end my career?”
“I can’t even give you good legal advice other than, don’t.”
Your giggle turns into a laugh. “Thank you for the advice, counselor.”
He joins in. “Anytime.” 
For a moment, only the two of you exist. Matt adjusts his position, but he doesn’t take his bruised ribs into account. His wince is barely audible, yet you notice it in an instant. And when his hair slips, you can see the gash on his forehead. The one he tried to stitch up himself but probably did an awful job at concealing. 
Your eyes narrow in concern. “What happened to you?” your voice barely breeches the sound barrier. 
“Oh, nothing,” he tries to shrug it off. “Just an accident.”
“An accident?”
“I am blind, you know. I tripped, hit my head. It happens.”
“Hm.” Much to his surprise, you don’t press him further. Instead, you gently reach out to brush the sweaty strand of hair from his face that he used to cover up the aftermath of his latest endeavor. 
Now that he thinks about it, his ribs really do hurt. He’s sure nothing is broken, but they are severely bruised. Even he can feel the blood pooling under the skin. 
You bite your lip, not wanting to pry. The urge is obvious to him, but only to him. You’re good at your job. You focus on the task at hand. That is probably why you became a doctor in the first place; to help people, not to pry. 
But Matt Murdock doesn’t need help. 
“It’s fine,” he assures you. 
You nod. “I believe you.”
You don’t. You’re lying. He appreciates the effort though. You try your best at making him feel comfortable and welcome. Asking questions would only drive him away; you wouldn’t be able to satiate your pathological need to help. It’s who you are.
“Whoever patched this up did a terrible job,” you say, “and I don’t want to know who did it because if you tell me it was you, I will lose my mind, so, I choose to believe you for the sake of my own sanity.”
His lips part in a soft laugh. “Yeah, you don't wanna know,” he says.
“Can I fix it?"
He opens his mouth to decline, “You don’t have to, I–”
“Please.” 
There is no arguing with you, it seems.
Your footsteps echo in the empty hallway. One of the drawers in the cart across from the bed slides open at your touch. Matt can hear the distinct crinkle of packaging and the clanking of metal. When you return to his side, your steps are a little heavier. 
“I’m going to clean the wound and then apply a butterfly bandage to help the skin grow back together,” you explain. “The cut isn't that deep, but you must’ve hit your head pretty hard when you fell. I can’t force you to get a head CT, so… If you experience any nausea or neurological deficits in the next few days, you should come back to run some tests. But—and that is not my expert medical opinion because I don’t have the tests to back it up—I think it should be fine to heal on its own.”
“Any other advice, Doc?” he jokes. 
“Well, I can’t give the same good news about your bruised ribs.” You only have to place your hand on his side and his lips come to press tightly together. “I’m guessing third and fourth,” you say. “If one of them is fractured, it makes you run at risk for internal bleeding, but to see the extent of your injuries, we’d have to get an MRI. That is not my call to make. I can’t force you to get your battle scars checked out, I can just advise you to think about it. Really think about it.”
Matt sighs. His laughter has long died. “I know.”
He doesn’t want to repeat himself. He’s fine. He has to pretend that he’s fine because he doesn’t have time for doctors or questions. Neither you nor the law can protect him from the damage that the truth would do. 
You’re disappointed, but you swallow your pride. With delicate precision, you start cleaning the wound on his forehead, the cotton swab dabbing at the dried blood. He winces at the sting of antiseptic, a subtle twitch in response to the pain.
“Sorry,” you murmur.
Matt manages a half-smile. “It’s alright. I’ve had worse.”
That doesn’t make you feel better, but you accept it. You’ve learned to respect your patients’ wishes, even if that means swallowing a lie. 
As you work, your fingers graze over his skin with a careful tenderness. It’s a stark contrast to the harshness of the world he navigates outside—a double-edged sword. If he doesn’t go out there, more people die or get hurt. He would sustain the same injuries over and over again and almost die rather than pretend that evil isn’t lurking right outside his window every night. And there is a bigger storm brewing in the distance, one he isn’t fully prepared for. 
Yet.
You finish cleaning the wound and proceed to carefully apply a fresh bandage. Matt can feel the cool adhesive against his skin. Your touch is soothing, almost comforting, and he allows himself to relax.
“There,” you announce softly. “All patched up.”
Matt lifts his hand to touch the bandage, a habit he developed over the years to reassure himself that someone cared enough to tend to his wounds. “Thank you,” he answers. 
“No biggie.” You shrug with a tiny smile, and that makes him smile, too. It shows him that while you are displeased with his lack of respect for himself and his health, you aren’t mad at him. You just care.
The shrill beeping of your pager tears a headache through his skull.
You curse under your breath. “I’m so sorry,” you say as you skim over the text that has been sent to you. “The, uh—the ER needs me.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he quickly responds. 
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Go. Save a life!”
You’re reluctant at first, but then your lips curl into a broader, more genuine smile, and in the heat of the moment, you grab his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Matthew,” you say. “Take care of yourself.” 
Your footsteps retreat and your heartbeat gets fainter as you walk down the hallway. He’s speechless. He doesn’t even remember how to say goodbye. 
“Oh, and do me a favor?” You stop momentarily just to ask him, “Get those ribs checked out?”
His mouth opens and closes like that of a fish on dry land. “Sure,” he says. 
“Thank you,” these are your last words to him before you take off running. 
Both of you know though that once he is out of Metro General and on his way home, he won’t come back. Not for himself, at least. And it is something you have to accept as much as he has to accept the fact that you are long gone, off to save a life in the very four walls that seemed so scary to him all alone only fifteen minutes ago.
Tumblr media
Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @littlehappyperson @danzer8705
218 notes · View notes