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bestworstcase · 3 years

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on ‘villainy’ and varian’s and cassandra’s moral codes

for all that varian��s and cassandra’s villain arcs get compared to death they’re really more different than they are similar, and i think one of the more interesting distinctions is the characters’ moral perspectives on their own actions--namely that varian recognizes his own choices as villainous and consciously self-identifies as a ‘bad guy’ and cassandra not only…doesn’t do that but appears legitimately taken aback when varian says she’s ‘become the villain.’ from this we can infer that varian is transgressing his own personal sense of right and wrong while cassandra isn’t.

and… well with varian i think it’s pretty straightforward: he’s a kid who desperately wants to make the world a better place and make his father proud, but his impulsivity and recklessness and general disregard for lab safety foil his plans and get him into trouble. then one of his accidents puts his dad into what is essentially a magical coma and varian becomes singularly focused on reviving him--and, when he realizes that the king is more invested in covering up the problem than fixing it and his only hope lies with a zealously guarded relic belonging to the kingdom, he decides that the only way to achieve this goal is to start breaking the rules.

so he asks rapunzel--his friend who promised to help him--to retrieve some information the king is trying to steal from him, and then persuades her to help him access the sundrop vault; then when she balks at stealing it he makes it clear that he no longer trusts her and escapes with the flower. at this point he’s in the morally dubious zone; being strategic about what he tells rapunzel to make sure she helps him, spiking cookies with truth serum to sow chaos and get information he needs, and doing things that are crimes on paper but also largely victimless. i think these were things varian could probably rationalize as okay--not exactly good, but no one got hurt and he got what he needed.

except the flower’s magic is gone. he drugged the palace, manipulated rapunzel and broke her trust in him, and committed treason all for something useless because the actual magic of the sundrop is in rapunzel herself. now he’s in trouble, because he needs rapunzel’s help but his desperate measures guaranteed she won’t be willing to help him again. and this is when varian realizes that his only options are 1. give up on saving his dad and turn himself in and hope rapunzel takes pity on him, or 2. accept that no one is going to help him now and do whatever it takes to free quirin himself.

so--mutating ruddiger, attacking the city, kidnapping arianna and threatening her with encasement in amber, building an automaton army to defend him while he works--these are all things that varian feels are wrong, but chooses to do anyway because he doesn’t trust that anyone else will even try to save his father. despite his anger and his rationalizations, at the end of the day varian sees himself as doing bad things for good reasons. (“Believe me, I know/I’ve sunk pretty low” & “I’m the bad guy, that’s fine”)

and when his reasons fall through--when he fails to free his dad--he falls quickly into guilt and despair over having hurt people for nothing. he stews for a year in how unforgivable and ashamed he feels, and even when he teams up with the separatists, he’s doing it in, basically, pursuit of a reset button: he wants to take back what he did. and when rapunzel shows him that he can be forgiven, he can have a second chance, he does have people who are willing to help him and trust him again, he drops the memory-wiping idea and his alliance with the separatists without a second thought--because what rapunzel actually does is give him a way to pursue his goals without sacrificing his conscience, which is what he really needed the whole time.

now, cassandra, on the other hand…

cass is an interesting character in this regard because, while she does want to be a hero, she’s not at all altruistic. she’s consumed by her lack of autonomy and she craves not only control over her own life but also respect from the people around her--her desire to be a hero is very self-interested, at its core. and moreover she has a somewhat fatalistic view of the world wherein some people (not her) matter and some… just don’t.

moreover cassandra, despite her ambitions of becoming a guard, doesn’t so much as blink at eugene’s or the pub thugs’ criminal pasts--she is suspicious of lance at first, but on the grounds that he’s an unrepentant thief who showed up out of the blue under suspicious circumstances to ‘reconnect’ with his old partner in crime; eugene is also distrustful of lance, for the exact same reasons--and of course she doesn’t think twice about breaking the law herself. literally one of the very first things we see cassandra do is commit treason to make her friend happy. cass doesn’t care about the law, and she only wants to be a guard because she associates getting the job with having her dad’s approval and it’s also her ticket out of lifelong servitude.

on the other hand, cass does seem have a strong sense of right and wrong where people she cares about are concerned. she is constantly putting the desires and well-being of her friends ahead of not just her ambitions (e.g. in beginnings for rapunzel, or great expotations for varian) but also her own safety (e.g. risking her livelihood and home to sneak rapunzel out for the night in bea, or setting aside her misgivings about the sketchy bird people in freebird).

which is all to say--cass isn’t exactly amoral but the moral framework through which she sees the world is… more complicated than varian’s. she doesn’t seem particularly motivated to help strangers but she’ll move mountains to help people she cares about; she doesn’t care much about rules or laws except insofar as she doesn’t want to get caught breaking them, and she has this hierarchical mindset that some people matter--meaning, they get to make decisions for themselves and have people care about what they need and want--and some don’t, and that she herself is stuck in the latter category despite her best efforts to climb out of it.

which brings us to the subject of the moonstone, and cassandra’s villain arc, and why cass, unlike varian, doesn’t consider herself a bad person.

i think what it comes down to most is this: taking the moonstone is an act of defiance against not only rapunzel but also fate itself. waiting in the wings sets up cassandra’s resigned acceptance of this hierarchical order and her own cosmic insignificance, and then in crossing the line she REJECTS that same order. she’s raging against rapunzel but also against the cultural and legal and destined systems that put rapunzel on top and forced cass into subservience. she is very literally fighting for her freedom against the universe itself.

and when cass was not an altruistic or heavily morally motivated or even particularly law-abiding person before, and when her conscience has always been predominantly oriented around taking care of her friends first and herself second, and when the thing that drove her to this breaking point was her friends spitting that back in her face… well.

it’s easy to say “cass literally tried to murder rapunzel a bunch of times, how can she possibly believe she’s the good guy?”--but rapunzel maimed cass, blamed her for it, and consistently prioritized her destiny over cassandra’s wellbeing; and rapunzel represents the cosmic order that cass is fighting to liberate herself from. and while i know that the -popular- take on be very afraid is “cass is terrified of hurting rapunzel,” i submit it’s actually “cass is terrified of having to fight rapunzel, because she still believes that fate is literally tilted in rapunzel’s favor and she can’t win a direct fight with rapunzel.” that’s why she’s so scared; that’s why rapunzel seemingly deleting the red rocks hardens her resolve; that’s why she marches into corona with maximum drama and bluster and builds a fortress and tries so hard to mess with rapunzel’s head before the battle begins. she’s trying to even the odds. and that’s why, when rapunzel stomps her into the curb, cassandra’s immediate response is “i need an army.”

cassandra isn’t scared for rapunzel. she is scared OF rapunzel.

we do also see cass trying not to harm people she considers to be innocent bystanders; she uses the truth serum on varian bc she needs the incantation, but afterwards she doesn’t even bother to restrain him until after he starts pestering her, she says flat out that she doesn’t want him to get hurt when she fights rapunzel; similarly she is willing to hurt calliope to force rapunzel to comply, but--despite her deep personal dislike of calliope--uses a minimum amount of force and again verbally expresses that she doesn’t particularly want to hurt her, that it’s a means to an end and nothing more. attacking rapunzel? that’s fine, rapunzel is her enemy. attacking eugene? of course, he’s rapunzel’s closest ally. mind controlling the brotherhood? that kills two birds with one stone--eliminating powerful enemies with a vested interest in taking the moonstone away from her and turning them into allies who can level the playing field between her and rapunzel. and when she does finally snap and raze corona to the ground? the people of corona attacked her first. i think cass ABSOLUTELY sees herself as fighting a purely defensive war against people who have or will hurt her.

and this is, of course, ultimately why varian failed to get through to her during ‘nothing left to lose’--he appealed to her sense of morality and her sense of morality shrugged.

as for the thing that snaps her out of it? the moment that forces her to question whether she’s really as right as she thinks she is? it’s learning who her new friend really is. it’s the shock of finding out that she’s been allied with, confiding in, taking advice from a legendary villain, from a monster she likely grew up hearing stories about. cass takes it as a given that zhan tiri is evil--and if she’s friends with zhan tiri, what does that make her? and even then, cass is resistant to the idea that she might be a villain--“No, no, I’m nothing like you. Just because I’m pursuing my destiny doesn’t make me a bad person!”--which is, ultimately, very telling of her whole mindset. she’s not a bad guy, she’s fighting for her freedom. she’s not a bad guy, she’s protecting herself against people who want to exploit her. she’s not a bad guy, she’s just putting herself first for once.

and OAH generally, i’d argue, is not actually about cassandra trying to reconcile with rapunzel or redeem herself or be a better person, it’s… literally cass trying frantically to prove she’s NOT the bad guy. it’s “oh yeah? you think i’m a bad person? well could a bad guy do THIS? *lies and impersonates a former coworker and gets up on a stage to justify her own actions in front of a crowd*” it’s “a bad guy wouldn’t apologize, rapunzel never apologized for anything, and to prove i’m a better person I’M going to apologize! see? SEE!?”--and then everyone in corona attacks her and she goes “FINE, i’m the bad guy, fuck you all” and wrecks the place.

only then--only in plus est en vous--does cassandra get into a mindset similar to varian’s, of “i am the bad guy but if i can pull this off it will be worth it.” she’s not sorry. she still sees rapunzel as an enemy trying to get her under control again, and the only thing that’s really changed is cassandra acknowledging that she has in fact done bad things too.

and… i would argue that by the end of plus est cassandra… feels some guilt but isn’t sorry. “i’ve failed” and “i’ve done terrible things” and “i tried to prove i was more than everyone thought but they were right”--her anguish is not like varian’s anguish in RR, where he was consumed with despair because no one could possibly forgive him for the things he did. cassandra is upset because she did awful things and failed and she perceives that failure as proof of her own worthlessness. she’s right back to feeling how she felt in waiting in the wings but with a hefty new helping of self-disgust and shame for having been stupid enough to believe she could change anything for herself.

she’s not sorry. she’s not pleading for forgiveness. she just wants rapunzel to give up and leave her alone--& then, after rapunzel convinces her that she’s wrong, and she does have worth as a person, and she does have a destiny of her own, cass does what’s necessary to clean up the crisis she created and then… just bounces. she gets the freedom she wanted and leaves without a backward glance.

(which. good for her.)

tl;dr: varian’s villain arc explores his moral scruples and what it takes for him to be willing to ignore them, whereas cassandra’s villain arc explores her incendiary reaction to a lifetime of injustices; she isn’t amoral but her sense of right and wrong is, unlike varian’s, very contextual and personal. varian is a pragmatic idealist who wants to be lawful good but is capable of setting his own morals aside in pursuit of a goal he considers to be important enough, and cassandra is one radicalizing incident away from realizing that her grievances are not a unique personal failing but a systemic problem and then leading a class uprising.

#tts

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bleufrost · 3 years

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There's Just Time (A Loki x reader Fanfic)

Chapter Three: A Home Amidst Chaos

Summary: You were an explosion waiting to happen who found love in the arms of a hurricane. Loki saw you as an angel that calmed his demons. For you, he was a savior that taught you to trust your abilities, yourself, and others. When he died, you were broken. You clung to any hope possible and watched as it all fell away. With nothing left, stories from your youth flooded back of a mysterious force that controlled time and space, and you knew that you would do anything to see him again...even if that something meant teaming up with the Time Variance Authority to capture the man you love.

Loki's begins to feel things for you that he can't deny. Time can't change everything, and not all secrets can stay hidden.

Words: 8,006

Warnings: grief, mentions of self harm, violence, death

main story: prologue | chapter one | chapter two

moments in time (avengers era, prelude): part one

If the world was ending

You'd come over, right?

The sky'd be falling while I hold you tight

No, there wouldn't be a reason why

We would even have to say goodbye

“Alright, I’m finished!” Loki clicks a few more times on the outdated computer, sending something off to be graded. He sits back in his seat with his feet on your desk, sending a smile your way that is quickly diminished by the far-off look in your eyes.

“You know, if you’re anywhere near as bored as I am, we could go off and have ourselves a bit of fun elsewhere?” His eyebrows raise suggestively and you actually take him seriously for a second. Just a second.

“As lovely as that sounds, I think I’m going to pass. Besides, the faster you get through with the lessons, the faster we can actually go out and do something.” Your hand comes up and swats at his feet, but he moves them just before you make contact. He’s smiling again. The small chase is something he clearly needs in this dreary prison.

“Did they make you go through all this training as well?” Loki’s eyes follow a few people as they walk around the room. While he could be searching for an escape, you actually think that it’s more out of curiosity than anything else.

Your shoulders shrug. “Mine wasn’t quite as extensive. I think the difference in apparent moral compasses might’ve screwed you over in this case.”

Loki feigns hurt, hand clutching his heart dramatically. “Well, little one, it’s a good thing they left you in charge then, isn’t it?”

Loki props his feet back up beside you and leans back. “Do you mind if I take a break?”

You relax, mirroring his position with a sleepy smile. “Not at all. I would’ve already taken twelve if I were you.” Loki motions to the stack of magazines behind you and you offer one up to him. His hands flip it open to a random page, eyes scanning in bored interest. You miss the sound of his voice instantly.

“Hey, do you mind reading that out loud? It looks interesting.” Loki flips the page over so that you can see it. His eyebrows raise in confusion.

“You’re interested in motorized water vehicles?” You look at the bright blue page and struggle for a second to hide your distaste. No, you weren’t interested in that at all.

“Yeah, of course. They're...fascinating.” He looks totally unconvinced, but lets a small laugh fall from his lips. If nothing else, it was amusing to him.

“Well, alright.”

Loki’s lips move swiftly over the page, his voice low and soft as he reads the advertisements in the magazine. He finds the whole thing rather plain, yet he doesn’t stop. Every once in a while, his eyes glance up from the pages to see you. You, with your wide eyes and adorable little smile. Everything about you felt small, not necessarily because of your stature or status as a human being, but because you came off as so open and trusting with him. Your eyes droop as he continues to read, and he finds himself making a conscious effort to quiet his voice. Read softer, slower, so that you can rest. He wasn’t oblivious to whatever you had with him in your timeline, he just wasn’t quite sure what it was. Regardless, some part of him thought he might understand.

Just as your eyes fall shut, a loud timer rings throughout the cubicle. Miss Minutes pops to life on the desk, waking you suddenly. Loki curses the glowing clock in his mind, but shuts the magazine swiftly.

“Okay, y’all. Let’s review what we’ve learned!” Realizing that this wasn’t necessary for you to participate in, you allow your eyes to fall shut again. The harsh glow shines brightly behind your eyelids and you can’t help the frustrated little cry that leaves your mouth when her shrill voice scolds Loki for not taking things seriously. When your eyes open again, Loki is staring straight at you with an odd mix between amusement and determination. One might even call it...mischievous.

“How about I silence this alarm clock for you?” You sit up as his feet quickly fall flat on the floor. Loki rises, rolling up the magazine and swatting at Miss Minutes with an amused grin on his face. She dodges a few blows and your own smile crinkles your eyes when she scolds him a second time. Loki grabs another magazine off the desk and tosses it at you.

“Help me catch her!” You fumble to grab the magazine, rolling it up tightly once you get a solid grip on it. Laughter quickly escapes your mouth as you and Loki lunge for an increasingly annoyed Miss Minutes. Just as you think you’ve got her, the clock launches herself into the computer. Your paper weapon lands a blow with a solid THUNK...right on Loki’s arm.

You look up at him, stifling a giggle as he stares at his arm in shock. “I am so, so sorry, Loki.” The words barely make it out in between laughs. When his eyes land on your smiling face, they narrow dangerously.

“Oh, you clearly aren’t...but you will be.” Loki reaches for you and you shriek when his arms find your waist. He swings you around and you find it difficult to breathe once he finds out you’re ticklish. Loki’s eyes crinkle with joy, loud laughter leaving his own lips for the first time in what could very well have been years. It felt good to have the walls down. To not fear an ulterior motive or wonder if an attack would come at any moment.

Loki felt safe with you and, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t blame it on any charade composed by magic. Not here.

“I see the lessons are going well.” Mobius stops by the side of the cubicle, watching the two of you as you quickly compose yourself. Loki’s arms move from your waist, but hover just below your lower back. He straightens up slightly, mimicking you with the intrusion.

Mobius lifts his hands in a surrendering motion, trying not to seem like a threat to either of you. You didn’t exactly see him as one, his arrival was just unexpected.

“Gear up, kids. We’ve had another attack.” Mobius throws Loki a jacket and he pulls it on as the three of you walk. Stopping to admire it, he turns to you and models the new look. The colors are drab and the orange block letters feel intrusive, but he looks good. He always does.

“It suits you.” His nose scrunches up in distaste.

“Well, it’s repulsive so I would hope not. However, I do appreciate the compliment.” Once again, you find yourself laughing as you follow Mobius into the briefing room.

The meeting is incredibly boring. Much of the same information they originally gave is being repeated, and whether that’s for Loki’s sake or theirs, you’re unsure. You tune in and out, taking in any new information or straying conversation from the usual briefings. It takes everything you have to hold your tongue when Hunter B-15 makes a comment about Loki being a variant, but he holds his own without any interference. Your mind is still on autopilot when Mobius starts listing off Loki’s powers, and when he says the term ‘illusion projecting,’ you interrupt out of pure habit.

“Duplication casting.” Your eyes raise suddenly when Loki corrects Mobius at the same time as you. He grins at you, excited by the knowledge you apparently have on his magic. He then falls into a speech that explains the intricacies and differences in his abilities. A speech you could likely recite from memory, but adore hearing nonetheless.

Loki finishes his explanation with a sarcastic, “But, you already knew that.” The words are smug, the self-satisfaction only heightened by the smirk he offers the room. That changes when he looks your way. Instead of the self-righteous smile, he instead gives you a look that is far more sincere, as if he wants his words to you to be the same, but genuine.

While walking over to where your crew would depart, Loki suddenly asks another question that you’re surprised hadn’t come up sooner.

“Will I be getting my powers back once we’re out there?” He turns to Mobius excitedly.

“Well, yes.” Loki grins at you, the mischievous look becoming more and more normal for him now that he feels a bit more secure.

“Aren’t you worried about me betraying you?” His face falls when Mobius shakes his head. The resounding “no” taking a hit to his confidence for sure.

“You already know we can catch you, how is betraying us going to get you any closer to the Time Keepers?” The spark instantly returns to Loki’s eye. He turns to you, allowing Mobius to walk on ahead of the two of you with a satisfied smile. He knew Loki wouldn’t step out of line, not with the promise of a meeting on the table.

“Are you working toward an audience with the Time Keepers as well?” That thought had never really occurred to you. Quite honestly, the only real thing keeping you here was Loki. It did bring up alarming questions though, things that you hadn’t felt the need to consider until now.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t really put too much thought into that part of my plan yet.” His face goes from confused to stern, trying to work through what you just said and how you could have possibly not had an end game here. What he didn’t know just yet, was that he was your end game. You suppose getting him that meeting was likely your goal now too.

“That’s a bit alarming, though I’m sure you have your reasons.”

The renaissance fair that you find yourselves entering is dismally dreary. The skies are grey and the air cold as ice. Loki starts in again, firing questions at Mobius that garner relatively mundane responses. It was all new to him, you understood that.

The brightly colored flags stood stark against the dark clouds and you soon found your mind drifting to other things. Other circumstances and memories.

Tony had once forced your entire team to go to a carnival, insisting that it was a great opportunity for ‘team building.’ Loki was completely over the comical magicians and juvenile illusions. He honestly was ready to leave the moment you arrived.

It wasn’t until he saw your eyes light up with the twinkling lights of the roller coasters that he decided the carnival might not be so bad. The way you couldn’t keep your joy from bubbling over at the oversized stuffed animals and sickly-sweet treats was so beautiful to him. He spent the rest of the evening following you from place to place, laughing as you jumped up and down in excitement over the same things that most adults here overlooked. You acted as a child would. It had embarrassed you when he mentioned that later, but his assurance that it was not a bad thing made your heart feel so full of love for him. Loki understood that you had lost much of your childhood. He understood that you were denied moments of wonder and were instead forced into endless seas of pain. He understood, and he adored you all the more for your ability to allow yourself to feel that happiness now.

“If this place excites you, I fear you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself on Asgard.” Loki leans close to you as he says it. A gentle smile causes his eyes to crinkle in the corners. You smile too, though you look down as your cheeks redden. You were caught.

“If that’s an invitation, I gladly accept.” You look at him, the burning in your cheeks diminishing as you gain the confidence to fall into a familiar banter with Loki. Now it’s his turn to be caught off guard.

Loki’s mouth opens and shuts a few times, and he ultimately opts to just shake his head with a small chuckle. “Perhaps it is.”

Your smile drops once the tent flaps open. If you thought outside was dark, this place is a black hole. Small torches light up the corners of the room, but the light that they offer is hardly enough to see. Bodies litter the ground and you nearly yelp when you accidentally bump into one on the floor.

Loki reaches out to steady you, guiding you over to a clearing at the center of the tent. He does it so absentmindedly, so naturally that it feels as though he’s done it a thousand times before. In your memories, he has.

The rest of the crew fan out, examining bodies and searching for any clues as to the whereabouts of this other variant. You turn to move, hesitantly trying to find your footing in the darkness, but his hand reaches out instantly to stop you. When Loki begins to talk, they all halt.

“If you leave this tent, you’ll end up like them.” It’s bullshit and you know it. Loki has this way of looking a little too thoughtful when he’s making things up on the spot. It had taken you years to get the hang of it, but you could often read him like a lie detector now. Not all the time, but the times where he was desperately trying to conjure up an entire scenario with no moments notice...those you could call.

He keeps talking, ignoring Hunter B-15 as she urgently announces how little time you all have left. Mobius watches him for any sign of deceit, but finds none. He has them fooled. That is, until Mobius catches your eye. You don’t know what Loki is planning, but you know it can’t go on much longer without causing serious damage. Mobius sees this, and he leaps in where you won’t.

“He’s lying, just playing games. There’s no one out there.” Mobius points at Loki with disapproval. “I expected more from you.” He looks at you then with even more disappointment. “Both of you.”

Back on desk duty, you sort through a few stacks of paper trying to get things back in order after yet another person decided to look through Loki’s files without so much as even attempting to put them back where they belonged. It seems he’s a hot topic here, though you should have guessed considering this is one of the most exciting things to happen at the TVA since you’d arrived.

There was so much information in these files, and you often felt like you were intruding by reading them. Of course, you were here because you knew more about Loki than any words in a file could tell a person, but it still felt a little wrong. You would be lying if you said you’d read every part of them. There were things too intimate in here. Things that should be left to his discretion to share...even if they were about you.

“Let me park ya at this desk with our previous Loki expert. Here’s a good trick, pretend like your life depends on this.” Mobius heads off to the cafeteria, leaving Loki standing before you.

“I suspected I might find you here. Seems like we’re being punished.” He looks around the stacks of files and books with disdain. This is likely the most dreary part of the entire TVA.

You pull his files off of one of the chairs and motion to it, rising to send the files back to their shelf.

“Oh, we’re definitely being punished.”

After about an hour, Loki is completely bored again. You don’t blame him. He’s read through the same paperwork on each of the attacks multiple times already. It was busy work.

You look over the paper you were reading when he animatedly gasps. “Don’t tell me the variant ambushed and killed another team of Minutemen!” Your hand comes up to stifle a laugh and Loki’s eyes land on you for a second before he goes back to reading, this time purposefully putting on a show for you.

It doesn’t take long for the both of you to start laughing. You know this isn’t going to get you anywhere, might as well have some fun with it. And it is fun.

Unfortunately, not everyone thinks so. The librarian behind you shushes the two of you loudly, causing you to bite your lip in an attempt to quiet your laughter. Loki looks at you, brows scrunching down as though he can’t believe what she just did. He offers you one more glance, then turns around and shushes the lady back. You don’t even try to stop your amusement and Loki turns back to you with a wide grin. After a few more minutes, you have to get up to use the bathroom. When you return, your heart nearly drops.

On the desk lies scattered papers belonging to Loki’s personal files. Pictures and detailed descriptions of major life events sit out in the open, and you can’t tell if he was just haphazardly looking through them, or if the files spread out were ones he had already read. Your eyes land on multiple folders pertaining to the two of you, his time spent in a cell, the months you sat by his side in attempts to understand him and help him acknowledge his own good. You see The Avengers Tower, knowing that you spent years there fighting alongside him, reading alongside him, sleeping alongside him. It was jarring to be hit with it all over again. When you try to speak, your breath hitches in your throat. Loki looks up instantly, shoving the folder he was reading beneath another and grabbing for one randomly.

“Loki…” Your eyes begin to water, this wasn’t the way you wanted things to go. He shouldn’t have looked. Had he seen everything?

He quickly stands, reaching for you. His hands rest against your arms and he leans down to meet your eye.

“Please don’t be upset. I didn’t read anything that would be improper. I just wanted to understand.” You refuse to look at him, knowing that the tears would fall the moment you looked into his blue eyes.

“Understand what?” Loki holds you a little tighter. You could feel his hands tremble.

“Why someone as delicate as you would care for a beast like me. I could absolutely destroy you without batting an eye. It would be easy...yet you trusted me not to. You still do, even now.” There’s a strain in his voice when he speaks. The sharp blade of his words paining you deep within your chest. He couldn’t possibly believe he was capable of anything so cruel. Not after everything he knew about what would have awaited him in the correct timeline.

“It’s because you’re not a monster. We both know you couldn’t kill me ‘without batting an eye’ because it would hurt too much. Did reading those files help you understand that at all?” When you finally look at him, his eyes are pleading. He lets out a deep breath of air that he had apparently been holding.

“I feel as though I’d have to see it played out myself. And I know that isn’t something you’re comfortable with. I accept that. I’m okay with that.” Each sentence is punctuated with a soft squeeze of his hands. He’s wrong though.

“No, Loki. Seeing it wouldn’t make a difference. Everything in those files are things that you need to live. Watching it and experiencing it are two very different things.” His grip loosens ever so slightly as his shoulders fall.

“But I’ll never get to experience it, will I?” Now it’s his turn to look down, glassy eyes barely hidden. It makes your own tears spring forward again.

“Not the same way it happened before.” He nods his head once, accepting the solemn truth. It would never play out quite the same as before. It couldn’t. When his hands release you, your own instantly come up to rub the tears from your eyes.

You take your seat again, pushing his files aside to grab for another on the variant attack. Loki follows close behind, taking his own seat. You work in silence, feeling his eyes on you as you focus on ignoring his still-open files.

“I meant what I said by the way.” Your hands stop, hovering over another one of his folders that you were prepared to push away.

“What?” When you look up, he’s watching your hand. You drop it and his gaze falls to the desk in front of him, contemplating his words before he says them.

“I didn’t read anything that you wouldn’t have otherwise told me about. It was tempting, and I will admit that I saw the names on a few of the folders, but I find myself respecting you far too much to do anything like that. I suspect I know why.” As he says the last sentence, he meets your gaze once more. There is so much vulnerability in the air, you feel as though you might suffocate.

After a moment, you nod at him. Even if he had read every single file, he hadn’t done anything wrong. They were his files, his life, his choice. The way he said it though, reminded you that you could tell when he was lying. He wasn’t.

It takes another hour, one shrouded in silence, until Loki sparks up again. He lets out a little excited gasp, and when you look up at him you swear you can see tears in his eyes. You have no time to question him though, as he grabs your hand and runs with you to the cafeteria to find Mobius.

With a lot of effort and time spent convincing Mobius, some of that time used watching Loki goof off and completely season Mobius’ salad to death, your little team is off to Pompeii. Loki had come up with this theory that the variant was hiding in apocalyptic events, able to do whatever they pleased because the whole place would be wiped out. Nothing they did mattered there, so they could scheme without any interference from the TVA. That was the theory.

The village was beautiful, peaceful in a way that you weren’t accustomed to. As Loki and Mobius spoke behind you, you once again found yourself lost in the sights. There was a silence that echoed in your mind every moment you spent without your powers. In most places, you could almost ignore it, convince yourself that the hollow space within you was nothing but a ghost. There was always so much energy in places like the TVA. You could pretend that energy was more than just the normal buzz.

Here though, things were different. You felt a sudden sense of grief run through you. These people would be filled with fear in a matter of seconds, and you would be powerless to do anything to help them. They would be in pain, and you could offer them nothing. It left you feeling empty and useless.

A whoosh of air whips past you, breaking you from your sadness. Loki jumps up onto the back of a goat carrier, unlatching it and cheering the goats on as they run from their enclosure. You stare in shock, looking back at Mobius who only shrugs at you and shakes his head.

When he begins speaking Latin, you can only make out a few words. He’s so animated, it’s almost comical.

The volcano explodes behind him and the crowd screams, running for cover. Loki continues to run around throwing things and laughing.

“Nothing matters! Enjoy your last meal, dance while you still can!” He comes to a halt in front of you, holding his hand out toward you.

“May I have this dance?” You shake your head in disbelief. This doesn’t deter him though.

“Loki, are you serious?” He holds his hand out a little further, dropping the ‘end of the world’ charade and smiling at you genuinely. He looks almost shy.

“It is the end of the world, after all.” You look around, most of the people have left. What was happening was a terrible tragedy, but Loki was right; there was nothing you could do. Sometimes there just wasn’t.

His hand is large, making you feel safe as he closes it around yours. Loki gently pulls you close to him, resting his hand on your waist and guiding you in circles. He spins you around, and for a moment this chaos actually feels like home.

There are occasions when not having a sense of time isn’t quite so bad. You could drift through life, doing what needs to be done without worry of running out of it. Things felt like they went by quickly. This wasn’t one of those occasions.

Mobius flips another page in his folder and sighs. He rubs his eyes and shuts it, handing it to you to be placed amongst the various others you had already read through. A sleepy yawn leaves your mouth. As much as you hate field work, at the very least it required less monotony than this.

You really can't help it when your eyes begin to drift shut. Just like that, everything goes quiet.

Mobius watches you and Loki with an amused eye roll and tiny smile. The two of you had fallen asleep at the desk. You were leaning against Loki, his arm draped over you and holding you protectively to his chest. His head rested on top of yours, relaxed in a way that Mobius had yet to witness from either of you.

For two people who never quite let their guard down, you sure were calm now. Mobius remembered the day he first met you, a scared and desperate kid who nearly broke down when he agreed to give you a chance. You always played up not trusting him, but Mobius knew he was the closest thing you had to a friend for a long time before Loki appeared. You had depended on him, and he found himself wanting to keep that faith in him alive. You were just a kid, you didn’t deserve to have to go through half of what you already had.

Loki was a slightly different story. While Mobius knew there was much more to the god than trickery and illusions, he wasn’t anywhere near as gentle as you. While you hunted by demand, Loki did so for sport. He knew why you were attracted to Loki, he had read your file. You were a healer above all else. You found purpose in providing peace amidst turmoil. Loki was the ultimate hurricane. That had to be it. There was obviously no other explanation for your unwavering drive to protect him.

Mobius didn’t know it, but that was a very small piece of a much larger puzzle. The complexities with which you and Loki loved was not something that could be deciphered through reading. It wasn’t trivial in the slightest. It was deeply and remarkably emotional.

No, Mobius only saw a scared little boy and a girl who wanted to banish the fear from his heart. Suddenly, it hit him. Scared little boy!

A slam on the desk causes you to jump, awakening you from your nap. There’s something solid beneath your head, much softer than the wooden desk you expected to feel. Opening your eyes, you find yourself resting against Loki’s chest. It feels so safe here, so calm. His arms hold you close to him and you notice when he struggles to open his eyes. It felt like you hadn’t slept in days, so you understood the sentiment completely.

When Loki finds you snug within his arms, his heart beats a little faster. He's sure you can hear it, your head is so close to his chest. You're so fragile to him, and having you here against his body stirs up something within him that screams at him to protect you. He barely has time to process everything before Mobius flips open a file in front of the two of you.

“Wakey, wakey, kids. I found something on that Kablooie we picked up at one of the scenes.”

Rising from Loki’s chest, you feel his hands fall from around you. You miss him immediately.

“What’s that?” Loki stretches, leaning over to see the bag that Mobius pulls out.

“Candy. Do you have candy on Asgard?” Mobius looks at Loki incredulously.

You shake your head, both in response to the question and to clear the sleepiness from your mind. “Nope. None that he’s ever eaten anyway.”

Loki pipes up defensively. “Well, we have grapes, nuts, things of that sort.” Mobius looks at you, shock on his face. You shrug. When you first found out that Loki had never had candy, you made it your mission to overload him on sweets. You always adored sweet things, and sharing that with him was one of your favorite pastimes. Maybe that could be something you did again.

“No wonder you’re so bitter.” Loki stares after him, taking offense to the comment. Mobius doesn’t even notice, opting instead to slam another stack of papers down. Time to continue your work. At least you had a lead now.

“Remember, this is a class ten apocalypse. The variant should be considered hostile, and it is important to keep an eye out for reset charges. The variant steals one every time there is an attack.” This briefing is one you actually find yourself paying close attention to. You’d been to a few apocalypse sights while working with the TVA, not to mention the trip to Pompeii just recently with Loki and Mobius. While this shouldn’t be anything too extreme, the fact that the Loki variant could be there made you worry. While you knew finding this variant could get you one step closer to finally being free with Loki, something held you back.

Arriving at the sight, the rain pummels you brutally. The blue glow of the Roxxcart sign reflects off of everything around you. Holographs flicker in the rain, and you would almost find it pretty if not for the chill of the water.

By the time you make it into the store, you’re shaking and dripping wet. Loki stops beside you, puddling water onto the floor. Your nose scrunches up, attempting to hold back a sneeze, but you can’t. Trying not to call any attention to your shivers, you just smile at Loki and shrug it off.

Loki looks you over quickly, taking in the wet clothes and blue tint to your lips. His hand comes up and a bright green glow washes over you, instantly drying your clothes and warming you up.

“Wouldn’t want you catching a cold.” Now, he smiles and the green light dries him as well. You nod in thanks, bumping his shoulder and walking over to the rest of the group with him.

“Alright, I’ll go with our little sorcerers-”

“No. You two head out with D-90. He stays with me.” Mobius fights the hunter on this, insisting to no avail that Loki should stay with you guys. Eventually, she forces him to back down but the same definitely won’t be said for you.

“I go where he goes.” The hunter sighs and turns to you, staring you down. Walking up to you in an attempt to appear intimidating, she stands nearly chest to chest with you. It wouldn’t be that easy though.

“We don’t need you here. If you don’t want to follow my command, you can leave.” You glare back at her. If she thinks that you were going to back down now after having gone against the most powerful force in the universe, she had another thing coming to her.

“We both know exactly what I’m capable of and why I’m here. Don’t fucking threaten me.” She rolls her eyes, but you’re not finished.

“Every emotion, every fear, every little thing that you’ve pushed down because it’s just way too much to deal with. I’ll make you feel it. You will never know what peace is again. We can work together, or I can be the worst nightmare you’ve ever experienced. The only difference will be that you can never wake up.” The hunter’s eyes widen for the slightest of seconds, but it’s long enough for you to see that you won. Pushing past her, you walk back over to Loki and start heading down the hall.

Loki stares at the hunters and Mobius, eyebrows raised and expression definitely showing that he felt the embarrassment for them. He points in your direction and follows after you, impressed and completely in awe. It was easy to forget how scary you could be. Everything about you felt calm and sympathetic. You were easy to underestimate, but maybe that was deliberate.

The lights flicker around you and your heart rate picks up. You were never a fan of dark, enclosed spaces. When Loki’s footsteps catch up to you, you’re relieved for multiple reasons.

“That was quite impressive. Albeit, a bit frightening. Remind me never to get on your bad side.” You try to keep the smile off of your face, but his grin makes you feel at ease. Rolling your eyes, you smile back at him.

“I really doubt you’re scared of me.” Loki walks a little faster, getting in front of you and walking backwards to face you.

“You’re right about that. I don’t often back down from dominant individuals. It does do something to me though.” He winks at you and you laugh, smacking his arm playfully. You might just be thankful for the darkness now, considering it’s hiding the bright blush on your cheeks. You would never get used to the way Loki’s flirting made your stomach flutter to life with butterflies.

Your eyes suddenly catch sight of a man standing by the plants. “Who is that?”

Loki turns instantly, standing between you and the man. Hunter B-15 walks up to question him, her weapon held out protectively. Looking at him from behind Loki, you recognize something in him. Something that doesn’t feel like it should be there. God, you wish you could use your powers right now. Nothing felt right, but without them you had nothing to back that up. Still, you would risk looking foolish if there was a chance that you were right.

“Something’s off about him.” Loki turns his head to acknowledge you.

“What?’ The hunter walks closer to him, telling him to head back to the main part of the store.

“Wait, something isn’t right!” B-15 turns to you, but the man grabs her and falls limp. You don’t miss the light green magic that flows between them. She turns and smiles at Loki.

“So, you’re the fool the TVA brought in to hunt me down.” She looks at you from behind Loki, smiling wider. “And of course you brought the pet.”

Although it takes you a second to recognize what just happened, Loki catches on instantly. He smirks at her.

“Me, I presume. It’s so nice to meet you.”

She motions for him to follow her as she makes her way through the aisles. Loki squeezes your arm. “Stay behind me.”

“I was so worried that they’d found a better version of me. But now, seeing how delusional you are working for the TVA...well, I’d say that fear is gone.” Her legs swing, mocking you with how nonchalant she appears.

“I don’t work for the TVA, I work for me.” The variant turns around to face the two of you fully. She smiles and clicks her tongue condescendingly. Her head tilts, catching your eye.

“It’s cute that you believe that. I’m an enchantress, Loki. I can tell when someone’s under a spell.” He follows her gaze, moving to hide you fully when he notices where she’s looking.

The variant lets out a breathy laugh and turns back around. A worker walks up to her, and before you can do anything to stop it, the magic shifts between them.

Loki doesn't miss a beat, talking before the worker is even fully enchanted.

“I have an offer for you, that’s why I found you. I'm going to overthrow the Time Keepers and, cards on the table, I could use a qualified lieutenant." You try not to let that get to you. He says it so easily, the words flowing without any hesitation. It couldn't be the truth, right? You could read him like a book, but right now you were struggling. It was just the nerves.

"And I assume you mean me and not your little pup." That one hurts. For so long it was common for people to see you as some lost child next to Loki. They treated you as though you were a victim, being corrupted and taken advantage of while blind to it all out of love. You weren't blind, and you weren't some useless toy.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you almost missed the look he gave you.

Loki's eyes lock on yours minutely. He tilts his head just slightly, but you know the look. He has a plan. Trust him.

"There’s only one person I can trust. So what say you, Loki?" He holds his arms out invitingly, gently pushing you further back in the process.

"Don't call me that. Enough with your games, I'm not interested in ruling the TVA."

Their eyes take on a shift, anger surging through them as they turn away. Loki follows after them.

"If you don't want to overthrow the TVA, what do you want?" Electricity hums around you, the lights flickering violently. When they go down, you can see the orange glow radiating from multiple spots around you. Loki looks around as well, he faces you with an urgency that sparks panic in you.

When he speaks, his voice is low and rushed. "Go find Mobius. If there's a fight here, you don't need to be a part of it."

Your head shakes and you reach for him. If there was going to be a fight here, you weren't going to leave him. You were never the best fighter, not without your powers. You could help though. You had to.

"I'm not leaving you alone with them." He wants to disagree with you. The conflict flashes in his eyes, but he has little time to argue. Loki nods his head toward the corner. If you want to stay, you don't need to be at the center of it.

Loki turns and steps toward the variant slowly. They changed again while the two of you spoke. This new body was large, clearly strong and far more intimidating than the previous.

Loki is undeterred and his arms stretch out, directing the attention to the glowing charges around the room.

"I see, that's your plan. Lure us all here so you can blow the place up."

Overhead, the lights flicker again. You see them charge forward and scream when they kick Loki forcefully across the room.

"Thank you for helping me stall for time, you really do love to talk." Loki rises just as the variant steps forward. You scan the room for anything that could be of use and find a cable hanging off of a shelf.

Your arms reach for it, swinging it overhead and wrapping it around the variant's neck. Your legs swing up and use his back as leverage to pull harder on the cable. Natasha had taught you a thing or two and you were now thankful for the hours spent getting kicked around by her on a mat.

Loki rushes to you, punching the variant in the face. You feel him stepping backwards and can't move fast enough to avoid smashing into the aisle behind you. The metal digs into your spine and you yelp in pain, letting the cable go. Your body falls to the floor and the variant grabs for your throat while you attempt to recover.

Just as his hand is about to close around your neck, Loki swipes his feet out from under him. The man's head slams against the floor, temporarily incapacitating him.

Loki locks his hand on yours to help you rise.

"Are you alright?" You nod your head rapidly, getting up to make yourself less of a target. "Are you?" Loki checks himself over. "It appears so."

The break is short-lived as Loki takes a hard hit to the side. The variant locks its sights on you. He kicks violently and you barely dodge it. Your arm swings back to strike the man in the face, giving Loki the chance to run back over to you.

Loki grabs you quickly, pushing you behind him as the enchanted man sends another kick your way. He blocks it, but just barely. Loki summons a vacuum cleaner to his hand, swinging it around to send the man flying back. He runs over to you, holding your arm and looking back occasionally to make sure the man is still down.

“If I can get you close enough while distracting him, do you think you could stop the enchantment or put him to sleep?” You shake your head, knowing that you can’t. His powers may be available to him out here, but yours still aren’t. As long as the TVA knows where you are, your powers are kept from you.

“I know you probably don’t use them much now, but I know what you can do! This Loki is incredibly resilient, I’m going to need your help if we aim to stop him.” You continue to shake your head adamantly.

“I can’t.” He grabs your hand, knowing that your magic often resonated from the centers of your palms.

“Yes, you can. I’ll take the fall for it, you don’t have to worry about a thing.” Loki squeezes your hand in his, the urgency in his actions hitting you down to your core. You feel useless. Your fighting abilities were minimal at best. Loki could take this variant without you, but you were barely a distraction to him. The TVA had left you powerless and with very little means to protect yourself. You couldn’t do anything and it made your stomach twist now that it was directly affecting Loki too.

“Loki, I can’t!” A small spark stings the hand that Loki has wrapped in yours. Your eyes grow wide at the feeling, knowing that it couldn’t have possibly been you...right?

A low chuckle sounds from behind the two of you and Loki rises to hide you from the opposing figure. They're much smaller now, and their voice is softer.

“Leave the poor girl alone." The person steps closer, slowly shaking their head at Loki as though scolding a child.

"How is she supposed to use her magic when they have her chained up like a dog?"

Loki turns back to face you, a thousand questions floating through his mind. Only one matters at this moment though.

"They keep them from you, even out here?" His eyes fill with pain, knowing that he played a part in that somehow. Even if he hadn't outright forced you to do it, it was still his existence that led to it. You had abandoned a part of yourself for him.

You look down, suddenly feeling humiliated. The shame of what you were willing to lose felt so much heavier now that he knew. It wasn't just a temporary restraint like he had been given. At this point, you had been severed from your powers for what felt like years. It was shameful.

He struggles to find the right words to say, but nothing can make this better. He couldn't imagine the pain you were in. Remembering the person behind the two of you, Loki says what he needs to in order to keep the focus off of you. He knew you weren't useless without your powers, the fight you had just put up proved it. You didn't quite see that same strength in yourself though, so he wanted nothing more than to ensure you weren't the target of this variant's attacks.

"You clearly know she's no threat to you, so what do you want from me?" Loki turns away from you, stepping up to the variant.

"This isn't about you."

Everything in the store powers down. As the lights go out, reset charges glow and vanish in squares of glittery gold.

In front of you, the variant picks something up and waves at you and Loki with a satisfied grin. She disappears in the portal before you can even think to move.

The glow of the portal casts Loki in a golden light. He stands by it, watching as the variant runs through and disappears. You can see the hesitancy in his face. He's struggling.

“Loki-” Before you can even finish, he cuts you off with urgency.

“Come with me.” You make no move to approach him, fearing that he might do something rash if he feels trapped. You’re confused though. He couldn’t have just asked that, could he? He knew you had no powers now, so why wouldn’t he just go?

“What?” Loki quickly turns to face you, taking long strides to reach you in as little time as possible. His hands come up to squeeze your arms, trying desperately to garner all of your attention. He needed you to see how serious he was right now. How sure.

“Come with me. I know that there is much more to our story, and while I respect your wishes not to show me, I also don’t think I’m ready to live this life, my life, without exploring what still could be.” His eyes are so piercing, so pleading.

You’d given up everything once to see Loki again. Risked imminent death just for the small hope that he might still be out there somewhere. Hell, you had gone against the Time Lords themselves to reach the TVA so that you could find Loki...and he hadn’t even asked that of you then. Why now, when he’s nearly begging you to run away with him, would you say no? He knew your powers were being locked away from you, yet he still wanted you beside him.

What you didn't know was that the discovery of your powers was the final straw for Loki. His time with you may have been limited so far, but he was certain that the kindness and genuine care for him that you showed, even when you didn't think he'd find out, was not something that he could ignore. In his heart, he knew that he held so much emotion for you. Even now, the urge to have you by his side was far too strong to deny. The fact that his affection was clearly mutual made him ache for further discovery.

Behind you, hunters and TVA agents run closer. You can hear Mobius calling to you and Loki, but neither of you make any move. Loki is waiting for your decision. It suddenly dawns on you that he might not leave if you don’t make one, or if you decide to stay. He would sacrifice what was likely his only opportunity to escape if running meant leaving you behind. You already knew your answer, but that solidified it. You would happily go wherever Loki led you, because you knew that he would do the same.

“Let’s go.” His eyes twinkle with relief and pure happiness at your words. You chose him. You knew he was unaccustomed to that; to being someone's choice. He’d have to get used to it very fast now that you two were going to be on the run together.

Loki grabs your hand, stopping once more to look at Mobius apologetically. You would be lying if you said it didn't hurt a bit to betray him. You had to though.

With that, Loki pulls you through the portal with him. It seals shut behind the two of you in a glittery display of light.

a/n: can you guys guess which scenes made me happy in the show? there was so much smiley loki in this chapter, and while i cant stop myself from being slightly angsty, i hope you guys liked the fluffiness in this. please never be shy to tell me what you think, i love hearing from y'all and your interactions make my heart so happy. have a lovely weekend angels!

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soyeahitsmiddleearth · 3 years

Note

hello! i was wondering if you could write the following request; you are a member of the Brotherhood, the most dangerous assassins league of Middle Earth. To say that the Company of Thorin Oakenshield is both impressed and intimidated is an understatement.

The Company/Reader: Killer Good Looks pt.1

Trigger Warnings: Referenced assault and child abuse, murder

----

To say you're an excellent fighter would be a gross understatement.

You're the very definition of a rogue; you like shiny things, you're stealthy, cunning, persuasive, what are we missing...? Oh! And you're also an infamous deadly assassin for hire, and you get hired alright.

You're wanted (in more ways than one), for people are always looking for someone to fulfill their dirty deeds for them.

Almost everything is on the table with you; you'll steal things for people (and yourself), kill if the price is right, infiltrate and lie, and many other things, however, there are some things off limits.

For example, you won't kill kids. You never have and you never will, you flat out refuse; you also don't sell yourself to others for pleasure or other things of inappropriate nature; and, most importantly of all, you don't kill those whom you have a relationship with (meaning you don't kill friends, though those are few and far between).

When you were but a child your parents sold you off to put bread on their table, and you knew nothing but torment from that moment on.

For months the lady's husband would sneak into your rooms at night, and she would always pretend not to notice; she took to releasing her frustrations out on you under the false pretense that you were an issue, beating you, berating you, yelling, abusing; they were horrible people taking advantage of a 10 year old child in every way imaginable.

You felt no remorse when you finally gathered the courage to slit their throats one night, and to this day you still don't.

The news of your deeds spread quickly, for they proved to be quite shocking and a wonderful topic for conversation.

A mere child servant manages to kill their masters unseen and unheard, escaping into the night never to be seen again? That would catch anyones attention. And it certainly caught the attention of The Brotherhood.

They found you, took you in, and honed your sloppy skills to make you into the perfect, lethal weapon.

You've killed more people than you can count, stolen more than even the richest man has, and lied to everyone you've ever met at least once.

It's safe to say that you're not exactly a stand up citizen.

Your name, as well as the name of the organization who taught you all you know, is well known throughout Middle Earth which is why you were, ultimately, employed to assist and protect the line of Durin in their journey to reclaim Erebor...

Except, unbeknownst to them, you have ulterior orders from The Brotherhood regarding the operation.

Once the dragon is either confirmed dead or slain and the mountain is reclaimed, you are to kill the Durin's (and anyone else who stands in your way) and claim the mountain for The Brotherhood.

When you were first given this assignment you had no qualms with it.

Yes, dwarfs are strong, brave, and resilient, but you are fast, intelligent, and one of the best fighters in the organization because of your early start and ability to disconnect yourself from almost every situation. Also, you don't know them, any of them, and you've never had trouble killing royal, powerful people before.

It was supposed to be easy.

You joined the group in a cute little place called The Shire in a hobbit hole belonging to one Bilbo Baggins, and when you met everyone you figured that killing them would be easy, but as time went on you began to forget about your mission.

Everything started out simple. You didn't talk much and they stayed away from you for the most part; partially out of intimidation, but also from reservations on disturbing you.

You're a private person, and they'd hate to make you dislike them by being nosy or prying.

Gandalf is the only one who knows of your past, but even knowing who you truly are, he never for a second suspected what your true purpose was.

It's around the time you all leave Rivendell and return to the road when things start to change.

Thorin wanted to keep a schedule and reach the Misty Mountains before the end of the 4th week, and halfway into the 4th, you're already there are the entrance to the mountain pass.

Because the group makes such excellent time Thorin chooses to reward the group with a day and night full of rest to spend restocking supplies, regrouping, and relaxing, which is something that benefits you all greatly.

By this point, you've worked up enough 'trust' to actually sleep in short bursts around them, and you take full advantage of this day of rest to regain your strength.

At some point during the night you manage to fall asleep, and hen you wake you find that you managed to pass out for a good 4 hours.

The very first thing you notice is Dwalin sitting not far from you, and the blanket draped over your resting form.

To say you're taken off guard would be an understatement, for you never expected to be treated with such tenderness (or at least, tenderness by your definition considering the life you've lead).

"Dwalin...?" You call after a time of looking ahead, wanting to find out his motivations.

His gaze snaps over to you and a small, greeting smile falls upon his lips, "Good evening. It is mid-night, I'm sure you'd like to know."

You glance briefly up at the sky and observe the position of the moon and stars and find that he's correct, then your gaze returns to his face. "I see. What are you doing over here, though?"

The balding dwarf looks a tad more sheepish when you ask your question, and his voice contains slight embarrassment, "Well, we know you don't much like sleeping around us, or in general, so I thought that keeping watch here may help you feel even a bit safer."

Those words shock you to your very core.

"You'll always be safe with us, you should know. You protect us in waking, so the least we can do is return the favor in sleeping."

Any and all responses that come to your mind in this moment seem inadequate in comparison to his declaration, so you're left sitting there looking at him with a blank, yet dumbfounded stare.

"You needn't say anything in response. I just thought you should know." Another smile graces upon his lips, and then his attention turns back out towards the darkened tree line surrounding the mini camp in a half circle. "Sleep more if the desire is to suddenly strike you."

And, for some odd reason, you do.

---

For the first time in what has to be years, you sleep through the night and do not wake again until the sun beckons you to do so.

When the first light shines through the trees and makes the forest sparkle with morning magic, you arise and find that a new dwarf, Ori, has taken the place of Dwalin.

A feeling, one that you can't identify, rises within you, and you find yourself unable to handle it.

"Ori." You greet curtly, "I am going to depart for a time. Expect me back in 20 minutes."

The young dwarf looks up at you and nods shallowly, not even entertaining the thought that you would need an escort. "Alright. Get back safely."

His words linger with you after you leave, for the act of being cared for is alien to you.

When was the last time someone genuinely cared for your well-being and not just what they would lose if you were to perish? When was the last time someone thought of you as a person who could be harmed instead of a weapon that maybe tarnished every-so-often?

These thoughts plague your mind as you go to search the game traps you lay around the camp the morning before, and you find that the prize is well worth the early journey.

3 rabbits, 2 squirrels, and a wild hog around 2 feet long and a foot wide. The hog you caught along the way, actually. It had been sniffing around one of the game traps you sent (the trap wouldn't have been strong enough to hold it anyways), and you wasted no time in throwing a dagger straight into its' head.

You string up the rabbits into a line of rope and carry the hog over your shoulders (it's really heavy, so you made sure to evenly distribute the weight), and then you head straight for the group with your prizes in hand.

When you enter the clearing you're noticed immediately, for the game hanging from your body draw a lot of attention.

"Odin's beard!" Gloin exclaims, jumping up from his spot once his eyes fall upon you, "Look at all of that!"

All eyes are on you as soon as the red-haired dwarf alerts them to your presence, but you maintain a mask of nothing even despite your discomfort with being the center of attention.

"Where did you get all that?" Fili calls, getting up and approaching you to help carry the load.

You shrug off the line of rabbits and squirrels to him when he begins to tug on it and bring the hog to the middle of the camp, dropping it down heavily.

Bombur looks up at you with a grand smile and praises you in his low, baritone voice, "Well will you look at that! Now that's a hog."

You dip your head in acknowledgement of his compliments and offer right after, "Do you want me to skin them?"

"Oh, no, no! You have done more enough for us, we can manage that at the very least." The older dwarf assures you, patting the fat belly of the swine, "Thank you, lass. We haven't had a commendable meal in months, so this will be a real treat."

You received so many compliments and acclimations that you almost began to blush, but that's an unconscious ability that had left you a long time ago.

Everyone traveled with full bellies that afternoon, and there was plenty of leftovers to last everyone well into the next day as well.

Things like this are seldom the topic of talk or praise in the organization you work for, and you can never rely on anyone. You're all thieves, after all. Liars, tricksters, murderers... how could you trust someone like that to have your back? But... somehow, they trust you to protect them and their precious royal friends.

You: the liar, trickster, and murderer.

They sleep in your presence as if you hadn't stolen millions in treasure, product, and money; as if you hadn't killed a quarter of the people you've met in your lifetime. They trust you, the real you (or at least the realest version of you that there is), and it's a truly foreign feeling.

Of course, even though these good feelings long since lost to you have returned for a time, you keep yourself in check with the thoughts of what they would do to you if they found about your true intentions.

The images of their betrayed, angry faces, the disgust that would shine in their eyes when they realize what you're truly capable of... you're always sure to not lose sight of your end goal; the Mountain of Erebor and its' lost treasure. If you're to fail, you're certain that you'll be killed (either by the dwarfs or The Brotherhood), so you don't even entertain the thought of abandoning your mission.

---

Later in the day, during the trek up those horrible, treacherous mountains, you're approached by Bofur, the hat wearing dwarf with a smile more contagious than any sickness.

"Hello." You greet curtly when he falls into step beside you, eyeing him in your peripherals. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Oh, no." He shakes his head no and reaches up to straighten his fur hat, "You just looked a little lonely, is all."

Lonely, huh?

You don't reply right away and look ahead with your usual blank expression and dull eyes, though you do feel an uncomfortable, appreciative feeling swell inside of you. "I am not lonely." You inform him matter-of-factly, though when you glance down at his face you see that your words have slightly hurt his feelings.

Your heart twists slightly painfully when you see his saddened countenance, and before you can even think about it you're blurting out, "But I welcome the company regardless."

His frown is immediately replaced with a brilliant smile and his eyes positively shine with enthusiasm; you never thought your acceptance would garner such a reaction from him (much less anyone for that matter).

The dwarf practically talks your ear off while the 15 of you travel up the Misty Mountains, telling you everything he possibly can about his homeland, family, and feelings regarding the journey (as well as other things), and while all this incessant blathering would normally irk you, you actually find that you quite like it.

Bofur's excited speech does eventually die down when it starts to rain, though, for he and yourself both think it safer to concentrate on the hike as its level of danger grows.

It isn't long before night falls, and once it does the rain becomes a much more dangerous obstacle.

There is lower visibility and the rocks become horribly slippery, though neither of these things could ever hope to top the giant stone beasts that begin to battle right in front of you all.

The stone giants don't seem notice any of you, and if they do then they simply don't care, and you all barely escape with your lives. They throw huge boulders bigger than any building you've ever seen, and their hand-to-hand combat leaves you all shaking against the mountainside, fearful of falling to your deaths as you sway every which way.

To your, and everyone else's luck and great joy, a little cave in the mountainside appears before you all (after a horrible death scare with half of the company), and it becomes your resting spot for the night.

You, like usual, choose a spot closest to the cave entrance with rock that covers both your back and left side and fall asleep effortlessly. You plan on only resting for four or so hours, hopefully until the rain passes, and then you can resume watch so the others may regain their strength (they're heavier and bigger than you, so they need more rest and food).

Those 4 hours (and an extra half!) pass by without issue and your internal clock eventually wakes you up.

One of the first things you see when your eyes flutter open is the stone ceiling of the cave hovering above you, and the next is Bofur who sits in the little watch spot right across from your sleeping area.

You sit up as soon as your sleep addled mind clears and your blurry eyes gain focus and call softly, "Bofur, go ahead and take a rest. I can resume your watch."

The dwarf jumps slightly when your soft voice breaks through the silence and reaches out to him, but he doesn't move to get up. Instead, a small smile upturns the corners of his lips and he whispers back, "No, you do a watch of your own every night and refuse to wake anyone else up often enough. Please, go back to sleep."

He noticed that?

You can't even keep the surprise from your face, for your eyes widen almost imperceptibly and your lips part slightly. "I..." You've been shocked speechless, something that you thought impossible.

"We have all noticed, in case you're wondering. Now, go ahead and resume sleep. I've still got another 30 minutes of watch."

And, for some reason, you don't protest.

Sleep calls to you and tugs at your eyelids, making them heavy and causing your eyes to burn. What spell have they put you under to make you tired again under a simple command, you wonder?

You fall back asleep despite yourself, but it doesn't last long, for within 20 minutes after Bilbo tries to leave and the storm begins to quiet, the floor opens beneath you all and swallows everyone whole.

#the company x reader #thorin oakenshield #bofur #dwalin #bilbo #fili #kili #assassin reader #reader insert #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #bofur x reader #thorin oakenshield x reader #dwalin x reader #bilbo x reader #kili x reader #fili x reader

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thenextchapter22 · 3 years

Text

Virgin No More

Description: Reader is a virgin and masturbates a ton. The boys tease her and then Asmodeus fucks her and makes her not a virgin anymore

Warnings: NSFW, Squirting, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, First Time Sex, Masturbation, Cunnilingus

Pairing(s): Asmodeus/Reader

Word Count: 8,004

Link to my AO3: Click Here

Author’s Notes: I really hope you enjoy this, I had tons of fun writing it :)

_+_

There was nothing like waking up horny after having wonderful dreams and vigorously masturbating. You couldn’t help yourself, living with 7 incredibly handsome demons did things to your virgin body that just hadn’t ever happened before. Imaging Lucifer’s dark red eyes above you or his velvet voice urging you to be a good girl, or Asmodeus’ charm actually working on you and having him touch you all over and do the same back to him. Or, one of your favorite dreams, Beel and Belphie fucking you together, but this one started out with Beel licking your pussy and getting you wet and prepared for their cocks.

You gasped, flicking over your clit just imagining it again. The sheets were sticking to you as you touched your body in all the ways you liked to be touched as a thin gleam of sweat covered your body from the excitement. Softly you rubbed over your labia with your middle and index finger, circling, then they entered your vagina with a wet squelch. Using your thumb to press your clitoris as you stretched your inner walls you plunged as deep as you could go. Fuck it felt so good. You pictured it was Satan above you, his demanding voice telling you to go deeper and deeper. As your other hand gripped the edge of the bed you lifted your back off it and rocked your hips into your hand.

You couldn’t remember the last day you hadn’t touched yourself. It was about a week ago or more. Your finger was probably useless in the future for anything like finger prints because you had definitely rubbed your clit one too many times.

Back arching as you reached your limit, you shut your eyes, picturing Lucifer looming above you, commanding you to cum with his wings and horns on show, magic rippling around the both of you. Tremors overcame you, lights dancing in your tightly closed eyes, and your body rocked out the orgasm until you fell on to the bed, fully sated.

“Fuck yes,” you sighed, taking your hand out from under the sheets. It was sticky from your own fluids, and so was the bedding. You were a squirter and really should have put a towel down but oh well.

It was time to get ready for the day now. You got dressed in a comfortable pair of black leggings and a soft flowing short-sleeved blue blouse with flowers. Then you curled your hair just so it had some shape and put in some stud earrings and some light make up, blush and lip stick and eye liner with soft pink eye shadow and minimal mascara. Finally a pair of flats to wear for the day.

There was not school for two days so you happily strolled to breakfast, ready to eat whatever Beel made as it was his turn. He always thought of you and made really good human food. The others tried, but he did the best out of all of them.

The atmosphere was bright in the dining room and as soon as you came in they all greeted you with good mornings. You said the same back and took your seat between Mammon and Leviathan, excited to see pancakes and bacon and jams alongside their own types of breakfast foods.

The only one not in the room was Belphie. As you said this, he came in, taking a seat beside his twin opposite you and Mammon. It was the typical seating arrangement, but usually you took whatever seat was open, and Mammon was pretty upset whenever you didn’t sit by him at breakfast so you made sure to do it often.

Belphegor looked at you and you waited for his good morning that always came in a yawn, but then he said something else entirely. “Could you please stop doing that so often? It’s been days and I can’t get any sleep with your pheromones lurking in the halls so damned early,” Belphie complained. He put his head down on the table atop his pillow, and shut his eyes.

You turned bright red, and you dropped your fork to the plate of pancakes. It clattered and the sound echoed the room. “W-what?”

Satan snickered at you childishly from where he sat beside Levi. “What he meant was your masturbation marathon, kitten. We’ve been wondering when it will end.”

“Yeah, it’s been hard on me too!” Asmo said with a pout, between Belphie and Lucifer at the head of the table. “I love the smell and it makes me feel amazing and super refreshed but goodness you really need to get fucked, my dear. A good dick will make all the difference, how about it?”

Mammon hollered at Asmo while you sat there, in shock. The white-haired demon slammed his hands on the table and screamed across the long table, looking at Satan and Asmo as he screamed. “Hey, stop it! Enough talk about dick! She doesn’t deserve this, okay?! Fuck you all!”

Levi was bright red beside him. “Y-yeah! Th-th-this is not something we should be talking about!”

You vaguely noticed Lucifer as he nodded twice. He stared down the three demons responsible, and said, “Yes, I agree. This is not appropriate talk during breakfast. It will cease now.”

“Whatever.” Bephie rolled his eyes, and Beel looked at him very disappointedly.

Your chest ached. Your eyes burned. Before you knew it, you were gone from the table. Everyone was shouting at you, but you ignored them all as you ran to an empty room. It held a couple chairs and a couch as well as an empty fireplace, but not much else. You turned on the lights and stood there, facing away from the doorway to stare at the brick wall.

There was no school today. It was Saturday. You had planned on studying with Satan but now…

You sobbed into your arms, embarrassed and upset and feeling dirty. You really should have known that living in a house with literal demons that had heightened senses would mean they could sense your personal activities. But it hurt how they teased you. That could have been handled better. You were only human and had needs, too, and they should have understood how it would feel to be called out on touching yourself like that. Stupid Belphie, stupid Satan, stupid Asmo. You hated them.

The door was opened behind you. You turned sharply, and saw Asmo come in, shutting the door behind him.

“What?” you asked. “Come to make fun of me?”

Asmo shook his head, seeming pitiful in his stance. “My dear, we were only teasing,” he said with apologetic eyes. “It’s a natural thing to do and we didn’t mean any harm by what we said to you.”

You sniffled and wiped over your face which was no doubt red and splotchy. “You didn’t ha-have to be so rude about it. I’m sorry for being innocent, okay? It’s not like anyone would want… me…” you said, gesturing to your body.

Asmo gasped. “Love, you are so wrong about that. I want you every day.” He stepped closer, backing you up in the room. His eyes roamed over your body that still trembled from being verbally harassed. “I want you so badly, I’ve made that clear, have I not? And hearing you each morning and night experience such pleasure at your own hands makes me want to give you even more with my own.”

You inhaled sharply, face burning red. “A-Asmo!”

He grinned like a shark, eyes flashing with lustful power. “Oh how I wish I could charm you, my dear, then you would truly see. But alas, I will just have to show you in other ways how much I want you.”

“I-I don’t…”

“Shhh,” he said, finally backing you up into the wall, and you hit it with a gasp and a grunt. His arms surrounded you, and he wasn’t as tall as Beel but he still leaned down to look you in the eyes. “Let me take care of you, please your lovely body. Can I do that… for you?”

You stared at him, his luscious lips, his burning desire-filed eyes. You felt his warmth and smelt his cologne, fruity and delicate. This was like a fantasy. Were you dreaming?

“Well, my darling?” he asked, hot breath burning your cheek. His lips brushed ever so on your face. “Can I touch you, can I feel your beautiful body against mine? Will you allow me to give you great pleasure?”

You whimpered, almost falling down the wall. He giggled and caught you in his arms, holding you up by an arm around your waist. Your head was down, so he titled it up with one long elegant finger beneath your chin, and his face was inches away, eyes looking intently at you.

“So delicate. But I can only guess, not as innocent as others may think, am I right?” You were going to shake your head, but he grabbed your chin in between his fingers and said, “Well? I’m not letting you go until I get an answer…” Asmo tapped gently at your lips with his manicured index finger. “I’m not so patient, my dear.”

You thought. And thought and thought and thought. This should be easy right? Just say yes, and Asmo, the Lust avatar, would make you feel amazing of course. He was the embodiment of pleasure. Narcissistic, but still he had to make his lovers feel great, otherwise they would not come back to him nor would he have so many admirers. And your dreams of his touch, his naked figure on top your own, lithe and powerful and gorgeous, was no longer just that. He was going to make dreams reality. He was going to make you feel good.

You were a virgin, but not an idiot.

So it was easy after all to say, “Yes.”

Asmodeus grinned again. “Well well, then, my darling little virgin. Let’s play, shall we?”

You took the hand he offered, and he led you away to his room. He kissed your hand as he felt it shake and his smile softened. “Don’t worry your pretty little human head. I’ll take good care of you! Oh, were going to have so much fun!”

You knew he meant that. Asmo was never anything but kind to you (when you didn’t count the beginning of your stay when mostly all of the demon brothers hated you, until you proved to them you were not some weak human and could get through almost anything, even death).

“Come inside my room, little lamb,” he said, tugging you into his room. He shut the door, and caged you in his arms with a hug, rocking you back and forth like soothing an upset child. It was sudden, but not unwanted. He obviously could sense your nervousness.

You relaxed into it, and he stroked your locks. His hands were warm and comforting as they circled down your back and up again, and he hummed a nonchalant tune in your ear. Then, he plucked off your bra like it was nothing, and you gasped and froze in his grip as it was flung across the room behind you both.

He just laughed in your ear. “I am very skilled at that.”

“Yeah, I can see,” you said in shock.

He laughed again. His hands gripped your upper arms and he looked at you. “Let’s see… how about we get you more comfortable, yes? Into my closet! I’ve got just the thing!”

You, once again, were tugged along. His closet was… an entire bedroom basically, shelfs and rows of clothes and shoes and coats and scarfs. “Wow.” It was like a rich woman’s room. So many colors and textures. Your fingers ran over the clothes as Asmo dragged you deeper into the fabric tunnel.

“Here we are!” He let go of you only to grab you once again. “Change into this, and I’ll be waiting for you.” He winked as he dropped some stuff in your hands. “It makes it more fun!” and he stepped away, back out of the closet.

You stood there, dumfounded. The clothes you were given were… not many at all. It was a dress, stockings, and wow that was a very thin pair of underwear. String, honestly. You sighed, but nodded. You could do this. This was everything you had ever wanted and more. Gather some courage and if you did that, you would no longer be a virgin. Getting fucked by the Avatar of Lust as your first time was honestly pretty unbelievable.

“Okay, yes, I can do this,” you mumbled as you started stripping your clothes off. Just thinking that Asmo was waiting for you to come out in the clothes he picked made you start to feel hot.

Eventually you stood in only your panties as he had already taken off your bra. Then, off with the underwear you wore, simply colored light blue with little white flowers. You slipped on the thin gown, it barely reached the edge of your ass. It was a white lace baby doll with a sheer lace neckline with a scalloped trim. Thin spaghetti straps with a satin waist tie with bow accent. You did like the bow, because you loved anything with a bow. You also liked the bottom of the skirt where flower patterns in lace traveled up just enough to hide the sheerness of the rest of the gown. There was also a matching white thong to go with it and you put that on, feeling the string of it slip between your folds and your ass cheeks.

Honestly, you had no idea why he wanted you to change clothing. Maybe because Asmo wanted to dress you up like he always did. Or, you thought more deeply, he finally had the chance to see you in sluttier and sexier clothing, and that he would have the chance to take it off of you.

You felt really good in this outfit, actually. Sexy and soft, a bit cold but that was fine. You felt yourself over with your hands, nerves tingling as your fingers ran across your nipples and down to your hips over the soft fabric.

Taking a deep breath, you readied yourself. It was time to show him your new look.

You came out of the closet, shy and head bowed. You held an arm across your chest and used one hand to pull the bottom of the nightie down. Standing at the edge of the closet entrance you waited for him to say something.

“Ahh, a beautiful angel is in my room. I can’t wait to defile her~”

Your face flushed deep red at his words. “A-asmo, I—” And you looked up then to see him sitting on his bed now. He lounged back against his plethora of pillows. He had changed into a new outfit, one that was sans a shirt and only skin tight black pants. His legs spread wide, one leg propped up with his arm hanging over it.

He smirked at you, and used a long finger to curl towards himself, inviting you over. He tilted his head and licked his lips. “Why don’t you put on a show for me, hmm?”

“A-a show?”

He nodded, giggling. “Dance, shimmy your hips, but do it seductively.”

“You’re teasing me again,” you whined, pushing your legs together. You felt the thong rub your labia and become damp.

He moaned, and the sound went right to your core. “Yes, but it makes you feel good, doesn’t it?”

You slowly nodded your head in response. Because he was right. Your pussy was leaking, and the thin piece of cloth pressed up against your clit and it felt so good. Squeezing together your thighs as subtly as you could, you held back a whimper.

“Don’t hide your sounds from me,” he said knowingly. “I want to hear them all from those pretty lips!”

You walked closer to him, until you stood at the edge of his bed. You didn’t know what to do, so you just stood there, biting your lip. You were so unsure of what to do and what to say. Having fantasies and dreams were different, you could do whatever you wanted and didn’t have to feel so embarrassed about it. Not like you had control in your dreams, but still.

Asmo sighed. “All right, my sweet, come here,” he cooed, opening his arms for you. “Let me hold you, I want to feel you in my arms in that sexy little number.”

You crawled on the bed, forever red in the face, and he watched every inch of you as you did. Hands and knees, careful not to let your breasts fall loose by sticking your belly downward and thus sticking your ass up. He pulled you into his chest, your face pressed into the crevasse of his shoulder and neck while your arms snuck over his shoulders. He smelled so good it made you feel even hotter. Your breasts pushed against his abs, and your stiff nipples hidden beneath thin material rubbed against his hard bare chest. You couldn’t stop yourself from exhaling heatedly on his skin.

“You look so beautiful, baby. I’m so glad to have you in my embrace.”

His hand came to rest over the swell of your ass, the other wandering around your inner thigh. Being bare all aside from the thong made you feel dirty and fantastic. You shimmed a bit, and he made a happy sound. His fingers pulled the string like a rubber band to snap, and you cried out from the yanking it did to your pussy.

His smooth voice moaned into your ear, fingers on your thigh scratching a bit, causing you to grit your teeth from the painful pleasure. “I want to get my fingers inside of you, make you suck them clean of your own juices. You’re leaking all over, my dear.”

You sobbed into his shoulder. “Please,” you begged.

“Hnnn, yes, beg for me more, I want to hear you.”

“Can I—” and you stopped yourself, embarrassed to ask.

He stroked your hair back, kissed your temple. “No, no, don’t hide what you want. I’m here to make you feel good and I want you to tell me what that is. What do you want, just tell me, darling, and I’ll provide.”

You shivered. “Can you kiss me?”

He said nothing to it, only maneuvering the both of you until you sat on your knees in front of him. His hand rested on your lower back, soothing thumb rubbing in circles on the small of it. Looking at him from beneath thick lashes, you waited.

“Darling,” he whispered, reaching to cup your cheek. He kissed like you were a delicate flower, and you were. His tongue never came into play surprisingly. He played with your lips like he was eating a slice of an orange, suckling your bottom into his mouth and moaning like he got all the right flavors out. His hand held your face still, and you leaned as far in as you could, eyes closed softly, head tilted upward to meet him. It was slow and gentle and sweet, his lips melding seamlessly with yours.

“So perfect for me,” he murmured, thumb stroking your cheekbone. “I want to devour you.”

You looked at him, feeling debauched from just a simple kiss, while he looked the same, a hint of red to his cheeks and shine to his lips. Yours no doubt had the same shine and you licked them, feeling wetness.

“Then do it,” you said with false bravado.

He chuckled almost darkly. “Am I already corrupting you?” he teased.

“Maybe you are,” you said back.

He kissed you again, a soft peck of lips. “I want to kiss you everywhere.” He wasn’t soft then, his hands reaching to cup your tits. You moaned and pushed up into them, almost gifting your breasts to him. He squeezed them, and thumbed your nipples.

“Ah-hhaa,” you exhaled, cheeks reddening and lashes fluttering. You rocked forward, pleasuring yourself with the motion, squeezing your ass cheeks to tighten the string against you. Your thighs were together to hide what would be your pussy bare for him to see.

“Are you making yourself feel good?” he cooed, pinching your nipples and tugging. You gasped, jaw dropping. “I see your hips moving, my dear. I think you should rock against something more… sturdy.”

He lifted you up around your waist, and you squealed in shock, while he simply laughed. You were put on his extended leg on your knees, then, and your pussy was pressed directly onto it. It was a pressure so sudden and wonderful. Your head shot back and your hands gripped the bedding on either side of you in tight curled hands. “Ahh~”

He held your hips, and strongly, too. His fingers encasing either side of you and he shoved his leg up to put more force against you. “Such a gorgeous site, you pleasuring yourself on me.”

You shook your head, overwhelmed, breathing heavily. “Asmo, please, let me—”

“Let you what?” he asked innocently, head titled.

Move, you wanted to say. But he held you still, and just looked at you in glee. Your pussy throbbed on his leg and you wondered if he could feel it through his thin tight pants.

“Do you want to move against me, use me like a toy?”

“Yes, yes, I do!”

He let you go, and you moved immediately. Unashamed and needy. Motions of back and forth, occasional side to side, circles then. Chasing the shocks of pleasure brought to your clit and labia.

“Look at you go. Does it feel so good?” He wiggled his leg, and you cried out. “I love watching you let loose, this is an entirely different side of you I completely adore~”

You weren’t paying attention, lost in the pleasure. Having him watch you use him to feel the occasional brush against your clit was extremely arousing. The embarrassment of it turned you on, too. He was feeling you up while you rocked on him. His fingers trailing over your upper arms, into the dip of your neck. Goosebumps arose where he left phantom touches.

“Asmo, I-I want, I need to—” you exhaled through your nose, teeth grit and lips pushed out in concentration.

“I know, you want to cum so badly, don’t you?” he whined sympathetically.

You nodded and agreed, “yeah...”

“Well, I won’t stop you, my dear.”

And you let go, pressing hard down against his pant leg and shimmying your hips to ignite that fire in your belly. Your head tossed back so far your neck ached as you came with a jolt, moaning deeply. Clit pulsating, pussy clenching around nothing but a thin string. Knowing he was watching you, letting you complete the sparking pleasure by keeping still, simply holding your hips while you rode him like a cowgirl would a bull, there was no way to describe the desire you felt.

You panted, relaxing your body and head once the fire simmered down. Slumped almost, tired from the loud orgasm you just had. You swallowed hard, and exhaled, feeling sweat built on your body cooling from the exertion of chasing your completion.

Asmo hummed, stroking his fingers over your burning cheeks. “You got my pants soaked, lovely.”

“S-sorry…”

“It’s all right. I didn’t think you’d be such a… leaker…” he winked.

“Hnng, please….” He was so embarrassing. Your body was spent, but it was as if you knew this wasn’t the end because you were just waiting for him to do more, and he waited for you to come down fully from the high.

He carefully lifted you up to set you between his legs. You whimpered at the motion, any movement causing stinging pleasure to spark down below. “I think you should get naked, what do you say?”

You whined. Just as you guessed. Well, he did say he was going to fuck you, and that was definitely not fucking. You basically used him like a dog would, and it made your insides burn, like an ember wanting to burst into a new fire. You glanced to his crotch and saw he was bulging and hard, and it had to be painful to be keeping his cock encased in leather for so long without release.

“I-I guess…”

He pouted at you. “I want to see all of you. Especially that leaking little pussy.”

You gasped at his words, feeling more juices dribble from your inner core onto the bedding. “S-stop, I can’t…”

“You can’t help it, hmm? This innocent part of you is getting so wet, it’s ready to be played with. That’s a good thing, my dear. I’ll touch it and fill it with my fingers and tongue and make you cum hard enough that you just might pass out. Then, I’ll fill you with my cock.”

Fuck, yes. This was everything you had dreamed of, and he was going to give it to you. “Please…”

“Shhh, just take off the clothes, my sweet, and I’ll make you feel even more pleasure,” he promised.

His words made your entire body clench. Yes, the flame was on full blast again. So you sat back on your knees, and exhaled. Eyes closed, you lifted up the bottom of the lingerie and pulled it up, tossed it across the room. You then held your breasts in each hand, looking to the side to avoid his gaze.

He did not hesitate to turn your head back to look directly into his eyes. He kissed you again, his tongue dipping to press to yours for a quick moment, your instinct to follow it with your own making him sigh happily. He breathed against your mouth, “stunning. You’re so stunning, sweetheart.”

He placed you back against the pillows in a quick motion, and once you re-oriented yourself you saw he was in full demonic form above you. His pink-tipped horns and leathery wings, and his eyes were bright with Lust. He was beautiful. The embodiment of it honestly.

You didn’t even register you were no longer holding your tits until he reached out to brush his hands across your belly and tickle upwards. You blushed, fingers twitching, wanting to hide but knowing he really wanted to see your nude body.

He smirked, and the energy in the room grew heated. “Are you ready for my tongue on your pussy, angel?”

You squirmed for a moment, feeling the thong cooling and wet against your lower lips counter act with the new pooling heat building within you. “'m ready.”

“For what, exactly?”

You glared at him. “Asmo…”

“Hush, you can say it, I believe in you,” he said with a sweet kiss to your forehead. “One sentence and I will make your body feel so good~”

You wanted him desperately. You had to say it.

As you spoke, you felt a blush cover your entire body. “Please, Asmo, I’m ready for your tongue on my… on my pussy.”

“Good girl.”

Asmo knelt down to kiss your bare stomach. His hands carefully pulled your thighs apart, and you resisted for a moment. He glanced up at you, and smiled softly, encouraging with his pretty face that he would be good to you. And that you knew already. So you let go, and his face was inches from your core, your thighs trembling.

“Let’s get this off you first,” he said, tugging the string against your hip with his finger. It snapped like magic (probably was magic) and he pulled it away, the feeling of it sliding against you causing a squirm. You were totally nude. Naked all for him.

He inhaled deeply, shivering hungrily. “Mmm, you smell so delicious. I need to taste you now.”

His tongue flickering on your clit was a shock even with his words. It made you gasp, and your hands automatically gripped his head of hair that was between your legs, then your fingers slipped to grasp his horns which were warm, feeling the smoothness and ridged edges between your digits.

He moaned as you tugged on him, speaking around your wetness, “Keep doing that, hold me here to lick you open.”

You cried out when he flickered his tongue against the sensitive nub between your folds. His hands pulled you open by your inner thighs so he could really get in there, press against your labia and lick upwards to then suckle your clit between his lips, and as he did so he made soft sounds that added vibrations. It was incredible what he was doing to you with his tongue, flickering it and flattening it in all the right spots.

“Asmo, feels good,” you panted, shoving him further into you. He did ask for it after all.

“Baby, you taste so good,” he moaned.

Spreading your thighs spread so wide it burned from the ache and pushing your body up into his mouth, it wasn’t long before you felt yourself closing in on another orgasm. You tried to let him know but he was seemingly uncaring of it. He hummed against your folds and suckled your clit with his mouth. His tongue was warm and wet. He was deep into giving you pleasure so you focused on climbing higher and higher, but you wanted this to last, too, so you tried to keep the pleasure at the highest point before you crashed down.

Eventually your hands let go of his horns, slipping through is silky locks and down to your own body to play with your own breasts, your nipples were rock hard and aching so you tugged them and moaned. You looked down at Asmo while he ate you out, and it was so hot to watch his head bob around between your legs. What a sight to see, the Lust avatar licking your most intimate parts.

He stopped for a quick moment when he heard you moan, and smirked with a sheen on his lips, “You look so gorgeous tugging your little nipples, darling,” he said, squeezing your thighs.

“You’re more gorgeous,” you blurted out, and blushed, keeping your hands on your breasts but feeling a little shy about it.

He laughed, “You’re so cute,” he then went back to lick more.

You wanted it to last, the feeling of his tongue on you. So you kept your own orgasm at bay a little more, delaying your own gratification just to hold onto the wondrous things he was doing to your vagina. If only you could stay like this forever, feeling this great until you died. What a fantastic thought. You never wanted this to end.

After a few minutes of getting his spectacular tongue, he kissed your inner thigh and spoke sweetly, “Darling, while I love how well you are doing at holding back, and that’s definitely something I would really like to explore, the sooner you cum, the sooner I can get inside of you.”

He was right, and it was getting to difficult anyways. You let yourself reach peak, it wasn't difficult with how close you had been, and came once again. This time with a powerful spurt across his face. Your entire body was red with embarrassment, but the pleasure coursing through you kept you from speaking. You glanced down to see him licking his lips, his cheeks and lips coated in a shimmer of almost clear white. Your own body’s juices, all over Asmo’s face.

He smirked at you, his wings fluttering. He was literally glowing. The pink tips of his horns seemed brighter. “My, you’re so sweet to give me such a lovely present.” He wiped a finger across his cheek, collected some of your fluids, and seductively sucked his finger. With a wet pop, his finger left his perfect ‘O’ mouth and he did this a few times while you just lay there, still coming down from the high, watching with awe, until he was clean again.

He leaned over you and kissed you, and you kissed back eagerly, tasting yourself on his tongue. It was a sour sweet taste, melding with his own candy sweet tongue. He hummed and moaned. The taste of you made your body tingle, it was a dirty kind of sexy.

Once he was done giving you the taste of your pussy on your tongue, he leaned back on his heels and rubbed his fingers delicately across your skin wherever he could touch you. Your legs, chest, stomach, your face, he did this while you calmed down from your second orgasm. The gesture was really sweet and you ended up smiling goofy at him at one moment, and he chuckled.

“Are you with me?”

You nodded. “Yeah…”

The back of his fingers ran across your ribs, back and forth, and he watched them and asked, “Do you want my cock now, dear?”

“Y-yes...”

“Wonderful~”

Undressing the rest of the way, so just his pants tore off (he didn’t wear underwear), he was totally nude in no time. His body was erotic personified. He was basically putting himself on show for you, as was his personality, so you took the chance to really look at his sexy body while he sat there, letting you stare at him.

The heart patterns on his skin stood out, darker at the edges and very bright in the center, as if they absorbed magic from your orgasms and fueled him. His whole body was pure art. Strong, lean, sexual art. His wings were something out of a storybook with fairies, dark fairies maybe, and they fluttered ever so often like he was a dog wagging his tail. Your heart beat faster as your gaze moved down his chest to his cock. No hair, thick, long, and his cockhead was red with pre-cum leaking at the tip, ready to be touched, or ready to be stuffed inside you.

“Do you like what you see, darling? Can you picture me filling you up?” he teased, his hand gripping his shaft, pumping it slowly.

What a sight that was. You swallowed loudly as he did this a few times before realizing he asked a question so you replied with a single, “Yes.”

He was totally right. You imagined him entering you, stretching you apart with the mushroom head of his weeping cock. Your pussy was drooling for him, clenching around nothing, aching from earlier activities but yearning for more. The permanent blush on your face was a clear indicator of your eagerness for him to fuck you.

“Let’s get you ready~” He was ecstatic, but you were nervous, biting your lip and squirming a little. “It’s all right. Lay back now, sweetie, get comfortable for me. Relax, you’re going to feel so good when I get my cock in you.”

You did as he said, and relaxed back. You threw your arm over your eyes, nervous, blocking out the rooms dim lighting and the chance he could see your face red and cringing. Your body was overstimulated but you found yourself needing more, needing his cock like he promised you. But the embarrassment of him sticking his cock inside of you, while incredibly hot, was also scary. You never had anything more than some toys or fingers before all this.

“All right hon, keep these legs wide open for me,” he said, tapping your thighs.

You spread them open, heart beating faster. You could feel him inching closer to your dripping core, and you held your breathe for a few seconds and exhaled shakily. You wanted this, desperately, but why couldn’t you just snap your fingers and have it over with so he could fuck you senseless already.

Asmo rubbed your leg, cooing at you as he did. “Take a few deep breaths, it’s all okay. Can I see your pretty face, pretty please?”

You dropped the arm from across your face, but still kept looking above you instead of at him.

“There she is, my gorgeous girl,” he said happily, squeezing your thigh with his large warm hand.

He didn’t do anything for a few moments, and you heard something snap, a bottle popping open. Suddenly his fingers pressed to your entrance, wet and cold. Your body tensed up and you began whimpering, unable to stop the sounds from escaping you.

“Shhh. I’ve got to stretch you open with lube, dear, your own juices just aren’t enough.”

Oh fuck. He was right, but did he have to say it like that? “Okay…”

He giggled at your blushing cheeks. “So cute!”

Your hands clawed the sheets as he stuffed his fingers inside of you, and it was cold for a moment but then warm, and he was pumping them in and out slowly, dragging them across your inner walls.

“You’re leaking all over my hand, it’s so fucking hot. I never knew you were such a leaker, sweetie, it’s so rare and lovely to watch my fingers get coated in your lovely juices.”

“Ah~ Asmo, stop talking like that,” you begged, feeling warmed lube and your body’s fluids trickle from your hole.

He giggled. “Aw, I think you love it, my dear. Your pussy gets so tight around my fingers when I say naughty things.”

“Nnngg, please,” you babbled.

He pressed his third finger in after a few minutes of the two pulling you open, and you grit your teeth as he did so up to his knuckle, twisting and pulling you apart. It burned your entrance, while his fingertips pressed against your puffy wet insides, stroking, soothing the sting.

“I know it hurts, but I promise it’ll feel better soon.”

He did this for several minutes, the wet squelching the only sound aside from your panting and gasping. Eventually you started to feel good, the burning pain turning up the heat inside your belly. You started begging for more, asking for him to fuck you.

“Asmo, fuck me, please, I’m ready.”

“Not yet, my sweet. I want to make sure your totally stretched for my cock~”

You half sobbed, gripping the sheets in your hand. Your hips wiggled, and he held onto your thigh to keep you still. You almost growled in anger. “Asmo!”

“Impatient, are we?” He was acting mischievous and you hated him for it.

You were ready, you knew it. “Please,” you sniffled out this time, batting your lashes at him.

He took pity on you, or you really were fully prepared to how he wanted you. “All right, my dear,” he lubed up his cock. His hand slid up and down his shaft, and his face was in ecstasy while he did, his cock not having gotten much attention. You wondered what he looked like while masturbating, he had to look so fucking sexy touching himself. Did he deny himself, or did he cum over and over? The thought had your body shivering, and he chuckled like he knew exactly what you were imagining. He felt your desire, so maybe he did.

“Here we go,” he said, lining his well-lubed dick against your stretched open leaking hole, grinning as he did, his leather wings fluttering. Slowly, he pushed inside of you, and it burned at first like his fingers initially did. He exhaled once the tip was fully inside, and you tossed your head back, waiting for him to stuff you to the brim with his cock. He slid in deeper, halfway about, and his length throbbed inside your wet slickness, your pussy doing the same.

“So tight and wet, I love this feeling.” He took your hips in his hands, lifting you upward just off the bed so your ass was barely brushing the sheets. Gasping as he did, you fumbled to grip onto the bedding with your hands. “I’m going to fuck you so good you’re not going to do anything but come to me from now on. I'm the only one who can give this to you, the only one who is allowed to fuck this tight hot pussy.”

“Ahh, Asmo…. Hnngg!” You cried out as he fully entered you, breaking your inner wall. It stung, a sharp pain that was just as bad as you thought it would be. You tasted copper in your mouth even though you were not bleeding.

He leaned over you and kissed under your teary eyes, fingers stroking your hips comfortingly. “It’s all right, take your time. You tell me when, love,” he whispered.

Your chest ached. Your core was sensitive. But you calmed down with him touching you, speaking nonsense adorations. Really feeling him surrounding you inside and out helped, focusing on his cock, warm and thick, pulsating. He wanted to move but would wait for you, and you did not want to wait any longer.

“Move, Asmo, I want to feel you move in me,” you panted out. You tilted your head to meet his mouth, and he kissed you happily, and started to move his hips.

Slowly at first he fucked you so you could get used to him. His cock tugged and pushed your inner walls, never fully exiting but stretching your opening as he slipped back into you until his balls rested just so against you. His cock fit wonderfully, pressed perfectly to that special spot deep inside of you to cause a sharp tingle throughout your body.

“Faster, please,” you asked, licking your dry lips.

He hummed, “Whatever you want, my sweet.”

The quick and sharp thrusts were fantastic. He hit all the right spots, curved your body to meet his in a seamless fit. Your hands were all over him and he loved it, arching into each touch you gave him, whether it was his horns, chest, or hair. He was so hot and firm, and you loved feeling the motions as he fucked you.

You pressed your face into his chest, gripping his shoulders, drooling on him without care. You were bent into him as he slammed his cock deep into you, tour nipples dragged over his firm burning skin. You didn’t hold back the sharp gasps or sudden moans when he hit your mass of tissue that gave of great waves of brilliant pleasure.

“Asmo, feels so good,” you cried out.

“You’re amazing,” he said, pounding you harder. “I want to feel you cum and clench this slick pussy around me.”

After coming so many times already, could you do it once more? Yes, you had to. When would you get this chance again, your first time, and with Asmodeus. You never wanted anything more than him right then. You desperately wanted to cum on his cock.

You pushed against him, following his movements. Push and pull, hips to hips, and wet and messy kissing to go along with it all from an awkward angle of you tilting your head up to meet his enthusiastic mouth. The motions got harder and faster, your body would no doubt be bruised tomorrow. Perhaps you had wanted a gentler first time, but right then, the roughness was something you craved. The rougher the better, and the closer you got to feeling another orgasm approaching.

“Asmo, ‘m so hot,” your fingernails clipped his skin as you clung to him.

“Oh, baby, I feel your desire for me, it’s so good, so sexy.” He bit your ear, tugging it, and you cried out, tightening around his cock.

Your body was tense, toes curling and muscles taught. The room was burning hot and sweat was dripping on your skin as you both moved together to reach an explosive ending.

“Do you want me to touch your clit, my dear? Will that help you cum around me?”

You nodded frantically, “Please, yes, touch me!”

“Hmm, where am I touching you again?” he teased.

You grabbed his horns and pulled yourself up more to stare into his eyes, and you did so with intensity. You had no time for games, you wanted to cum again. “Touch my clit, Asmodeus, so I can cum on your beautiful cock.”

He grinned devilishly and kissed you roughly, the hands previously holding your hips now gripped either side of your face for him to clash his teeth with your own, your body dropping down to the bed and causing as sharp painful pleasure to ignite in your pussy. “I’ve created a horny monster,” he laughed around your lips. "I love it."

You fell back onto the bed, and he crawled over you, his cock twitching inside you. He found a new rhythm, and watched your face as he fucked you.

He looked at your breasts and said firmly, “Pinch those nipples for me.”

You did, and as you touched your pert nipples, his finger found your clitoris and rubbed over it. It was nearly numb, and so swollen and wet, but the pressure aided you and gave you more to add to the list of pleasure spots being stimulated on your entire body. Your nipples tugged by your own hands, your pussy filled by his dick bumping your G-spot, and your clit was being stroked with his skilled finger. It was too much at once to handle.

“I-I’m gonna—”

Euphoria fell over you. Your hands reached up to grip his horns and your legs pulled him into you, almost keeping him seated inside while he pulled your orgasm from your body with his thick cock hitting your spot at the same time his thumb pressed against your clit. Your mouth opened wide, no sound came out, only hot puffs of air, and your hips uncontrollably thrusted as you chased the pleasure to the very end.

“So sexy when you cum on my cock, let me fill you up with my cum.”

Hot, wet pulsations came after he spoke, and he kept still while he filled you with his cum. You looked at him with blurry, heated eyes, mouth dry and body sticky with sweat, tingling from cuming around his dick. He was absolutely beautiful. Glowing eyes, sparkling from orgasm, leather wings fully spread apart, wide and wonderful and gorgeous. He kissed you, then, and you lazily kissed back, spent and exhausted.

He slipped out of you, and you winced. A puddle of wetness escaped you, a mixture of him and you no doubt. How much did he cum inside of you? You couldn’t tell, you were so wet and sticky all over.

He kissed you gently on the forehead, smoothing away your hair sticking to your face. “Hmm, you were amazing, my dear. Rest for a little while, okay? I’ll clean you up.”

You hummed in response, practically dead to the world, and he chuckled. You sank into the pillows, ready to nap. Until he spoke once more, just as you were about to fully slip into unconsciousness.

“Oh, and next time you touch yourself, I want to watch~”

#mc x asmodeus #obey me fanfic #obey me #shall we date obey me fanfic #shall we date obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me leviathan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me smut #swd om #shall we date #fanfiction #my fics #asmodeus x reader

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thelemoncoffee · 3 years

Text

gah fuck it! Monster hunter x Demon au?

Shuichi and Maki are trained monster hunters and a team, but during one of their hits- specfically looking for a demon who's been terroizing and stealing from a small town- Shuichi gets seperated from Maki. shortly after seperation, he was attacked and knocked out by a group of thugs in an alleyway he was trying to cut through to find her.

When he wakes up he finds himself in someone's bedroom, said someone sitting at the floor by the bed he woke up on, all of Shuichi's hunting gear on the floor around him. The man who was basically ransacking his bag looked up at him and smiled at him excitedly, the first thing Shuichi noticed with dread in his heart was the two horns that jutted from the sides of his head and the sharp teeth that filled out his unnattually wide smile. This was the demon he'd come to kill.

His first reaction was to panic and scoot back as the demon had all his tools and left him unarmed, his second reaction was to wince and yelp as his ankle flared up in sudden pain when he moved. This cause the demon to stand up suddenly and lunge at him, which he briefly thought would be his last moments till the demon gently grabbed his ankle and forced him to lay his leg flat again, careful to not hurt the ankle more. That puzzled Shuichi, as demons were known to actively feed on pain and would tourture their food to get the most out of it- this demon seemed to be attempting to do the exact opposite. He wondered if he was trying to lure him into a false sense of security, and would strike when his guard was down.

The demon looked up at him and put it's clawed hand out to Shuichi like a human would to show an animal that it meant no harm- to which Shuichi would have felt offended for being treated like a stray cat if he wasn't scared that those black claws weren't just going to suddenly be swiped at his juggular. It didn't take long for the demon to suddenly pull away and swear under his breath in exasperation. He stepped away from Shuichi and crouched back down on the ground- the sound of metal and wood clacking and things shuffling indecated the demon was putting his stuff away- and Shuichi helplessly watched as he stood up with the bag in hand and sprinted out if the room, the sound of the goat hooves the demon possesed hitting the wooden floor in hall.

Shuichi took the chance to try and excape, mindfull of his ankle- which he could only assume was at least twisted. he managed to get out of the room and into the hall, which all looked wildly human for what was clearly the domain of the demon, before he heard hooves thumpping up stairs just down the hall. The demon looked panicked upon seeing him as he reached the top of the stairwell, as if it was just as scared of Shuichi and he was of it. The demon asked him what he was doing and Shuichi- in an attempt to try and mask his fear- simply demanded he be released. The demon seemed to not have liked that and lunged at him again, this time it resuted in him wrapping his arms around Shuichi's waist and slinging him over his shoulder like a sack of potatos, carrying him back into the bedroom where he was dropped on the bed.

The demon shut the door and told him was wasn't going to let Shuichi leave till his ankle healed, but offered him his name- that being Kokichi. Shuichi was more than confused as to why the demon- Kokichi- was so worried about his ankle, but quickly jumpped to the possiblity that he was intending on using Shuichi as a food farm, and was just trying to trick him into staying long enough to set up a good torture method.

Kokichi seemed unamused by Shuichi's skeptic body language, seeming to pick up on his fear. He asked Shuichi a question that threw him for a loop "tell me, mister hunter man, what are the two types of demons that exist?". he took a moment to think, and it clicked almost emediatly. This was not a comon demon, the pain fed ones- this was an inncubus. Kokichi fed off lust, and thus had no reason to keep Shuichi injured. He was using the healing process as an excuse to keep him around long enough to seduce him- which wasn't good, but was ultiamtly less harmful than it could have had Kokichi been a common demon. The realization must have shown on his face cause the demon had given him a sultry smirk shortly after it hit him.

Shuichi wasn't the best at luring lust fed monsters into his traps, but it wasn't like he hadn't before on previous missions. So he thought for a while before deciding the best way to go about this for now was to try and trick Kokichi into beliving he was going to let him feed on him. But as soon as he tried to play along, Kokichi saw through him and laughed at his attempt. He told him not to worry, as he handn't intended on feeding on him in the first place, and was actually returning home from feeding when he saved Shuichi from the thugs who attacked him. After thinking about it, the story did line up with the confusing behavor; just as well, if he really was going to feed on Shuichi he wouldn't have let Shuichi see him in his natrual form untill it was too late.

With this new- slightly reassuring- information he let himself relax a bit and let Kokichi help him heal, which soon led to him finding the demon to be less of a threat- and more of a dorky guy just trying to live life. He even found himself seeing the demon as cute- not in a lusty way like would be a sign of Kokichi's powers being used, but in a loving way that could only be natrually made by Shuichi's own emotions. He wasn't sure if he liked the idea of falling in love with a demon, but at the moment he didn't hate it either.

However- despite the fact that he wasn't in danger and Kokichi proved himself to be both safe and oddly a being of Shuichi's romantic interests; Maki was still out there and likely looking for her missing coworker- and Kokichi was suppose to be he and Maki's target. Upon realizing this, Shuichi suddenly felt like he was the true monster in this situation.

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #ndrv3 #kokichi ouma #shuichi saihara #maki harukawa #saiouma #au prompt #au idea #au #demons #monster hunter #kai prompts #it's 3am when I'm writing this- it might not make sense

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mldrgrl · 3 years

Text

The Matchmaker

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Summary: Based on this old prompt I got, which I originally said I couldn’t handle, but then inspiration struck and I had to roll with it.

Scully has only just barely opened the door to the dark office when Mulder is shoving a file into her hands and closing the door behind her. The projector is on, but the screen is blank, just white square of light and Mulder’s silhouette as he takes her to-go cup of coffee from her hands so she can shrug out of her overcoat.

“Once upon a time,” he says, handing her coffee back to her.

“Really, Mulder? Once upon a time?”

He smirks good-naturedly and snatches up the remote to the projector to advance to the first slide. “Once upon a time there was a little tiny tree in a great big forest in New Hampshire.”

“Mmhm.”

Scully tucks the unopened file under her arm and passes through the warm light of the slide projector to put her satchel down at her workstation. She takes a momentary glance at a grainy, black and white photo of a large tree and sips her coffee.

“Estimates have placed this particular tree to be somewhere around 400 years old. This is the earliest photo of it I could find, in the Manchester Daily from 1929.”

“Did someone cut this tiny little tree down and release a great big swarm of deadly mites like the ones we encountered in Washington state?”

“No, nothing like that.” Mulder winces and scratches the back of his head before advancing to the next slide, another black and white photo from a different angle, wider so that the tree in question stands small and alone in the middle of a field against a backdrop of mighty oaks and firs and pines.

“Well?” she asks.

“Did you know there are countless legends about enchanted trees? Trees with magical powers, trees that have the ability to heal or harm or grant wishes or foretell the future?”

“Folklore.”

“Every single culture has some kind of legend about the power of a tree.”

“Mulder, you once tried to tell me the same thing about Bigfoot.”

He ignores the wisecrack and clicks through his slides, narrating the images that appear on the screen. “The Jinmenju tree in Japan is said to have fruit with human faces that laugh at people who happen to walk by. There’s the sacred Norse tree Yggdrasil, center of the cosmos and where the Gods gather for daily court. In Iranian mythology the Bas tokhmak is said to contain seeds that eliminate sorrow and despair. And the Hungarian égig érő fa or sky-high tree that only selected shamans are entitled to climb and encounter magical worlds in the clouds.”

“Sounds suspiciously similar to Jack and the Beanstalk.”

“And then there’s the Hart’s Location Flame Thrower Redbud.”

Scully presumes the new slide is the same tree that was in black and white at the start of the slideshow, only now it’s in color. The leaves are multicolored, mostly red and purple, but some are so dark they’re nearly black. Though small, the tree stands out in sharp contrast to the yellow fieldgrass, blue sky, and the green trees behind it.

“Well, it’s certainly beautiful,” she says.

“The locals call it The Matchmaker.”

Scully snorts softly. “And why is that?” she asks.

“If you open up that file I so generously put together for you, you’ll find newspaper clippings from the past half-century, most of them wedding announcements, citing this tree as a key to what led these couples to a happy union.”

“Mulder...you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Of course with any good legend, there’s a catch.”

“Of course there is.” She puts her coffee down and opens the file, but doesn’t take more than a passing glance at the pages she flips through.

“From what I can gather, and keep in mind this is the Cliff’s Notes version of things, people believe the tree can predict compatibility in couples who make the pilgrimage there.”

“And how, pray tell, does the tree do this?”

“Glad you asked!” Mulder advances the next slide, a close up photo of the left hand of a woman. The ring finger is disfigured in some way, appearing to Scully to almost resemble a twig.

“What the hell am I looking at, Mulder?”

“You’re looking at an example of what might happen if a couple is not compatible. There’s an online Usenet group dedicated to finding matches for anyone who’s had, let’s say, experiences with the tree that have left them unrequited.”

“Unrequited?”

Mulder scrolls through the next few slides without comment. There’s another photo of the side of a woman’s face with what appears at first to be a small pinecone earring, but on closer look the pinecone is actually attached to the earlobe. There’s another of a hand, masculine this time, with veins that look like tree roots creeping up from wrist to knuckles. The last one is a forearm covered with a thin layer of moss.

“They say the only way to reverse the effects is by true love’s touch.”

“True love’s touch,” she repeats.

“Hope you’ve got your hiking boots ready and an overnight bag in the car,” he says, clicking over to an aerial photo of a forest. “We’re headed to a little town on the outskirts of Crawford Notch State Park.”

She tries not to sigh in response.

*****

The flight to Manchester is less than two hours and they arrive just before noon. Scully has flipped through the file Mulder gave to her, and though the clippings make for amusing anecdotes, she sees nothing noteworthy or remarkable.

“What exactly is your interest in this case,” Scully asks, buckling her seatbelt after she takes her usual navigational seat in their rental car. “Not that I even believe there actually is a case here, let alone an x-file.”

“You don’t think it’s unusual just how many couples cite that tree as a turning point in their relationships?”

“Not really.”

“You’re not even a little curious?”

“About what?”

“The tree.”

“Quite honestly, I’m far more curious about what you’re going to buy me for lunch than I am about a matchmaking tree.”

He chuckles. “Ah, well, lucky for you our first stop happens to be a diner not too far from here.”

“Yes, lucky me.”

*****

The diner resembles a small cabin and is nestled amongst the trees off the side of the road. She doesn’t want to admit it, but the drive so far has been beautiful. The highway is narrow and tree-lined and it’s autumn. Miles upon miles of yellows and reds and golds and greens and oranges. To say that the road is picturesque would be an understatement.

The little cabin-diner is warm and cozy. A wood-burning stove is on in one corner, easily heating the small space. There’s a long counter with swivel-seats dividing the cabin in half, lengthwise, and four booths pressed up against the front windows, two on either side of the door. Only one man sits at the counter, sipping coffee and reading a newspaper. He looks up briefly when Mulder and Scully enter, but immediately returns his attention to his newspaper.

A waitress in an emerald green, button-down dress and starch white apron comes out from behind the counter with two menus. She smiles congenially as she says good afternoon and waves to the booths.

“Take your pick,” she says.

Mulder looks to Scully and she sees him glance at the counter. She nods and cuts her eyes to the nametag pinned above the pocket of the woman’s uniform. “The counter is fine,” she says. “Janet.”

“Sure.” Janet turns and her blonde curls bounce lightly against her back. Her shoes squeak as she makes her way back to the other side of the counter and places the menus down side by side.

“What do you recommend?” Mulder asks.

“Can’t ever go wrong with a burger,” Janet answers, pulling an order booklet out of her apron pocket. “But, the special today is meatloaf. And the soup is tomato bisque.”

“I’ll do the burger. Medium well. Is that pie under that dome back there?”

“Pecan.”

“More of a sweet potato guy.”

“Yeah, me too. Well, sweet potato girl.” Janet laughs and winks and Mulder chuckles and nods.

Scully clears her throat and slaps her menu down on the counter so hard that Mulder jumps. “I’ll have the chicken salad,” she says, pushing the menu towards Janet. “Balsamic vinaigrette on the side, if you have it.”

“Sure.”

Janet swipes the menus from the counter, scribbles their orders down and rips the paper from the pad to slide it through a small window behind her. Scully adjusts her napkin and cutlery as Mulder swivels towards her and leans in close with his elbow on the counter and his hand across his forehead.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you being hostile to the witness.”

“The witness?”

Mulder inclines his head towards Janet and then raises his eyebrows. “Did you even read the file?”

“I gave it a glance.”

“Janet is one of the unrequited.”

“Too bad for Janet.”

Mulder narrows his eyes a little at her and puckers his lips to form a question. She doesn’t know why she’s suddenly feeling so catty, she just does. No, that’s not true. She does know why she’s feeling catty. The past year her partnership has felt like a game of ping pong, bouncing between extreme highs and extreme lows. And the wedge that was driven between them by Diana Fowley, may she rest in peace, is not far enough in the rear view mirror for her liking. They’re on the mend, both professionally and personally, but she still can’t help but feel threatened in some way when Mulder turns the charm on with strangers.

“I’ll stop being hostile if you stop flirting,” she blurts out, regretting not only what she’s just said, but the way in which it flies out of her mouth.

“Flirting?”

“Forget it.”

“Flirting?”

“Nevermind.”

Mulder straightens in his seat and puts both hands flat on the counter. Scully rolls her shoulders back and tucks her chin down. She lets her hair fall across her cheeks to hide her embarrassment. Janet is suddenly there in front of them again, two glasses of water in her hands.

“Didn’t even ask if you folks wanted something to drink,” she says.

“Got any iced tea?” Mulder asks.

“Sure do.”

“Two lemons, please.”

“And for the lady?”

“I’ll just have the water, thank you,” Scully says.

Janet is gone for what feels like only seconds before she’s bringing a glass of iced tea to Mulder and a small glass dish of lemon slices. Mulder thanks her warmly and for some reason, that makes Scully feel even more chagrined.

“Janet,” Mulder says, reaching into the interior breast pocket of his jacket to grab his ID. “My name is Agent Mulder and this is Agent Scully. My partner and I are actually on an assignment right now that you might be able to help us with.”

“Me?”

“Have you ever been out to see a tree they call The Matchmaker?”

The smile on Janet’s face wavers and then fades into a frown. She stands stock still for a few moments and then grabs a rag from the side of the counter as though she’s about to clean something, but then just twists it nervously her hands.

“What do you know about it?” she asks.

“Not much, which is why we’re here. We know from our preliminary investigation that you’re amongst the group that calls yourselves the unrequited.”

Janet nods slowly. “That’s not...a crime, is it?”

“No, no. We’re trying to determine if you might be the victim of one though. It’s my understanding your contact with the tree has left you with some sort of affliction.”

Janet nods again and then hesitates before tucking the rag in her hands into her waistband and coming around the counter. Both Mulder and Scully turn in their seats and Janet turns her back to both of them. She lifts the hair up off her neck and it’s then that Scully’s interest is finally piqued. The back of Janet’s neck is rough and scaly, resembling tree bark. Scully whips a pair of latex gloves from her pocket and leans closer to Janet.

“Do you mind if I…?” Scully asks.

Janet glances over her shoulder at Scully, looks at the gloves she’s pulling on, and then nods her head. “Go ahead,” she answers.

“Agent Scully is a medical doctor,” Mulder says, unnecessarily.

Scully gently prods the ridges at the back of Janet’s neck. It appears as though the skin is very dry and may flake away, but in reality it’s very thick and does not give at all. Mulder hovers over Scully, his chin nearly touching her shoulder.

“It could be an allergic reaction,” Scully says. “It appears to be a localized eczema. Have you seen a dermatologist?”

“I’ve been to every dermatologist in the area,” Janet answers, dropping her hair and turning back around. “They’ve done biopsies, tried laser removal, creams, gels, cryotherapy, the whole nine yards. No one knows what it is or how to treat it.”

“And you think the tree that Agent Mulder mentioned earlier has something to do with this?”

“Oh, I know it does. I was foolish enough to ignore the warnings and so...well, now I’m one of the unrequited.”

“I see.”

“Can you walk us through how it happened?” Mulder asks.

“It was about five years ago now, I was a senior in high school. Me and my boyfriend at the time, Anthony, we thought it would be like a funny thing to do just before graduation. We’d been together all through high school, grown up on the same block, and we were planning on getting married the next fall.”

Scully lets her eyes drop momentarily to Janet’s hands and notes the absence of a ring on her finger.

“You knew of the stories before you went up there?” Mulder asks.

“Oh yeah,” Janet answers. “I mean, if you’re from around here, you hear all about it from the time you’re a kid. And everyone wants to brag about it, you know? You hear from all your friends, my parents touched The Matchmaker and then got married, but no one wants to talk about the other side of it.”

“You and Anthony?” Scully asks. “You never married?”

“Well, how could we? He wasn’t the one.”

“According to the tree.”

“If it was true love, I wouldn’t be afflicted.”

“You really believe that?”

Janet points to her neck. “I didn’t until this happened.”

“You didn’t believe in the legend when you went there?” Mulder asks.

“Not really. Who would believe that a tree could do this?”

“You folks need to talk to Hattie Vale,” the man at the other end of the counter suddenly pipes up, even though he doesn’t even look up from his newspaper.

“Hattie Vale?” Mulder asks, swiveling in his seat to face the older man.

“Mmhm.” He nods once and turns the page of his paper. “That cursed tree is part of her legacy. Janet, I’ll take my check now, if you please.”

“You got it, Wallace.” Janet gives Scully a wry smile before she heads behind the counter again, ripping a page out of her booklet.

“Can you tell us how to find Miss Vale?” Mulder asks.

“Take the red bridge about a mile inside the entrance of Crawford Notch. Sign’ll say private property, but it’s just to try to keep looky-loos away from the tree.” Wallace takes a few bills out of his wallet and puts them on the counter. “Thank you, Janet.”

“See you tomorrow,” Janet says.

“Miss Vale lives out by the tree?” Mulder asks.

Wallace folds his newspaper and then stands and tucks it under his arm. “Go right at the fork, that’ll take you to Hattie. Go left, that’ll take you to The Matchmaker. And take my advice, don’t touch that tree.”

“You have a personal experience you’d like to share with us?”

“No.” Wallace pulls a hat out from his jacket pocket, slaps it on his head, and walks out of the diner.

“Why do I not believe him?” Mulder says to Scully as he turns back to face the counter.

*****

Hattie Vale’s home is exactly where Wallace says it would be. While the diner was a faux cabin, Hattie’s place is the real deal. Scully would not be surprised if it did not have running water or electricity.

The woman that greets them on the porch is both ancient and spry. She’s stocky and squarely built, wearing a thin housedress and a hand-knit sweater and moccasins on her feet. Two long, grey braids fall over her shoulders to her hips. Her face is sunburnt and weathered, deep lines in her forehead and at the sides of her mouth. She grins broadly, revealing a handful of missing teeth.

“I had a feeling I might get visitors today,” she says. “And here you folks are.”

“Are you Hattie Vale?” Mulder asks.

“Sure am. Who’s asking?”

“My name is Agent Mulder, this is Agent Scully.” He stops at the edge of the porch and holds up his badge and Scully does the same.

“That supposed to impress me or something?”

“Ah, no Ma’am,” Mulder says, chuckling as he tucks his ID back into his pocket. “We’re investigating some unexplained afflictions associated with a tree in these parts referred to as The Matchmaker.”

“You’re about three centuries too late for that, bub.”

“Forgive me for my tardiness.”

Hattie laughs heartily at Mulder’s joke and Scully has to fight not to roll her eyes at him when he gives a pleased grin in her direction.

“Come on in, I got coffee I can put on.”

“That’s not necessary, Mrs. Vale, we only want to ask a few questions,” Scully says.

“Come on in anyway, let me put my feet up.”

Mulder hops up the stairs onto the porch and Scully trudges up behind him. She’s surprised to find that the cabin actually does have electricity and is fairly tidy and well-furnished. The large room is a combination kitchen, dining area and living space. Hand-woven rugs are strategically placed on the wood floors. Knitted blankets are draped over the couch and a lounge chair. There’s no TV, but there is a transistor radio perched on a folding tray next to the chair.

Hattie plops herself down into the lounger and pulls a lever to extend the footrest. She leans back with her hands over her belly and flexes her toes inside her moccasins.

“How long have you lived out here?” Mulder asks, waiting for Scully to take a seat before he perches himself at the edge of the couch.

“Well, I was born here, so I figured I might as well die here too, but I did move out to Vermont for a time when I got married. After I raised my kids and my husband passed, I thought it was as good of time as any to come back. That would’ve been somewhere around 1942, I think.”

“That was fifty-seven years ago,” Mulder says. “You had already raised your kids and been widowed by then?”

Hattie laughs again. “I was born in 1885.”

“You’re 114 years old?”

“Don’t look a day over 100, do I?” She wiggles her shoulders a little and lifts her brows. Even Scully has to smile in amusement.

“Mrs. Vale,” Scully starts.

“Hattie, please. Never liked formalities. So stuffy.”

“Hattie, can you tell us anything about the tree?”

“Maybe why some might say it’s cursed,” Mulder adds, and Scully grimaces.

“A curse? Bah. Sounds like you’ve been talking to my grandson.”

“Who’s your grandson?” Mulder asks.

“Name is Wallace Byrd. He’s my girl Rosemary’s boy.”

Mulder and Scully give each other a glance. “We did...happen to run into someone named Wallace,” Mulder says.

“Wally had a bad go of it when he was a young man. He blames the tree for it, silly boy.”

“So, you don’t think it’s cursed?”

“Not at all, the tree is blessed, if anything.”

“Do you happen to know how it came to be blessed?”

“Oh yes, I can tell you exactly how it came to be.”

There’s a twinkle in Hattie’s eyes as she starts to tell the story of the tree, one that makes Scully even more dubious and Mulder even more interested.

“My four times great grandfather, Jean-Luc Benoit, came to this area from Quebec City in the first half of the 1700s,” Hattie says. “There was a Winnipesaukee tribe that lived nearby and they traded goods often. Jean-Luc fell in love with a squaw from the village called Little Flower, and she with him, much to her father’s dismay. Sensing that Jean-Luc was going to ask for his blessing to marry his daughter, her father met with some of the elders of the village and they told him he would have to ask the white man to pass a test of his true love if he were to take one of their women away.”

Mulder nods encouragingly at Hattie and then grins at Scully. His enjoyment of the tale is palpable. She keeps her gaze straight ahead, afraid she might slip and very unprofessionally roll her eyes at him.

“Little Flower’s father took the advice of the elders,” Hattie continues. “Except, he decided he was going to give the would-be suitor an impossible task. He told Jean-Luc to plant a seed, and only when that seed had flourished and become a tree, could he have his daughter’s hand in marriage. Jean-Luc said his love was unhurried and he would plant the tree and wait as long as it took. A ceremony was held for the planting and to everyone’s astonishment, the tree grew overnight.”

“Overnight?” Mulder asks. “Incredible.”

“I’ll say,” Scully murmurs.

“But, that wasn’t to be the end of it,” Hattie says. “Little Flower’s father was distraught by the turn of events. Instead of turning to the elders as he had before, this time he went directly to the tree, believing the Gods may have grown the tree as punishment for his trickery. He apologized for his wrongdoing and pleaded with the tree for a sign that would show him that Jean-Luc was worthy. When he went home, his village was in chaos. They told him that right before their eyes, his daughter had started growing leaves where her hair was and roots where her feet were and that she reached up to the sky and her arms became limbs and her fingers became branches.”

“She turned into a tree?” Mulder asks.

“So they say. Little Flower’s father was distraught and horrified. He tried pulling her feet from the earth, but the roots just grew deeper. When he saw that he could do nothing, he ran to Jean-Luc and asked for his help. The instant that Jean-Luc touched the tree that Little Flower had become, she was restored to her human self.”

“And since then, people have come to ask the tree to show them who their true love is?” Mulder asks.

“That’s about right. Mostly locals though, passing the story along to their children and grandchildren.”

“Mrs. Vale, Hattie, are you aware of any pesticides that may have been sprayed around the tree or perhaps any poisonous foliage that might surround the area?” Scully asks.

Hattie shrugs. “Been years since I’ve been out by that tree. The state took that part of the land years ago when they formed the park.”

“Have you heard about people coming away from the tree with afflictions?” Mulder asks. “Skin problems, or physical ailments of some kind? You said your grandson, Wallace, believes the tree to be cursed. Has he been suffering from an ailment after contact?”

“Ailments? No. Broken heart is more like it. Wallace brought his sweetheart out to the tree before he proposed. He was a believer in the legend and said the tree showed him that Corrine, that was his girl, was his true love. A week before their wedding she was killed in an automobile accident. He never got over it. Now, he thinks the tree cursed him to a life alone. I tried to tell him many times not to take stock in that tale. It’s just a tale, after all.”

“So, you don’t believe in the legend?” Mulder asks.

“Believe in a tree that grows overnight and wraps a girl up in branches?” Hattie laughs. “You’d have to be crazy to believe in that kind of thing.”

It’s Scully’s turn to grin and Mulder smiles good-naturedly. He stands, and Scully does as well.

“Thank you for your time,” Scully says.

“Could you tell us, what’s the best way to reach the tree from here?”

“Once you cross back over the bridge head due west. The ‘no trespassing’ signs should lead you right to it.”

*****

It really is a stunning tree, Scully thinks, as they stand before it. The photos didn’t do it justice. The sun shines onto the top of the tree, making it look alive with red-purple flames. The branches curve out and the leaves cascade like a waterfall. The field grass flutters in the wind like a golden wave around their feet and the leaves of all the trees that surround them shake and rustle. She has to brush her hair from her eyes and away from her cheeks.

“Well, I guess we should take a look,” Mulder says.

“What is it that we’re looking for?” she asks.

“You tell me.”

“I don’t know, Mulder, I’m not a botanist. Plants aren’t something I ever took a strong interest in. I’m not even sure I’d truly be able to identify poison ivy if I came across it.”

“Leaves of three, let them be.” Mulder smiles as he pulls on a pair of gloves. “Something we used to say as kids to avoid it when we were camping.”

“And somehow I’m guessing you still managed to pull your share of rashes.”

“I don’t know where these baseless accusations are coming from, but I will neither confirm nor deny the generous supply of Calamine Lotion my mother kept on hand for such occasions.”

Scully snorts softly and pulls her own pair of gloves on. Mulder is already crouching before the tree, running his hand over the dirt. He picks up a fallen leaf and twirls it by the stem.

“It looks like a heart,” he tells her, turning it upside down and holding it up between pinched fingers. He’s right.

“Bag it,” Scully says, handing him a plastic bag. “We’ll need soil samples as well. Maybe scrape some bark off as well.”

“I take it your theory is the tree is toxic?”

“Perhaps.”

“Mmhm.” Mulder seals up the leaf and stands back up. “Any of those poisonous plants you mentioned before known to cause skin irritations for over five years?”

“Mulder, I’m fairly certain that contact with this tree is merely coincidence. Take Janet, for example, she could have daily exposure to an allergen without even knowing it, causing that rash at the back of her neck, her laundry detergent, for example.”

“Something that all of the dermatologists she’s been to have failed to diagnose?”

“I’m only saying that there are more probable explanations for why someone would develop a skin irritation than a centuries old legend.”

“Probable, but not implausible,” he says.

“Mulder, you’re crazy,” she answers with a shake of her head and a small laugh.

He pockets the plastic-wrapped leaf and then walks away from her to circle the tree. Scully studies the lush mane of leaves, trying to determine the best possible way to part them and reach the trunk. She puts her hands into a gap and a few birds fly up and out of the tree in a panic, their wings flapping wildly. She jumps back, heart racing. A sudden breeze ruffles the back of her hair and she shivers. Goosebumps prick her arms, but she isn’t cold. Her shoulder pulls up automatically as the inside of her ear is tickled with what feels like a soft whisper.

“Mulder?” She turns, but no one is there. She hurries to the other side of the three and spots Mulder a few yards away, looking up into the white pines that border the clearing.

Scully turns back to the tree and finds another gap in the leaves to part. She cautiously pushes them aside and finds she’s able to lift a section back and step under the canopy of branches. Hunching slightly, she pulls her pocketknife out and scrapes a bit of bark from the thin trunk and bags it. She crouches down to collect some dirt as well. As she straightens her knees, her heel comes back and catches on a tree root and she stumbles. Her first instinct is to throw her arm out and her hand smacks into the tree trunk. She can feel the bark bite into her palm through her glove and the inside of her wrist is scraped in her efforts to prevent herself from falling.

“Dammit,” she mutters, wobbling into her hunched position and letting go of the tree. She pulls the sleeve of her blazer up to inspect her hand. There’s debris on her glove and the inside of her wrist is scratched red, but the skin wasn’t broken and she’s not bleeding. She rotates her wrist a few times and fortunately it doesn’t feel sprained, just a little sore.

“Scully!” Mulder calls.

“Yeah,” she answers, warily.

“Where are you?”

“In here.” She can hear the crunching of the field grasses and leaves underfoot as Mulder approaches. She pulls the cuff of her sleeve down over her wrist before pushing the leaves aside like drapery and steps out from the canopy.

“You have…” Mulder approaches and reaches up to pluck a leaf from her hair.

“Thanks.”

“It matches,” he says, twirling the red leaf softly against the ends of her hair.

A breeze comes up again and that same whisper and tickle of her ear returns. She shivers again and moves her hand up to take the leaf from Mulder, but he pulls it back and puts it in his pocket.

“Find anything interesting?” he asks.

“Bagged up some bark and some dirt.”

“You ask the tree if it was cursed?”

“I did.”

“What was the answer?”

“Stop letting your crackpot partner talk you into fruitless jaunts to the forest.”

Mulder chuckles. “There is some poison oak in the woods up there. You’ll be happy to know I steered clear.”

“Wonderful,” she says, wincing as her wrist burns slightly when she peels off her gloves.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You think those are storm clouds rolling in over there?”

She nods slightly, rotating her wrist in her pocket. It’s beginning to itch.

“I guess we should probably head out then?”

“No argument from me.”

*****

They leave New Hampshire with nothing more than the samples and family legends. Mulder finally accepts there isn’t much of a case to be had, especially when they can’t find any other afflicted locals to speak with, and they return home. They run the samples through the lab, but the results don’t account for any toxins.

A week passes and Scully’s wrist doesn’t seem to stop itching. It’s at its worst during the day at work and seems to calm at night when she goes home. She sees a dermatologist who can’t find anything wrong, but gives her a prescription for an anti-itch cream that does nothing to help.

They’re out of town again, on a case in Iowa. She shouldn’t be relieved to be doing autopsies again, but it’s been awhile since she’s been in a morgue and not out in the field. She’s either too busy to notice her itching wrist, or it miraculously ceases to bother her for the day. When she’s back at the motel, having a pizza dinner over crime scene photos and witness statements, her whole hand starts to feel like it’s on fire. She excuses herself from the table and shuts herself in the bathroom.

By all outward appearances, nothing is wrong with her wrist. It’s not inflamed, it’s not scratched, it’s not even red anymore, but her skin crawls. She holds it up to the light and takes a closer look, running her thumb across the line where wrist meets palm. There does seem to be a slight bump where there wasn’t one before. She checks her left wrist in comparison and then the right one again. When she scratches at the little bump with her nail, she can actually feel a slight pull under her skin. She pushes at it with her thumbnail and then her skin ruptures and what looks like the stem of a leaf emerges.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. There is a pair of tweezers in her toiletry kit that she finds and then plucks lightly at the stemp, but it doesn’t budge. It doesn’t hurt and it doesn’t bleed and no matter how hard she pulls, the stem is immobile. After only a few minutes she’s nearly in tears with frustration. She wipes her watering eyes dry and then goes back to the table to rejoin Mulder.

“I need to show you something,” she says.

Mulder pauses with his hands full of photos and looks at her. He sets them down and then wipes his hands on his pants and leans forward, elbows on the table. “Okay,” he says. “Show me.”

Scully pulls the sleeve of her shirt up and drapes her hand across the table, wrist up. Mulder looks down at her hand and then up at her. He moves his face closer to her arm and tilts his head from side to side.

“What am I looking at?” he asks.

“When we were in New Hampshire, I scraped my hand on that tree.”

“The Matchmaker?”

“Yes. It wasn’t a bad scrape, no skin was broken, but since then, my wrist has not stopped itching.”

“What is that?”

“I don’t...I don’t know. I tried using my tweezers on it, but it wouldn’t come out.”

Mulder picks up Scully’s hand with both of his and runs his thumbs across the bottom of her palm. Her whole arm tingles when he touches her and she can feel something move beneath her skin.

“It feels like...I’m not sure...” Mulder puts a little more pressure on Scully’s wrist and slides one of his thumbs up to her palm. Suddenly it feels like her whole hand opens up somehow and something unfurls out of her wrist like a butterfly to rest in her palm. It’s a red, heart-shaped leaf.

They’re both silent, staring down at her hand, at the leaf. Her arm still tingles and she sways slightly, lightheaded. “Mulder…how did…?”

“I don’t know.”

“What just happened, Mulder, it’s impossible.”

“Well, there is one explanation.”

“Don’t say it.”

“You touched the tree.”

“A tree didn’t do this, Mulder.” She jumps up from the table, determined to pull the leaf from her hand, but it’s stuck to the stem and the stem won’t budge. “I need scissors.”

“Well wait, maybe you should see a doctor.”

“I am a doctor!” She rushes back into the bathroom to get the small scissors from her toiletry bag. Mulder follows behind and watches as she attempts to cut at the leaf and the stem, but the scissors just slide right off of the leaf as though it refuses to be cut.

“Stop,” Mulder says, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Come on.”

“Mulder, there is a leaf growing out of my hand!”

“I can see that, come out here.”

Mulder guides her out of the bathroom back to the table, but she doesn’t want to sit. She stares at her palm and at the leaf while Mulder sits and then he brings her towards him with his hands on her hips.

“Let me see,” he says.

Scully reluctantly shows him her hand and he holds it gently, tracing the shape of the leaf in her palm with his index finger. He pinches the leaf between his fingers and pulls gently and the stem slides out of her wrist without any effort at all. When it’s completely free of her hand, she feels something wash over her that she can only describe as utter euphoria. She sways slightly on her feet, leaning into Mulder and putting her hands on his shoulders to hold herself up.

“Scully?” The leaf flutters to the ground as he grabs her hips.

“Oh, I feel…”

“Sit down.” He stands and tries to urge her to sit, but she holds onto his arms and shakes her head.

“No, I…” She feels overwhelmed by something she can’t describe, but the force with which she aches to be as close to Mulder as possible is powerful. It’s like she can’t breathe, but he is oxygen. It’s like she’s freezing and he’s a warm fire.

“I really think you should sit down,” he whispers.

“Mulder,” she says, blinking lethargically. Her voice is slow and her eyes are heavy. “If it was the tree, then that would mean…”

Mulder puckers his lips a little and his chin juts forward as he swallows. “It would mean whatever you want it to mean,” he says.

Her heart hammers in her chest. She tingles from head to toe, but especially where his hands grip her hips and where his arms press against hers. She opens her mouth a few times, but doesn’t know what to say.

“I heard you, you know,” he says.

“Heard me?”

“When I was exposed to the artifact.” He lets go of her with one hand to reach up and lightly touch his fingers to her forehead. “I heard you. I don’t need an enchanted tree to tell me what I already know.”

She should feel embarrassed, and maybe two months ago she would have, maybe even two minutes ago, she would have, but not now. She drops her gaze to his mouth and then she looks up into his eyes again. By some unspoken, mutual agreement, they both lean in. Mulder bends and tips his head to the right, Scully lifts onto her toes and lets her eyes slip shut just before his mouth touches hers. The kiss is soft and unhurried. It’s tender and sweet in a way that makes her feel warm and secure.

“I can’t believe this is real,” she whispers against his lips.

“What part of it?”

“All of it.”

“Of course you don’t.” He chuckles and bends down to pick up the leaf he dropped. He twirls it between his fingers and then brushes it against her nose.

“It’s just not possible.”

“All of it?” He cocks his head a little and his eyes fall to her mouth.

“Maybe not all of it.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m having a hard time believing it myself.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.” He smiles, and bends to kiss her again, but she leans away and puts two fingers against his lips.

“Why did you take me up there?” she asks.

“I’ve owed you a nice trip to the forest for about seven years.”

“Is that all?”

“Autumn in New England? I only wish we could’ve found something worthwhile to stick around a little longer.”

“So, you never intended for…”

“For you to start becoming part tree? Not at all.”

“Oh my god, I just can’t...I can’t wrap my brain around it. It’s…” She covers her face with both hands and shakes her head.

Mulder kisses the knuckles on her right hand. “You wouldn’t be you if you believed it. Once upon a time there was a very skeptic little g-woman named Scully.”

“You are not allowed to start any stories with ‘once upon a time’ any longer,” she says, taking her hands away from her face. “Bad things happen in fairy tales.”

“Well you are forgetting one thing though.”

“What?”

“They always end with ‘happily ever after.’”

The End

#i wrote this #xf fanfic #definitely non canon #but set somewhere after The Sixth Extinction: Amor Fati #msr

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number5theboy · 4 years

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I wanna hear your material on why five should’ve been the one to pull the trigger!! I kinda agree but I haven’t read the comics-

Anonymous asked: Whats the rant on five pulling the trigger? I havent read the comics but i know he hes the gunman and says 'i never really liked you" or something similar

A piece of writing that is part rant, part analysis, and part creative writing for the two of you so kind as to drop into my inbox, as well as @mysticmoondustt, @maren-emilie, @waywardd1 and @millartiste, and @poisonpam, whose marriage proposal started all this.

User @sunriseseance brought to my attention that the way I framed this sidelines Allison completely and takes away from her character arc, which was not my intention in writing it, but is something this text communicates anyway. Giving over Allison’s (aka the only black woman in the cast) important story beat over to Five (aka one of the several white boys) without making the effort of keeping Allison just as important to the story was poorly thought-out. I have thus edited and rewritten the following with that in mind.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Five’s Storyline Deserved To Be Properly Tragic or: Why Five Ultimately Causing The Apocalypse in The White Violin Would Have Rounded Out His Arc

In this mini-essay, I go into detail as to why I think, from a story-telling perspective, Five should have been the one to ultimately cause the apocalypse by intervening with Vanya rather than Allison. The apocalypse is Five’s storyline. It’s his trauma, his pain, and what he has worked towards preventing for forty-five years, and yet, he is almost completely written out of the pivotal events in The White Violin, the Season 1 finale, and has little to no impact on why the apocalypse does happen, in the end. Making Five the one who triggers the apocalypse would make his entire storyline become the proper tragedy it is supposed to be, with him being the last domino to fall into place, his action of disrupting Vanya being what makes her fall, makes her destroy the moon, and makes Five the man who causes what he so desperately wanted to stop. The easiest way to do that would be to give Five Allison’s role of being the one to point that gun at Vanya, but as explained above, that was the original argument of this text, and one that was insensitive and should have had more effort put into. The following rewrite still sees Five firing the gun, but in a different context and with a different lead-up, one where Allison’s moment of mercy and kindness to Vanya comes before Five’s decision to fire the gun, so that Allison’s moment with Vanya and the moment that inadvertently causes the apocalypse are two separate ones rather than a single one. I just really would have loved to see Five and the apocalypse be a self-fulfilling prophecy. One still should keep in mind that this does appropriate a moment that was solely Allison’s in canon and should thus still be taken with a grain of salt. That being said, I do think that it would have made sense for Five to fire the gun that causes the apocalypse. There are so many established points in Five’s storyline that build up to him being the character most relevant and most appropriate to point that gun at the back of Vanya’s head: his ruthlessness in eliminating anyone who stands between him and preventing the apocalypse, the fact that he is the only sibling we’ve seen kill methodically in cold blood, how Five is pragmatic by nature and was ready to sacrifice a single life in exchange for saving billions, his awareness of space and how to use it to his advantage, his tendency to use other people’s weapons to his own advantage, the fact that he is the only sibling Vanya doesn’t resent for their childhood, the fact that he trusts and likes Vanya, that when faced by Luther with the choice between violence and love before, Five chose love… But Five was not the triggerman, and the following, under the cut, explores the ending of an arc that could have been.

I’m going to start with Vanya’s demise and how the apocalypse happens in the source material. Full disclosure, I still have not read the comics, but I have seen the last few pages of the Apocalypse Suite, and even though my argument as to why Five should have been the triggerman for Vanya in the show is not based on ‘because it was him in the comics’, I still think it’s relevant for the point I’m trying to make. In the Apocalypse Suite, Klaus distracts Vanya as she is playing her violin, and Five takes that moment to go and shoot her in the head. Despite the concert coming to a bad close, it was a little too late, the moon still comes crashing toward Earth, and Five says: “You know something, Vanya…? I never liked you.”. It doesn’t quite stop there, but for the purposes of this mini-essay, that’s enough. What does matter is that the TUA showrunners have this nasty habit of taking bits of the comic and putting them into the show, but usually warped to the point of disrespect, where they simply never looked deep enough into why comic fans liked a moment, and instead just want to ~subvert their expectations~. Here, I think the subversion is not necessarily about the actions, as they are still similar (gun is fired in the vicinity of Vanya’s head, it takes her out, but not enough to prevent the apocalypse) and is instead about the identity of the triggerman. Or rather, triggerwoman.

In the show, Allison holds that gun to the back of an oblivious Vanya’s head before shifting it to next to her ear, and then pulling the trigger. The sound of the gun going off disrupts Vanya, who faints, but the energy she had been pulling from the soundwaves had to release to somewhere, and it bundles into a beam that shoots up and destroys the moon, giant pieces of which barrel to Earth.

And it’s a good ending for their arc. It’s the ultimate proof that even at Vanya’s lowest, in a moral sense, literally suspending their brothers in midair and hurting them, Allison still loves her, enough to not hurt her. Allison wants to do right by her, and it shows in its most extreme in this moment. The only thing that bothers me personally about this moment is that the second it showed that it was Allison holding the gun, I knew Vanya would not be harmed, I knew that Allison loved her too much, that Allison had flat-out refused to even consider Luther’s proposal that they should be prepared to stop Vanya by any means necessary. And so I started thinking about which character could make this moment more tense. Who was “with Luther on that one”? Who knows that they “can’t give her a chance to fight back”? Who have we seen to be merciless and cutthroat, who has ruthlessly killed people in cold blood because they stood between him and preventing the apocalypse? Which sibling pointing a gun at the back of Vanya’s head would have actually given the viewer pause and make them consider the possibility that one of the Hargreeves would be hard enough to shoot his own sister in the head?

It could have gone like this, with several references to Five’s fighting skills that were established beforehand but mysteriously absent during the actual climax. It starts as it does in the show, Luther rallying his brothers to attack and Allison refusing to be part of it. But instead of trying to convince us that Five would be stupid enough to run straight on at Vanya, Five blinks away and disappears. The other three still get caught in Vanya’s energy tentacles, but Allison is not. We see Five appear next to the Commission soldiers he killed when protecting Klaus, swiping one of their guns, showcasing both his spatial awareness and his tendency to use enemy weapon to his advantage, which we saw in both the Istanbul Not Constantinople scene and in him getting the upper hand on the Handler. He blinks away again.

Cut to Vanya on stage, holding her brothers, fixing them with a merciless and empty gaze. Then there is a small noise on the side of the stage, and Vanya looks over. It’s Allison, one hand behind her back, similar to the Luther and Vanya scene from Season 2, and we see the gun gleaming there, showing that both Allison and Five had the same tactical idea. But Allison is not pointing the gun, because she saw a glimpse of good in this violinist just moment before, when she smiled at her. I’m turn about whether or not Allison should be holding a sign in this. If she would, it’d be interesting for it to read ‘I love you’, even though that’s terribly cliché, it’s also the sentence that made Vanya lash out at Allison in the first place. I like the idea of Vanya seeing it again and the memory of her regret at her action, at the pain she caused someone who only tried to be there for her, to make amends, to support her, to love her, break the façade of the White Violin as she recognises her sister, looks at her, truly sees her. The energy tentacles release her brothers in one swoop, them falling to the floor, exhausted, as the tentacles retreat back into Vanya, but she underestimated her powers.

There’s too much, the energy slamming back into her, and for a moment, you see Vanya through the mask of the White Violin, scared of the power she holds and doesn’t know how to control. It’s an overload, like it was when she was little, and because nobody ever took the time to teach her how to control it, she doesn’t know how. Allison’s fingers twitch around her gun behind her back, and then her gaze shifts. Five steps behind Vanya and points the gun at the back of her head. And the viewer remembers everything Five has gone through because of the Apocalypse, what he had to become to survive, how he sacrificed everything to come back and stop the end of the world. How ready he was to end the life of an innocent gardener to change the course of history. And here is where a more interesting subversion of the source material would come in. Remember comic!Five saying “You know something, Vanya…? I never liked you.”?

Because show!Five is established to like Vanya, love her even. She was the first one he told about the apocalypse and that he wants to stop it (Five having that gun would also have made the first season come full circle in an incredibly satisfying way) , the first one he trusted, the sibling he treats with gentleness and kindness even though he is not gentle or kind. Her words brought him comfort for decades in the barren wasteland, and he is the only sibling that she canonically doesn’t resent for how she was treated in their childhood. She had bandaged up his wounds, probably the first time since he left the Academy on that fateful day without saying goodbye that someone touched him carefully, lovingly, and she told him that she hadn’t seen him in a long time and that she didn’t want to lose him again. And now he is faced with the prospect of shooting her in the head to achieve what he worked forty-five years towards.

And here is the kicker if this would have been the version we got to see in the show: there would have been foreshadowing to this very moment, because it would not have been the first time in the show that Five pointed a gun at a sibling. As Five set to go kill the previously mentioned innocent gardener with his father’s rifle, Luther grabs Delores and dangles her out of the window, giving Five the choice between the literal embodiment of the better half of his mind, the one who thinks beyond, the one created out of love, or the bloodshed he had been trained to solve every problem with. Bluntly put, Luther put him on the spot and made him choose between love and violence.

Five chose love.

Over Vanya’s shoulder, Five meets Allison’s eye. And even though she’s terrified of this side of Vanya that makes her pulsate with energy, on the brink of world extinction, she still looks him in the eye, and almost imperceptibly shakes her head, a silent plea to spare Vanya. Because Allison knows what Five has done, she has easily called him a mass murderer before, she knows that he could do it. And so he grips the gun he’s pointing at Vanya just a little tighter, to keep himself from trembling. He moves his arm just a little, bringing the barrel of the gun next to Vanya’s ear, and he pulls the trigger. The gunshot goes off, Vanya’s crumbles to the floor, Allison rushes to her side to catch her. The energy bundles and shoots out, straight into the core of the moon. On stage, Five looks in disbelief at the gun in his hand. He did it. It’s over. And Vanya is still alive.

And then Klaus’ voice pipes up. “Guys? Do you see that big moonrock coming towards us?”

And Five looks up. And Five understands, in a second, in a moment. He pulled that trigger, and the world is doomed. His singular act of mercy brought about exactly what he had given up everything to prevent happening.

As the song that played over Five’s arrival in the apocalypse says: this race is a prophecy. It’s just that nobody told Five that it is a self-fulfilling one.

I just think it would have been good to give some kind of pay-off to Five’s apocalypse storyline that isn’t him running away from it at the end of the season. I think having him be the one who ultimately brings the apocalypse about through the act of shooting that gun would have rounded out his arc. As I said in the beginning, this is the revised and re-edited version of this, which involves Allison in more of the plot. Her inadvertently causing the apocalypse in the show has no real bearing on her mind or her character past the act of firing the shot, while the same action would have deeply shaken Five to the core, and so I personally think it should have been Five to actually carry out that last action. In this new and improved version, I tried my best to keep Allison’s connection to Vanya, her act of love, and just have Five be the executioner rather than the only one in the scene. It’s not perfect, but it’s an improvement on the very narrow view I had before. I just think Five being a self-fulfilling prophecy would shift the dynamics between him and the Hargreeves in Season 2 interestingly. It would be more justified how harsh and dismissive the Hargreeves are towards Five. It would make his decision to take Vanya back to do right by her even more interesting, as it would be him choosing love over violence again immediately after it failed spectacularly for him, and his and Vanya’s dynamic in Season 2 so much more tense and high-stakes. It was wrong of me to completely strip Allison of any agency in this scenario, and I hope I have done better this time around, while still keeping my conviction that Five inadvertently causing the apocalypse would have been a better culmination of his arc.

#The Umbrella Academy #Five Hargreeves #my meta #Replies #nocternaljunipers

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inscribed-in-asteroids · 3 years

Text

AN: Took a while but here’s chapter six! Make sure to reblog and like, or leave comments and kudos on AO3, which is still the best place to read it.

Title: The Ripple Effect

Characters: Hordak and Entrapta, feat. Glimmer, Bow, Aurora and Eon (OCs)

Rating: M (for smut)

Repairing Harm Done

Hordak walks through the center of their new home away from home. Entrapta and he share their enjoyment of space, and going on adventures with her has been some of the greatest years of his life; however, Beast Island has been transformed into a multicultural landscape, where anyone could come here if they wanted, and stay here if they chose. While Odessa has been away with her friends, they opted to expand the lodgings here to accommodate growing numbers. Talon and he weren’t the only ones with children, and even without offspring, his siblings were finding life partners, and to add on top of that, visitors from nearby planets come to Etheria as well and, sometimes, like it so much they wish to remain.

Upon this realization, they made an organization to discuss blueprints, schedules and funding for such a project. The funding was no issue: Glimmer and Bow were more than happy to aid them, and have visited the island several times now to see what else was needed. It wasn’t necessarily money they needed, either, as everything on Beast Island was based on a trade system and very loosely; they have utilized the technology on the island well, and created elaborate new machines for daily living. Glimmer and Bow, simply put, love being involved. They offer their expertise, Bow on his own inventions and Glimmer with her magic, but they were enthusiastic to be present at all.

He notes his brothers above him in the trees, connecting large trunks with man-made bridges, where a community of apartments will be launched high above them. The groves are to be interconnected this way, allowing for more freedom of development and making use of every inch of the island, eventually establishing long pathways that will join all shores of the island. This will be the new dwelling place for many of the citizens on Beast Island, while the area he’s moving through will serve as the marketplace, with recreational centers, hospitals, schools and restaurants lined throughout the ground floor. They have been constructing it for a while, but high demand has allowed for a speedier process to take place. Underground it will be primarily used for laboratories, as he and Odessa have the largest ones. It’s also their excavation site for First Ones tech, which they still continue to find more than twenty years later, the deeper into the earth they go; it’ll also serve as their mausoleum, for when those days come.

Animals chirp in the branches, shadows moving along his frame. Looking up, he meets the eyes of his brothers hammering boards into place, and they wave down at him. Being in a good mood, he waves back—

A sharp pang goes up his shoulder. Wincing in surprise, Hordak holds his hand up for a moment. Confused, he shakes off the sensation and continues toward the direction of his residence. Opening the door, Hordak steps inside.

“Entrapta? I’ve returned,” Hordak announces.

No answer.

She must be out. Maybe he’ll go check up on Emily and Imp. The latter has been growing, which came as a surprise to everyone. No one believed Imp could actually get bigger. It’s about the time Imp needs to have tests run to check if he’s still healthy as his body develops, Hordak muses, beginning to climb up the steps—

His legs suddenly lock, and they buckle, causing him to sprawl on the floor. His palms and knees slam into the hard stone, sending waves of pain up his frame. Another shortly follows, stabbing through his body. And it’s never one type of stab—it’s sharp, a knife slashing through; or painfully dull, akin to being jabbed with a worn, flat spear. It may not cut, but it’s relentless. And he can’t ever tell which is worse.

Trying to stand, he finds himself unable to. He pushes up with his hands, and the pain stings up his nerves, all the way to his neck.

Hordak lets out a breath of shock, of anger, of fear.

No.

No no no no no no no—

He looks down at his hands, and the color recedes—the blue drains, melting from elbow down, streaks forming along his wrist, and he can feel them weaken at the shoulder.

Hordak yells out loud, hunched over from the agony, watching as his forearms split in two without warning right down the middle until they’re merely the width of bone within the muscles thinning blood flow slowing unable to move or feel or sense or know why—

Hordak lets out a cry of shock, jolting himself up. Breathing hard, he turns to his right. Moonlight cuts through the dark of his bedroom, the blinds never being tightly sealed enough for his liking. But for once, he’s relieved to see it.

His head falls into his hands, and he breathes in. Breathes out. He withdraws to look at them. His forearms show no signs of disease, stark in the dim room. His shoulders move as they should, and he rotates them to be sure. He claws the air with his fingers, two quick movements. Then he lets them go toward his palm, slowly, pinky first as the rest follow, moving in synchronicity. He repeats this motion four more times, and none of them hurt.

Entrapta shifts beside him, her arm reaching out for his body. Automatic. When she finds only the pillow, Entrapta opens her eyes. She props herself up on an elbow, reaching out to touch her husband.

“Hordak? Are you okay?”

Blinking, Hordak turns to look at her. Her hair is loose about her body, draping across her shoulders in long strands. She doesn’t wear clothes to bed, finding it more comfortable. She followed his example on that one. After decades of being in pain, he didn’t want to be constricted as he slept. It reminded him too much of how often he had to be bound in place by something or another to keep from falling apart. His body was attached by sinew and muscle, like anyone else, but it never felt like that. It always felt like one small gesture would render him incapacitated, and his shoulders would fall from their sockets.

Entrapta sits up, touching the small of his back, “Did you have a bad dream?”

Hordak sighs, “I… did.”

Entrapta brushes the side of his face, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Hordak reaches up to take her hand in his, “It… It was the usual dream.”

Sidling next to him, Entrapta lays her head on his shoulder, “I know. It’s scary.”

He lets out a breath, unable to disagree. Adora had fixed him, permanently, in that other lifetime. Horde Prime wouldn’t allow something defective in his midst, so his body had been healed at the expense of his mind’s free will. But when Adora expelled Prime out, he was released from the confines of both mental and physical anguish.

He knows this.

His body has not known that pain in many, many years.

But there are days when he’s walking, sitting, breathing, and his thoughts turn to anxiety. Anxiety about the day, the moment, when his body will fail him again. He exercises every day, relishing in the activity he had been denied. The strength and power and agility that he long forgot about and wishes to keep. He makes sure to have that routine set out for himself, to have those thoughts at bay, to stop worrying him. He recalls how nervous he’d been when Odessa had been born—to have his daughter in his arms, and he would panic about the pain coming back and he can’t grab her in time before she collapses onto the floor and she dies. In a second, just like that.

Pulling his knees up, Hordak stretches his arms out onto them, giving a heavy sigh.

Entrapta rotates a bit, brushing his hair out.

“Entrapta?”

“Yes?”

“Can you check?”

Without further question, Entrapta moves forward, inspecting his back first. She notes the perfect coloration of his body, from neck to fingertip. Drawing aside the covers, she makes similar mental notes from his hips down to his feet. She looks up at him, smiling, “You’ve never looked better!”

Hordak sighs, relieved.

Entrapta lays her cheek on his forearm, “And I do mean that.”

He meets her eyes, and she wiggles her eyebrows.

Hordak laughs, allowing the anxiety to leave him, “You’re a pervert.”

Entrapta’s grin widens, “Can you blame me?”

Hordak leans forward to kiss her forehead. And she tilts her head back so their mouths can touch. Her hand caresses the side of his cheek, and he relaxes.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he whispers, after a good while.

“Don’t worry about it,” Entrapta says. She pushes him onto his back, brushing her thumb along his mouth. “You’re not alone, you know.”

Hordak nods, staring up at the ceiling. Entrapta lays next to him, and she taps her chest.

Without a word, he turns, burying his face into her collarbone. Warm and inviting.

Her hands play with his hair, humming quietly. Stroking her fingertips down his neck, careful of the port located there. Entrapta doesn’t stop until he’s taking measured breaths, long and deep; once he does, only then does she fall back asleep.

Hordak steps out into the bright outdoors. Everything is in place. From the new construction in the trees, to the bustling shoppers around him, and, below, he knows Imp and Emily are taking ownership of Odessa’s lab while she’s away, as they tend to when she’s absent. Her friends are missed as well, and he will admit to himself, it’s good for her to have them.

Tristan’s general apathy tends to keep him anchored, but it lifts away as soon as he knows she’s back home, becoming more involved and energetic. Hydrangea’s eagerness to keep peace always stays in place, but she defers to Odessa’s knowledge and skill more often than with anyone else. Hordak knows that there could be no better allies to his daughter than those two.

They’ve been her friends since childhood, and they gravitated toward one another in a manner he found interesting. Despite being born a clone, he knows who he is, and he tends to keep to himself, save for Entrapta’s presence. His brothers tend to be more gregarious, which baffled him at first on how willing they were to interact with Etherians, and he surmised that, even among replicas, he stands out as incredibly reclusive. There are a few who took to his more stern and introverted nature, of course, he isn’t unique to averting social events, but he continues to have the shortest temper, if pushed enough, and is withdrawn. Talon is one of those individuals to match it, as he tends to be around his wife alone, but he doesn’t mind the spotlight, and that’s their difference.

Hordak’s gotten better at being around others, but he finds it exhausting after a while. Entrapta says that’s okay, and she wouldn’t change that about him and has outright stated to prefer it. Large groups are only ‘fun’ to watch, not be part of.

Odessa, meanwhile, enjoyed company, and Tristan was the first person she brought home. Hydrangea and Odessa liked each other very much, which delighted Entrapta and Scorpia; however, Tristan’s addition caught them by surprise. Mermista wasn’t the warmest woman when it came to who associated with her son. Hordak knows that his actions from the past were to blame, but she hasn’t done anything to damage his child’s relationship with her companion, so he says nothing.

Hydrangea’s mother, Perfuma, is no different, though she tends to have a lenient grip. Which he knows is due to her bohemian attitude, rather than an acceptance of Odessa. She wouldn’t stifle her child, as she has asserted that children should be allowed to do as they please and grow up how they will. It’s not a sentiment he disagrees with—he gave Odessa all the freedom she wanted. Entrapta was the one to spoil her, and he took on the disciplinarian role, for when it needed to be done, but overall, he and his wife encouraged Odessa’s desire to do what she wanted. Sometimes, her strong personality could be overpowering for others, but she’s not a bad person.

Despite what others may think.

“How are you doing, hon?” Entrapta asks, getting up to his level.

“I’m doing fine,” he responds. “Did you need something from me?”

“No,” Entrapta smiles. “You always ask that.”

“Ask what?”

“If people need something from you.”

He pauses in his tracks, “Do I?”

“You usually ask that when I’m looking at you, or wondering how you are,” Entrapta states. “And when I say people, I mean just me. You don’t do it with others.”

Hordak looks at the ground, silent.

“That’s not a problem, Hordak! It’s an observation,” Entrapta assures him.

He doesn’t question it further, for now.

“Oh, hi, guys!” Entrapta says.

Hordak faces behind him, finding Glimmer and Bow waving at him. For a flash of a second, he’s stricken with concern, but remembers that they’re supposed to be here today. That must be why they were in his dream, and it has nothing to do with premonitions of impending doom.

“Hey! Hope we’re not late,” Bow says.

“You’re right on time!” Entrapta replies.

Glimmer smiles, “Good! I hope you don’t mind—we brought Aurora today.”

Hordak looks past them, their daughter standing near the portal. Utterly disinterested. Without thinking, he says to Glimmer, “Was it wise to bring her?”

She looks at him, surprised, before waving her hand and laughing, “Oh, Hordak, she’s fine! She’s a big girl. Aurora, come here please!”

Aurora’s expression belies her unwillingness to be present, a polite smile on her face.

He doesn’t want to be rude— Well, that’s not true, he wants to be rude. It just isn’t prudent. Aurora isn’t a person who tends to be engrossed in what’s going outside of her social circle.

Glimmer looks up at Hordak, “I brought her because as future queen, she needs to participate in what’s happening throughout Etheria. You and I are working on this together, so I figured she would benefit from learning how things work with other kingdoms outside of a council meeting!”

Hordak nods in understanding. Makes sense.

Entrapta looks at Aurora, “Hello!”

“Thank you for welcoming me,” Aurora curtsies.

“What’s first on the agenda?” Bow asks.

Entrapta laughs, “We’ll go up into the trees first! We’ve designed a mode of transportation that takes us all to the top!”

Hordak silently walks behind the group. Entrapta leads them to a lift that operates when people enter into the rectangular container, made of nearby materials, predominantly the wood and bark of trees, as they’re the sturdiest thing at the moment. It’s in its rudimentary stage, Entrapta explains, and hopefully it will be changed into solid metal soon, since they didn’t want to waste resources at once. They had to see if it worked first, and they needed to design a glass case to hold it. All of them are elevated toward the top, allowing them a view of everything below.

Glimmer looks over the side of the box, “Wow, where did you come up with the idea?”

“Remember Horde Prime’s ship? He had this sort of thing aboard. We figured it would help get people around easier,” Entrapta says.

“So, you took the contraption of someone deplorable and used it for yourself?” Aurora asks.

“Yep!” Entrapta says.

Glimmer stares at her child, and Bow’s brows rise an inch.

Hordak’s arms remain folded, glaring at the back of Aurora’s head. Not liking her tone.

She doesn’t approve of it. And while he may not like owing Prime anything, it isn’t conducive to advancement as a group to ignore advantages simply because it came from a heinous individual. Good people have bad ideas, and bad people have good ideas, it depends on how it’s used.

“I don’t see how this is sensible of your time,” Aurora says.

Entrapta laughs, “Not everyone can teleport like you and your mom! We have people who can’t jump and climb the way we can.”

Aurora gives a delicate sniff, unimpressed with the explanation.

Glimmer claps her hands together, “Well, I think it’s a phenomenal idea. Prime was a monster, but his ship was incredible.”

“Mama—” Aurora begins.

Bow points at the distant grove, “Oh, look, pookas! Aurora, these were the animals that I met with Adora while looking for Entrapta.”

“The very things that would’ve eaten you all, and my grandpa, alive. You don’t say,” Aurora dryly answers.

“They’re friendly now!” Entrapta corrects, hair morphing into a hand with a forefinger pointed up.

Aurora grimaces when a pooka chitters at her, stepping away.

Hordak comes forward, unable to deal with it any longer, “Perhaps, it would be better for Aurora if she went and explored on her own. There is a plethora of activity in the market, and the main thing we would all be discussing is infrastructure.”

Bow turns to him, “Oh, I don’t think it’s necessary for her to leave.”

Glimmer nods, his suggestion more than welcome, “Actually, he might be right. Sweetie, why don’t you go down and check things out?”

“Thank you, I will,” Aurora says, giving another polite smile. With that, she teleports to the ground.

Entrapta yells over the side, “Byyyeeee!”

Bow and Glimmer share a long glance at one another. Aurora is a pleasant young woman, and now at eighteen, she should be engaging with more outside of Bright Moon. Neither Glimmer or Bow could imagine not wanting to go out of their comfort zone, whether it’s irritating or boring. But Aurora had never been quite as easy with ventures toward the unfamiliar.

Aurora is a creature of habit and routine, so she tends to stick with people that she knows, which is why they gave Marlena and Clawdeen the day off, both to allow Aurora to expand her horizons on her own, while giving their goddaughters well-deserved rest. Adora and Catra serve, too, as Aurora’s respective godparents, for they had all promised to be the guardians of each other’s children. And it’s why they decided, when Aurora asked if she could visit her extended family on the outskirts of the Whispering Woods, they pushed her to join them on this trip to Beast Island.

Aurora’s behavior since arrival was troubling Glimmer; she’s sure it wasn’t obvious, but her daughter radiated displeasure. Aurora is normally so genteel, with impeccable manners, which were inherited from Angella, and nurtured more by Bow and his relatives. Glimmer, even as she gets older, could never get rid of her fire to engage with every little aspect of life as much as she could. There was so much to do and see and experience, and she likes to believe that Aurora’s the same, even with her personality being softer than her own: mellow, caring, even shy. She knows her daughter is a good person.

Everyone always says so.

Bow and Entrapta have gone ahead, chatting animatedly about inventions and the latest in revolutionary designs. Addressing Hordak, Glimmer murmurs, “I’m sorry about Aurora.”

Hordak looks at her, “I don’t see the need for an apology. She doesn’t have to hide her disdain.”

Glimmer pokes him lightly in the arm, teasing, “Why? Because you’re the same?”

“Exactly,” Hordak replies, giving a light chuckle.

Sighing, she holds up her face with her hand, “Still, I don’t know why she’s upset today. I know kids don’t like to be with their parents after a certain age, and want to be with their friends—I was definitely that way—but I thought maybe she would have fun, you know? Engaging with the people, the mix of culture. Beast Island is so grand now!”

“I’m glad to hear you approve of what we’ve accomplished thus far,” Hordak says.

“That lift contraption is useful, but nothing will ever overshadow the day we got indoor plumbing in the palace.”

Hordak smiles, letting himself relax in the easy conversation.

Aurora walks through the throng of individuals bustling around. She didn’t expect so… many clones. She knows this is one preferred habitation, along with the kingdom of Dryl, and they are sporadic in other parts of Etheria. But to have so many of them present is a sight to behold.

She doesn’t approach any of the shops, but watches closely. Etherians, too, are wandering from stall to stall, store to store, and she ponders why any of these citizens would want to leave their kingdoms. Do their leaders not provide enough for them that they feel the need to come to a place still in development? She has heard of Beast Island’s many, many changes from childhood to adulthood, but she doesn’t see the appeal of coming to a location that isn’t as established as the rest of Etheria. New Chelicerata is an exception, since restoring a ruined kingdom isn’t a simple task, and that was in no part thanks to the Horde destroying the land and water.

To add on top of that, Aurora notes the strange carts being driven around the area. Compact metal transportation vehicles that are hovering above the ground, or whizzing through the canopy. An invention from Entrapta, no doubt. She tends to be the mind behind the majority of the designs. Those cannot possibly be safe.

Aurora treads lightly along the ground, a little dash of levitation magic that she’s been practicing. A gaggle of children, both Etherian and mixed, run past her, and she sidesteps out of the way. None of them are paying attention to where they’re running, almost doing the same to a couple of people. She quietly shames their parents for not teaching them respect better.

“Hey! You all have to slow down!”

She recognizes the voice, stopping in her tracks.

“Aww, but we wanna run!” chime youthful voices of reckless abandon.

Her eyes shift back and forth from either side, not risking looking behind herself, wondering if she can slip into a nearby building.

“You want to run? Go that way into the woods and return after a while. Whoever’s fastest wins and gets bragging rights.”

“What if one of us gets lost?”

For a moment, she wonders if she could master the invisibility spell this very second—

“Your parents didn’t tell you, but that’s the price of being fools running around without a care: you didn’t get to learn map reading. It’s a curse, so it’s inevitable you’ll die in the jungle.”

The children laugh, “What? No way!”

As the conversation turns to protest, Aurora darts behind a wall, letting out a breath. Crisis averted.

“You know, I heard that if you run like mad back to your homes, and don’t get lost, the curse is lifted! But you can only try when the moon’s half full.”

A gasp comes from one of the children, “Oh my gosh! It’s half full tonight!”

“I guess you kids better practice for this evening!”

Aurora peers around the corner, listening to the children fall for the outlandish lies, while unable to see anyone.

She’s startled when the next sound is that of quick steps coming her direction, darting past her—

Instinctively, she teleports, narrowly avoiding collision with a child. She closes her eyes and sighs.

Why can’t she go home?

“Aurora? What are you doing here?”

She tenses.

She didn’t plan where she’d wind up.

Slowly, Aurora tilts back her head, giving her signature smile, “Eon. I didn’t expect to see you.”

Peering down, Eon quirks a single brow, “You didn’t expect to see me where my family is? Do you not know how visitation works?”

Aurora withdraws, realizing with embarrassment how her head had been resting on his chest. He stands there, nonchalant, several stacks of flour levitating above his palm. He wears Mystacoran attire, deep, noble colors of purple with the usual white or gold accents replaced with his signature black.

Standing out as much as her, if she’ll admit anything. She attends any event wearing dresses, colored soft pink with whites trimming her sleeves and the hem of her skirt. She smoothes out her outfit, looking at the fabric, “I know how visitation works. Normally, you’re locked up in your room.” She side-eyes him. “Doing nothing to better yourself.”

Eon gives a cocky grin, “At least I don’t fake being busy to drown out the monotony enveloping my life.”

Decorum be damned, Aurora’s expression turns mocking, “I happen to like monotony. Schedules keep things together.”

“Another way of declaring you’re uptight,” Eon retorts, sauntering past her.

Aurora emits a light scoff, teleporting beside him, “I am not uptight! I appear that way to the lethargic. It wouldn’t hurt you to make an effort.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Eon replies, spinning on the ball of his foot and giving a small bow with his head. “I forgot that commoners like myself need your example to show us how we could improve ourselves.”

Aurora tosses back her hair, “That’s part of being a princess—leading by example.”

Eon rolls his eyes, continuing his path, “Of course. I wouldn’t want to contradict you.”

“But I would contradict you,” Aurora replies. “I don’t understand why you’re carrying the sacks like that.”

“Like what?”

“Magic isn’t something to do menial tasks with. Did your muscles atrophy from being bedridden?”

“I happen to enjoy using my magic for all my needs,” Eon says. “If it makes things easier, why not do it?”

Aurora shakes her head.

“So, what are you on the island for? Did your family finally admit you were found among the beetles, and that’s why you have those wings?”

“Are you insinuating I’m a pest?” she questions, annoyed, folding her arms.

“Beetles happen to serve a very good purpose,” Eon tells her. “I wouldn’t imply such malicious concepts about you.”

Aurora gives him a pointed glare, “If you must know, I happen to be tagging along with my parents. They wanted to check on how construction is going for your people.”

“Ah. That’s nice,” he says, sincere.

“For you, maybe.”

Eon resumes being distant, “Well, I thank you for showing you care. Your presence graces us.”

“I suppose this will do as I’m waiting for them to be done,” she replies, looking around with annoyance.

Eon stops in front of his destination, setting the cargo carefully on the ground. He waves at an uncle, who nods his thanks before continuing to help a customer.

“Why don’t you take it inside?” Aurora asks.

“They know where it is.”

“It’s nicer to put it inside,” Aurora insists.

Eon grunts in annoyance. Levitating them back up, he goes around the corner. He halts, turning to her, hiking a thumb in his new direction, “Are you coming?”

Blinking, Aurora glances behind him. “This job doesn’t require two people.”

Eon leaves the sacks floating, pivoting around, “If you’re going to make demands of me, the least you can do is watch me do it.”

“But—”

He gestures to the building, “Would you rather loiter outside this public establishment?”

Aurora concedes, following him to the back door. She supposes it’s better than being out in the open.

Hordak lets his mind wander as his companions take rein of the conversation.

The nightmare threw him off more than he’d care to admit. He has had this sort of dream before, however, he was shaken to his core with this one. It was the most vivid he had ever experienced, and an aspect of slumber he’d care to not go through again.

Bow and Glimmer head to a group of his brothers who are in the midst of adding beams together.

He took it upon himself to take a break in a home that was under development. It needs a little more work left, but it’s otherwise complete and ready for furnishing. No one will bother him here.

Entrapta looks into the house, noticing his posture. He’s staring out a window that overlooks the trees, the drop going straight down, hands behind his back. His thinking position. She swings over to where he stands, closing the door behind her, “Are you still holding up?”

Hordak’s brow twitches. He doesn’t tell her that it’s a poor choice of words, because he knows he’s a little more sensitive to this matter than usual.

But Entrapta touches his shoulder, “Oh, I’m sorry! I meant to ask if you’re fine.”

“That is not something you need to concern yourself with. They’re mere words.”

“Words that are insensitive,” Entrapta replies. He doesn’t give a reply. She sits on her hair, gazing right at him. Unmoving.

Hordak’s eyes flick over to her for a second. He continues to stare straight ahead. “Entrapta, you needn’t apologize or feel responsible.”

“I believe you when you say that,” Entrapta says, not removing her eyes from his features. Suddenly, she gives a bashful smile, “I just care about you.”

Heart twinging, Hordak stiffens. He knows that her concern is sincere, and he appreciates it. He raises a hand to her cheek, brushing it, “I know.”

Entrapta flushes, his gaze intense. She can’t help but look down then, soft giggles leaving her lips. His finger traces the shell of her ear, and a shudder snakes along her spine. Body growing warm from the attention. He always knew how to make her feel special. After Prime’s defeat, Hordak had layers of emotion to sift through. He had been angry for many years, and she knows there’s parts of that residual rage underneath the calm. But one aspect of his nature that blossomed was a sensitivity that left her speechless. Hordak doesn’t believe it, but he can be very romantic by simply being honest with her.

“Hordak,” Entrapta whispers, touching his hand.

He tilts his head, “Yes?”

“You know I love you,” she says.

“Yes, I do,” Hordak replies, surprised. “And I love you too.”

Entrapta gives a breathy laugh, turning her face into his palm, hiding. She peers up at him with one eye, “Really?”

“More than you could comprehend,” Hordak tells the truth.

“Aww!” she coos, pressing his hand into her cheek, slightly muffled as she buries her face into his palm again.

A light blush tints his face, and he gives a soft laugh, “Entrapta, what’s this about? Are you upset that you cannot help me with my problem?”

“A little,” Entrapta holds his hand in hers, kissing the inside of his wrist. “I don’t know what to do sometimes, and I don’t know if me being around helps at all.”

“You’re a great help,” he assures her, thumb stroking her cheekbone. “Don’t doubt your affect on me.”

Entrapta grins, “I know some of the ways I affect you, silly!”

Hordak steps closer, smile widening along his lips, teeth flashing. His voice lowers, “Do you?”

“I like to think so,” Entrapta teases, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, fingers moving into his hair.

Her lips touch his, and he pulls her close. Her body curves against his, and even after decades of being near her, he’s always amazed at how she feels. Hand angled behind her head, his other one shifts down her back, sliding down her thigh.

Entrapta moans into his mouth, and she realizes that she’s been wanting to do this all day. His breathing grows ragged, moans interspersed with her name, sounds that she never gets tired of, because he only makes them with her.

Hordak pushes her against the wall, and he feels her hair slacken through her frame. Her legs wrap around his waist, allowing herself to be held up by his hands. Entrapta gives a soft groan, pulling him close. Her mouth caresses his neck, causing his body to shiver. Her hands glide down his back, grazing over exposed skin.

His hand snakes up her frame, and angles between her legs. Against the fabric, he begins to rub her clit, and Entrapta gasps in welcome surprise. Grinding against his fingers, she gives a small bite to his ear lobe, hot breath tickling his skin.

Hordak presses harder with his fingers, and he knows she’s growing damp. He captures her mouth with his, swallowing a moan she emits, flushed and excited. She grins against his chin, giving a small chuckle.

Encouraged, Hordak stops petting her. He looks at her, “Entrapta, remove your clothes.”

“Ooooh!” Entrapta does as he says, discarding everything but her shirt.

With ease, he lifts her back up, pushing her securely upon the wall and placing her legs over his shoulders. He has no hesitation as he leans in, breathing in, and glides his tongue up slick folds, rubbing over the clit with the end of his tongue.

Entrapta gasps, closing her eyes in pleasure. His tongue moves slowly, taking his time. It moves through the sides, around, teasing the clit, but never going in. Entrapta’s hands caress his hair, brushing through dark blue locks. His moans vibrate into her skin, mouth burning hot on burning flesh.

Hordak’s tongue suddenly darts in, and Entrapta’s back arches, mouth parting open. Groaning deep in her throat, Entrapta’s fingers grip his hair harder. Hordak pushes her legs further aside, nails digging into tender skin. He pulls away, giving her a brief glance, as his teeth graze along the delicate skin of her inner thigh.

“Hordak…” Entrapta whispers.

“Hmm?” he hums, mouth covering her clit, sucking hard.

Her moan escapes in a staccato, trembling. Biting her lower lip, Entrapta forgets what she’s supposed to ask. Lost in the sensation of his mouth on her clit, tongue dragging along swollen lips. His fingers squeeze the sensitive flesh of her backside, his ears twitching when she says his name. Soon, she’s soaked, unable to think or speak, overcome by physical touch. His arms, once the most obvious area of his defect, don’t waver from the weight, keeping her steady without qualm.

She would love him no matter his appearance, but she’s happy that he has the body he lost before. It brought him so much pain and agony, leaving him enraged and bitter. Entrapta would watch him suffer every day in the Fright Zone, even with her modifications. He felt inadequate, pathetic and alone. She would never think of him this way—he was the most brilliant mind and kindest heart she’d ever met, valuing her for who she was. Loving her despite her own imperfections. She never gave a thought to her physical appearance. What she always worried about was how her mind, her personality, her feelings would be perceived.

He accepted all of it.

And she wants to help him overcome whatever fears remain in him. That the imperfections of his body wouldn’t ever be the only thing of him she’d accept—it would be the doubts, the worries, the anger. He was her friend and husband. He, and he alone, would always be enough.

The heat in her stomach spreads throughout her body. Growing feverish, sweat shining on her skin, her toes curl into his back. Hordak’s ministrations are relentless, breaths muffled as his tongue moves back in, deeper than before, making circular motions within her body.

Shaking with incredible force, it bowls Entrapta forward, clamping her hand over her mouth. Eyes shut closed, brows knitting together, she trembles from the orgasm rocking through her every nerve and muscle. Slowly, her eyelids open, finding him staring up at her.

“Wow…”

Hordak smiles, pleased at such a reaction.

As he wipes up his chin, Entrapta brushes aside his hair, tugging strands over his temple. “Oh... I remembered what I was going to ask…”

“Yes?”

“I was going… to ask… if you think anyone will notice us gone…”

“Perhaps. But I don’t believe there’s a problem, so long as we begin going back now.”

Entrapta gives a gentle pat to his shoulders, and he sets her down. Beginning to dress, she grins, “I think this house is ruined.”

“Nonsense,” Hordak returns, waving a hand. “We need only open a window.”

Cackling wildly, Entrapta leaps up into his arms, nuzzling his neck, “You’re so bad!”

Hordak kisses her cheek, “I try.”

“I can be bad too,” Entrapta says, leering down at his groin.

“I don’t think we have the time,” Hordak replies, arm wrapping around her waist. “As favorable as that outcome would be.”

“Awww… You don’t want to make an attempt?”

“I believe, unfortunately, we have been gone long enough to arouse suspicion.”

“That’s an understatement,” Entrapta replies, wiggling her eyebrows, hand stroking over his clothes. “We definitely can’t hide that.”

A boyish grin and light blush changes his normally stoic demeanor. The expression staggers her mind to a halt, mystifying her on the rare moments it occurs. He’s so pretty...

“Entrapta?” he asks, smile still in place.

Finally recalling what needs to be done, Entrapta moves toward the door, grinning, “I’ll go on ahead, okay? You take your time!”

He nods, and she blows him a kiss that he, on reflex, pretends to catch.

Squealing at his playful attitude, Entrapta bounces out the door.

Hordak hears her voice grow distant, and he notes the faint replies from their friends. Hordak looks back out the window, catching his reflection in the glass. He looks down at his arm, touching it where he can remember missing bone and sinew. He takes in a breath, feeling the air move through his nose, into his chest. The power in his body undeniable.

It’s an odd feeling. Being afraid of nothing.

Aurora follows Eon throughout the market. He, apparently, was needed today. His magic lent significant help to his people, restoring broken objects, fixing machinery, and taking deliveries to several places. She won’t admit it, but it was a welcome relief from simply milling about by herself. Granted, these are tasks servants would be doing, but it made her feel normal, like she was accomplishing objectives at Bright Moon.

Eon looks down at her, “Don’t you have other places to be?”

“If I did, I would’ve left,” Aurora replies.

“Are you bored?”

“No, not at all,” she shakes her head. A little surprised she means it, too.

Eon takes her word for it. He hadn’t expected her to trail after him the entire time, and he would catch her standing by, occasionally offering unwanted critique, but he wasn’t going to argue with her. Early on, he certainly did. But the day has been long and he’s hoping to rest soon. She always does what she wants.

“Are you almost done?” Aurora asks.

“Yes,” he replies. “This is my last spot.”

Aurora looks at the sparse appearance, not even a sign put outside. Eon opens the door, singing its soft chime, and Aurora steps in after him. She’s struck to find rows of jewelry arranged along the four walls, painted navy blue, with cases planted into the middle of the floor. Though empty, they are meant for future displays.

Eon heads over to the case closest to the back door, tapping a bell resting on top.

Aurora joins him, “Is anyone present?”

“Should be,” Eon replies, turning around to face the front. He puts his hands in his pockets. “It’s not an issue if no one is—I can come back later.”

Aurora peers at the glass case, looking at dazzling necklaces, bracelets and rings aligned on vermilion velvet stands. She didn’t expect a store of this magnitude on Beast Island. The quality of the items are beautiful, with delicate designs.

Eon watches her from the corner of his eye. Her expression is intrigued, perusing the case with calm interest. He closes his eyes, waiting for the merchant to arrive. He listens to the faint tread of Aurora’s feet on the ground, the soft tap of her fingers on the surface of glass. He lets his mind wander in peace, glad to have a moment to himself.

Aurora eventually returns to his side, “Are you sure they’re here?”

“Yes,” he answers, not opening his eyes. “If you prefer, you can go find your parents.”

Aurora turns around, skirt slightly shifting about her feet. She stares up at Eon, debating whether to take him up on the suggestion or not. Her parents might be done, but if they’re not, she wouldn’t be able to leave again as smoothly as before. Staring at each side of the room, she says, “This is rude.”

“Uh-huh.”

“This wouldn’t happen in Bright Moon.”

Eon gives an exasperated sigh, “No, of course not. Nothing bad ever happens in Bright Moon.”

She ignores it or doesn’t hear. Aurora boasts, crossing her arms, “Right! Glad you see it my way.”

“Your Highness,” Eon scoffs, turning to face her. “If everyone could see things your way, we’d have a greater need for service animals.”

She blinks, “Why is that?”

“Everyone would be blind,” Eon answers.

Aurora says, tone clipped, “Oh, what would you know?”

“A lot more than you,” Eon replies, feeling vigor return.

“I doubt you possibly could!” Aurora’s head tilts at an arrogant angle. “The only thing you’ve proven today is that you make an excellent mule.”

Feigning injury, Eon clutches his chest, “Ah! You hurt me. But I could’ve sworn that you were fine with loyal, hard-working creatures. Unless that only matters when it’s useful to you.”

Aurora crosses her arms, huffing quietly.

Eon has known Aurora his entire life. Aurora has proven time and again that she has an elitism that tends to push her away from most people. Her parents are open-minded, cheerful individuals, and together they tend to liven any situation. Aurora can be charming, but she lacks sincerity. While not brash, her keeping an absurd distance from the folks around them during his errands proved that she was around him because he was the one thing she knew, rather than any intention toward actual civility.

Aurora inspects her shoulder, finding a loose thread. She points at it, and it dissolves in the air.

“I thought magic wasn’t a toy,” he says, taunting.

“This isn’t the same,” she snaps.

Before Eon can retort, the door opens behind them. The two turn around and find a woman standing there. Full-figured, with brown hair, hazel eyes and pale skin, the merchant is dressed in Bright Moon garb. Silver arm bands go up to mid-forearm, and she removes a light blue cape to hang on a coat rack.

“Eon, hello! I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. My meeting ran late.”

“No worries. I thought as much,” Eon replies.

The woman stares at Aurora for a moment, stunned, then smiles, “Your Highness! Welcome to my shop.”

Returning the warm greeting, Aurora nods at her, “Hello, I’m pleased to meet you. What’s your name?”

“Minette, Your Highness. If I may ask, what are you doing on Beast Island?”

“Royal duties,” Aurora gives a dainty laugh. “It’s been lovely!”

“I’m glad to hear that!” Minette says, walking over to a desk.

Eon bends down, giving Aurora a deadpan stare.

Aurora shoos him back, returning it with a glare.

“So!” Minette begins, causing the two to stand upright before she can notice. “Eon, I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

“What is it?”

With an excited skip in her step, Minette returns to the chair behind the larger collection of jewelry, “I needed a model for some of my jewelry, and using you would be really helpful!”

“Really? That’s it?” he asks, a bit surprised. “I don’t need to patch a hole in your roof or magic up boxes?”

“Sorry! I understand if you’d prefer to do those things instead,” Minette jokes.

Eon takes his seat, a little relieved that this is the easiest job he’s had today. Aurora sits in a chair nearby, crossing her right ankle under her left, hands in her lap.

“Your Highness, you can scoot closer,” suggests Minette.

Eon gives Aurora a brief glance.

“No, thank you, I’m comfortable where I am,” Aurora says.

“Nonsense! You can try anything on too!”

Aurora is about to decline when Eon rises to his feet and stands behind his seat. He indicates to it with a quick motion of his head, and Aurora elects to accept it. He pushes the chair under her, before levitating the one she’d been in next to it.

Minette smiles, bringing out her first batch, “How is Nyxia?”

“She’s doing well,” he informs her. “She’s likely in a meeting herself.”

“Your mother isn’t usually doing business with other people, correct?”

Eon peruses the jewelry that she places out on the table. Picking up a silver-banded ring, a crimson gem laid in its intricate center, he says, “I suppose she isn’t. But she will occasionally meet up with someone. I think she had to discuss matters with the council on Mystacore.”

“No doubt causing a stir of some sort,” Aurora adds, slipping a white bracelet onto a delicate wrist.

Eon glances at her, “You would know how to do that, wouldn’t you?”

Aurora gives a demure grin, “Whatever do you mean?”

“Playing coy only works on the dim, Aurora," he tells her with a smirk. "But I don’t blame you for being outside of familiar company that you think it’d work on me.”

“Ha ha.”

Minette watches with curious fascination, beaming at them, “You two must be good friends.”

Aurora and Eon turn to her at the statement.

“Am I wrong?” Minette asks, unsure now.

Aurora gives an awkward smile, a little odd on her lips, “Oh, it’s not that! We’ve known one another for years.”

“For how long, if I may ask?”

“A long, long time,” Eon replies, trying on a bracelet as well, shining black. “My mother knows her aunt.”

“Ohh, I see! I wasn’t aware that you knew the royal family, Eon.”

“Not many do,” he answers.

“How do you know Eon?” Aurora returns the question to the other woman.

“He lived near me at Bright Moon,” Minette explains. “I was a resident of the complexes there.”

“Really?” Aurora asks, shocked. “Why did you move here?”

“I always liked to engage in the unusual,” Minette tells her. A happy smile grows on her face, “It was delightful having Eon move in next door. I had become acquainted with his family when they would visit, and they informed me that my designs might strike a chord with a different crowd too, so I decided to set up shop outside of Bright Moon. I’m going to live here permanently, but I’ll be keeping my place over there to be in touch with my family.”

“Oh, I see…”

Minette notes the slight change in Aurora’s disposition. She sets down a narrow container on the table, “Do not misunderstand, Your Highness! Eon and I had been neighbors for a good few years, and he talked to me about the changes occurring on Beast Island. It seemed like a good opportunity to try my business out here too and build a second location. I grew up in Bright Moon, of course, but a change of pace now and again doesn’t hurt, right? I love my home, but knowing that Beast Island had potential was exciting!”

Eon gives Aurora a brief glance, “Surely, you understand what she means.”

Aurora goes quiet, not wanting to look at him. The two enter a chit chat that doesn’t involve her, to which she finds relief. She doesn’t fully… understand Minette’s motivations. He, unfortunately, is correct. An overachiever herself, Aurora can comprehend pushing toward her goals. But her ties to her home are so valuable, that she can’t help but feel a little slighted that a subject of hers decided that it was better to live here, in an underdeveloped metropolis. She can’t disconnect that success is tied to her kingdom and all its facets. It figures that Eon would be capable of convincing someone that, an idea they’d never considered before, might be what they want. He was always good at that.

It has been… ages since they’ve been in each other’s presence. They don’t interact often, but when they do it can be rather... tense. Tense is how she describes her relationship with Eon. His personality is both sardonic and frigid, which can lead to frustrating discussions. He has been more than pleasant thus far—even with his tendency to argue with her. She attempts to be cordial when she can, but she finds his quips to cut to the quick bothersome.

Then he does things like hold out chairs for her, or open doors and allow her to enter first, and she’s a little confused how someone can hold her with contempt and yet high enough esteem to do favors.

Maddening is also how it can be expressed being around Eon.

Aurora’s curiosity rises when Minette pulls out another box, dark and smooth, with a simple crescent moon latch on the front.

“These are my latest earrings!” Minette says, opening it. An array of different sets are revealed, but Aurora’s eyes hone in on a simple pair: pink tear-drop shaped earrings, not looking like anything special, but they have a soft sheen to their color that’s appealing.

“Your Highness, you seem taken with these,” Minette pulls them out. “Would you care to try them on?”

“Oh! Um, yes, thank you,” Aurora holds them in her hands, delicately pinning each one through her earlobes. Minette places a mirror in front of her, and Aurora discovers that she not only finds them pleasing, but she’s enchanted by it. They dangle as she moves her head, and she smiles. Genuine and delighted. “These are beautiful.”

“Thank you!” Minette turns to Eon. “And what about you?”

Eon stares at Aurora, and he pulls himself out of his reverie before Aurora can turn to face him. He looks down at the velvety interior, checking the selection. He does find his eyes trained on a similar pair, but in lovely lavender rather than the rosy pink she chose, their diameter wider a bit at the tip before becoming more rounded at the bottom by comparison as well. He picks it up, staring at it for a moment.

“Try them on, try them on!” encourages Minette.

Eon does as she says, and he checks the mirror too. He gives a light chuckle, the side of his mouth tilting up, “You do know how to win a man over.”

Minette claps her hands excitedly, “Good! Do you two like them enough to get them?”

Aurora nods, beaming, “Yes, absolutely!”

“Yes, I definitely want them,” Eon begins. He reaches for his pocket, “How much is this, Minette?”

“Eon, you silly boy,” the older woman giggles. “Consider them a gift from me to the both of you, hm?”

Aurora waves a hand, “Oh, that’s sweet of you, but you should be paid for your work!”

Eon nods in agreement, taken aback, “It doesn’t feel right to have them handed over. I can pay for Aurora’s set as well.”

Aurora, a little flattered despite herself, coos, “Aww, really?”

“Yes, really,” he answers.

Minette wags a finger, “Ah-ah-ah! I won’t hear of it. It really is my way of saying thanks to Eon for helping out today and times past; and Your Highness, I’d be honored if you wore them!”

Grinning, Eon shrugs, reclining in his seat, “Well, who am I to turn down a free present?”

“Thank you very much, Minette,” Aurora says. She looks at the mirror again, enjoying herself for the first time today.

Glimmer stands next to Entrapta, looking over a couple of blueprints that the engineer created with a team of clones. The day has passed with little event, and Glimmer was glad about that. She addresses Entrapta, “How is Odessa, by the way? Will she be home soon?”

Entrapta nods, widening her smile, “Yes! She will be home in a month.”

“Ooh, that’s exciting!” Glimmer says. “I bet you’ve missed her.”

“I knooooow!” Entrapta flips in place through the air. “I told her if she found anything interesting to bring it back!”

“Where did she go again?”

“She went to visit our family in Inicos. It’s a long journey, but the return trip is much shorter.”

Glimmer nods, then glances at Hordak. She leans in, whispering, “Do you think Hordak is excited?”

Entrapta picks up the cue, and whispers back, “Yes! Hordak doesn’t show it, but he misses our baby too.”

“That’s so cute!” Glimmer says.

“I know!”

From where he stands, Hordak’s ears twitch a little, looking over his shoulder at the women. They simply wave at him, and he resumes conversation with Bow.

Glimmer turns her attention toward the darkening sky. It’ll be about time to head back to the castle. She’s been enjoying herself since she’s arrived. Even with all the experience she has now, she cannot help but feel unsettled when she’s in the palace for too long, and it has been an overdue time in regards to going out. Beast Island may not be what individuals think of for relaxation and enjoyment, but without all the technology trying to kill you, it’s fun. Bow can attest to that.

The sound of the elevator is familiar by now that none of them turn to it. But a moment later, Glimmer hears, “Hi, Mama!”

She looks over Entrapta’s shoulder, and she rises to greet her daughter, “Aurora! Hi, honey. Did you have a good time?”

The princess gives a delicate shrug of her shoulders, “I suppose.”

“Are those earrings?” Glimmer asks, pointing to her ears. “You didn’t have them on before.”

Aurora touches one, “Oh, yes! Do you like them?”

“I adore them! They’re such a compliment to your face—” begins Glimmer, when her eyes slide over to the left. She lets out a loud gasp, “Eon!”

Eon continues his strides, giving a salute with his hand, “Hello.”

Glimmer, despite being dwarfed by the younger man, teleports over the remaining four feet and crushes him to her. “Oh my gosh, how’ve you been?”

“Not broken,” he remarks.

“Oh, I know you’re fine!” Glimmer laughs, releasing him. She holds his wrists in her hands, appraising him. “By the moon, you’ve gotten tall.”

Eon brushes his hair from his face, grinning down at her, “Thank you, it’s genetics.”

Entrapta bounces over, giving him an affectionate pat on the back, “And your strict diet!”

“That too,” he agrees. “I’d kill to have a slice of cake.”

“Were you with Aurora just now?” Bow asks, walking over to them with Hordak.

“She accompanied me all day,” Eon informs the couples. “She performed good samaritan duties.”

Glimmer can’t help her astonishment. She looks at Aurora, “Really?”

“He happened to be walking by, that’s all,” Aurora explains. “He worked, I watched.”

Bow holds his daughter by the shoulder, pulling her to him, giving her a happy shake, “You learned a thing or two though, didn’t you?”

“Sure, Papa.”

Eon leans down to Glimmer, “You know, she actually got dirt on her.”

“For once, huh?” Glimmer jests back.

Flushing, Aurora crosses her arms, “Mama, please…”

Hordak turns to Bow, “Will you three be returning to Bright Moon now?”

Bow nods, “Since Aurora is here, and it’s getting late, we likely should.”

Glimmer turns to the clone family, “Would any of you be interested in coming back and having dinner? The cooks don’t mind that!”

Entrapta shakes her head, “As much as I’d like to ask for tiny food from your chefs, Hordak and I have a previous engagement to attend to, so we’ll have to say no!”

Hordak nods at them, “Perhaps another time.”

“Got it!” Glimmer says, looking up at Eon. “What about you? You can have that slice of cake with us!”

“I got something to finish up here, but thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Eon, please, it’s Glimmer!”

“Sorry, Glimmer.”

Bow adds, “You should come by the next time you’re around!”

“Thank you,” Eon says, glancing at Aurora. “I’ll consider it some time.”

After a few more pleasantries, Eon bids farewell first. Hordak and Entrapta accompany the family to the portal about halfway before they veer off to their own place.

Glimmer stares up at her husband, “This was a great outing, wasn’t it?”

Bow stretches his arms toward the sky, “You bet! It’s good to get out of the stuffy meetings now and then.”

Aurora purses her lips, “I think we could’ve gone home sooner.”

Glimmer looks at her daughter, “Didn’t you have fun with Eon?”

“I had as much fun as one could while watching someone do menial labor,” Aurora replies.

“It’s good to get out regardless,” Bow says.

“I did always like that boy,” Glimmer tells them.

Aurora sighs, not understanding how he can win her parents over. He can be charming, to be sure, and he surprised her today by how useful he was to others. Even thoughtful. But he doesn’t have anything else going for him. She finds it to be a lucky thing that he enjoys being distant from her too.

Today was a fluke.

After all, he is a clone’s son.

Entrapta holds Hordak to her chest, brushing his hair as he falls asleep, “Did you have fun earlier today?”

“In the house or with our friends?”

“Both!”

Hordak smiles at her. His fingers slide up to touch her face, “I did enjoy myself.”

Entrapta leans forward, kissing the bridge of his nose. She puts their foreheads together, “Are you sure you don’t want me to do anything?”

“You can return the favor to me later,” Hordak says. “I’m comfortable.”

Entrapta continues petting his scalp, finding that she is also in a cozy position, and maybe they will just have more fun tomorrow. She yawns, voice getting drowsy, “Are you happy Odessa is coming soon?”

“Yes, I am,” he replies. “There’s much to discuss with her.”

“There is…”

Hordak’s eyes drift to his wife’s collarbone. Breathing in the scent of her skin, Hordak pulls her closer. His thoughts begin to pick up in the quiet of the room. Churning. Once his mind finds something to think about, he can have as much a difficult time letting it be as Entrapta could. And their daughter was, for better or worse, the same.

He asks, with unusual hesitation, “Is Odessa keeping something from me? She has a strong wanderlust, and she enjoys visiting family but... she doesn’t feel like herself. When she left, it seemed as if she was unsure of how to approach me. That she didn’t want to inform me of any event she experienced. Am I imagining it?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Entrapta?”

The question receives light snores as a response.

Sighing, Hordak kisses the column of her throat before settling into her chest, unable to stop thinking of his dream from earlier. The sense of unease he has balled in his chest.

He is curious what this odyssey would entail for his daughter and her friends.

And he is worried what the outcome may be.

#hordak #entrapta #entrapdak #odessa #fanfic: The Ripple Effect #shera #spop

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