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Update
Hey! Did I abandon this blog? Kind of. I’ve moved on from tumblr, but I can’t seem to make myself to do anything with this particular one- it became very personal for me. I want to delete my main account, but doing so deletes this one, too. I’ve honestly thought about putting each fic from here onto FF.net or AO3. I won’t do anything right now, but if this blog ever suddenly disappears, look for me on either of those sites under the name of imaginekilgrave.
Otherwise, I’m on facebook or discord if anyone wants to keep in touch- send a pm if interested. I still remember and miss you guys. :)
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Chance Encounter
Christmas shopping at the mall is pretty much always a nightmare. Everyone’s scrambling to get the best deal on gifts that will probably be set aside or forgotten. At least that’s been your case. Seemingly. But no matter, you’re actually only at the mall to meet with your sister while she does her shopping. It was agreed that a ladies day out was necessary.
You tug at the purple fabric of your blouse and straighten it. Your sister insisted on wearing matching tops so it’d be easier to find each other within the mall. It least it looked nice. And hey, the cute booties you paired with it makes you feel confident with your head up and lengthy strides.
Keeping your head up allows you to see everyone coming your way and allows you to avoid any collisions. The powerful moment, however, is temporary.
The next person your eyes land on is one who is also wearing a purple top, but it’s a he and he’s stepping out of a store. You keep walking, thinking he surely wouldn’t see you in the crowd of Christmas shoppers. The closer you get to him, the more your confidence withers and folds in on itself. Your shoulders hunch over, and you duck your face so that your hair falls around you like a curtain.
You’re not even sure why you’re reacting this way.
You pass him, holding your breath and hearing your own heartbeat.
All it takes for you to stop is him uttering your name lowly, a hand on your upper arm. Your feet are glued to the floor.
“No. . .” you whisper, shrinking away from his form. He traces a finger up your back, causing you to shiver and shut your eyes.
“So it is you.” Astonishment enters his British voice, and it echoes in your ear when he stands behind you, keeping up the same motion on your back. “I had wondered. . .”
“Please,” you whimper. Already, you can tell you’re not going to be able to see your sister.Â
His hands crawl up onto your shoulders and squeeze. A bubble of hysteria threatens to pop within your chest, and you don’t even know why. You don’t remember ever meeting this man at all, so why does he instill fear in you?Â
His mouth is still at your ear, but this time you hear a little bit of amusement. “It’s quite alright, ____. You can remember, now. Remember,” his voice dropped even lower, “and don’t scream.”
The bubble pops, but your mouth remains shut.
#Sorry guys#I didn't mean to take such a long hiatus#I miss writing these#and I had this dream last night that needed to be written#so it's kicked me into wanting to write again#if anyone reads this i'll be working on the other prompts today
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“Oh no, they don’t like you. I just knew it,” you say and inch further down in your seat on the couch. Kilgrave puts his hand on your knee reassuringly.
“It’s the age gap, but that’s alright. It’ll be okay. If they don’t like it, then-”
“You’re not controlling them,” you say a bit too sharply. He flinches and withdraws his hand. In a moment of panic, you grab his hand and pat it with a series of flutters. “I’m sorry. I do mean it when I don’t want you doing that to them, but they’re also my parents. Everything feels like it’s on the line when it comes to them.”
He stops your patting and squeezes your hand instead, then edges closer to wrap an arm around your shoulders. His head drops to your ear. “I promise that it will be okay. They seem to really love you, so they’ll accept us sooner or later.”
You nod feebly, then jerk apart when your parents come back into the living room with drinks. Your mom hands you and Kilgrave a glass of water while she and your dad have their own drinks- probably something with alcohol. Your mom looks like she’s forcing a smile while your dad leers at Kilgrave.
Silence stretches by with everyone sipping cautiously from their glasses.
You almost jump when your dad breaks the silence with, “Bit old, aren’t you?”
“Honey,” your mom grips her husband’s arm in warning, but he ignores her.
“You know there’s a name for people like you?” Kilgrave shakes his head dumbly. “Cradle-robber, that’s what you are.” Your dad leans forward in his seat. You’re suddenly grateful for the coffee table between you two and your parents. You swallow hard and grip your glass of water tightly.
“With all due respect,” Kilgrave clears his throat, “I believe that term is reserved for those who have no good intentions.”
Dad coughs harshly and clears his own throat. He sets the drink down on the coffee table and rubs the bridge of his nose. “And what makes your intentions so good?”
“Dad,” you start to say, but Kilgrave interrupts with an answer.
“I bear no ill will towards your daughter like you seem intent on assuming. I honestly love her, and may God strike me down if I hurt her in any way.” This time, Kilgrave grabs your hand and holds it in his. Your face is heating up though you’re unsure if it’s from his attention or your parents’. “I plan to spend an awfully long time with her if she’ll have me.”
Your dad’s mouth twitches, then he stands up to leave the room with long strides.
Your mom lets out a sigh and sets her drink down. “Don’t worry about him, he’s just being stubborn,” she says lightly. “He’s just worried, that’s all.”
“What’s the big deal?” you venture to ask, and the corners of her lips tilt up.
“I was in the same position as you before I met your dad. He was about 15 years my senior, but I was heads over heels in love with him.” She twirls the ends of her hair around her fingers, seemingly lost in memories.Â
“What happened?” you ask.
“He turned out to be married,” your mom answers flatly and picks her drink back up. “Luckily, I met your father not too long after that.” Her eyes land on Kilgrave, and he straightens up with a reddening face. “You’re not married, are you?”
“Not time I checked, I wasn’t. No, ma’am.”
She lets out a sigh and sips more of her drink. “Then I’m satisfied. I wouldn’t worry about your father, either. You know how much of a pig-head he is,” she says the last part to you with a secret smile.
“Thanks, Mom,” you say. Surprise is on your face, but relief is in your system. Kilgrave still has your hands, so you settle for leaning against his shoulder and feeling him kiss your hair.
“Probably none of that PDA for a little bit until he comes around, alright?” your mom advises, and you pull away from Kilgrave regretfully.
“And you’re not sleeping in the same room while you’re here, no sirrie,” your dad quips from the other room.
“Dad!” you say helplessly and bury your face in your hands. Kilgrave laughs next to you.Â
He moves in closer to whisper with a grin and a joke on his lips, “I think we’ll be okay. This also gives me an excuse to sneak into your room.”
Your mom snickers, and you squeak indignantly.Â
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Kilgrave pinches the bridge of his nose as his eyes follow the girl currently running away. His other hand cradles his reddening cheek, and he lets out a sigh of frustration. Every single bloody time.
“You can run, but I’ll find you, girl,” he promises, letting go of his nose. “But only because people find it so hard to resist talking around me. What a damn shame for you,” he chuckles and disappears into the crowd.
---
Her heart is pounding. Her hands clutch at her chest as she fights to catch her breath while trying to look inconspicuously over her shoulder. No one seems to take notice of the girl taking refuge in the bathroom corridor of the mall, but experience tells her to trust no one. Just because one wouldn’t notice someone watching them doesn’t mean they aren’t doing just that.
Sweat beads on her forehead, and she wipes it off before standing. Her breathing is calmer, but her heart isn’t. Just who was this stalker who had the ability to force her to do what he wanted? She feels like she should count herself lucky for being able to break free every time, but just how long would that last?
Every time she went to the police to report this person, they’d look away. All of them. As soon as a man in a purple suit is mentioned, every single person looks away like they’re remembering something terrible. Then again, maybe this purple man was already well-known. Maybe she wasn’t his only victim.
But damn if she doesn’t have better things to do than to keep running. If this kept going, she’d have to move to another city, and she has no desire to do that.
Taking a deep breath, the girl brushes her hair away from her face and looks around. No one else is wearing purple, so he should be easy enough to see and avoid in time, but she needs to get out as soon as possible.
Subconsciously, she touches her lips. They feel a little sore, and she frowns. She can remember the look of expectation in that man’s eyes, and it chills her to the core. For all the self-righteousness and anger he seems to expel, the girl doubts he has a shred of warmth anywhere in him.
She feels lucky to be able to pry herself off of him and give him a satisfying smack across his face before taking off.
Casting the crowd another glance, she takes the risk and joins them, hoping to blend in and slip out unnoticed.
---
“She’s like a tiny mouse,” Kilgrave remarks to himself. It didn’t take him long to find his target thanks to those who happened to see the girl by chance. He watches the girl walk around and through throngs of bodies walking in the mall. Her timid walk makes her stand out whether or not she realizes it, and her wide eyes just make it more obvious that she’s frightened of something.
And only few take notice. He can tell when she brushes off someone’s offer to help her out. Kilgrave grins and begins walking.Â
It’s like she can sense him nearby when she abruptly stops and shivers like something cold rolled up her spine.
Kilgrave watches with sick pleasure as she turns around to face him with a pale face. Only mere feet away, and her courage is clearly fleeting.
“P-please stop,” she says, holding her arms close to herself. Kilgrave closes the distance between them, grateful no one has tried to walk between them.
Despite her plea, Kilgrave lifts a hand and caresses her cheek. She flinches, closes her eyes, and moves away.
“Stop that,” Kilgrave mutters. “I just want to know how you’re able to disobey me so easily. Only one other person has done that.”
The girl opens her eyes. “Who?”
Kilgrave’s eyes darken. “You don’t need to know. It’s best we stay as far away from that bitch as possible. Come with me.”
She does obey him, letting him take her by the hand to begin their trip out of the mall, but it’s only minutes later that she’s able to break free again. Kilgrave simply grabs her hand again with another command. If this was how he was going to do this, then so be it.
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that point where you kinda sorta love a fic writer so much you start to hero worship them a little, reblog if you agree
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Loki Vs Kilgrave
Pt. 5
You slept soundly, which isn’t something you do very often. Waking up to something tickling your face isn’t something you’re used to either. Something is tickling your cheeks.
Then you realize- something is tickling your cheeks.
Your eyes peel open, then blink in a series of flutters to chase away the effects of sleep. Finally, your eyes land on blue or green eyes- you never can tell which color- and note that those eyes are quite close to your face. Close enough to feel warm breath across your cheeks. Your sleep-addled mind hasn’t registered just who it is that’s invading your personal space, but you know the arms on either side of you makes you feel quite safe.
Until you remember that Kilgrave doesn’t have long black hair or those eyes.
You exhale sharply, ready to yell when Loki slips a hand over your mouth.
“Shh, don’t want to cause a ruckus, now would we?” he chides softly, almost cooing in his words. You muster up a glare that only causes him to laugh and tap a finger against your lips. You realize it feels cold on your skin, sending chills down your spine, and you jerk away at the sensation.
He must have figured that you wouldn’t say anything because his hand slides off of your face. Loki still remains in the intimate position, however.
“What happened?” you finally ask, your eyes sliding down his naked torso and then to yourself. You feel clothed under the thin sheets, but they don’t feel like your clothes. “Did you..? Did we..?”
He opens his mouth to speak, but he’s interrupted by a loud thud of a door being thrown open.
Both of you look up simultaneously to find Kilgrave standing at the entrance of whatever room you ended up in, and he looks furious.
And you’re in a compromising position with his rival.
Loki allows you to throw him off of you, choosing instead to recline against the headboard and appear unbothered by the intrusion.
You toss the green sheets off of you and move to stand up with protests building up on your lips, but Kilgrave stops you with a command to sit still and shut up. Immediately, you feel hurt blossom in your chest, and you recoil from his murderous gaze. The glare moves from you to Loki as Kilgrave approaches the bed.
“You bastard,” he spits, stopping at the foot of the bed with balled fists. “You knew to stay away from her- from us! And you,” he says pointedly towards you, “I told you not to be alone with him, didn’t I? And then you did just that! Why didn’t you listen? I specifically told you-”
“Oh, do shut up, won’t you?” Loki mutters, causing Kilgrave to immediately to stop talking. At this point, you’re fighting to keep tears from spilling over, withering under Kilgrave’s glare once again. He has to believe that you didn’t do anything with Loki- he’s got to! He knows you wouldn’t do anything . . . right?
At once, you feel the hold of Kilgrave’s command release with help from Loki, and you inhale deeply like you’d been told to stop breathing instead of talking. You’re able to move your feet, and your tears run over once they touch the floor. It’s cold, but it’s better than the heat of Kilgrave’s wrath. Even though you’re covered with some kind of clothing, you still gather up a bit of sheets to hold to your chest.
“If you knew anything about your dear girl at all,” Loki says, stretching, “you’d know she would never do anything to compromise your relationship. Dear me- I’ve known her for such a short time, and even I can see that. Are you really that dim? I was simply . . . keeping her company.”
Kilgrave’s mouth moves, but no sound comes out. Instead, his face only gets more red.
Loki touches your back gently, and you jump from the touch. “You may go. It seems that Kilgrave and I need a . . . talk.”
Without an answer, you let go of the sheets and stand. You don’t look up, but you do whisper out an “I’m sorry” to whoever happens to catch it. Then you move for the door, your bare feet lightly tapping on the cold floor on the way out.
---
Your face reddens with embarrassment as a few people stop and stare at you in the hallway. It must have looked like you were coming out of the king’s room, and in some kind of bed clothing no less. Loki changed you from your regular clothes to some silky and gold nightgown that ended at your knees, making it feel more like lingerie than anything else. Shame overwhelms you.
You grip the fabric of the skirt and keep your head down as you make your way down the hall. Murmurs from passers-by arise with your presence, but they get louder right before you’re stopped by another presence.
The voice that booms before you makes you jump, but the person it belongs to makes your heart sink to your stomach.
“Why were you coming out of my father’s room?”
A raised eyebrow, blonde locks, and a red cape.
You stumble backwards, your tears forgotten.
Thor.
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The farm life. Fresh air, fresh sights, and-
“Shit. Shit everywhere,” Kilgrave comments, the corners of his lips turning down as he approaches a pig pen. They oink like they don’t hear him insult them.
“Be nice,” you chide, wrapping a hand around his arm. “You promised.”
“But it reeks!”
“You promised,” you emphasize and let go to go pet some nearby goats. Kilgrave stands moodily, glaring at the goat you gleefully pet. One of the goats must have sensed his glare because it rushes at him and pushes him backwards into the pigpen.
All you can do is laugh.
#prompts#drabble#where did all these followers come from since i took a break?#*squints suspiciously*
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I think your idea with the drabbles would be cool
Thanks for letting me know!
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Hey all! I'm not coming off hiatus 100% yet, but I wanted to run an idea by anyone who comes across this post. How would you feel if I posted drabbles? By definition, I'd write about 100 words for each prompt. Now, this would only be for SOME of the prompts. I'd still write longer chapters for the series, but if I write drabbles for some of the unwritten prompts, it gives more of a chance for everyone to see their prompts written out. I'm probably also more likely to get more stuff out if I write them shorter.Â
Yea or nay?Â
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"Alright,” I said; “just fine,” I sighed:
“He brought this upon himself.
He’s selfish, you see, and full of pride;
his attention’s on something else.
“Look here, Kilgrave, and mark my words,
your days of Netflix are many.
My muse, you’re gone, or something worse,
and I need an idea or twenty.
“A break, I’ll take, you’ve given no choice.”
I slowly shake my head.
I glare at Kilgrave and raise my voice,
“I’ll write other things instead.”
He sits across the room and stares,
his gaze upon a screen.
Nonplussed is his face, he doesn’t care.
“So surely a drama queen.”
A sniff, a sigh, his eyes on mine,
he says, “now you look here:
A king I am, if you don’t mind,
just to make things clear.
“I am who I am, and nothing less.
Now, away you nagging nerd!”
I belted a yell and did confess,
“You’re such a freaking bastard!”
(So I’m going on hiatus since I can’t get anything written. I’m not leaving the blog, but I want to lift the expectation I put on myself where I was to get something out every weekend. I’ll post ideas as I go- if they come in- if my muse stops being an ass. I’ll still be on tumblr pretty regularly if you ever want to say hello or suggest ways I can write out any of the prompts/series. I’ll also see about setting up links to all the stuff I’ve written so no one has to go looking for them.
Don’t worry; I’m not going away completely.)
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WAITING FOR YOUR FAVORITE FANFICTION WRITER TO POST ANOTHER STORY.
#I'm sorryyy#I'm on here a lot and I hear you#and see you#but my muse#he's run away#i'm tryingggg#everything that i write lately just seems so dry and not good#:(
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Love is a weird thing- even infatuation at its earliest makes a person do weird things. You’ve experienced the crush several times over, whether it was on the band kid in high school or a fictional character in a movie you’ve watched many times. You have many years of experience in that area, but when it comes to actually dating someone- well, you’re lost. It’s scary. You don’t know what to do.
When’s the appropriate time to hold hands? How do you position yourself when you cuddle- if you cuddle? How well does the significant other receive displays of affections? Is it weird if you initiate anything? How soon is it to fall in love with someone? What do you even do when it comes to sex?
Can you even get comfortable enough to stop overthinking on such things?
But Kilgrave came along. As impatient as he was with everyone, you were the one he was most patient with. Your reluctance to start anything didn’t faze him one bit- in fact, he found it endearing. He seemed more than willing to help you find what you like in a relationship, and you found that you seemed to like physical touches.
At first, it started out as soft touches on the go, like a touch to your shoulder as he passed by or playing with your hair when you sat down for movies. Then it advanced to an arm around your shoulders for movies and around your waist out on walks. You definitely held hands, but it took time in the beginning:
“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” he said at one point. You were out shopping, and he came along for company. He must have noticed your eyes flickering to the hands between you because he laced his fingers through yours. You almost jerked away at first, but his reassurance stayed you.
Then you got comfortable enough to enact touches on your own, and even complimenting him when he least expected it. It seemed he got a simple thrill whenever you trailed a hand along his shoulders whenever you walked by him, or ran a hand through his hair and give him a head massage.
What mattered the most to you was seeing the light in his eyes when you did something to get closer to him, and it helped you knowing that he wouldn’t turn you away for anything.
Sometimes he still ended up directing you through some things, like cuddling in a way that wouldn’t crush him. For example:
“It’s okay,” he insisted, sitting up in the bed you both share. You stood at the edge of the bed while chewing on your lips.
“I don’t see how that can be comfortable. Heads are heavy.”
“It doesn’t bother me, _____. Honestly, I just want to be able to hold you while we sleep. Can’t I?”
You eyed him, then climbed into the bed where he slid down with an arm out across your side of the bed. After another moment of hesitance, you laid down and tentatively put your head on his arm, watching him scoot a little closer and put his other arm across your waist. He knew you were overthinking again, debating on where to put your arms because he said, “Relax. Do what you want with your arms. Make yourself comfortable.”
Whether he intended for it to be an actual command or not, you relaxed, holding one arm to yourself with the other resting towards him. When you did, he broke out into a smile and kissed your forehead.
It’s then that you figured that all good things would happen in due time, and you would get to experience them all with Kilgrave.
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Kilgrave didn’t agree to watching Harry Potter in the beginning, much less agree to a marathon of all 8 movies. It was when you tempted him with popcorn and unlimited cuddling that got him to settle down on the couch with you and begin the binge-watch.Â
He was very resistant at first. “Dropping a baby off with stupid people was... stupid of Dumbledore!” He had exclaimed not too far into the first film, but then, “Every flavor jellybeans. That seems terribly gross . . . That Hermione seems like a giant pain in the arse . . . Malfoy seems like a git . . . A troll, really? . . . Why isn’t anyone suspicious of a white man wearing a turban?”Â
“Kilgrave, don’t.”Â
“Fine . . . Snape is a git, too.”
Then his interest in the films grew. “That chess move, Ron’s actually fairly brilliant . . . Who’d have thought that hat would be useful? . . . I bet that dog is actually someone we’ll like . . . Okay, the Malfoys are still gits. Especially the older one . . . Hermione’s a bit off here . . . Time travel? That’s actually brilliant!
“Everyone needs a haircut in this movie, did they just decide to forget about haircuts? . . . Oh yeah, let’s let a few under-aged children participate in a potentially fatal competition . . . Why did no one ever call Dumbledore out on his terrible ideas?Â
Ah, so Voldemort is actually back . . . That fellow with the tongue seems awfully familiar . . . Snape is still a git, nothing new there . . . Do you think the students of Hogwarts ever actually resent Harry being there? Something always happen when he’s around.”
“You talk way too much” you eventually say around a mouthful of popcorn. “Can’t you just sit there an enjoy the movie?”
“But,” he tries to protest, but your look silences him into submission, and he leans back onto the couch with an arm around you. “Fine, but I’m taking your popcorn.”
“Hey!”
Hours later, towards the end of the last movie, Kilgrave has commandeered your laptop while Harry talks with the trio on the broken bridge contemplating the Elder Wand. You nudge him with your foot just as Harry tosses the wand. “You’re missing it!”
Kilgrave looks up, then scrunches up his face in a disapproving fashion. “Why would you throw away such a powerful wand? I get all the trouble around it, but for- Harry’s an idiot. Plain and simple.”
“That’s pretty much the gist of the series,” you say with a grin. “Harry, don’t do the thing! And then he does the thing anyways.” Kilgrave rolls his eyes but with a grin of his own. “What are you doing with my laptop, by the way?”
He holds up a finger for a moment, then spins the laptop to face you. On it shows a ticket page to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. It seems he just purchased a couple of tickets, and he’s beaming at you. “We’re going to go get our wands, drink Butterbeer, and whatever else we feel like doing.”
“So you’re no Muggle?” you ask, fighting a giggle.
“Parish the thought! Now if only there were a magical train to ride all the way there.”
What a fanboy.
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In Likeness of Minds
Ch. 4
You stare out the window, chin in one hand while you tap your knees with the other hand. Someone else’s fingertips tap his armrest obnoxiously, and you just know his leg is bouncing up and down even though it’s out of your line of sight. Sighing with mild irritation, you tear yourself away from the view of clouds and blue sky to pin Kilgrave with a glare.
He glances at you, then stops. “I can’t help it.”
“You never said you had a fear of flying.” You slump in your seat, wishing you had sprung at the chance for a first class seat instead of having to deal with a crying kid nearby. Someone also keeps kicking your seat every now and then.
“It’s not flying, I’m perfectly fine with flying. I’m not fine with going back to the source of my miserable life.”
After obtaining Kilgrave, you’ve wasted no time in making arrangements to fly to dreaded lab. He’s whined a lot about it, but by this point, it’s nothing new. Merely annoying.
You raise an eyebrow, leaning your head on the seat to watch him curiously. “You think I’m fine with it?”
“You’re the one desperate to go back. I don’t even know what you expect to find.”
“Answers. Something.” You lean forward and grab a plane brochure, glancing over the emergency instructions out of boredom before putting it back. “Someone has to still be there.”
“And then what? Beg them to take your powers away?” He tries to flag down a flight attendant for drinks, but no one comes.
“Something like that. Look, I know you think I want to kill myself, but that isn’t the case.”
“Could have fooled me,” he mumbles lowly, glaring at the seat in front of him when his own is kicked. With a muted growl, he spins around, pinning the offender with a cold stare. “Stop. Kicking. Me.” It turns out to be a kid, and you’d feel bad if you hadn’t been kicked at either.
“Stop that, you’re going to scar them for life,” you hiss, pulling at his sleeve back to his seat. Begrudgingly, he has to obey and turns around with a thump onto the seat. He folds his arms petulantly.Â
“You know, I’ll be glad if you get rid of your powers, it’s annoying as bloody hell having to obey your every words.”
“Imagine what your victims went through.”
“No,” he points a finger at you, leaning in, “no. They were not victims. Do not- damn-”
---
Damn her. Damn her words. Flashes of different girls run through his mind, each other with a look more dead than the last as they go through motions with him. He remembers enjoying himself with them, but he is so sure they enjoyed themselves as well. They had to. Surely. Didn’t they?
He squeezes his eyes shut when he can see one of the girls crying, right before he tells her not to do that.
Damn this girl. Damn ____.
“I guess you can stop,” she finally says, and Kilgrave’s mind clears up. He’s panting from the effort of keeping the memories away despite failing to do so. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”
“Shut up,” Kilgrave spits even though his command has no effect. He shoots daggers at her, but she isn’t affected. Instead, she’s back to staring out the window. It’s like she’s bored by this whole ordeal.
The plane shakes briefly with turbulence, causing some murmurs of concerns to rise from other passengers. It passes quickly, and the regular cacophony resumes within minutes. Kilgrave is still studying ____.
The light from the window causes a silhouette of her form.Â
“You know something?” he eventually says, but she doesn’t turn back to him. He continues anyways. “I can’t age anymore.” This gets her attention, and she slowly looks back at him. “It took a while to notice, but I’ve stopped aging. No gray hairs, no wrinkles- well- not more wrinkles. Crow’s feet, but that’s it. It’s like aging just ceases after a certain period of time. Whether my parents meant for that to happen, I don’t know.”
---
“You as well, then,” you answer softly. Another thing in common, it appears. You knew he was studying you minutes before, but he hasn’t stopped. Under his gaze, you feel yourself flush and look at your lap instead. “I think I stopped around 20 or so. It just feels different.”
“It does,” he agrees, leaning his arm on the armrest. Against your better judgments, you read his thoughts again and shy away, wishing you hadn’t chosen the window seat. He certainly isn’t one to hold back his thoughts. It’s almost flattering, but you want him to stop thinking altogether.
You’re about to say something when you inadvertently catch someone else’s thoughts. Your head snaps up, scanning the cabin for the source of the thoughts.
 “Any second now. Any second. Just have to move. Move. It’s just a plane. Move!”
“What’s wrong?” Kilgrave asks, his brows furrowing and following your frantic glance. “What are you looking for?”
You shush him sharply and listen. Everyone looks normal, but you stand up to get a better view.
“Come on, you have to. They’re no better than you. Move!”
A man stands near the restroom, his hands shaking and a pale face evident. Him. You shove Kilgrave back into his seat and nearly climb over him to go after the man. Kilgrave sputters and gets up after you, trailing after as close as he can.
“What are you doing?” he calls after you, but you ignore him. You lock eyes with the nervous man in front of the restroom. In his state, he stops even without you saying anything, like he’s willing for someone to stop him from what he’s about to do, whatever it may be.
When you’re close enough to talk to him without drawing attention, you stop, and Kilgrave bumps into your back. You stumble, cast him a glare, and turn back to the man.
“You shouldn’t do it,” you say, raising a hand up like you’re trying to keep a wild animal at bay.
“Do what?” Kilgrave asks.
“Shut up.” You know he’s making a face behind your back, but that doesn’t matter. Your attention back on the man, you tell him not to move. “You were going to try something, weren’t you? Take down the plane or something?”
Kilgrave’s hand is on your shoulder, but you shrug him off. The nervous man just works up a nod.
“I don’t want to be here anymore,” he answers, wringing his hands together. “So I’m going out this way.”
“By taking others with you?” you whisper, drawing him away to set him in a seat. “Why would you do that?” He shrugs, albeit helplessly. You puff your cheeks. “You’re not going to do that. In fact, you’re going to turn yourself in to one of the attendants and get some help. Honestly, I don’t care if you kill yourself, but bringing others into your plight of pity is pathetic. Don’t try to talk to me, just move.”
He gets up, meekly moving past you and Kilgrave. You get a whiff of body odor and scrunch up your nose. Kilgrave is literally bouncing on his heels next to you, impatient for you to allow him to speak again. You pinch the bridge of your nose.
“Fine, you can talk.”
“How did you know what he was going to do?” he blurts out, watching the man shuffle up the aisle to one of the flight attendants. Worry flashes across her face, and she ushers him away from the passengers, presumably to where there would be some type of security to hold him.Â
A weary look is what you give instead of an answer. “You don’t need to know. In fact, let’s just do what we should have done in the beginning when we got on the plane.”
“What?”
“Get into first-flight.” You brush past him, grabbing his wrist on the way and leading him towards the front of the plane.
“You literally pulled a hero move,” Kilgrave marvels behind you, “and you’re keeping it quiet? You saved the plane. Don’t you want a celebration?”
There are a couple of empty seats next to each other in first class, and this time you push Kilgrave into the one closest to the window. He pulls a face, dusts himself off, and makes himself comfortable in his seat. Even though flight attendants watched you two move in, they don’t make any attempt to remove you as it’s not uncommon to transfer seats mid-flight if there are empty ones up front.
“I’d like to keep things like that quiet,” you explain, flagging one of the flight attendants over. “If attention is not drawn to me, I like to keep it that way. You, on the other hand...”
He looks like as though he’s pondering your statement, and then nods like he agrees. “I can’t help it. Being the center of attention is all I know.”
You snort. “Yeah, I can see that. I need a drink after this.”
“What, another one of your carbonated drinks?”
“A real one,” you reiterate, ordering a stronger drink when the attendant comes over, and Kilgrave asks for one as well before moving to recline in his seat with a satisfied sigh.
“That’s more like it.”
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“I kind of want either an IronMan or Captain America bear. What do you think?” You stand, perusing the available bears lined up with a hand on your chin. Kilgrave shifts next to you with a noise of disgust.
“Why would you want either of those?”
You lower your hand and greet him with a grin. “Why not?”
“They destroyed New York and Sokovia and that one airport. They aren’t very good superheroes.”
You scoop one of the hero bears and rub its head. “They have Stark to pay for damages.”
“And those lives lost?”
You pause a beat, then peer at him curiously. He stares down at you inquisitively, waiting with arms crossed for an answer. You wet your lips. “Why do you care?”
He shrugs. “I don’t- just questioning your morals. Go stuff a bear.”
You obey even though you had already planned to, having grabbed one of the Marvel bears to fill up with stuffing. Gesturing with your head, you tell him he should get one, too. With an incredulous look, he shakes his head.
“This place is for babies,” he protests.
“Then you’re a baby, too, because you’re getting one. Come on, for me?” You shoot him a pout before selecting a heart for your bear.
His nostrils flare before grabbing a stuffed animal at random without looking- a bunny with petals all over it. He stares at it in confusion for a good five seconds before tossing it back in its piles, then he comes upon a black dragon- Toothless.
After you put a heart into your bear, you turn to find him holding the dragon and squeal. “You should get that one!”
He lowers his eyes at you disapprovingly but keeps the dragon anyways. “The things I do for you,” he mutters, stepping to your side to select a couple of hearts to put into the dragon once it’s been stuffed.
“Why are you getting two hearts?”
“Hm?” He looks up at you from the dragon and shrugs. “Why not?”
You just hug your bear with a laugh and smile at him. “Ready then?”
He drapes his arm around your shoulders, letting Toothless dangle near your Marvel. “Do we really have to pay?”Â
“Yes.”
A sigh and a playful glare. “The things I do for you.”
You get up on your toes and sneak a peck onto his cheeks. “Thank you!”
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Hey! You alright? I haven't seen much posts lately and I wanted to check. Love your imagines btw
Hi! Yes, I’m doing alright, thanks for asking! I feel bad- I keep saying I’ll get something out, but that’s being optimistic... My Kilgrave Muse has gone missing, so to speak, haha. I have like a couple of ideas to write up for this weekend- a chapter for In Likeness of Minds and a oneshot.Â
I haven’t given up on the blog, don’t worry about that. Work makes me really tired, and being tired results in little brain juice for creative stories. I’ll try to get stuff up this weekend, and you all are more than welcome to get after me on it if I don’t.
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Hey all, I’ve been fighting a stomach virus and sleeping a lot. I’ll try to get something out tonight, but if I don’t, I’ll work on things during the week to make up for the loss of stories, deal?Â
#tbh i'm also starting to lose my Kilgrave muse#i've got maybe one idea for a one-shot#the struggle is real though but i don't want to stop writing
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