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offtorivendell · 3 years

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Could Aidas, or perhaps one of his brothers, be the House of Wind's cat-like darkness? A crack theory

Please don't screenshot or share this post without credit.

Disclaimer: I've only read CC once, and then only recently, so please forgive any glaring inaccuracies in this crack pet theory of mine, about a hypothetical CC and ACOTAR crossover in ACOSF. I apologise if this theory already exists, I haven't explored the CC tags at all yet. 💜

Spoiler warning: contains plot spoilers for ACOTAR, CC and TOG series, ie. all of SJM's works to date (September 2021).

I know I'm not the only one who picked up on all of the 'the darkness in the library is a cat' references in ACOSF, and I had wondered about them a little, but until I read Crescent City last month, I didn't have many thoughts beyond the darkness potentially being multiple entities, and not just the heart of the House of Wind; maybe Koschei’s shadows were there, too, or some remnant of Bryaxis? However, when I finally got around to reading CC (thanks to @sciencebaetch and @rminnieola for getting on my case), and had a couple of weeks to digest everything, it struck me that there were some potentially significant parallels between the two books.

Given this is a crack theory, there will be a few unanswered questions included, as well as points to take away and mull over. If you have anything to add, please feel free!

Thank you to @rhyssescups for fact-checking this before I posted it.

What do we know about Aidas?

Aidas is the handsome, blonde haired, and opal-blue eyed demon Prince of the Chasm, also known as the fifth level of Hel. He "yields" only to two brothers, the Prince of the Abyss (the sixth level), and the Prince of the Pit (the seventh level of Hel).

When he enters Midgard's universe without being summoned, he uses the form of an equally blue eyed white cat. We have already had a TOG crossover with ACOTAR (the red star), so what if the Hel realm that is linked to Midgard is also connected to Prythian's world? Elain once uttered "I hope they all burn in Hell," about the Mortal Queens, so it appears that Hel/Hell is a common theme between the two universes.

Are the Levels of the library a metaphor for the circles of hell?

The following is certainly not a new idea - I've discussed it with plenty of others in the fandom - but the levels of the library could, hypothetically, be a metaphor for the circles of Hell; the library is even circular in design. There are seven levels that we know of, though - correct me if I'm wrong - we don't learn the exact number of floors in the library before you reach the pit in which Bryaxis lived. For all we know, the "pit" could have been the ninth level. Considering that, and the attributes of the library's levels, when thinking about the levels of Hel we learnt about in CC, opens up some new theorising opportunities.

How is Aidas - or one of his brothers - hypothetically linked to the library?

Nesta told us that the shadows started to get darker from the fifth level of the library, and that, occasionally, the darkness appears to come alive. Some of this is the Heart of the House, of course, but what if some of the darkness is Other? I can't shake the feeling that the darkness we learnt of in the House of Wind isn't as simple as a Made house.

Nesta also said, a few times, that the darkness was like a curious cat; this was frequently associated with either the fifth floor - or circle - of the library, or the number five, such as when Gwyn instructed Nesta to take five breaths, before Nesta considered letting her thoughts drift "deeper."

Aidas, as we all know, has a cat form, and has previously shown kindness to a young Bryce Quinlan when she was in distress after her visit to the Oracle. Could he also be monitoring the library under the House of Wind? Nesta and Bryce also both had/have an eight pointed star tattooed on their bodies. And, just like Aidas with Bryce, the darkness knew Nesta's name.

Note that, below, Aidas mentions "true dark," which sounds akin to the "true darkness" of the lower levels of the library, which Nesta mentioned in ACOSF.

But Bryce's question stands… "What sort of cat visits an Oracle?" Was Aidas even visiting the Oracle that day? The Oracle is right next to Luna's Temple (see map below), and Luna could - hypothetically, of course - be the Midgard version of the Mother Goddess.

Also, what are the plans that Aidas mentioned?

Map from CC ebook, Kindle edition

What if it's the Prince of the Pit who is monitoring the library, not Aidas?

While Aidas seems like the obvious option - and he still may be! - the very bottom of the library under the House of Wind is referred to as "a pit" multiple times. This, understandably, calls to mind Aidas' most senior brother: the Prince of the Pit.

Nesta is also associated with "pit" imagery throughout her story in ACOSF, both figurative and literal.

"The pit of Creation" (inside the Cauldron) sounds like "The heart of the world, of existence. Of self." This tracks, given Nesta was Made in the Cauldron, and she also Made the House of Wind. She also found the Mask, another Made item, in the "bottomless pit" of the water in the Bog of Oorid.

Both the Cauldron and the Bog of Oorid could be considered hellish places, and the Heart of the House? What if it holds a crack - a rift - through which the Prince of the Pit could squeeze in cat form, or as the essence of a cat, to help monitor the library? The darkness was described as "twining" down through the library with Nesta, to the seventh level - and any cat person can attest that cats absolutely like to twine (through legs, plants, priceless antiques)… but why would any Prince of Hel be there, in Prythian?

What if Aidas - or the Prince of the Pit - is monitoring Jesiba's library, the Great Library of Parthos?

The Great Library of Parthos is an almost mythical, and certainly legendary, collection of books from Midgard, that pre-dates Asteri and Vanir occupation of their world. It exists to bear witness to the life and creation of the humans who once lived there, to prove that they do not owe all they are now to their magical overlords. However, after its discovery at Griffin Antiquities, where it appeared to contain a volume called The Book of Breathings,(suspicious, no?) it - unsurprisingly - went missing again. Is it currently veiled in shadows as thick as a layer of fog, at the very bottom of the library?

Is that why Bryaxis was there, as a guard dog? He was frightening enough to scare a battle-hardened Cassian, and we still have no known reason for his residence in the base of the library... could he have been sent through a rift, from the Chasm or the Pit? Forgive the Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone reference, but is Bryaxis the Prythian 'Fluffy?

This above text is what suggests, in my opinion, that the Prince of the Pit is the more likely candidate, even without the "pit" imagery in ACOSF. Aidas, at least at this point in time (the CC epilogue), is unaware of the location of the Great Library of Parthos - though I'd love to ask him a question or two about The Book of Breathings. Unless ACOSF occurs after CC1 - or the timelines are more... wibbly wobbly - then Jesiba has potentially had the Prince of the Pit hide the books for her (and all of humanity). Alternatively, could the cracking Cauldron have become some sort of rift, and The Book of Breathings fell into Midgard after Feyre threw it into the Cauldron in ACOWAR? Furthermore, the beckoning dark of the pit, "like it was an entry into some dark pit of hell," sounds eerily like the dark that beckoned Aidas home to Hel, at the end of CC's epilogue. But I digress.

Jesiba Roga is a witch who is associated with the Under King, the head of the Bone Quarter of Lunathion, where souls travel to spend eternity after death. She had amassed a collection of priceless antiquities, including the aforementioned Great Library of Parthos, which the Asteri wanted destroyed, as it contained books that predated the Asteri/Vanir occupation of Midgard.

But what if it contained more?

Nesta - and Emerie and Gwyn - could potentially need to use those books to figure out either how to kill Koschei, or where to send him, potentially banishing him from their world, like Aelin did the deities of Erilea, if they are unable to truly kill him.

Take away thoughts and questions

ACOTAR

The Lady Death being associated/friends with a prince of Hel is a story I'd love to read.

The eight pointed star may be superficially associated with Dusk, but I think it could be something more, that hints at the origins of the Asteri, and potentially the deity figures in Prythian.

Is Koschei an Asteri, the Prince of the Pit, or something similar, and are they related in any way to the Valg from Throne of Glass?

What, exactly, is the darkness in the library? Is it just the one entity, or a combination of many?

Is Bryaxis a monster from the Seventh Level of Hel? Or is he the Prince of the Chasm, or the Pit, himself?

Why was The Book of Breathings in Midgard?!

Crescent City

If this is a case of a crossover between ACOTAR and CC's worlds, is it Aidas or the Seventh Hel prince who is monitoring the Library? Or both?

Why does a cat visit an Oracle? Will we ever find out?

Where is the Great Library of Parthos now?

What are the plans that Aidas mentioned? Are he and his brothers, the princes of the Abyss and the Pit, planning to get involved in overthrowing the Asteri? (I hope so).

How does Jesiba know Aidas, and does she know his more senior brothers? If the books are hidden in the library under the House of Wind, did she ask them the favour herself, or did the Under King put in the request?

Who in the Hel was Hunt's father? One of Aidas' brothers? An Asteri? (Unrelated, but it's been annoying me ever since Jesiba and Aidas spoke about it).

Throne of Glass

How does this link with the library guarding Baast cats from the Torre Cesme in TOD? Cats that can - if some healers are to be believed - walk through pools of shadow and reappear around the library! Cats with "beryl" eyes (an aquamarine that sounds a lot like Aidas' opal blue). That's another post, if I ever get the time.

If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging. 💜

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silence-burns · 4 years

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Please Hate Me //part 34

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers

Your hand felt warm and soft in his, and just the right size for holding on the way back to the Tower. The day turned to evening, and the evening into an early night before you even realised. Street lamps were already fighting off the crisp darkness as Loki and you strode through the thin layer of fresh snow.

It had been an interesting day. Loki looked at the small figurine, bearing some unmistakable similarities to the way he had looked back during the New York invasion. Finding it on the shelves of a shop you took him to was a strange feeling. There were so many different ones, both of him and the Avengers, and even people he could only guess were some other heroes or important figures on Earth. It was clear from looking at them that whoever had created them, paid great attention to details and colors.

The face underneath his favourite golden helmet looked slightly off, if Loki had to be painfully honest, but it wasn't completely wrong either. The wrinkles of the cape, and the leathery fabric of his armor were like their real counterparts. He could almost feel it on him as he looked at the tiny version of himself you insisted on purchasing.

Loki wasn't sure why it had been put on the same shelf as the Avengers, and your explanation wasn't very helpful. He didn't feel angry, though, just a little confused.

It felt fragile in his palm, so he made sure to handle it with care. For reasons unknown to him, you insisted that you wanted to put it in your room, preferably by the window so that it could be as close to snow as possible. Loki didn't follow your line of argument, but the care you talked about it with warmed his heart.

Loki was still holding it when you walked into the elevator, and was smiling softly as the automatic doors opened to let you enter the common area of the floor.

More precisely, the sitting area that was currently in use.

"This is awkward," you said as the two of you stopped in front of the Avengers, in an atmosphere so heavy and tense that it could be cut with a knife.

For some reason, Peter was there too, sat in the back, between a stone-faced Steve and Natasha whose mood was, as usual, unreadable.

Thor, with his back to you, stared or pretended to stare through the window. He had his cape off, and you could see Mjolnir put down nearby. Banner was standing next to it, completely lost in nervous cleaning of his glasses with the hem of his shirt.

"It's almost as if they have been waiting for us, like a puppy left at home for too long," Loki said lightly, but the joke didn't reach his eyes. They scanned the brightly lit room with a trained intensity.

The hand still holding yours tightened.

"Where have you been?" Steve asked flatly.

"Out."

"Why?"

You shrugged. "We kinda prefer a company of people who know how to have fun. What have you been doing here all this time? Having a stare off? Discussing the bills?"

You could've sworn there was a shadow of a smile on Natasha's face, but it disappeared as quickly as it happened. Peter, on the other hand, was sitting very, very still with his back uncomfortably straight, looking around with wide eyes. It was clear he had absolutely no idea what was going on. Most likely, he just wanted to come by the Tower to talk everyone's ears off about how his totally-not-a-date went. It looked like he was unlucky enough to get involved in whatever was going on.

"This is really not the right time for jokes.” Tony massaged his temples, as if whatever headache he had could be worked off by regular circles.

"And that's why it's always so serious in here-"

Tony huffed and fished something out of the pockets of his suit. He almost pushed it into your hands before you could even protest. Loki watched him with an ice-cold glare and you could've sworn the temperature in the room dropped by a few degrees.

"The hell is this?" you frowned, unpacking a few photos of various shapes and sizes. Loki peered over your shoulder.

And smiled.

Tony felt his blood boil. "May I ask when precisely did you plan to inform us of your little 'engagement'...?"

The photos were all from different places, but they had two things in common. One was you. The other was Loki. The enchantment put on him prevented strangers from recognizing his features, but it did nothing against people who had already been acquainted with him - like the Avengers.

An uncontrollable wave of laughter erupted out of you as you looked at all the stupid, love-sick poses that had granted you so much free cake all those weeks ago. So much had happened since then, both in general and in between the two of you, it was actually hilarious that something like that had finally resurfaced.

Tony was far from sharing your mood. "I have no idea what is so funny, but I was far from laughing when Happy noticed those in my favourite bakery while getting doughnuts. And he was even less happy than usual to find similar atrocities committed in other places-"

That was too much for you. You bent in half, shaking and flushed. Loki didn't seem to mind. If anything, he looked strangely satisfied while looking through the photos.

Steve cleared his throat. "When did you-"

"I KNEW IT!"

Everyone started when Peter finally broke. Before anyone managed to stop him, Peter leaped off the couch and closed Loki and you in a bone crushing hug. "I love you guys so much and I'm so happy for you."

Clint, who had been completely silent up to that point, and to be honest also more than a little confused, asked "Wait, so you knew about them this whole time? Why is no one telling me shit? Why am I always the last one to know?"

Natasha patted his knee and silenced him. She was having way more fun than she had originally anticipated. The colors changing on Tony's face in a rapid succession were truly a work of art.

Peter stared at Loki with pure, unfiltered adoration in his eyes that even your breathless choking couldn't break. "I didn't know about the engagement, but it all makes so much sense now. Please, Mr. Mischief, can I be a flower boy at your wedding? I've always wanted to, but Aunt May never allowed me, but I promise I'll be the best flower boy ever, I swear it!"

The colors on Tony's face stopped changing. He walked over to the cabinet and took hold of the whisky bottle.

Steve looked as if he needed that kind of support too, but tried his best to hold it together. Thor, to Loki's great surprise and even greater suspicion, still stood in front of the window. The only sign that he was indeed listening to the mess unraveling in the brightly lit living room were the whitened knuckles of his hands.

Peter misunderstood Loki's silence for a no. The boy dropped to his knees and hugged Loki's leg tightly. "Please, Mr. Loki! Don't leave me out of this, I've been supporting you from the very beginning! I have every comic book made about you and every figurine available on eBay and I even wrote an essay about the Nordic pantheon last year!"

The tears in the boy's eyes were what had utterly destroyed you. Completely breathless from laughing that you just couldn't hold back, you dropped to the floor next to the boy. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, and you gasped for air that just couldn't get to your lungs. Your stomach was a painful mess and no matter how much you wanted, you just couldn't stand straight.

The whole situation was so ridiculous and unexpected, that every time you tried to get a hold of yourself in order to explain that mess, you started laughing all over again.

That was precisely the moment when Thor finally moved. He walked in a slow, menacing manner that had always raised tension in the room. The look in his eyes was one that Loki came to know all too well throughout the centuries they'd spent together.

"Why are you always like this, Loki?"

Loki looked at the boy on the verge of tears glued to his right leg. Then he looked at you on his left, fallen to your knees laughing. He was surrounded by idiots.

And loved them.

Loki smiled. "What can I say, brother? I have always been the charming one."

Tony sipped his whiskey straight from the bottle. Initially, he reached out for the glass, but decided otherwise as the conversation progressed.

"Did you destroy the building on the Fifth Avenue with your charms too?" was all he asked.

You leaned your head on Loki's leg, finally mastering yourself a little bit. "That's not fair, Tony. We wreak ONE building, entirely on accident, and you won't overlook it, but whenever you guys fight in a city, so much public and private property gets destroyed that the lawsuits-"

"That is not the point-"

"But it's still true!"

Natasha wished she had taken popcorn with her. Clint turned his hearing aid off and leaned his head on the back of the couch next to her.

Thor sighed.

"Asgard needs you, brother."

The room fell silent with the weight held in those words. Thor crossed his arms. Loki understood now that what he had initially taken for anger, was in fact weariness he could sense in Thor. Weariness and sadness.

"What happened?"

You stood up and took his hand. It was cold and tense, but he still requited your touch. His fingers clasped yours tightly.

Thor looked down at your intertwined hands, and at the boy still clutching Loki's leg.

"I'm glad you have found yourself a place here, brother, I really am, despite what you're probably thinking," he said. "But we need your assistance. Asgard's ambassador to the Realms of The Edge was brutally murdered two days ago, along with a noble born of the Edge. We're on the brink of war. The Edge requested investigation by one of us."

That was… quite a lot to process.

Loki looked at you. You looked at Loki. Peter tried his best to blend in with Loki's trousers and not be kicked out of the conversation.

You frowned at Thor. "But if it happened two days ago, what are you still doing here? Aren't you needed where it happened?"

Thor shifted uneasily. For the first time since they started talking, he looked uncomfortable and couldn't hold your gaze.

"I can't go there."

You waited for further explanation, but none came. Loki, on the other hand, didn't look surprised.

"My dearest brother was banned from the Edge a long time ago," he explained happily. "After a certain unfortunate incident, the lords of the Edge decided that he is no longer welcome there."

"Don't speak as if you weren't a part of the very same unfortunate incident, Loki."

"But I wasn't caught."

"And that's why you're going. Asgard doesn't have any other Princes to spare, however unlucky that is, and the lords still don't trust our father."

Loki opened his mouth to protest.

"Mother's already agreed," Thor added.

"Oh." Loki closed his mouth.

"Who's going to go with him then, if you can't?" you asked, concern written over your features.

"No one else from Asgard is allowed there. It took our father three thousand years to convince the lords of the Edge to agree to at least one ambassador. Our peoples have… a difficult history."

"Which basically means Asgard waged a bloody, unfair war against the Edge and destroyed half of their lands before it finally realized there was nothing of value on them," Loki explained. "It's only natural that the Edge wants as little to do with Asgardians as possible."

"Wait."

All eyes landed on you.

"So you're saying that you have to go there alone, without any help or assistance, to solve a murder and stop a war of vengeance completely on your own, among people who are already hostile and will probably try to finish what was started? Am I seeing things right or is this an actual joke, as lame and poor as I'd expect out of you, Thor?"

Thor, for his part, looked embarrassed. "It's not like we have any choice."

"Right, you don't," you nodded. "I'm going too."

The voices of protest were louder than you expected, but not as loud as the one voice that absolutely loved your idea.

Peter clutched Loki's leg even harder. "I want to go to space too! PLEASE!"

Tony put the bottle down. "Peter, you're fifteen and have homework. Wasn't that your own argument when I-"

"I also have hopes and dreams!"

"No. Your aunt would gut me and make herself and Pepper a bag out of my skin."

"It's going to be dangerous there. Next time, kid," Loki patted his head with surprising gentleness. He had grown attached to the boy, even before the boy had attached himself to Loki with the power of love, adoration, and his spidery stickiness.

Peter looked around the room. However confused, its inhabitants weren't protesting your candidature. "But if it's so dangerous, why are only the two of you going?"

"Because he's literally a god," you said and Loki nodded. "And I'm an asshole that's very hard to kill. Like a cockroach." Loki nodded again.

Peter was sad to realise the odds, but he didn't protest any further. He moved back onto his feet again and hugged Loki and you one last time.

"Just stay safe out there, okay? And if you ever need a Spider-Man, you know where to find me. Alone. Again."

"We're gonna be back before you notice," you ruffled his hair.

There was silence between Loki and you as you headed towards the room you’d been residing in for the few past weeks. It was not an uncomfortable silence, and certainly not one held in anger. It was a silence that always accompanied moments of unexpected change.

Loki beheld the room. He looked at his clothes laid on the floor and a chair. At one of his daggers left on the bedside table.

"Are you sure about going with me?" he asked.

You sat on the bed. "I've already told you that. I won't let you go there alone. From the sound of it, it's going to be dangerous."

"I don't want you to risk your life."

"And I want to protect yours," you shrugged. "I guess we're gonna have to work around that."

Loki smiled. "Thank you."

He found his enchanted bag pushed deep under the bed. There were a lot of things Loki had to pack, and was very grateful for the capacity of his own personal space pocket. He'd enchanted the bag back when he was just a kid, with a little help from his mother, and made sure to take it with him wherever he could. It was worn from frequent use, but still held strong.

Loki brushed the cracked leather. You put your own belongings next to him to pack.

Loki was still kneeling when he looked up at you, perched on the edge of the bed you'd shared for so long. His mouth went dry when he saw the casual confidence you held around him. All those weeks you'd had together, all those incidents and adventures, and all those faked proposals just for the sake of free cake…

There was something he just had to ask, had to know and hear, even when he had been hoping for it for a while now.

Hope. That's all he'd been reduced to.

There used to be days when he'd sneer on that thought. This was not one of them. Today it felt right.

"Would you…?"

You smiled at the god fallen to his knees, even as the air seemed to leave the room and tighten his throat.

"In this world and all the others, Loki."

He let his lips fall onto yours, gently and with care. Weeks ago, Loki might’ve said it was almost an accidental touch, just a brush really, a surprise for both parties. But things changed and so did he.

"I love you on purpose," he said, with hands cupping the face he could stare at for the rest of eternity. "And with the intent of loving you more with each day."

Silver lined your eyes, and a choked chuckle escaped you. "What's there not to love? I'm a delight."

Loki grinned. "Of course you are, darling."

A/N: This story finally hit 50k words and I'm so proud of myself! This is the longest fic I've ever worked on. 50k words and the first kiss... Does this still count as a slow-burn?? I'm sorry if the portrayal of some of the Avengers might feel off, I just needed someone to do the scolding part :P Please be merciful on me! I hope you enjoyed this chapter anyway, please tell me what do you think of the direction this story is taking!

#Please Hate Me #loki x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki #loki imagine #loki laufeyson #loki marvel #loki mcu #loki laufeyson imagine #marvel

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halfwayinlight · 4 years

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More fic for @cleverdistraction

Title: Copilots Rating: PG Fandom: Star Trek TNG Pairing: Will Riker/Deanna Troi

Set about four years before my Deep Waters fic series.

The last month or so has been intense. Will knows he’s driving his wife up the bulkheads and back down again, asking far too many times how she’s feeling. She (and the medical staff) have been understanding. It’s not like he’s been a father before. The last two weeks in particular, three if he’s honest, have felt like having a time bomb on board. Knowing his wife was due to go into labor at any given moment.

She’s handled this whole pregnancy so well. Deanna has always been resilient, and this was no exception. The first months and these last weeks, she has been tired more easily. And he knows she’s uncomfortable these days. Moreso as she entered into week forty-one of pregnancy and struggled to get more than four or five hours of sleep at a stretch at best. And he’s at least half responsible for it.

Nothing that anyone told either of them had prepared them for labor. Ian’s birth felt even more anomalous when she rolled into hour ten and then fourteen and past twenty hours of labor. As much as Ian was in a hurry to get here, their son was taking his own sweet time. Dr. Ree had urged them, several times, to let him intervene and go ahead and deliver through other options.

And of course, his wife is determined to do this the way women on Betazed have done it for generations. That she can do this. And even if she’s exhausted and crying every five or six hours, she’s not giving on this.

He knows that she has to be aware that he pulled aside Ree at hour eleven and asked at what point this was going to be harmful for her or the baby. Because as much as he wants to let her do what she wants because this is, honestly, all her and he’s not even the side show here… Well, there’s a point where he will step in because he’s always been the person to make sure she doesn’t push herself too far in spite of herself. Even if this child of theirs is plenty big enough but wanting to take his own sweet time in arriving.

Beverly was still on her way. As much as they fully trusted Ree to handle this, and they had full confidence, Beverly had insisted she was coming, too. They’d simply been through too much and were their own sort of family. She’d planned to arrive earlier in the week, but she’d been delayed. And their son was taking his time anyway. And now her shuttle was having to re-route thanks to a collapsing star. And Will was feeling every hour of his own sleep deprivation.

Deanna had sent him to sleep a few times. And he caved into it, feeling a little like a traitor that he could nap when she only managed short rests between contractions. By hour twenty, he was exhausted enough to fall asleep in ten minute bursts here or there, but afraid to nap even a room away because surely it wouldn’t be long now. She’d argued that they didn’t both need to be wiped out, but even at that, she still woke him several times from naps because of their bond and the intensity of becoming parents.

They tried every trick in the book, and most from almost every other world that anyone wanted to share with them. She had been curious about water births, but the delivery area simply wasn’t set up for it. And Will didn’t like that the bathtub in their own quarters was further away from sickbay if more care was needed. She’d tried every position she could manage. Kneeling helped for a while. And for some time, it helped her to be on her hands and knees. But even that was hard to hold comfortably as the hours dragged out.

Until she was fully effaced, they took walks when she could handle it. Walk was a distortion, though. It had been a shuffle, stopping every few hundred feet for a while and later every forty feet or so when Deanna braced her hand against a bulkhead and breathed deeply to ride out a contraction. At one point he was sure that he was going to have to scoop her up and carry her back in when the strongest contraction yet hit so hard that her legs were trembling with the intensity and fatigue. Her dark eyes were wide, and she’d struggled to even send him a clear thought for long moments. In the end, he’d helped her to a bench and was debating calling for assistance when she pushed herself up and started to shuffle back to delivery.

At least ten calls from Beverly and thirty two hours later… and his son was screaming, and his wife was crying and grinning and sinking fully into the birthing chair. Somewhere in the last minutes, a chair for him had appeared and one of the staff had firmly pressed his shoulder to urge him to sit. Scooting closer, his fingers cupped the top of his son’s head as they handed him to Deanna. He marveled over the bald little head and red face. Their boy looked like a miracle.

Her fingers brush his cheek, and it’s only then that he realizes that he’s crying, too. “Damn, he’s amazing. And you’re incredible,” Will breathed, leaning in a little closer to take in the wrinkled brow that’s slowly smoothing itself, the tiny slope of a nose, and pursed lips. The doctor and nurses are commenting on his solid size, but he still looks so small to Will. A whole person in tiny miniature. And half of him and half of Deanna, and his brain can’t wrap around it right now.

They keep Deanna and Thaddeus in delivery for another day. Moreso to let her sleep a little before sending them back to their quarters after a day and a quarter of delivery with a newborn. And a nurse is on call if they need any help or simply to sleep for a few hours until Beverly can get here. Beverly is practically turning herself (and no doubt the pilot of the shuttle) inside out trying to get there faster.

But now Alyssa Ogawa is handing him Thad, and Will feels everything in himself go stock still.

“Will?” Deanna knows something is off before he can even say the words.

“Captain?” Alyssa asks, her hand wrapping around his arm and guiding him, as he cradles the bundle of blanket and Thad against his chest, to the bio bed where Deanna is already sitting with her legs over the edge.

Deanna’s arm drapes around his shoulders. “Give us a few minutes?”

She’s not exactly happy about it, but Alyssa nods and slips out, closing the door behind her for privacy.

“Will?” comes the soft repeat of his name.

“She handed him to me, and what? We … take him to our quarters? They hand out the baby and we walk out of here? Hell, I’m not even sure I’m supporting his neck correctly half the time, and what if I sneeze and drop him? He’s so damn tiny, and I know you don’t think so after what you went through, but where the hell is Beverly?”

Deanna’s flattens against his back and rubbing in firm circles. “Deep breaths, ok?”

He gulps in a breath, his hold comfortable around the snoozing infant in his arms, but everything else locked as though too much movement will make this moment shatter. By the fifth breath, his shoulder ease a little. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around,” he finally said on an exhale, face flushing.

She used her arm to guide him closer and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Would it make you feel better if I took him for a moment?”

Will shrugged. “His whole life changed, and he’s just sleeping through it like it’s no big deal. He… he trusts us to do all of this, and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’ve had training,” Deanna reminded him with a fond smile. “It’s… well, a little like when you left Starfleet. You’d learned a lot of things, but hadn’t gotten any practical experience, yet. Like the first time you piloted a shuttle craft.”

He shook his head slightly. “That was different. I had a trainer for a co-pilot, and I was too young and cocky to know to be scared.”

“Well, Beverly is our trainer for a while. And we have the staff on hand if we need anything. And then we can be each other’s copilots.” Her fingers reached up and wrapped around his shoulder, digging into the knot there. “Half of this is scary because it’s new. And we don’t know what we’re doing, yet. He doesn’t trust us necessarily, he’s just too little to know we’re making it up as we go for a while.”

He sighed a little, relaxing a bit further but still keeping their son cradled against his chest. “And the other half?”

“Of what?” she asked with a small yawn.

“The other half of why it’s scary,” he prompted, wondering for the fifth time today if maybe they should stay in sickbay another day so she could catch up on more sleep. Even with the medical staff giving some bottle feedings, there were several interruptions to her sleep between nursing and a few routine checks.

She smiled a little and cupped his chin, drawing him in for a soft kiss. “Because we’re both very sleep deprived. I think Thad has the right idea with a nap.” Her eyes met his and softened. “And I’d really love to take a nap in our bed instead of a bio bed.”

Will took another slow breath and shifted Thad in his convenient swaddle against his heart, arms adjusting until he had him in a secure one-armed hold and hand cautiously around his son’s head. He glanced down to be sure of the distance and slowly slid off the bed. His hand extended to her.

Deanna lifted his fingers to her lips and tilted her head slightly with a grin. “We have a son.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, mirroring back the same smile. There would be more hovering later. Making sure she was as okay as Dr. Ree and Alyssa insisted she was. For now, Thad was sucking his thumb and perfectly content to be carried to any galaxy. Wrapping his free arm around his wife, he let Deanna set the pace through sickbay and toward the turbo lift and their quarters. “Copilots, huh?”

As the turbolift slid shut around their newly expanded family, Deanna gave his fingers a light squeeze. “Copilots.”

#star trek tng #otp: imzadi #imzadi #will riker #deanna troi #commander riker #counselor troi #captain riker #commander troi #my messed up space cinnamon nugget rolls #space dad

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flowercrown-bucky · 4 years

Text

La Vie En Rose

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Modern!Loki x Reader, Modern!Thor x Reader, Loki x Wanda

Series Warnings: Cheating, affairs, swearing, legal alcohol consumption, smut later on, mention of smoking

Summary: What do you do when you fall in love? Embark on a clandestine affair with their brother, of course.

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Chapter Four - The aftermath of the incident on the roof, as it followed a month later.

——

TAG LIST: OPEN (PLEASE COMMENT OR MESSAGE ME IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ADDED!)

A little less than a month after Thor's impromptu proposal and your subsequent engagement, Loki was invited by his older brother round to their flat one Thursday evening.

We'll grab takeout and have some drinks, his brother suggested. It will be just like old times.

He'd avoided his brother, avoided you as much as he possibly could since the incident on the roof. Hell, he'd avoided his own mother, his friends, anything to get away from the truth he so wanted to ignore.

He mentally cursed you both for living in an apartment on the seventh floor as he collapsed, wheezing in a heap on the staircase midway between the fourth and fifth floors. He'd arrived to discover the lift out of order, leaving him and his small bag of shopping to climb the stairs. He was truly dreading seeing you both again, but his manners still remained, so he felt it only polite to bring some form of consumable with him, a token gesture.

He'd lingered longer in the shop than he'd intended, debating over what to purchase. He'd eventually settled on a reasonable looking bottle of pinotage. He knew his brother wouldn't drink it, but he felt for certain that you would. The idea of buying flowers had crossed his mind, but he dismissed it quickly, although he knew exactly which you'd like best - delicate pink lilies, interspersed with slightly off-white carnations.

His heart hammered in his chest as he knocked at the door. No response. A further two knocks, still, nothing.

It was a long shot, but he grabbed at the door handle, pushing as he did. The door gave way, swinging open to reveal the hallway. He stepped inside, noting a variety of unusual banging and clashing noises.

Oh dear god, he thought to himself, please don't be having sex.

He entered the kitchen apprehensively, only to find you on your knees, but not quite in the way he'd expected.

You were kneeling on the countertop, searching frantically in a cupboard for something. Varied mugs and glasses surrounded you.

"Dammit," You muttered. "Why is there never any fucking wine glasses in this house?"

"Do you need any help?" He asked. You jumped, before turning to smile at him.

For that smile, he thought his heart might die.

"Loki," You said. "Sorry, I'd forgotten you were coming. Fancy a wine? I'm just looking for a glass."

"So I heard." He waved his bottle. "Where's my brother?"

"Oh, he's, um. He's.." You swung your legs off the kitchen top, two glasses clutched in your hand. "He's just, gone out. For a bit."

As you turned to face him, he noticed your red eyes, the little black trails down your cheeks. You'd been crying.

"Are you ok?" He asked, tenderly placing a hand on your arm.

"We just had a little fight, that's all." You turned away before his gaze could meet your eyes. "Thanks for the wine, by the way. Pinotage, my favourite."

He smiled to himself.

You handed him a glass, before heading over to the sofa. You sat down, taking a long gulp of your wine before setting your glass on the coffee table next to his.

He struggled to get comfortable on the slightly too plush sofa, shifting an over-plumped cushion so he could lean back.

You glanced shyly across at him, slightly uncomfortable on your own sofa.

Perhaps, the little voice in the back of your mind wondered, it was what lingered unsaid, unspeakable, between you that made you uncomfortable.

"I know what will cheer you up." He smiled softly at you, his thumb stroking across your knuckles soothingly. You were gently tugged to your feet, across the small dark room to where a battered old gramophone sat atop a side table. He reached into the leather case beside it, retrieving a large plastic disc and gently setting it under the needle. Perplexed, you turned to him, your question clear in your eyes. He said nothing in response, simply smiling at you as the room filled with the rich tones of a piano.

His hand took yours gently, lifting your arm and placing it firmly on his shoulder, his other taking your waist delicately. You laughed quietly, allowing your body to sink into his. Up until then, you'd never realised quite how highly strung you'd become, the constant inner turmoil simply becoming the norm for you. How good it felt to relax, for just once.

Even if it was with your fiancee's younger brother.

The two of you began to sway gently, the stresses and worries of the last few weeks practically melting away as you did. Your hand crept further across his shoulder blade, looping around his neck, finally coming to rest atop the starch-stiffened collar of his shirt, gently twisting a strand of dark hair around your fingers. His breath fell heavier, slightly stuttered, on the side of your face, fanning just slightly enough down your throat to give you goosebumps, his strong arms circled around your waist, holding you safe, flush against him.

He felt like home. He felt right. But how could something so wrong feel so right?

This single moment, this chaste embrace, felt more intimate than anything you'd ever experienced before. You felt for certain that even the stars had turned away, for fear of ruining it with their gaze.

But Thor loved you. Thor loved Loki. How could you do this to him? How could you betray him, hurt him this way?

Wrong it may've been, you clung to Loki still. He twirled you gently as the record came to an abrupt stop with a soft click, and you smiled at him. An easy, genuine, happy smile. It warmed your heart to see it mirrored on his own strikingly handsome face. He pulled you into his arms, one last treacherous embrace.

"Y/N?" He muttered into your hair.

You murmured in response.

"I love you."

Chapter Five - That Old Black Magic

——

SERIES TAGS:

@jessiejunebug @sherlockfan4life @soapbox-moments @amour-delicate @milea @writingforthelonelysoul @justyourneighbourhoodretard @chxrryycola

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roseskiesandbutterflies · 4 years

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Killer Queen - Chapter 12: Thank God It’s Christmas

Summary: Life is easy when things go your way. I know this from experience. I also know that that can disappear in an instant and that you have to be able to rely on your friends. Luckily my name is Arabella Ruth White and I’m the fifth marauder. But I want to show you the girl behind the mask. It takes a lot of work to be this fabulous, darling. (This story is also on Wattpad and AO3 of the same name.)

A/N: So hello again! I know it’s been 3 months since I last updated this fic, and a lot has changed since August so let me catch you up real quick. First of all, in the UK we basically came out of lockdown only to go back into it last week so that’s great. I’m in Year 11 now which is the last year of high school if you didn’t know, and I’m in the middle of my mocks right now, so my free time has plummeted. This unfortunately means that updates across all of my fics will be much slower for the foreseeable future, or at least until Bojo finally cancels our exams. We can but hope.

I hope you enjoy this chapter! Sorry it’s kind of a filler but I promise that the plot is properly about to kick in, just like I said a couple chapters ago. I’ve realised that I’m now the same age as these characters which makes things a lot easier in terms of writing them realistically. Also I’ve decided that all of the characters and just this whole fic in general has main character energy which is Good. We love to see it. Anyways I shall see you next time! Hasta luego.

Warning(s): swearing

Word Count: 3.1k+

Inspiration: random headcanons I found on Tumblr and Pinterest, The Boy Who Killed God by SeraMGrigori on AO3, All The Young Dudes by MsKingBean89 on AO3, Sweet Things by Cocomouse on AO3

Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26

Ask/comment to be on my taglist! Let me know if it’s for a specific fandom(s). Full list is in my bio.

Ruth had her face pressed right up to the glass of the tiny kitchen window, making it smear up from her breath, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. She curiously watched her cat, Sooty, cautiously interact with the much larger cat from down the road, circling each other in a manner that would be rather ominous if the former wasn’t a quarter of the latter’s size. Sooty was almost completely obscured by the overgrown grass that was screaming to be cut; Ruth wouldn’t have even known he was outside if it wasn’t for his extraordinarily long tail poking through.

“Ruth, why are you sitting on my poor washing machine?” her mother came in, half amused, half concerned, “You’re going to break the damn thing.”

She gasped in mock offence and turned round to look at her, “Are you trying to say something, Mum?”

She gave her a knowing look and said, “You know that’s not what I meant. Now, you didn’t answer my question, what on earth are you doing on my washing machine?”

She jumped off before Jocelyn could chastise her any further, “I’m waiting for the boys. We were saying about going down the pier or something today so we could give each other our presents, and I’m waiting for James’s parents to apparate them all to our garden. And they’re taking forever,” she pouted, elongating the last word way more than necessary.

“Well, what time did you tell them to come round?”

Ruth thought about it for a second before saying, “Around one o’clock, I think.”

She raised an eyebrow, “And what time is it now?”

She looked at the ground and mumbled, “Half twelve.”

“Well, there you go. You have half an hour, and you haven’t even got dressed yet,” she pointed out.

“But-”

“No buts. You’re not going out in your dressing gown so go and get dressed,” she said, playfully swatting Ruth with the tea towel and chasing her out of the kitchen.

She laughed maniacally as she ran out of the room, “But Mother, I am dressed,” she said, taking off her dressing gown like a stripper.

“Then why are you wearing your dressing gown?” Jocelyn asked exasperatedly.

“Because it’s bloody cold!” Ruth grinned.

“Language,” she muttered, shaking her head with a smile but sobering up when she noticed Ruth’s face fall, “What’s up with you?”

She faltered for a moment, caught off guard by Jocelyn’s quick observations, “Mum, did you, erm, did you hear about Melanie?” she grimaced with the fear of treading grounds such as those. Her cousin hadn’t mentioned anything about who she had told about the pregnancy, so for all Ruth knew, Jocelyn didn’t have a clue and she was about to get Melanie into some serious trouble.

Luckily for them both, Jocelyn’s face softened with understanding, “I heard. Your aunt told me all about it a couple weeks ago.”

“What do you think about it all? I mean, Christ, Mum, she’s only seventeen,” Ruth sighed, running a hand across her hair with an anxiety that she hadn’t even realised she had been suppressing.

“Come here,” she said, taking Ruth into her arms and holding her for a moment, “She’s going to be okay. She’s not alone, remember that. She’s got your aunt and us and that boyfriend of hers. She’ll be fine.”

A sudden knock at the window followed by four familiar faces made both Ruth and her mum look up in surprise, followed by a disappointed laugh from the former when she noticed that Sirius was only wearing his signature leather jacket, with no hat, scarf or gloves. She opened the kitchen door to let them in, hugging each of them as they entered.

Jocelyn smiled at the group before winking at her daughter, “I’ll make myself busy, then. Have fun today,” she said as she left with her steaming cup of tea.

Ruth grinned before turning to the boys, “Sirius, darling, it’s December, not June. Where the hell is your coat? And don’t tell me you’re too cool to actually keep yourself warm,” she added before the boy in question could say anything.

“Leave it, Ruth, I’ve been trying to talk some sense into him all morning, he won’t listen,” James sighed dramatically, sounding scarily like an exhausted mother.

“I won’t listen? You’re the one who nearly strangled me with that damn scarf!” Sirius exclaimed, looking desperately to the others for back-up, only to be met with shrugs.

“You dress appropriately for the weather, or you face the consequences,” James deadpanned, before bursting into laughter from the miffed expression on Sirius’s face.

“God, you really have become your mum, haven’t you?” Peter smirked, holding back his own laughter.

“Shut up, Pete!” he whined, stomping on the ground petulantly.

“Now you’re my brother,” Ruth snorted.

*************

The fresh air bit at their noses as they made their way down the bustling high street, bracing themselves against the crisp December wind. Sirius was still the only one not wearing a coat, the rest of the group bundled up in their Gryffindor scarves which may or may not have been the only scarves they owned. Except for fifteen-year-old-grandmother Remus, who absolutely had a worrying obsession with anything you could make via knitting and the like. Peter had been positively swallowed up, and between his hat that looked about two sizes too big and his scarf, you could only see his eyes and the top of his nose.

“It’s a bit nippy out here, lads,” Ruth said, just as an icy gust of wind hit them, bringing tears to eyes, and actually making Peter stumble a little bit. As Jocelyn said at every possible opportunity, the wind was always stronger at the seaside.

“Is it really, Ruth? Gosh, I hadn’t noticed, thank you for telling me,” Remus glared at her, which would have been tenfold more menacing if half of his face wasn’t concealed by windswept hair.

“You are most welcome, dear Remus,” she grinned, sticking her tongue out at him in defiance.

“Children. Actual children,” Sirius muttered in a tone not at all dissimilar to that of an exasperated father.

“Says the one who refused to put his scarf on because he’s a stubborn bastard,” James said pointedly.

“Oh, you’re still going on about that one?”

“Always, my dear boy, always. I’m already making sure my best man’s speech mentions it at least twice,” he said proudly.

“He’s gotta find someone to marry first,” Peter pointed out, voice muffled from under his scarf.

“And what’s that supposed to meant, Pete?” Sirius rounded on him, forgetting completely about James’s strange obsession with his lack of winter clothing.

“Well, I don’t know but it might have something to do with the fact that you’ve never had a girlfriend for longer than three weeks,” Ruth shrugged.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Ruth,” Remus laughed, “But she does have a point, Sirius.”

“Why are you all ganging up on me, it’s very rude,” he huffed, “Anyway, it’s not my fault that I want to win the bet me and Ruth started in third year.”

“Darling, you’ve always had the option to pull out and admit that I am proud to be the biggest hoe that Hogwarts has ever seen,” she said with as much faux innocence as one can muster while talking about sex.

Sirius was silent for a moment before pointing out, “Wait, hang on, I’ve had a girlfriend for longer than three weeks. I went out with Emmeline Vance for about five months!”

“You mean you were on again, off again with Emmeline Vance for about five months,” Remus raised an eyebrow.

“You’re both gonna end up clapped as anything by the time we leave,” Peter mumbled as they walked through the threshold of their destination: Ruth’s beloved record shop.

Cromer’s one and only record shop was a favourite haunt of Ruth’s. If anyone wanted to find her during the school holidays, the record shop would be the first place they would go to, the second being the arcade on the promenade because they have the best games darling, and the third being the beach. It never seemed to cross anyone’s mind to look for her at her own home; it was a generally unspoken rule of sorts in the town that seeing Ruth at her house was as rare as seeing a double rainbow. It was the place where a good part of her pocket money went to, and the owner was incredibly grateful to have such a loyal customer. Ruth just told him to consider himself lucky that his was the only establishment in walking distance of her house that supplied her with her vinyl obsession. And oh boy, did he do just that. The White family were responsible for a good twenty per cent of his sales.

They filed into the shop, instantly taking off their hats when the somewhat aggressive heat hit them. The limited daylight spilt in through the floor-length windows that flanked the door, highlighting the records on show. The shop itself was rather small, with only two aisles running straight down to the till. They were separated by cases upon cases of albums, packed like sardines into their crates and sorted semi-alphabetically. Posters adorned almost every available space on the otherwise dull walls, looking over the customers with a keen interest. Underneath them were further crates, these ones pushed back against the walls and full of singles, which were ordered even more haphazardly than the albums if you could believe that. Ruth made her way down one of the aisles, leaving the boys to browse artists that they barely even knew. At the back end of the shop sat the counter, behind which sat the owner, Steve.

Steve was a rather short and stout man who had the grave misfortune of looking around a whole decade older than he actually was. That was more so to do with the way with which he held himself, and the fact that he wore those glasses that had a chain attached that you only see on elderly men, than his physical appearance. He had a terribly receding hairline that seemed to creep back every time Ruth came into his shop. She reckoned that he’d be completely bald by the time she left Hogwarts for good. He always seemed to wear the same attire, consisting of loose-fitting trousers and a grey t-shirt that always had a stain that Ruth would rather not enquire after. His fingers were coated with a nicotine stain that you only get after smoking for a good few decades, teeth and fingernails tinted yellow.

His smile was warm, and his eyes lit up like a match when he noticed Ruth walking up to the counter, “Arabella, good to see you!”

“You too, Steve, how’s everything been these past couple of months?” she asked, leaning on the counter with her elbows.

“Not bad, not bad,” he said, “A lot better than this time last year, that’s for sure. Thanks, by the way, for the advert in the newspaper suggestion. Business has gone up a great deal since then.”

“Well, I couldn’t let you give up the shop that easily, could I? Nah, you’ve supplied me with the very best music these past few years, it was the least I could do,” she beamed.

He smiled gratefully at her before glancing at the boys behind her, leafing through bands they’d never even heard of for the most part, “I see you’ve brought your mates at last.”

Ruth snorted as they all poked their heads up and waved at the same time, each one oblivious to the other, “Yeah, I thought I might as well, I’ve been putting it off for too long.”

“One of them your boyfriend?” he winked, laughing at Ruth’s mortified expression.

“No! God, no, that’s a horrible thought,” she shivered, recoiling in disgust.

“What’s a horrible thought?” Sirius asked as he sauntered up to the counter.

“Your face,” Ruth muttered as he swatted her shoulder, mouth agape in shock.

“How rude! I can’t believe you would say something like that!” he gasped before turning around and whining, “James! Ruth’s being mean to me!”

It was then James’s turn to gasp in disappointment, “Is she? Oh, come here, I’ll protect you from the meanie,” he said in the most motherly voice he could muster, opening his arms and hugging Sirius while glaring at Ruth.

She stared at them in disbelief, looking at Remus and Peter for guidance, only to be met with shrugs. She resolved to simply shaking her head in exasperation and turning to the ‘new releases’ section of the shop.

*************

“You know what we should do,” Ruth said, holding up a chip to emphasise her point, “We should go on a gang holiday when we’re older. Just go travelling for a couple of weeks or something.”

They were currently sitting on the beach which, as you can probably imagine, isn’t the most pleasant of experiences in the middle of winter. The harsh wind nipped at their faces and Peter’s nose was crimson with the cold, but they found themselves sitting there anyway, watching the teal waves advance and retreat under the December mist that lazily rested on the ocean’s surface. They were sharing a couple of bags of chips that they’d bought from the chippy just aound the corner from Ruth’s house, trying their best to shield them from the prying seagulls circling the skies above them like hawks.

Peter audibly gasped with excitement, “We should get one of those caravans that muggles used to drive all the time in the sixties.”

“Yes! And we could charm it so it’s bigger on the inside like the tents they have at the Quidditch World Cup!” James added, ecstatic just to have been able to chime in with a Quidditch reference, let alone about the actual holiday. Sirius grinned stupidly as they high fived, making Ruth cringe and groan like an embarrassed daughter having to watch her parents kiss. Though, once she thought about it, that analogy was pretty accurate, perhaps more than she would have liked.

Remus held out his hands in suspense, something he always did when he’d thought of a master plan, “Two words. Tardis. Caravan.”

The sounds that then erupted from the group could not be described as human, more like a group of over-excited seagulls.

Once they’d calmed down, which took more time than it probably should have done, James suggested, “We should go to France so Sirius can show his French off!”

Sirius glared at him, muttering under his breath and by doing so, proving James’s point, “Putain de chienne. Je ne me montre pas, vous seriez tous perdus sans moi.”

“Oui, oui, er, baguette,” Peter snorted, rubbing his arm when Sirius hit at him playfully.

“Right, well,” Remus cut in before they jumped at each other’s throats, “Presents? The whole reason we’re here?”

“Gosh, Moony, here I was thinking that you were here because you wanted to see us and enjoy our company, but no, you just want your damn chocolate,” Sirius huffed.

Remus blinked at him for a second before asking tentatively, “Moony?”

“Moony,” he nodded.

Remus pinched his brow and sighed, “I’m going to regret asking but why?”

“Werewolf. Moon. Moony,” he explained as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

He raised an eyebrow at him, “Do I get a say in this by any chance?”

“No. I’ve thought of names for all of us, actually. I’m Padfoot, Peter’s Wormtail, Ruth is Silverspot and James is Prongs,” he counted off his fingers before nodding resolutely.

James smirked, eyes gleaming and Ruth already knew what he was going to say, “Am I Prongs because of my big–”

She slapped a hand over his mouth and glared at him menacingly, “Finish that question and I swear to God, James, I will slap you into next year.”

“Sirius, I think you’ve had far too much spare time on your hands,” Remus said while James and Ruth engaged in a very mature staring competition that lasted all of ten seconds.

“Yeah, five days without us and you’ve given us all nicknames,” Peter added, looking rather concerned for his friend’s mental state.

“Do you want me to change yours to Massive Knobhead?” Sirius asked with a scarily fake smile on his face.

James cut in before any fighting could ensue, “Okay, let’s get on to the presents, shall we?”

Sirius just shrugged and made a noise of vague agreement, while Peter just looked rather relieved to avoid conflict.

*************

“Sirius, will you keep still!”

It was the fifth time that Remus had had to utter those words in the past two minutes, much to everyone’s annoyance and to Sirius’s amusement.

“Keeping still is for wimps!” Sirius announced with a stupid grin on his face before ruffling his hair once again.

“My fingers are gonna fall off from the cold at this rate,” Peter scowled, shooting daggers at Sirius with his eyes. Remus had given him a polaroid camera for Christmas after he’d been going on and on about wanting a muggle one all year, and he’d been trying his best to get a photo of the others for what felt like hours.

“Sirius stand still or I will petrificus totalus your sorry ass,” Ruth groaned, and James had to suppress a cheer when Sirius finally, finally, did as he was told. Peter took the photo as quickly as he could and waited patiently for the photo to develop, grinning when the image came into colour. “Let us see, then!” she exclaimed impatiently, holding her hands out like a baby would and snatching the photo from Peter.

“Oi, careful, I did not wait that long for Sirius to stop moving for you to just rip the bloody photo in half,” Peter huffed, re-joining the group with a false reluctance.

James grinned when he got a look at the photo, “Oh, Pete, that’s a bloody good photo. You should be a photographer or something,” he said, ruffling Peter’s hair playfully as the boy’s face flushed red.

“He’s got a point, Wormtail,” Remus mused, watching Sirius’s face light up at his use of the nickname, “It is a good photo. Though it’s weird having us stood still for once, I’m so used to us being in magical pictures.”

“I like it,” Ruth smiled, glancing at the boys affectionately, “I think it makes it even more special,” she paused for a moment, inhaling the very essence of that moment and relishing in it, “Happy Christmas, lads.”

#hp #Harry Potter #Harry Potter fic #harry potter imagine #Marauders #marauders era #marauders fic #marauders fanfiction #70s marauders #James Potter #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #peter pettigrew #marauders oc #marauders headcanons #marauders imagine

1 note · View note

shellsan · 5 years

Text

30 Day Writing Challenge

Day Eleven: Heart

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairing: Frostiron

Disclaimer: I do not own the MCU

Heart

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

When Thor brought Loki to the avengers after their rift to give them the warnings of Thanos and how he intended to invade the Earth to get the last of the infinity stones, neither of them were expecting to find a team so broken that saying that there was a rift between them was polite. At first Loki couldn't understand why this had happened, but then he stuck around to watch the team that had called themselves 'the avengers' interact and found he didn't much like what he saw.

The first time something happened that made him doubt the validity of how the team had ever been was the moment that Thor spoke with Tony for the first time.

“Starkson! It's good to see you.” He clapped the other avenger on his shoulder and continued walking, oblivious to the way that the other man flinched and withdrew at the action.

Loki narrowed his eyes as he tried to understand why Stark would flinch away from someone who was considered an ally. Something didn't make sense.

It was more concerning, however, that no-one else seemed to have noticed the flinch. Surely, in a team that had claimed to be friends, who had spent much time together, they would notice his trepidation? Especially the Widow who had once seemed to see all.

Questions began to form in Loki's mind, but he let everything go for the moment. He didn't know enough yet to draw conclusions.

(It wasn't until later he would find out that his brother had held Tony by the neck in his rage, but he contented himself with the knowledge that from then on he could make his brother suffer for the action.)

After the first time, Loki made sure to pay extra attention whenever Stark was around any of the other avengers, mostly curious, but also concerned for his future plans on beating Thanos. How was Stark meant to work with them all if he couldn't trust them?

Bruce Banner wasn't someone who he had expected to cause Stark problems, having been the person that the engineer had seemed closest too, and most open with.

But his expectations were dashed one morning when Bruce entered the common area with a backpack on his shoulder.

The moment Stark spotted it, walls of caution seemed to come over him and everything about his demeanour seemed to change, all forced composure and relaxation, nothing like he'd been only moments before.

Loki was vaguely impressed, but more concerned.

“Leaving so soon, big guy?”

Bruce gave Tony a deprecating smile, and lifted a shoulder. “I can't stick around while she's still here. I tried, but I need a break. You know where to find me if you need me though.”

Tony smirked. “Of course. Don't have too much fun. Make sure you let me know if you need anything.”

Frowning, Loki wondered if they had forgotten him, but didn't bother to remind them as he watched them say their goodbyes.

Something about Stark screamed pain in the same way that Loki understood all too well. Bruce, the only friend that he had currently living on sight, was leaving him alone to deal with the rest.

It spoke volumes that this had been a familiar song and dance, and Loki had to wonder just how often Bruce had opted to just leave Tony alone to deal with things.

Some friend.

The next time Loki notices someone causing Stark pain without any care for his feelings was when the Widow herself sought him out.

This time Loki forced himself invisible, unwilling to risk being caught as he continued to gather information. He was trying to make plans but they weren't looking good.

He watched silently as the Widow crept near Tony purposefully before frightening.

Jumping, Tony swung around, hand covering where Loki knew to be the metal circle (though he didn't know what it was for), covering it as if he was afraid someone would aim for it.

The panic in his eyes quickly vanished however, leaving behind a professional blankness that impressed the god.

“Jesus, Natasha. Don't scare me like that. I have a heart condition, you know.” He reminded lightly. But the way he said that implied that he could honestly fall over and die from being scared.

The Widow didn't seem concerned though, amusement shining in her eyes as she watched him with the eyes of a predator. She seemed all too pleased by how things had gone and Loki had to wonder if she knew that Stark's death was a possibility. Loki had sensed no lie after all.

“Don't be so dramatic.” She waved him off. Clearly, she did not understand.

“What do you need?” The engineer moved on, not wanting to stick on the topic. The sooner Natasha was gone, the better.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing. We haven't seen you around much lately.”

Stark shrugged. “I've been busy. Still am. So if that's all, I'd appreciate it if you would leave so I can get back to it.”

The Widow's eyes seemed to narrow before she smirked. “No worries. But try to make it to dinner tonight at least. Even genius's need to eat.”

It was phrased like a request, but there was an undercurrent of demand in her statement and the last part was more mocking than teasing. Loki knew the difference well.

He frowned at her open power play as she practically Sashay out of the room.

(Soon he would come to realise that her power play was considerably more subtle than the other's words.)

The fourth one to prove Loki's rapidly growing hypothesis that the avengers were never a real team was Clint.

Tony had showed up to dinner, as the god had expected and the Widow had demanded, grabbing some food and sitting down to start shovelling it in quickly so that he could escape the room.

The archer scoffed at him. “What, it's too much trouble for you to stick around a for a little while and experience dinner with the rest of us normal humans? You gotta run away so soon after, just like Bruce ran away from here.”

As per usual, Tony didn’t respond with harsh comments back like he could, he just let them roll over him with false nonchalance, ignoring the barb about his so called 'best friend'.

“Busy lately, don't really have time for eating.” He insisted, continuing to eat with fervour.

“Of course, because whatever you're working on is more important than team bonding.”

Tony rolled his eyes and smirked. “Clint if you wanted to ask me on a date, all you had to do was say so. There's no need for you to pretend we have team bonding to do. We all know that there hasn't been a single time where we've done 'team bonding' and there won't ever be.”

With a look of disgust at the very idea, the archer continued to glare at Tony. “At least tell me you're working on those arrows I asked for.”

Tony shrugged. “They'll be done soon enough.” He didn't bother to elaborate.

Loki frowned. Someone like Stark should be proud of his work. He had expected the other man to ramble in an attempt to explain where he'd gotten up to in the same way the other man rambled when he was around, determined to get Loki to understand his point of view, all manic energy while his soul burnt bright.

This was subdued, bored. Like he didn't think the archer would care.

And to his credit, the archer did not.

This was also concerning.

The fifth time and final time that Loki allowed himself to watch from the shadows as the team interacted was when the avengers returned from an mission, no casualties and a minor injury to the Widow caused by Stark changing the rules to save a group of civilians instead of watching her back as closely.

It was a good decision that showed his ability to see the whole picture and adapt on the fly to save the most people possible.

The captain didn't seem to agree.

“What the hell was that, Tony?” He demanded.

Stark remained in the suit, refusing to remove it even as they entered the building. “What was what?”

“You know what! You got Natasha hurt!”

The engineer didn't argue, didn't speak in his own favour, instead shrugging. “I had to save those people.”

“You were supposed to follow orders. If you had followed them then Natasha wouldn't have been hurt. You have to communicate. If you'd told us about the building then we would have figured something out.”

For once Loki was tempted to speak up. The way he was berating Stark like he didn't understand anything, like he was a child, made the god's anger rise. But he held his tongue, refusing to be the one to defend Stark before he defended himself.

But as he waited, he realised that Stark wasn't going to argue back. He wasn't going to explain himself. Was it because he didn't think it was was worth the argument, or was it because he knew that the captain wouldn't care.

It was worrying to see, and even more worrying to realise that this meant the entirety of the avengers treated Tony in this way, and probably had from the beginning.

No-one came to Stark's defence as the captain continued to scold, uncaring to defend the actions Stark had taken.

None of it seemed to phase him and he seemed all the more resigned when the captain finished his rant with one final blow.

“Your father would be so disappointed in you.”

Those words sealed what he had already known, but been unable to fully comprehend.

The Avengers were not a team. They were not even allies of interest. They were a group of bullies.

The next time Stark (Anthony, he'd been asked to call the engineer by his first name and much preferred Anthony to the shortened Tony that the other seemed to favour) was called out, it was when in a fit of rage, the Witch had raised her hands, red swirling around them.

The captain had gotten hurt while on a mission and she clearly blamed Anthony for it, though Loki couldn't understand why.

Anthony had followed the orders he'd been given, it wasn't his fault that the captain had bitten off more than he could chew and the engineer had been unable to get to him in time. It wasn't like the captain was mortally wounded. A few broken bones that would heal within a few days, a week at most.

“You just can't let anyone be happy, can you? You just have to keep ruining everything good in my life. Look at what you've done now! You're a monster, you don't care about anyone but yourself! You're heartless!”

The engineer just let her rant, trying not to look as terrified as he clearly was by the swirling red of her corrupted magic.

Stepping next to Anthony, Loki glared at her. “Put your magic away. This is not Anthony's fault and you do no-one any favours by throwing this tantrum and acting like it is.” He sneered.

“Don't tell me what to do. Stark killed my family!”

Loki scoffed at the argument, having heard it many times before. “No, he didn't. He designed a bomb to be produced for the military that killed your family after being sold under the table. The only version of those bombs that he would have built would have been the original couple. Are you stupid?”

The Witch only seemed to get angrier at his logic, her magic becoming less and less restrained.

“You blamed him for their deaths, but do you blame the person who made a gun, for someone else’s death, or do you blame the shooter? Do you blame the maker of a car for an accident, or do you blame the person who didn't drive safely enough? You're ridiculous and childish. Grow up and act your age, because you're trying my patience.”

At his final words, the Witch seemed to see her own red, screaming in rage as she threw the magic towards them.

It took less than a flick of his fingers for that magic to disappear, raining down in harmless red sparkles.

“Try that again, and you will find yourself magic-less. I am the Skywalker, god of Fire and chaos, of mischief and lies, and I've been practicing magic for longer than you can imagine. But please, feel free to test that.” He offered.

From beside him, Anthony seemed to be relaxed, not even calling for his armour, Loki realised. He had expected Loki to protect him – the god realised with a start -, had trusted that when Loki had challenged the Witch he'd known what he was doing.

The thought warmed his heart. The engineer that had been so betrayed had put his trust in Loki's hands without a second thought, even when faced with one of his greatest fears.

There was a certain pressure, knowing you were being relied on so heavily, but more so Loki felt the happiness of such a thing and a strong sense of determination.

He would protect that trust for the rest of Anthony's life if it was the last thing he did.

This may have been the first time he finally stood up for the engineer, but it was only the first of many.

#mcu #mcu fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #30 day writing challenge #frostiron #loki/tony #loki x tony #post-ca:cw #avengers critical you are warned

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