#on another note i did some drawing and i have the strongest urge to draw a complete robin piece
Text
By The Norns (Part One - Soulmate!Loki)
Pairing: Loki x Reader, Soulmates AU
Word count: 2.1k
Warnings: Nobody was harmed in any way in the making of this story... but there was some arson.
Summary: She wasn’t a goddess. She wasn’t even an elf or a dwarf. She was a mortal, a Midgardian, a human. To Odin, she was a curse. To Loki, she was a second chance.
Notes: Don’t worry. Despite what the chapter and the description may make you think anyone whose read my stories before will know I am not a fan of soulmate aus that take away the character’s choice. This chapter is set up. Stick with me on this. I promise.
Posted in honor of @muna1412 being very excited at the prospect of another soulmate au.
This is not related to Loyalty in any way... I just have an unhealthy obsession with Soulmate aus.
Fate was a funny, fickle thing. Loki knew that much. After all, he’d met her.
Them, to be more precise. The Norns.
Urdr, Skuld, and Verdandi were their names: Past, Present, and Future, as they should be known.
It was they who watered the tree, and they who grew its leaves. The task fell to the Norns to write, shape, create, and control the fate of every being under the branches of Yggdrasil.
A poor, dwarven craftsman working on the surface of Nidavellir, a beautiful, golden elf living on a hill in Alfheim, a meager, puny human scurrying around the surface of Midgard. It was they who made the dwarf rich, who killed the elf in his sleep, who let the human sow the land. They did not exchange the gold; they did not wield the dagger; they did not draw the plow. But it was by their hand, by their grace and mercy, that the worlds turned, that life waxed and waned, that the Realms drew breath.
Every birth was through their will. Every death was by their hand, and everything in between was because they decided it would be so.
All fell under the gaze of the Norns. The kitchen cook, Andhrimnir, who served the Aesir’s table at night, owed everything to the Norns. They allowed his birth into Asgard. They raised him above the station of a lowly tavern boy. They gifted him the family he cradled so dearly to his chest.
Odin, King of the Nine Realms, Protector of Asgard, owed everything to the Norns. He was born by their choice. He survived a thousand battles because they said he would do so. He married Frigga because they put her on his path. His sons…
Well, one of his sons.
Loki knew the exact moment Odin stopped looking at him as a son, the exact moment Odin chose Thor over him, the exact moment Odin turned his back on him, the exact moment his father marked him disappointment.
It was, like all things, the doing of the Fates. The Norns.
Fates were theirs to command from the highest branches of Yggdrasil down to its very roots. From king to beggar, slave to master, aristocrat to pauper, farmer to merchant, sailor to soldier. From Loki to her. She was their doing.
Love was an inevitable part of life. Not even the Norns, with all of the power of the gods and then some, could stop that. Humans, Aesir, Elves, Vanir, the sentient beings of the Nine Realms felt an overwhelming urge towards emotion, and one of the strongest, one of the most inevitable, was love.
They couldn’t stop it, but they could direct it.
It fell under the purview of Fate to decide who one loved. People, god and mortal alike, fell in and out of love all the time.
Sometimes, though, every now and then, the Norns would reach down and touch two beings. The Norns would take two souls in two bodies and braid them together, weave them together, mold them together, as if they were one.
Those who knew magic well, those like Loki, could see them, watch them, doing this.
They could see Urdr floating, invisible amongst them, deciding the pair. They could see Skuld, plucking up their souls. They could see Verdandi tying them together.
Loki watched them when they took his soul.
“Mother, Mother,” Loki tugged on his other’s silk skirts and pointed up into the rafters of the Grand Hall. “What’s that?”
Frigga followed her son’s gaze and gasped. Magic was not her proficiency, though what little she had she wielded well. She had enough to see the Norns, floating ghostlike in the air over her younger son. She had enough to see his soul in their hands, and another at their side.
In the old days, before that fateful night, it was considered an honor to be chosen by the Norns. It was a guarantee of a great, powerful destiny in the future. It was a promise of passion, understanding, and respect on the horizon. It was the mark of one who would know true love.
The Midgardians called them soulmates. The Aesir called them the destined.
“The Norns have touched Loki,” Frigga whispered to Odin at her side. “They are gifting him a match.”
“With who?” Odin asked because he could not see them for himself.
Frigga squinted in the direction of the apparitions tying together Loki’s future. “I cannot tell. She appears to be…” Frigga’s eyes whipped around to Odin, “Midgardian.”
Odin turned up his nose and sniffed.
Midgard. The word, the world, that had sentenced Loki to a lifetime of second best.
His ‘destined’, his ‘soulmate’, his curse.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was centuries before the soul tied to Loki’s found the body it would spend its own life in.
(Y/n), her parents named her.
They weren’t sure why they named her that. When asked, they said they saw the name once in a book. Or was it on the tv? Or in a dream?
Neither could really remember. All they knew was that, as she grew, the name suited her perfectly. Almost as if fate itself had chosen it for her.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
For centuries, millennia even, her soul had been lingering on the edges of reality, existing but not quite feeling. She floated through time and space, following the ties that bound her to existence, waiting.
By the time her soul entered her body on Earth, she had existed longer than any other Midgardian ever had or would in all of history. She had lingered for years just out of reach of one of the most powerful beings on Asgard, her soulmate. Lifetimes had passed her by in the blink of an eye, and though she didn’t remember any of them, they remembered her.
Her soul hovered above its mate, basking in the magic that dissipated into the air around him like smoke. She breathed it in, soaked it in, drew it in.
In many ways, even subconsciously, she showed her age, her mate.
Even as a baby, she never woke her mother up screaming, to the jealousy of her mom’s friends. She was the model toddler, even through her terrible twos. She almost never cried and rarely threw temper tantrums. They called her a prodigy when she started speaking in full sentences before time doctors even expected her to be learning her first words, and they called her a genius when she learned to read full children’s books while other kids were still struggling through their first alphabet flashcards. Even though she ran around playing in the mud or splashing in puddles, somehow her clothes were always pristine. She taught herself faster than the teachers could and skipped two grades in elementary school alone. She was suspiciously charismatic for such a little girl and made, literally, hundreds of dollars off her lemonade stand. She listened to a family speaking another language in the store once and ran up to them to answer a question they had; when her parents asked her how she’d learned to understand or say that in another language, she had no idea what they were talking about and seemingly hadn’t even realized she’d done it.
And yet there were other things, darker things.
When she was born, the nurses didn’t question the little shock of static that jolted through them as they held her. No one commented how, in the right light, the baby’s eyes could look terrifyingly aware. She lied as easily as she breathed and almost never got caught. A girl made fun of her friend's hair once at school, and that night ended up being rushed to the hospital by her parents with all the signs of a heart attack in a five year old child. She liked having things her way, and even when her parents refused her, they always found themselves oddly compelled to do whatever it was anyways. She had an affinity for snakes that often found her letting them in the house. The pranks she pulled on her little brother sometimes got out of hand and often resulted in loud crashes and screams, though by the time any adult arrived nothing ever seemed broken. Her father used to joke that she must be some kind of shape shifter because he swore that, from day to day, her eye would change their color. Sometimes, when he looked in them, he swore they weren’t his daughters, but when he blinked and looked back they always returned to normal.
Most of it was written off as the simple oddities of a child or exaggerations of first time parents.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Superheroes did not exist when (Y/n) was a child.
It would be another decade before Tony Stark would stand on a stage and proclaim before the world, “I am Iron Man.” It would be even longer still before Peter Parker would put on a red and blue jumpsuit and call himself, ‘Spiderman’. Bruce Banner hadn’t even begun his research into the serum that would be his ultimate undoing. Dr. Stephen Strange was finishing up med school. Thor hadn’t made his presence known. Wanda had just been born. Hawkeye and Black Widow were still assassins working in the shadows. No one outside Wakanda had ever heard of the Black Panther. Vision hadn’t been built yet, and Captain America had been dead for decades.
Even if they did exist, it wouldn’t have helped (Y/n). Most of them weren’t born super. Most of them became so by lab experiments or radioactive insects or training or technology.
In the world (Y/n) grew up in, there were no superheroes. And if there were no superheroes... then what was she?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She was 12.
It was her big day.
Not her birthday, she didn’t particularly care about birthdays. Something about them just felt off to her. When she turned 11, she asked her mom if she could have two of those candles that were shaped like the actual numbers, and she’d put them pressed against each other on top of the cake. She ran around all day telling everyone she was 1,111. Some people laughed, but mostly to humor her.
That was why she hadn’t had a birthday party when she turned 12. She didn’t like people fake laughing. It felt like lying. She didn’t particularly mind lying herself, but she hated thinking that people were lying to her. Especially because she could always tell when they were.
No, instead, she had this. The Science Fair.
She’d won first prize the night before. She knew she had because one of the judges had told her she’d won.
That morning, they would be handing out the awards, and she was so excited for everyone else to know the secret, to know that she was the best, even better than the older kids in her class.
The judges were walking up on stage, and any moment, once they got past the category winners they were going to call her name.
“In third place we have Jesse Martin with his project in the biology category!”
A cheer went up that, judging by the pitch, absolutely must have been from Jesse’s mom. The other parents in the room clapped while Jesse ran towards the stage, turning red in the cheeks from his family’s overzealous encouragement.
“Congratulations, son,” the Dean smiled as he bent down to shake the boy’s hand. The mike picked up a small bit of Jesse’s anxious thanks before he ran to join the line of winners.
“And in second place we have, (Y/n)! With her wonderful….”
Second place.
But Mr. Sellers, the science teacher had told her she won.
Was he lying? Did he honestly think second place was winning? Was he just saying that to shut her up? Or was he being mean? Did he want to laugh at her when his real favorite won?
The parents were cheering her, including her own. Her father was nudging her towards the stage, but she didn’t at all appreciate the gesture.
No. They told her she was going to win.
Her face screwed up in pain, and she balled her hands into fists.
At the back of the room something exploded.
A scream went out.
“Fire!” Someone shouted. “Fire!”
The poster boards up and down the hall were catching fire. It jumped easily from paper to paper. It didn’t help that there was no smoke, for some odd reason. That the sprinklers, that the fire alarm, didn’t turn on.
Someone grabbed (Y/n) by the waist. Her father no doubt.
(Y/n) barely noticed. She was still upset staring at the trophy on the stage over his shoulder.
Slowly, before her eyes, it began to melt.
She smiled. Good. If she couldn’t have it, no one could.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
“She caused the fire.” He whispered, staring down at the floor in front of him with glassy eyes.
“Wayne, that’s crazy; you know it is.”
“I saw it with my own eyes, Elle. She clenched her first and suddenly Christina Danvers poster exploded. She gets second, and the first place project explodes the moment she throws a fit?”
“Our daughter doesn’t throw fits.”
“Not normally, but she did today. She was about to, and then everything caught fire.”
“Wayne, you can’t be serious about this right now.”
“She was smiling.” He whispered. “When everything burned down, she was smiling.”
(Y/n) listened silently from the hallway as her parents talked.
She loved to eavesdrop on her parents late night. They never knew she was there. It was another one of those odd coincidences of her life that (Y/n) was the only person in the house who never made the steps creak when she walked up and down the stairs.
She was old enough to know what they were saying, what they were implying. It should’ve bothered her more than it did.
(Y/n) walked back upstairs, silent as the grave, and opened her closet.
She needed the duffle bag her father kept tucked away in the top of her closet, but she was nowhere near tall enough to reach it. As the door slid open, the bag teetered on the edge of the wire shelf and fell to the floor.
“How convenient,” (Y/n) mumbled to herself.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Hey Kid,” The man shouted at her out the window of his semi-truck. “What’re you doin’ out here at night? It ain’t safe!”
(Y/n) shrugged. “Not safe at home either.”
The man gave her an understanding look.
(Y/n) watched him carefully as he opened the door of his rig and offered her a hand.
Her mother had always told her not to talk to strangers, but (Y/n) had found she could always tell what people wanted. Besides, she was pretty sure she was a greater danger to them than they were to her.
“Where ya’ headed?” The man asked.
“West.”
“I can take ya’ as far as Texas.” He offered.
(Y/n) hopped off the curb and grabbed the man’s offered hand, hauling herself up into the passenger seat.
She didn’t know where she was going or why she was going there. But something inside of her told her she had somewhere to be.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Next Time On.... Part Two
Thank you very much for reading! I hope you all enjoyed. I have just come back from a hiatus and a great deal of why I went on said hiatus was the stress of managing ‘added features’ for lack of a better expression. I like writing. I don’t like formatting or managing the blog side of things.
As such, no taglists. Please don’t ask me to be on a taglist. Keeping track of it stresses me out too much. I don’t feel like doing it. I don’t appreciate being pressured into doing it. In the olden days of tumblr, people used to follow each other, and I promise you that feature still works. If you follow me you will see part two when it’s posted.
#loki x reader#loki odinson x reader#Loki Laufeyson x Reader#loki soulmate au#loki soulmate#soulmate loki#loki fanfiction#loki fanfic#loki x reader soulmate#marvel imagines#loki imagines#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#marvel one shot#loki one shot#loki oneshot#mcu fanfiction#avengers fanfiction
559 notes
·
View notes
Text
babysitter
pairing: georgenotfound x reader
pronouns: gender neutral
description: george is left to babysit your niece
warnings: mentions of a future family? just in case that makes you uncomfortable.
[y/n/n] - your nieces name
[y/s/n] - your siblings name (gender neutral too)
note: i’m not too sure about this imagine, please a like or reply if you actually enjoyed! - niss
you woke up to the sound of your alarm blasting your ear off, if you hadn’t turned it off right there you probably would have gone deaf.
george was sleeping like a baby beside you, you could hear his quiet snores. you were surprised he didn’t wake up to the sound of your ear-piercing alarm.
turning on your phone, you glanced at the time that read 12:30. you sighed in annoyance as you registered that you only had half an hour before you had to be on your way to university. so you got up and began your normal morning routine, brush your teeth, shower, have breakfast and finally get dressed. however, as you were packing your bag, almost ready to go, you received a notification from your [sibling]
[y/s/n]: we’re 5 minutes away!!!
[y/s/n]: thank you so much for agreeing to do this :)
fuck.
it completely slipped your mind. you had promised to take care of [y/n/n] for today, your 7 year old niece, while your [sibling] was at their job interview. regardless, you texted them a quick ‘no problem’ before rushing upstairs to wake up george.
he was still sleeping, but now he was completely hiding under the covers with one arm sticking out. you hated to interrupt his beauty sleep but this was more important. you began to shake him awake.
“babe,” you shook him
“wake up,”
“george,” you removed the covers off his face
“wake the fuck up!” you started poking his sides. usually, you would be a little less... harsh, but you were panicking.
finally the boy rose from his slumber, groaning and stretching all his limbs. he blinked a couple times before meeting your eyes
“good morning,” he said softly, as if he completely just disregarded your tone of desperation and worry.
you pulled him by his arm and he sat upright,
“you need to get up right now,” you told him
“what’s going on?” he questioned, clearly confused as you weren’t giving him any context
“you need to take care of [y/n/n] for today, i have classes today, and i need to leave in 5 minutes and [y/s/n] has a job interview and there’s nobody else to take care of her,” you rushed out all in once sentence.
“are you serious?” he narrowed his eyes at you. “you know how bad i am with kids, especially [y/n/n] , she hates me,”
that was partly true. unfortunately, your niece wasn’t exactly fond of george. ever since you even started dating,m, [y/n/n] acted cold towards your boyfriend, it only got worse when you moved in with him. she always refused to play a game if george was going to participate, or never accepted any high fives or hellos from him. you felt sympathy for george. this child despised him and now you were asking him to look after her.
“please, i’m begging you,” you looked at him with pleading eyes. his eyes softened up after recognising the urgency of the situation.
“fine,” he agreed. you sighed out of satisfaction that you didn’t have to stress out [y/s/n] over finding a new baby sitter.
“thank you so much,” you pressed a small kiss to his lips appreciatively.
right at that moment, you two heard the doorbell ring. you urged george to get ready as fast as he could while you went down stairs and greeted your [sibling] and your niece.
“auntie/uncle [y/n]!” [y/n/n] yelled as you opened the door, immediately rushing into your arms. she looked a lot taller than the last time you saw her
“how’s my favourite girl?” you picked her up and swung her, before placing a little kiss on her head
you gave your [sibling] a quick hug. they handed you a bag full of toys, teddies and colouring pens, along with a spare set of clothing just in case [y/n/n] got a little messy throughout the day. and some quick reminders about her favourite foods or how to get her stop crying. you’d looked after her before, so all of it was pretty familiar to you
“again, thank you so, so much, you have no idea how much you’re helping me.” they told you. your [sibling] gave [y/n/n] a kiss on the cheek and told her to be a ‘good and kind little girl’ before finally exiting the household.
george, at last, made his way down. wearing a decent pair of jeans and a hoodie, giving an awkward wave to [y/n/n]
you checked the time and knew you had to get going. you had to explain to her that uncle george was going to be the one looking after her today. and after one whole tantrum, you managed to convince her to be a good girl by promising to give her a big reward afterward.
finally, you kissed [y/n/n] and george a goodbye , then shut the front door behind you.
george and [y/n/n] stood opposite each other. there was an uncomfortable silence in the air. george felt so...he didn’t even know. what do you say to a child who hates you? [y/n/n] tightly clutched her bag of toys.
“so, [y/n/n],” george cleared his throat, he bent down to her level. “i hear you like toy story?”
[y/n/n] pouted “i don’t like you” she said, and stomped away.
george sighed. this was going to be a long day.
and it was.
-
it started off with [y/n/n] innocently using her colouring pens and drawing random things, you know, as children do. but when she ran out of paper, she made her way to your office, where all your uni work was. she grabbed the closest piece of paper that was sitting on your desk, deciding it was going to be the next canvas for her art. this paper just happened to be a very important assignment.
when george caught her in the act, he had to physically tear her away from your office, in defiance of all her kicking and screaming.
-
then, when george accidently left the door to your shared bedroom open. [y/n/n] waddled in without him noticing, she started playing with all of his devices. his computer, his microphone, and somehow she got a hold of his headphones, and took out the battery. george didn’t realise until he noticed the cover missing. he tried to ask her nicely where she threw the battery. but she insisted that she wasn’t going to give it back unless he stopped being ‘mean’
-
when lunch time rolled around, george put a pizza in the oven, he remembered clearly that [y/n/n] loved pizza, specifically pepperoni. nothing could go wrong here.
but when he called her to the kitchen so she could receive her lunch. she just stared blankly at the pizza, and then at him. she crossed her arms
“[y/n] usually makes a smiley face with the pepperoni”
george just felt all his will to live just disappear
-
coloured pens and toys were spread out all across the living room floor, [y/n/n] was sitting in front of the tv, george put on one of her favourite shows which thankfully distracted her for a bit, allowing him to relax. he pulled out his phone and texted you
to [y/n] <3 : help me please
to [y/n] <3: i cant take this anymore, i’m literally dying rn
to [y/n] <3: come home quick
he exhaled heavily, throwing his phone to the side. he was so exhausted.
[y/n/n] was roleplaying with her toys, making them move around and doing squeaky little voices. george smiled at the innocence
“purple bear doesn’t play with us anymore. princess giraffe, mr. george took her away from us,” she spoke in a high pitched voice
george’s ears perked up. how funny that she had a teddy named ‘mr. george’. curiously, he watched the little girl.
“koala george, is a meanie, he stole purple bear and now they don’t want to hang out with us!”
it didn’t take a genius to find out what [y/n/n] was displaying through her role playing teddies.
that was why she didn’t like george. before they got together, [y/n] mentioned they almost spent every weekend with [y/n/n], playing with her and having fun with her.
she felt abandoned by [y/n] and felt as if george had taken them away from her .
george felt at fault as he noticed the girls eyes started to water.
“does purple bear love us any more?” she continued to play.
george decided it was enough and he switched off the television. he joined [y/n/n] on the floor and grabbed the teddy that was supposedly ‘koala george’
“[y/n/n]” he spoke softly. the little girl looked up at him expectantly. he held up the teddy.
“is this supposed to be me?” he questioned her.
“that’s a koala bear,” she answered
“no-, [y/n/n],” he said. he thought about how to ask her, and just chose it was best to be flat out with the child,”
“did i steal auntie/uncle [y/n] away from you?”
the question took her by surprise. she gazed at him with big wide eyes. she thought about her answer and grabbed the purple bear, which was supposed to be you.
“they don’t play with me as much anymore, they’re always with you, because of you, they don’t love me anymore,” she pulled a face, it wasn’t angry, it wasn’t annoyed.
it was a genuinely sad face.
george was sure he physically felt a pang of guilt in his stomach. he never even comprehended the fact that a child could feel so rejected.
“listen... [y/n/n],” he said gently. he thought about his words. comforting someone wasn’t exactly his strongest point, particularly not a child who detested him “[y/n] will never stop loving you, okay? they love you very much, and i’m sorry you feel like i stole them ”
[y/n/n] continued to listen.
“but don’t forget that [y/n] has so much love to go around! look, they love you, and they love me, they love grandma and grandpa too! they will always love one another even if they can’t see each other often,”
[y/n/n] stayed silent. she fiddled with the purple teddy, folding its ears and patting its head. she loved that bear. it was actually gifted to her by you, when she was first born. she brought it to her chest and hugged it. george tried a different approach.
“listen, how about- this weekend, we can all go to the park together, and have a picnic. you, me, [y/n], and your parents too,”
she continued to just stay silent. george didn’t know what to expect, she was unpredictable, was she going to throw another hissy fit? or start to cry? he wasn’t sure
“can we also get ice cream?” she asked
george smiled and felt himself relax. thank god. “all the ice cream you want,” he told her
[y/n/n] stood up and giggled. like her whole entire mood did a whole fucking 180. “okay! let’s go play dress up now!”
———
7:45 pm. you finally arrived home. you were tired out of your mind. [y/s/n]’s interview was delayed by two hours and was currently half way back home, meaning you had enough time to spend with [y/n/n]
you unlocked the door, expecting to see a giant tsunami of toys and colouring pencils and pens, but what you saw was the most heart warming thing ever.
george was sleeping on the couch, his head resting on the armrest. he had a couple pink bows in his hair, his lips were painted a hot pink, he was wearing a couple sparky bracelets and a purple floral necklace.
in his lap, [y/n/n] rested her head, she was wearing a fairy costume with matching pink bows and sparkly bracelets.
you quickly snapped a photo of this wholesome moment. because, who wouldn’t? you spent a few minutes just watching the two sleep, they were probably just as tired as you.
moments like these made you really appreciate the people you had in your life. the people you love so dearly much.
you didn’t want to disrupt the ambience but you felt it was better for your [sibling] to collect your niece when she wasn’t covered in glitter and an overload of pink accessories.
you quietly woke george up,
“baby, wake up.” you shook him awake, gently. in a very different way than you did this morning. he opened his eyes. and immediately smiled upon seeing your face. you ran your thumb across his cheek
“it looks like you two had a lot of fun,” you teased.
he quietly chuckled. “she’s okay,” he told you. looking down at the little girl sleeping in his lap.
you slowly and carefully picked her up, removing any accessories you thought may seem uncomfortable to sleep in. she was a heavy sleeper.
you carried her upstairs, tucking her into you and george’s bed and placing a kiss upon her forehead. you turned back to george and rushed in for a bear hug
“thank you so much for doing that,” you said. “i love you so much, i know it probably wasn’t easy, she can be quite the handful,”
george chuckled. “handful is an understatement,”
“you’d better be willing to dress up like that with our own kids one day.” you stated, hugging him tighter.
his face broke out into a small smile, having thought of an image of you two playing with you future kids. he kissed top of your head and then your nose
“maybe one day”
———
masterlist
#georgenotfound imagines#georgenotfound x reader#georgenotfound#mcyt x reader#mcyt#georgenotfound imagine#mcyt imagines
572 notes
·
View notes
Note
Oh crikey please can I request a lil 57 and 58 dealers choice on the character 😘💘
Well hello there my sweet anon and thank you so much for this request! The thirst is real and I'm here to quench it 😏
Personal Apology (Javier Peña x DEA Agent F!Reader)
57. “You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.”
58. “Strip.”
Warning: 18+, SMUT with no plot, explicit content, nsfw, language, unprotected sex (p in v), fluff at the very end
Prompts taken from this list
JOIN A TAGLIST!
Your fists clench as you mull over every single word of the speech Messina delivered only minutes before, when she gathered all of the DEA in the conference room and lectured everyone on how they should pay the utmost attention in studying and planning their next moves.
Everything had sprung up after the last mission in Medellìn, when somebody had fucked up the last part of the plan and, as a consequence, the Ambassador and Messina had decided to create a new team, excluding you and some of your colleagues from the action and segregating you in the smallest office of the building to organize the archives.
“Fuck! There’s not even an inventory!” you frantically run your fingers through your hair, exasperation already seeping through your whole body as you start rummaging through the dusty folders and papers.
“Looks like you’re having fun.” Javier leans against the doorframe and watches you with his arms folded, a cigarette hanging from his lips and an amused expression painted on his face.
“Are you kidding me?” you look up from the stack of folders and glare at him, your nostrils flaring at his cockiness.
“God…” he sighs, exhaling a thick puff of white smoke “You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.” he walks over to you and puts his cigarette into the crystal ashtray positioned on one of the shelves.
Your breath hitches at his words and, all of a sudden, the temperature inside the office becomes incredibly high.
“I’d like to make a personal apology…” Javier traces his fingers on your exposed forearms, the touch so featherlight it makes you shiver “I somehow feel responsible for their decision. See, I was one of the men who fucked up the plan, hence the reason you’re here now.”
His fingers continue their path, ascending slowly until they settle on your neck and move your hair to the side.
Javier’s lips are kissing every inch of your exposed skin, licking and sucking from the base of your neck to just below your ear, covering it with beautiful patterns that you know would soon turn purple.
“I can’t believe they did you dirty.” he whispers in your ear and you feel his breath fanning over the wet skin of your neck “You’re the strongest woman I know, even stronger than Messina. You’re a badass. And I can’t believe they decided to lock you in this awful office. They don’t know what they’re doing.”
Those words are oddly reassuring and a smile tugs at your lips as he takes your earlobe between his teeth and pulls lightly, sucking on it before releasing it with a pop. His other hand slides expertly under your skirt, the long side slit over your right leg making the task incredibly easy for him, and his fingers get closer and closer to where you need him most.
“Javi...” you whimper in his arms once you feel his thick fingers glide between your folds, moving back and forth with deliciously deliberate touches and gathering some of your juices.
Biting on your lower lip, you arch your back as soon as he circles your clit, your hands reaching behind you to grab at his neck, holding onto him as warmth starts to build low in your belly.
Javier continues his ministrations, one hand buried between your thighs while the other rests just below your breasts, keeping you pressed to his body as he works you through your first wave of pleasure.
Before you are even able to come down from the high, he turns you around and crashes his lips to yours, kissing you hungrily as his tongue presses and licks into your mouth with so much impatience and want that you feel even dizzier.
You moan into his mouth and he pulls you flush against him, your hands tugging desperately at his hair as you lose yourself in his touches and his breaths.
“Strip.” he instructs once he pulls away from your lips.
His soft, brown irises are almost entirely covered by his blown wide pupils, and he is looking at you as if you are his long awaited prey after a period of famine.
You quickly remove all your clothes and he does the same, touching you every now and then as you undo the buttons of your shirt, grabbing at your sides and digging his fingers into the soft flesh.
With a swipe of his arm, Javier knocks everything that was on the desk down to the floor: folders, pens, notes, everything is now scattered on the marble tiles, completely forgotten.
Guiding you towards the desk, he lifts you onto the smooth and cold surface as you scrape his tanned back with your nails, marking it with long, red lines. He dips his head to kiss you again, this time more feverishly and passionately, while he presses his whole body against yours and you feel his cock twitch between your legs.
“Don’t… don’t keep me waiting.” you pant between your mouths and he groans at your words, grabbing you by the hips and pulling you towards him.
Javier takes himself in hand and pumps his length a few times, from the base to the tip, twisting his wrist as he watches you with lust filled eyes. You take his other hand in yours and tug on it insistently, urging him to satisfy your needs. Anticipation is eating you alive as you look him straight in the eyes.
He lowers his head and stares back at you, the intensity of his gaze penetrates your body and soul, then, he purses his lips and spits on your already soaked core.
A long thread of saliva hangs between his lips and your pussy, and your mouth falls open at the sight before you, undoubtedly one of the hottest things you have ever seen.
With a devilish grin, Javier dips the head of his cock into the spit and drags it up and down your slit a couple of times before finally pushing himself inside you.
The stretch is mind blowing and you immediately reach for the edges of the desk, grabbing onto them for dear life until your knuckles turn white as he thrusts into you, slamming his hips against yours while the sound of your combined moans fills the small room.
"Give me another one hermosa." he encourages as he pushes inside of you with a long, deliberate thrust that makes your elbows tremble, and you collapse on the desk, unable to support your own weight.
Your back is now pressed to the wooden surface and his hands keep you there, squeezing your sides as he continues pistoning in and out of you with a relentless rhythm.
"Oh my… God... " you whimper as your eyes squeeze shut.
His thrusts turn erratic, faster and you throw your head back as tears pool at the corners of your eyes. Javier tilts his head down and nuzzles your cheek as your walls tighten, squeezing his length when your second orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave.
"Fuck… oh fuck baby…" he hisses and closes his eyes, his jaw clenches as he thrusts even more rapidly, making your body glide against the smooth surface of the desk.
"Come inside me…" your voice is broken by pleasure and you watch him, tanned skin covered in sweat and a frown on his face.
He's fucking handsome like that, with his hair all messy and his eyes half closed.
With a final thrust, Javier pushes himself as deep as he can and stills inside of you, pulling you impossibly closer. His body shudders and you feel him twitch within you, covering your walls with his warm cum as he cries out your name.
You cup his cheeks and draw him back to you, claiming his mouth with your own into a searing kiss. He grazes your lower lip with his teeth and you move your fingers through his hair, gently scraping at his scalp as he touches and explores every inch of your body for the uptenth time.
"You have no idea what you do to me." he whispers once your mouths part "Want you every fucking day of my life." he adds as he moves to your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses on your heated skin.
"I'm yours Javi. Only yours." you reassure him as you cradle his face in your hands and look deeply into his eyes.
He stares back at you in complete silence, his brown eyes shining with something different, not lust or passion or want, something that he never thought he would experience again: love.
PERMANENT TAGLIST: @sleep-tight1 @mssbridgerton @imcalledflorence @withakindheartx @emmy626 @greeneyedblondie44 @myguiltypleasures21 @pedroverse @donnaa @snow30285 @computeringturtle @sugahunnynoicetea @lilpopizzle @hnt-escape @sara-alonso @darnitdraco @larakazzer @carstwirs @agingerindenial @heythere-mel @phoenixhalliwell @tobealostwanderer @radiowallet @evelynseventyr @thatgirlselectryc @princess76179 @hb8301
JAVI TAGLIST: @xjsteph
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal imagine#javier pena#javier pena x reader#javier peña#javier peña x reader#javier pena x you#javier peña x you#javier pena smut#javier peña smut#narcos imagine#queridopascalrequests
187 notes
·
View notes
Text
something between us - nie bros hcs
nie bros sharing their favorite hobbies with you
✬✧✬✧✬✧✬✧★✧✬✧✬✧✬✧✬
Nie Mingjue
sword fighting/ self defense practice
Nie Mingjue, alone, was already intimidating
Nie Mingjue with a saber in hand, shadowed by the afternoon sun,
was i n c r e d i b i l y intimidating
you take a long breath, staring down at your tiny dagger in your hand and then looking up to your Sect Leader standing in front of you with his huge ass weapon
“how is this even fair?” you ask (whine) out, widening your eyes when Mingjue makes a show of flipping his saber into a more, i guess, comfortable position to hold
“self defense with anything is important; since you’re not a cultivator, it’s important that you at least know how to keep yourself safe with something that doesn’t require that much qi” Mingjue explains
you take in another breath, purse your lips as your eyes land on the saber by his side, glimmering and sharp
“well...you’re really going to use your saber against me, Sect Leader?” you ask,
really it wasn’t your place at all to ask him to put down his weapon for you,
but it was kind of scary, considering the resentful energy that always brewed in that weapon and within your leader all the time
you know that if anything were to happen, you definitely wouldn’t be able to hold your own
and you didn’t want to have to fight, for real, against your leader
ever
you’ve been Nie Mingjue’s personal assistant for a few years now, so as much as you know the ins and outs of his feelings and moods, he has picked up on yours as well
so he gives a borderline smile (really a quirk of his lips) at your mild fear and puts his saber onto the stand to the side,
now that his saber is down, your fear lowers by well a milliliter
because you still had to try to fight against the strongest military commander of this sect (of the cultivation world, aha)
“Sect Leader...” you plead and Nie Mingjue just shakes his head at you, waving a hand for you to come closer
you’re both standing in the middle of the training grounds
luckily today is most of the disciple’s day off, so no one would be there to witness you make a fool of yourself
you huff and walk over and then stand solidly in front of him with your tiny dagger once you’re close enough
and then, before anything else is said
you strike
Mingjue is fast, unfazed by your sneaky tactic and dodging you as you slice and cut through the air
you throw in a few kicks and dodges yourself as you’ve come to know, your movements melding with one another.
the fighting shifts between the drills that Mingjue had spent time teaching you to your own experimental moves that you’ve read from a few extra scrolls here and there
it’s a good fight, you lasting longer with Mingjue than you expected to
though, because your cultivation is much much less than that of a sect leader, Mingjue is able to catch an opening in one of your later incoming punches
he grabs your wrist, twisting it so the dagger falls out of your grasp and spins you into him
dust from the ground flies up and then settles as you both come to a stop
“you’re been practicing” Mingjue notes, his breath warm against the shell of your ear where you’re held
you can feel his heart beat thundering behind yours
you wonder if he hears how yours is the same
“as per your orders,” you breathe out, feeling lightheaded from the drills that you just ran with him and the way that you both were so close to one another
an extra beat passes, before he finally lets you go
✬✧✬✧✬✧✬✧★✧✬✧✬✧✬✧✬
Nie Huaisang
painting
you hear a click of a tongue near you as you’re dabbing your brush against the paper and you hold back the urge to roll your eyes,
“not like that y/n, gently,” Nie Huaisang would remind you for the umpteenth time
“well you gotta let me actually paint something on the scroll first, Huaisang,” you huff at him, shoulder his arm away from yours when you see him try to reach over you to steady the way you were holding the brush
and honestly you blame yourself for this current predicament, because it had been you who had asked Huaisang to teach you how to paint
you had watched in the few visits that you and your family had had over at his sect and he had always seemed so quiet, diligent, down to earth as an artist
but as a teacher
he talked too much
“shadows are really important, so don’t use too much water with the paint here, it’ll make it smudge,” Huaisang reminds you, yet again, before you’re even able to so much as try it out on the paper
“Huaisang...” you breath out lowly
and he puts his arms up and moves back from you
“alright, alright y/n, just don’t complain to me when it doesn’t turn out the way you want it to” Huaisang teases you and you hold back the urge to lean right on over to his picture and press a nice blotch of red ink onto his piece just for the heck of it
but you are a poised and polite young cultivator so you don’t
finally, you are left to your own devices, the last of Huaisang’s nit picky advice dropping to silence as you both get absorbed into your own paintings
you’re gentle as you follow the outline of the cherry blossoms that Huaisang had traced out for you,
usually he would free hand, but you weren’t that good yet to trust your own artistic direction so he did you that favor
and time passes by simultaneously slow and fast
in a good way
you both only realize that it’s nearing lunch time when the sound of a snack tray being placed down at your table is heard
you look up, giving a small nod of thanks to the maid that had come to give you the snacks before leaning back to take a look at your progress
the cherry blossoms were nearly all painted, and honestly you were pretty satisfied with how they looked,
“wow, not bad y/n”
you smile at the compliment you receive finding Huaisang’s eyes just to stick your tongue at him
“see, told you i could draw it too” you tell him, like a little kid
“what have you been doing all this time?” you ask, curious
you only get a glimpse of some sort of white on the paper before the scroll is moved out of your eyes
“hey let me see too!”
“no way, nosy” Huaisang replies and the two of you bicker like the little kids you are despite both of your in your early twenties
and Huaisang would do anything to keep the painting from you
because honestly,
there was no in hell that he was going to let you find out that he was drawing you
#mdzs#mdzs headcanons#mdzs headcanon#mdzs head canons#mdzs character headcanons#mdzs reaction#mdzs reactions#mdzs reader#mdzs writer#mdzs x reader#mdzs x y/n#mdzs reader insert#mdzs reader inserts#mdzs self inserts#mdzs imagines#mdzs imagine#mdzs scenarios#mdzs scenario#mdzs nie huaisang x reader#mdzs nie mingjue x reader#nie huaisang x reader#nie mingjue x reader#mdzs nie mingjue#mdzs nie huaisang#mdzs nie sect#mdzs universe#mdzs unclean realm#unclean realm#chifeng zun#nie mingjue
96 notes
·
View notes
Text
blood 1 - Strange/Stark!Reader
Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader
Rating: M
Warnings: Adult Themes, eventual smut (like, wayyy down the line), adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence
Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.
When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.
With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.
Masterlist
Chapter Playlist
1 - an empty grave
Cast:
The Royal House Stark:
King Obadiah Stark (Obadiah Stane)
King Anthony Stark (presumed dead)
Queen Virginia Stark (Pepper)
The Late Queen Alexandra Stark (your mother)
Princess Stark!Reader- you
Prince Peter Stark (Peter Parker)
Princess Morgan Stark
Knights:
Sir Samuel Wilson
Sir Steven Rogers
Sir Clinton Barton
Spellcasters/Master Sorcerers/Sorceresses:
Stephen Strange
Wanda Maximoff
Master Wong
Loyal to House Stark:
Natalia Romanoff (Natasha)- Assassin
James Barnes- her partner
Prince Thor- of Asgard, United with Stark’s kingdom
Prince Loki- of Asgard
Lady Brunhilde- of Asgard
Lady Sif- of Asgard
King T’Challa- of Wakanda
Princess Shuri- of Wakanda
(---)
In a final twist of irony, the day of the funeral was bright and warm.
You’d stood quietly while the priest recited his words, while candles were lit, while the Queen trembled silently next to you. You held Morgan’s hand, you listened while the choir sang, the ominous sound reverberating through your chest.
The mourners in black whispered while the royal family walked up to an empty coffin. You touched the polished wood, fist tightening at your side. Pepper bowed her head, reciting a quiet prayer.
How stupid. All of this was stupid. Praying to an empty box, crying over nothing.
You kept your eyes down, lest you betray your own thoughts. Now wasn’t the time for rebellion. Not when your queen step-mother was relying so heavily on tradition and ritual to get through the day. It’d be borderline cruel to start antagonizing her in this way.
No, you’d wait.
Peter, your half-brother in blood but full brother in heart, touched your elbow, pulling you from your thoughts, and guiding you away from the coffin. He kept his eyes forward, expression stoic while he lead the family back to their positions in the massive cathedral.
“They’ll pay for this,” he murmured low into your ear, as if reading your mind. The words were laced with a malice you’d never heard from the normally cheerful prince.
You didn’t reply, instead you grabbed your younger brother’s hand and gave it a tight squeeze. A silent agreement.
The attack had been a betrayal of one of the kingdom’s oldest allies, a neighboring kingdom ruled by someone your father had once trusted with his life.
Apparently nothing was sacred anymore.
The funeral ended somberly, mourners murmuring amongst each other, ladies fawning over Pepper, though the queen looked none too pleased with the attention.
You searched the crowd for a pair of familiar of blue eyes, finding their owner tucked away from the crowd in a secluded corner. He was speaking quietly to the sorceress, Wanda, his eyes flicking up to meet your gaze. With a small nod, he signaled you over.
Weaving through the mass of people, you slipped into the conversation with Wanda regarding you, frowning in sympathy.
“I’m so sorry, your highness,” she whispered, bowing her head. “Your father was a good man, and an honest king. The realm is less for this loss.”
“Thank you,” your tone was colder than you’d intended, a reflection of the bitterness taking form within. Clearing your throat, you tried again, softer and more agreeable this time. “He truly was the best of us.”
Stephen sent Wanda a quick glance and the sorceress excused herself, parting the hall in a hurry.
“You’re angry,” he noted quietly.
“Am I?” you hummed, quirking a brow up at your friend. “I thought I was supposed to be sad?”
“You’re allowed to be angry,” he replied, folding his hands behind his back. “It just means you understand the injustice of it all.”
“Peter wants revenge,” you stated, mimicking his motion and staring out at the sea of royals and court members.
“Understandable,” he murmured. “I imagine a number of officials feel similarly.”
“He isn’t old enough to take the throne,” you supplied. “We can’t go to war without a seated leader.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time an heir succeeded in an unorthodox manner,” he noted before turning his head to look at you. “How are you, truly?”
You opened your mouth to reply, words catching in your throat. You felt hollow. You felt like you wanted to scream until you woke up from whatever nightmare you were caught in. Your heart felt like it had been ripped from your chest and stomped on.
“I’m not certain,” you finally confessed, hands straining against each other behind your back. “Part of me wants to ride through the night and kill that traitor. The other wants to curl on the ground and fill the empty grave myself.”
He nodded in understanding.
“Grief is a powerful thing,” he replied softly, scanning the room before turning and giving you his full attention . “Would you like hide in the observatory a while?”
You looked up to him in surprise. The room was still full of mourners, citizens, and members of the court. Your duty would be to talk to everyone as they passed, pulling the burden off of Pepper.
“Can we?” you asked, voice cracking at the thought of having to converse any further.
Stephen gave you a mischievous smirk, nudging you toward a side door of the church. You followed his lead, slipping out of sight and tucking yourselves away from the crowds inside a small alcove.
“They’ll want to focus on Peter and the queen anyway,” he noted casually, drawing up a portal with his fingers. “No point in dwelling. I’ll tell anyone who asks that you fainted from the stress and required immediate medical attention.”
“I’m sure they’ll all believe it,” you retorted with a matching grin, taking his hand and letting him help you through the portal with all of your heavy mourning apparel.
The observatory had been a new addition to the palace after Stephen had arrived as its master sorcerer. Before, it’d been an abandoned archer’s tower, last used by the late king’s father, Howard, as a means of defense against the previously antagonistic kingdoms.
After King Anthony had taken the throne and negotiated trade and peace treaties with the nearby kings, the reinforcements had largely been forgotten.
Stephen had suggested it as an ideal place to study the cosmos above, and after some urging on your part, your father agreed to let the two of you repair the small space. When the foundation had been fixed to his specifications, Stephen added another enchantment to increase the size internally.
From there, the two of you worked to fill the space with objects of learning and interest.
The walls had been lined with stacks of books, maps of the universe, and healing runes. Tables had been set with with all sorts of alchemical experiments, glowing amulets, and charmed quills. A small greenhouse had been established on one of the many turret balconies, where you helped tend to some medicinal herbs and enchanted florals.
It was a place of peace and knowledge in a world of chaos and ignorance and in it, Stephen had taken the time to teach you the secrets of the universe. It was one of the few places you knew you truly could belong without judgement.
“I’m not convinced this isn’t sabotage,” he stated once you were alone, the glowing orange portal snapping shut behind him.
“What makes you say that?” you asked, lifting a book, flipping through a few pages in an attempt to distract yourself from his blunt words. You agreed there was some kind of malice involved in the attack, but sabotage suggested someone within the kingdom had betrayed your father. For such as honest and good your father was, your heart couldn’t handle such a reality.
“Whispers in the village,” he answered tersely. “Wanda was giving me her report when you approached. She is traveling to the next village over as we speak.”
“Rumlow betrayed his alliance,” you replied bitterly, refusing to look up from your book, though you couldn’t tell what the thing was about. Plants? Chaos magic? “What more is there to discover?”
“Why did he do it?” he asked. “What motivation does he have to sever one of the strongest military alliances in history?”
“Greed? We’ve had a surprise in economic activity since the scholar agreement with Wakanda,” you guessed with a shrug. “This isn’t a smart man we’re dealing with. I’m met him once before. He’s ambitious and motivated, but not particularly clever.”
“Peter is almost of age, your father has prepared him for his new role thoroughly,” he continued, pacing the space. “It doesn’t make sense. Everyone is well aware he will be of age to take the throne in six months time, and now this just ensures his placement.”
“Not everything does,” you reminded him. “You taught me that. Or don’t you remember?”
You paused after a moment, peeking up from the book after letting his words settle.
“Maybe he plans to use Peter’s inexperience against him?” you suggested quietly. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but even with the training and learning, Peter was a different person than your father, perhaps not in morals but certainly in other areas like strategy and planning.
“I intend to get to the bottom of this,” he stated, his hand tightening at his side. You’d never seen Stephen so inflamed before. “At the very least, I can try to retrieve his body. Negotiate a dignified exchange.”
The words pierced your heart far more painfully than you’d anticipated, your hand gave a jerk and you dropped the book you’d been fidgeting with while he spoke.
The mental image of your fathers head on a pike outside of Rumlow’s keep was enough to make you nauseous.
“I’m sorry,” Stephen’s tone shifted at your reaction. “I’m getting ahead of myself.”
“Don’t apologize,” you assured him, clearing your throat and composing yourself. “You’re just doing your job. It’s why he trusted you to the position. You’re asking the questions that need to be asked.”
He watched you pluck the book off the ground and toss it on a nearby table with a low sigh. This was a precarious position he found himself in.
On the one hand, he’d been appointed as the Master Sorcerer of this castle and this realm. He had an obligation to serve that role and ensure the safety of the kingdom’s inhabitants. Not to mention, his obligation as a peacekeeper in his position as Sorcerer Supreme at Kamar-Taj.
On the other, you were his dearest friend and companion, and the obvious hurt you were suffering made his other duties nearly impossible to focus on. It was no wonder Kamar-Taj frowned on intimate attachments, they did provide a distraction from the ambivalent roles sorcerers and sorceresses were bound to play.
He wanted to serve as an unbiased judge in this troubling time, but his heart wanted him to seek justice and bring peace to your troubled mind.
His eyes drifted to the telescope at the edge of the room and an idea hit him.
Perhaps a distraction was best for the time being? A small respite to pull away from the doom and gloom of the immediate future.
“Do you remember that star cluster I showed you last week?” he asked, hooking and arm over your shoulder and guiding you toward the window. “There’s a fascinating change that’s been occurring.”
It was still relatively bright out, though with the sun was just starting to dip over the horizon, there was enough darkness to point out the phenomena he’d discovered the night before.
“Let me adjust-,” he tinkered with the measurements before signaling for you to lean in. “Do you see it?”
“They’re changing color,” you noted with a small gasp of excitement. “That’s a promising omen, isn’t it?”
Your expression had brightened considerably when you looked up at him.
“It is,” he nodded. “The specific colors suggest a period of tranquility and prosperity after a short struggle.”
“Then maybe it isn’t all terrible,” you tried voicing optimistically. It sounded strange, like you still weren’t entirely convinced, but the evidence was clear before you.
Stephen knew the stars never lied and had taught you as much over the time you’d spent together.
You sighed sadly, giving the stars another peek and shaking your head when you pulled away.
“I miss him,” you murmured, looking up at Stephen miserably.
The sorcerer frowned sympathetically, before he moved toward you and pulled you into a tight embrace.
You pressed your cheek against his chest and allowed his arms to wrap around you.
“I know,” he replied softly, resting his chin on your head. “Just know he loved you very much, and wouldn’t want to see you so hurt on his behalf."
That seemed to break something in you, and you buried your forehead into his chest, shaking with suppressed sobs and held back tears until finally you choked out a wave of emotions all at once.
He spent an hour sitting with you while you cried into his tunic, yelling about how angry you were to how miserable all of this made you feel. He listened, offering a handkerchief and when you started to calm down, summoned a fresh pot of herbal tea.
“We will find answers,” he stated, blowing gently over the steaming cup in his hand.
“You sound so sure,” you noted with a bitter chuckle, eyes swollen and red from your tears.
“I’ve tampered with seeing the future from time to time,” he replied cheekily. “Perhaps I’ve had a vision?”
“And what did that vision show you?” you pressed, playing along with a ghost of a smile behind your own cup.
“We win,” Stephen replied firmly, his expression falling serious.
“Doesn’t feel like it,” you confessed quietly.
“Victory seldom does,” he watched you take a sip of your tea. You closed your eyes and relaxed your shoulders with the calming scent.
You opened your mouth to ask him a question when a knock at the observatory door broke the small spell of peace that’d fallen over the space.
“I’ve got it,” he gestured for you to stay seated, moving toward the door and slowly peeling it open.
It wasn’t that he was overtly concerned for your safety, but given recent events, Stephen didn’t want to be lax in covering all possibilities. The world had gone mad and he wouldn’t put an assassin with a dagger outside the realm of potential visitors.
“Is the princess here?” Loki, Prince of Asgard, asked with a tone laced with annoyance upon Stephen’s appearance.
“Loki?” you must have heard his voice and stood, setting your cup aside. “Stephen, let him in. It’s okay.”
With a glare at the prince, Stephen stepped aside and allowed the emerald clad royal through.
He didn’t like outsiders in the observatory. Especially when you were around.
It made him especially uneasy inviting another magic user inside, where they could potentially measure its wards and security for later aggression.
“Peter mentioned you might be here,” Loki glanced around the room, arms folded behind his back. “I apologize if I’m intruding.”
That last part was directed toward Stephen with the smallest smirk.
“No, it’s okay, we were just having tea,” you replied quickly, gesturing to the steaming pot on the table. “Could I make you a cup-?”
“No-,” he cut her off and cleared his throat apologetically. “I’ve come to say farewell. My father is ordering the borders to Asgard closed until Rumlow’s nation offers an explanation to this… tragedy.”
“I see,” your expression fell at the news.
Certainly Asgard closing its borders was a worrisome sign. They were the kingdom’s greatest allies and largest trading partners. The effects of such a move would be felt for quite some time, both in security and in the local economy.
“I’ll write,” he promised with a curt bow. “Don’t fall behind in your studies. I’ll be testing you the next time we meet.”
You smiled before he took your hand for a brief kiss on the knuckles. Rolling your eyes, you pulled away and threw your arms around his shoulder in a hug.
“What a sad parting,” you laughed at his bewildered reaction. “And you’re going to kiss my knuckles like we haven’t known one another for years? On the day of my father’s funeral? Unacceptable.”
He barked out a small laugh, reciprocating the embrace with an arm before pulling away.
“Stay safe,” he urged her before looking up at Stephen with a steely gaze. “Do well to keep her protected, Sorcerer.”
“Always,” Stephen answered tersely, a little offended at the prince’s casual disregard for his abilities. He’d always kept you safe, and had absolutely no intention of letting that guard slip now.
“Travel safely,” you called after him and he gave a final wave before pausing in the doorway when Stephen moved to close the door.
“Keep her close,” Loki warned quietly, the smirk disappearing completely. “There are whispers in the village of treachery and assassination. Do not let anyone have the opportunity to take advantage of the situation.”
“My associates are building wards around the castle and her quarters as we speak,” Stephen replied in agreement, a quick glance in your direction to ensure you weren’t listening.
“The tea was a nice touch,” Loki noted with a hum. Stephen nodded curtly.
The tea had a protection enchantment included in the mixture of herbs. Something small, but effective if you found yourself in danger without him, Wong, or Wanda nearby.
“Be well,” Stephen closed the door once Loki was out of sight, turning and finding you digging through his trunk of cloaks at the back of the room. “What are you doing?”
“I want to see Natalia and James,” you answered, pulling out a large blue cloak and holding it to your shoulders.
“Absolutely not,” he crossed his arms. “Your father was just killed, possibly murdered. You’re not going to the village unprotected.”
“That’s why you’re coming,” you threw a crimson cloak in his direction, fastening the blue one over your shoulders.
“Did you miss the part where I said murdered?” he asked in disbelief.
“Then it’s a good think I’m friends with assassins,” you chimed back, pulling the hood of the cloak over your head. “They might be able to tell us something.”
“I’m sure Wanda and Wong have already talked to them,” he shot back, folding the cloak over is arm. “You should stay at the castle, at least for tonight.”
“You already know I’m going to go regardless,” you replied.
“Because you’re a headstrong idiot,” he sighed, reluctantly pulling the cloak over is shoulders. “Who clearly has a death wish. What if your family comes looking for you?”
“They won’t,” you answered with a confident grin. “Mother is going to be with Morgan and Peter is going to lock himself away in the armory or training fields until the knights give up and make him retire to his chambers.”
“You’re so confident in your knowledge of the castle,” Stephen snorted, tying the cloak around him.
“It’s what happens when you’re the eldest daughter of a king,” you replied, patting him on the shoulder. “You see everyone, but no one sees you.”
“Poetic.”
“Also, you owe me an ale for enchanting my tea,” you quirked a brow toward him when he stammered back a response. “Didn’t think I would notice?”
“I’m losing my touch,” he sighed, waving a hand and summoning a bag of coin.
“No, you’re just turning into a fussy mother hen,” you grinned, the smile looking far more relieving than the grief he know you wore on the inside. “It’s endearing.”
Wha danger was a short outing for the evening? It was arguably safer in a crowd than alone in her chambers, especially while Wong was still working on the wards.
Besides, the assassins you’d found friendship in would do well to keep threats away as well.
And while Stephen pondered this thought, you were already part-way out of the room and headed toward one of the hidden passages in the hall.
(---)
2 - a night at the pub
TAG LIST (MESSAGE ME IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED)
@ayamenimthiriel @drstrangely-strange @ladynothing @im-a-bi-disaster-help
#dr strange x reader#dr strange/reader#stephen strange x reader#stephen strange/reader#reader insert#reader fic#fanfiction#reader fanfic#Doctor Stephen Strange#dr. strange#dr. stephen strange#royalty au#Royal AU#Princess Reader#Stark!Reader#Fairtale AU#fantasy marvel au#Marvel#Marvel AU#female reader#reader#stephen strange
114 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tyrants | Chapter Three - Presage
WORD COUNT: 2.4k
WARNINGS: Brief mentions of Wendy’s drug use. Nothing explicitly *bad* goes on here, just some of the usual SOA shit is hinted at. :) Tig <3
MASTERLIST
Ninety degrees was horrendous. Ninety-six degrees saw Isla spiraling toward a fully-fledged mental breakdown, desperate to climb out of her own fucking flesh and melt into the parking lot outside of St. Thomas.
Seeing the Sons sporting leathers, hoodies, and long-sleeved shirts underneath their cuts made her skin crawl, too.
She'd thrown on the flounciest summer dress she owned, thin and wispy, and she was still roasting to death underneath the Californian sunshine.
It felt like they were living in the fucking ass-crack of hell.
Though, with their current state and Charming's infestation of ATF and other federal agents, hell wasn't too far off the mark.
"Thanks for the ride." Isla expressed her gratitude as she slid off of the back of Tig's bike, pulling the helmet away from loose blonde curls.
"No problem, baby--you good to get home, yeah?"
"Yeah. I'm meeting Gem here, so she'll take me back to T M in time to pick my car up," she confirmed, readjusting herself.
She couldn't risk Tig Trager getting an eyeful of her asscheeks today. Not again, anyway.
"Perfect. See 'ya later, beautiful." Isla leaned in for him to peck her cheek--which was habitual for the pair--and she did the same.
Her smile was wide. She was beaming. "Bye, Tiggy. I love you."
"Love you too, kid." He reciprocated the smile, squeezing her hand as she broke away and padded toward the steps, brushing her fingers through wind-tousled strands.
Things were, for the first time in about a week, finally looking up. Resuming a sense of normality, perhaps.
She and Trager had been on precarious terms since that day, and had been avoiding one another altogether. Which, for them, was strange.
Days went by without even so much as a word being uttered between the pair, no backhanded comments, or even sideways glances.
Usually, they'd be bickering like kids, arguing nonsensically until Clay or Chibs broke them apart--but it was all just their little bit of fun. Because they bounced off of one another.
They lauded the relationship they shared because, really, it was one of the strongest.
He'd been her official favorite since the very day that they met--he and Bobby were the two she liked to talk to whenever she felt that she couldn't confide in her father.
But the last few days were so fucking hard. She was struggling with the weight of all that she did, coupled with the stress of not being able to discern Tig's current feelings on her.
And after she'd lashed out, had bitched at him for no fucking reason, she was pretty certain that Tiggy didn't want to know anymore.
That was thrown out of the window this morning, however, when Isla's clutch blew out, and she needed a ride from the garage to the hospital to see Abel.
Of course Tig was there for her. He always would be.
"Hey." Isla spoke softly as she held the little blue bear close to her chest. "I stopped by the gift shop on the way up here--Jax said he's already got bears and balloons comin' outta his ass, so I thought what's one more?"
Gemma couldn't help but smile, gesturing for the blonde to sit with her opposite Abel's isolette.
"He'll love you for it," she joked, though she knew that she was appreciative. For her company more so the stuffed animal.
With their commitment to the club and the current battle against the ATF, Jax and Clay weren't as hands on as what they usually would've liked.
Of course, Teller was at that baby's side whenever he got the chance to break away from SAMCRO, but he wanted more. He wanted the satisfaction of knowing that his little boy was being provided with the best possible care at St. Thomas.
And he was. He absolutely was. But he needed to know--for his own peace of mind, he needed to see that. So, his mother was there every waking fucking moment, giving him that love he could only get from his Grandma.
"How's he doing?" Her query was braided around a whisper, worried she'd disturb Abel's peaceful rest. "Jax said he should be coming home soon."
Gemma simply affirmed with a nod, gazing affectionately at her grandson.
It was heartwarming to see so much love, so much adoration from a woman who had a reputation for being a fucking cunt--thus proving that Gemma's main priority was her family, and their health and happiness.
That, somehow, made Isla love her even more than what she already did.
It also made her a tad jealous of Jax and the fact that he still had his mother in his life.
"He's gettin' stronger and stronger everyday. Tara said he'll be set to leave Friday--"
"Tara?" Her brow lifted as she put the bear amongst the pile of gifts. "I thought she was a doctor, I didn't think she had anything to do with the babies?"
Gemma's smile faltered a little. "She's a pediatric surgeon. Been takin' care of Abel since the start."
"Oh."
Now, she would've known that if she'd taken the time to visit her best friend's kid since he was born. But she hadn't--she hadn't even considered taking a trip over to St. Thomas to check in on Jax's baby.
And it was for the simple fucking reason that she couldn't bear the thought of facing Wendy and having to be nice to her. Especially after what she fucking did to that poor little boy.
She subsequently landed her own flesh and blood in the hospital after shooting heroin while pregnant? And she wanted Jax to pardon her for it?
Isla wasn't a hateful person, she didn't care about what people did in their spare time because that was their time.
But the moment an innocent person was harmed due to the carelessness of others...That was when she felt a scathing animosity.
"She's good with him." Gemma stated bitterly, snapping Isla from her ire-fueled daydream. "Kills me to say it, but she's a gem. A real fuckin' star."
"I'd bet. She was always good with kids."
"Yeah?" Suddenly interested, the older woman crossed over her arms. "Who's kids?"
Finally, Isla took a seat beside her on top of plush blue leather.
"A few of the girls we were in high school with had kids pretty young and Tara was usually super keen to hold them, or just hang out at their places whenever we weren't at school. Or it could've just been the wannabe doctor in her, now that I think about it."
"She's pretty maternal," Isla hummed in agreement, "but I'm glad she and Jax never had kids when you were teenagers--I don't know how that would've looked for him."
Suddenly, she was staring at Gemma like she had two fucking heads.
"I don't trust her." She elaborated, drawing another confused glance from Isla. "She and Jax would have been a fucking disaster had she stayed--"
"And things worked out so much better with Wendy?" A little more vehemently than intended, the blonde asked.
Now Gemma was the one shooting dirty looks.
"Look, Gem, I'm just saying. Jax and Tara are history now, yeah? You don't have to trust her. Just thank her for what she's doing for your grandson because when he's outta this place, you won't need to worry about her."
"And you're so sure about that, huh?" Skeptically, she asked. Arms folded over. "You know what they're like--like two fucking magnets or something. They always find a way back to one another."
That line gutted her.
It hurt her--it was agonizing--but she wasn't sure why she was so beaten by it. Because it was the truth, wasn't it?
Tara and Jax were, at one point, the strongest couple she'd ever known, and when it fizzled out he was fucking broken. She hadn't seen him so downtrodden since JT had passed, and he was suddenly left without the strength and guidance of his father.
She was his everything. Isla was a fool to think he'd be able to see her back in Charming and not feel something for her. His first love.
"I think we should throw Abel a homecoming party on Friday--if he's coming home then, that is." Gemma shifted the topic of conversation, getting to her feet.
"Absolutely. I'll help."
"Yeah?" She asked a little doubtingly, reaching over to pick Abel up. "You don't have to--I know you work Friday's."
Isla waved her off, standing beside the brunette. "I do, but it's no bother. If everyone's gonna be there, then I wanna show my face too. Offer a helping hand of some sort."
"Alright, perfect," Gem stated softly, holding the baby close to her chest. "When we get back to T M, we can figure out what we need to get."
"Sounds like a plan--" Isla was cut off by a soft knocking at the door, irritating her a little bit because she'd only just gotten there and hated the idea of having to leave already.
She made a mental note to stop by a little earlier tomorrow.
"Hey, sorry to bother you--" Tara stopped herself when she needed her estranged friend, almost dropping the clipboard she was holding against her chest.
Isla Telford was the last fucking person she expected to see today.
"Hey," with a fake smile, she greeted.
The tension was palpable.
Gemma felt the irritation washing over her favorite of the duo, urging her to turn her attention back toward her grandson before she said anything to worsen the situation.
Because she would've.
"Uh, I've gotta run a few tests on Abel before we determine that he'll be ready to leave this week, if that's alright?" Tara gestured to Gemma, ignoring Isla's presence.
That stung a little bit.
"Yeah. It's fine." The response was blunt. Terse, to a point.
"Great."
Isla realized that she wasn't wanted in that space any longer. She grabbed her purse, turning toward the door. "I'll meet you outside."
"Yeah, alright," Gemma put the baby back into his crib, smiling at Isla. "You want my keys?"
"I'll wait on the steps--I'm gonna smoke--"
"Before you go," Tara cut in. She cleared her throat, trying to smile--but she just couldn't.
Telford sensed where it was going, however. There wasn't a reason for her to stop Isla in her tracks, in front of Gemma no less.
She wondered how long it'd take for it to be brought up.
"Thanks."
Gratitude genuinely swept over the doctor, letting Isla know she was truthful in her acknowledgment--or, was it more like a form of praise? Because Jax definitely told Tara what they both did for her, and she was astounded that the woman would even float the idea of helping out.
It was a strange notion. To know what she did--when she looked and acted like that--was fucking weird. And nobody would've believed her if she said that Isla helped to dispose of a dead body, which did make her laugh a little.
She knew how to hold, load, and fire a pistol, but she wasn't capable of committing the unspeakable the same way that Jax, or Chibs, or Clay were capable of it.
But she was slowly earning her title as 'Daughter of Sgt. At Arms/ Man of Mayhem.' And she wasn't sure how she liked that.
"You're welcome," she spoke plainly. "Hope everything is alright now, Tara."
"It is."
"Good." Her retort was immediate, laced with that same genuineness the other woman expressed. "You free this coming friday?"
Hesitantly, she nodded.
"If all goes to plan--and Abel is good to come home--we're gonna throw a little party for the boy," Gemma confirmed with a nod. "You wanna swing by? Everyone'll be there--Donna, Ope, their kids, Wendy, the rest of the Sons. You should come. It'll be nice for everyone to see 'ya again."
Wendy's name falling from those pink lips, in such a positive light, maimed Isla. She and Jax were starting to get along a little bit better now, but she was still wary of that woman.
"Yeah. It'll be great," the older woman added.
Tara felt cornered. She knew that she wasn't really wanted, and she also knew that was a way for Isla and her menopausal best friend--old enough to be her fuckin' mom--to keep the doctor as close as possible without explicitly saying that they wanted to keep an eye on her.
"Sure. I'll stop by."
"Brilliant." Gemma conceded, slipping past the pair. "Address hasn't changed, sweetheart."
It was passive aggressive, sickly-sweet, and it was Gemma to a fucking T. The woman was loathing every second she had to spend with Tara Knowles and she wasn't even trying to hide it.
But it didn't have to be for very long, she thought.
"What was that all about? Why'd she thank you?" Gem queried as they got outside, passing the lighter to her left.
"For not breaking her fucking neck when I had the chance to all those years ago, probably."
Isla sparked her cigarette, pacing alongside her as they headed toward the car.
"That's bullshit."
"How so?"
"Just is." She could read Chibs's little girl like a fucking book. "But I won't press--if it's something between you and Tara, I don't care to hear. Just lemme know if it goes south. I can put a bullet in her for you, baby."
Isla would've laughed had she not known that Gemma was deadly fucking serious about blowing Tara's brains out.
But it was a relief. For her to give it up just like that--uncharacteristically so--was a kind of relief that she never thought she'd feel from Gemma Teller.
She was used to being protected. Used to being viewed as the one that needed to be shielded from the horrors that shrouded the Sons. But Isla wasn't innocent, nor was she fucking stupid.
The security was appreciated, however. Because, lately, things just didn't seem to be going too great for her.
And, if she'd learned anything, they'd only worsen from here on out.
"You don't have to go full mama bear mode, Gem. I'm a big girl."
She laughed, turning to face Isla.
"I know," smoke blew from her nose, "but you've gotta protect the ones you wanna keep close, y'know? The ones you love."
The tip of Gemma's boot pulverized her cigarette into the sidewalk as she fished for the car keys, avoiding eye contact all together.
"I haven't been able to protect everyone I've wanted to from the shit that goes on in this town, honey, but I'm really tryin'. And I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you or my boy."
#tig trager#tig trager fic#tig trager fanfiction#sons of anarchy fic#sons of anarchy fanfiction#sons of anarchy fandom#jax teller x oc#sons of anarchy#jax teller fanfiction#jax teller
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
Just Us (Chapter Six: Knight)
← Chapter Five
“Elias, you need to put your hat over your ears or they’re going to freeze.” I pulled the little boy’s hat down more trying to convince him to keep it there.
“But I want to wear it like Jo Jo is,” he whined and pointed to the older boy standing next to him. Jonas was wearing a hat in a way that he said made his hair look good. He’d be better off just not wearing a hat if he didn’t care about his ears freezing.
“Tch.”
“Did you just tch me?” I stood up and tried to pull his hat down, too, but that was impossible because of our height difference. He stepped backwards and had to catch my wrist so I wouldn’t hit his face.
“Elias, don’t be like Jonas. Everything he does is because he wants girls to stare at him.” June laughed, knowing the secret she had spilled to me months ago and so did Elias. Jonas just glared at me for a bit and straightened out his coat. Elias grabbed my hand and pulled me to the town square. The festival was in full swing and I made the two children wait for me to close the store before we could go. He didn’t even want to open his presents before we left.
“Rules before we get there because I lied to your parents and told them you two were helping me and if I lose one of you it will be on my head. We use the buddy system. If you want to run off and do something, Elias, then you have to go with one of us.” He let go of my hand and grabbed Jonas’s.
“I pick Jo Jo.” Jonas groaned at his nickname and knew that he wasn’t going to pick up any girls with a kid attached to his hip. I didn’t care since he’d be out at the bars tonight when we take the kids home. He said it was his goal to have a girl in bed every year-end so he could start the year off right. Disgusting.
“You can stay with me then June.” She smiled up at me and we locked elbows, happy with how the straws were drawn. I knew she wouldn’t drag me along to every stall, but she could go to what she wanted since we liked the same things. That also means I wouldn’t have to spend my money on all the treats Elias wanted either. It was a great arrangement.
Once we got to the town square, Elias dragged Jonas to a toy shop and June and I kept walking. We both wanted to get a warm drink before our hands fell off. This year-end was definitely one of the coldest I’ve experienced.
“Eva, the Scouts are here too. Look, it’s the commander guy.” She pointed out Erwin who was talking to the head of the Trost Garrison in the center square. They were extra security for the influx of people coming in from Wall Maria. I really wanted to look around for Levi, but I knew he was going to be somewhere on the roof tops monitoring with his ODM gear.
“Isn’t that the boy you like, June?” I leaned down and pointed out a specific blonde haired boy who was with a few of his friends. They were at a game booth wasting their money to get a prize. She blushed when I pointed him out.
“Come on,” I pulled her over to the booth and had to work hard because she didn’t not want to go over at all. If anything, I wanted to help her, and I hope she knew that as I pulled out a few bills to play the game right next to them. She had a chance to talk to him that seemed organic. I was a perfect wingwoman.
“If you get three balls in, you can get one of these small prizes.” He handed them to me and I knew instantly that I was going to lose. I had bad aim and I knew the bucket didn’t have circular openings. Still, my determination to get June to talk to that boy was at an all time high. I’d take my time with this game to make it look like I was actually concentrating on it.
“June, hi!” I looked behind me and she had both hands behind her back, one toe drawing pictures in the dirt.
“Hi, Finn.” He smiled which made me feel like I had succeeded. Maybe it’d eat a few more notes so that she can talk longer.
I tossed the balls and completely missed two but hit the bucket on the last one. It didn’t go in, but at least there was a little hope. Damn, this game seems so simple, too. That may have added to the reasons I handed the man another bill. This time I’d have to throw it with more arc.
“Oh! Better luck next time! Do you want to play again?” He held out his hand and I couldn’t resist the urge to pull another bill out of my pocket and did it over again. This time when I made one ball in I shouted and made the other boys with Finn turn.
“Whoa! You actually got one in Miss!” I smirked down at them, accomplished. Getting pre-teen boys to compliment you was a feat and I was going to take it.
“Do you want to play ag-” He came from the back of the booth and we locked eyes. He wasn’t wearing a coat like the Scouts on the ground and this was the first time I had seen him in his full gear. How does he look so good with a hunk of metal attached to his sides?
Over the past week and a half, I had come to terms with my feelings for Levi like an adult should. Hours of pounding dough gets the annoyance of falling for someone like him out in no time. At first I was annoyed at myself because I knew that to get him to talk or even acknowledge any emotion was never going to happen. If he can’t tell me when he’s sad, how is he going to say he has feelings for me if he even has them. For the time being, I was okay with being quiet about how I felt because I didn’t want to ruin his almost daily visits to the café. Even yesterday, while my heart was literally beating out of my chest, he helped me make sourdough loaves for hours. Watching him kneed dough with his sleeves up, a concentrated look on his face, and hair tied back just did something to a girl.
So, even if I was being a big girl and dealing with my feelings, I was also nervous as hell to even let him know about it. A single slip and I have completely lost this game of pretend we had. If he knew, we couldn’t pretend anymore and I think that’s the whole reason he hangs around me in the first place.
“I couldn’t stand watching you lose over and over again, so I came to win.” I raised an eyebrow and was secretly satisfied he was watching me from above.
“It may look simple, but it’s hard. I usually have a good aim.” A lie. He rolled his sleeves up again and the shirt that he was wearing was a copy of one I had stolen from his bedroom dresser. He had so many because it was his uniform, that made sense. What didn’t make sense was that fact that in these freezing temperatures he was only wearing a cape.
“Give me one try.” He held his hand out to me and I just stared at it.
“Wow, Captain Levi! Are you going to play?!” The kids, including June, had crowded around us which definitely fueled Levi’s desire to win.
“Why are you holding your hand out? You have to pay to play.” I pointed to the vendor who was just staring at our interaction.
“Do you think I carry money on me while I’m doing a mission? I’ll repay you by winning.” I rolled my eyes and found his determination in front of the kids cute, so I obliged and paid to get him three more balls.
“Watch and learn, brats.”
With the kids staring, and no doubt some Scouts above, he stood behind the line and ever so easily threw the balls in one right after the other. It made me annoyed that he did it so flawlessly, but we were talking about Levi. The kids cheered around him, which definitely made his ego inflate even more, and when he was handed the stuffed rabbit, he took one glance at it before giving it to me with one arm.
“Repayment.” When the kids started asking him questions, he just walked away wordlessly and before he pressed whatever button it was to launch him back up on the buildings, I called out to him:
“When are you picking up the desserts?” He just turned his head around, not stopping his actions, and answered as he propelled off the ground.
“Nine.” He went flying through the air criss-crossing around buildings. He did look really cool doing that like it was nothing. I could see the blank look on his face as he advanced forward and finally found a roof to land on. I smiled at him, as if he could see me, and stuffed the rabbit under my arm.
“Miss Eva, you know Captain Levi?!” It was Finn who was asking and I couldn’t disappoint my girl.
“We’re friends. He comes to my café sometimes, so you might see him again. June knows when he comes, you can come with her.” They looked at June and she blushed at their stares. I looked up at Levi, but his back was turned to look at another half of the festival. Standing on that roof, he did give off Humanity’s Strongest vibes.
“We’ll see you boys later. June and I want to get something to drink.” She put her arm in mine again, probably glad that her anxiety ridden interaction was over with Finn, and we walked off.
“That was cool of Mister Captain Levi. He even won you the rabbit.” She pointed to it and I nodded. And I was keeping the damn thing if he ever asked for it back to be petty.
“I’ll name it Levi, how ‘bout it?” She nodded in agreement and we met up with Jonas and a candy-filled, bouncing Elias.
The festival went on like that, us as a group and then using the buddy system. We played a few more games and Jonas won Elias a spinning top. June had gotten a mug with her warm cider and gushed to Jonas all about how Mister Captain Levi had come down from the skies to win the game for me. She even pointed out Levi, the rabbit, which got Jonas fuming. He claimed that if he was there, he’d win the game easily too. Elias had to remind him it took seven tries to get the spinning top and that sent the boy running back to the café, a lollipop in his mouth. At least he’d be tired out for his parents.
“Now, you three, here are your gifts. June, Elias, and Jonas. Open up.” I made sure mine was last to open. Elias and June came together and made Jonas and I both homemade snow globes with our initials in them. Jonas had gotten me a new recipe book and the kids both books, to which Elias had to really work to fake his happiness about it. It was a good laugh for Jonas and I as we asked him question after question about him liking the book. However, I was happy with myself knowing I took first place over Jonas, because last year I had lost to a red ball.
“Oh, thank you Miss Eva! It’s so pretty!” She held up the dress to her body and spun around. Jonas was the next to react when he saw the hair gel I had gotten him to pull off those ridiculous hairstyles he liked so much. Lastly, I looked over to Elias who was staring down with large eyes at his toy. He was the reaction I was anticipating the most. I had to tell Levi if he made the eight-year-old’s dream come true.
“June, look!” He held up the horse, his eyes still wide. While she had no interest in toys, she still admired it.
“That’s really cool, Elias.” He held up the soldier next, his arm stretched as high as it went.
“And there’s a matching Scout, too!” Jonas and I both looked at each other confused, knowing there was nothing on that soldier to indicate it was a Scout or even in the Royal Military. It had to be because the only soldiers he constantly sees on horses are the Scouts. To me, it wasn’t that bad that his new favorite toy was turning into a Scout. Maybe I should tell him a Scout bought it for him, too.
“Miss Eva, I like it so so so so so sooooooooooooooooooooo much!” He put the box on the floor and ran over to hug my leg that was dangling off the counter. My heart filled and I patted his head, leaning down with one arm to hug him. Levi would like his reaction, especially the Scout part. I think Jonas was a bit annoyed at Elias’s playing, so he looked at the clock and announced it was time for the kids to go home. I had to stay here to hand out late orders, so I ushered them out.
“I’ll see you all tomorrow! Don’t stay up all night reading, Elias!” He stuck his tongue out at me and I did it back. Both kids walked ahead of Jonas who stayed back at the door.
“Thank you for your gift, Ev.” I smiled back.
“You, too, Jonas. You’ll be the first one to try out something I make from the recipe book.”
“Can I suggest the cinnamon rolls?” I nodded and insured him I’d make them for him on Monday. He still stood there watching the kids walk their way down the street. He wasn’t going to..?
“Is there anything going on with you and Levi?” I almost choked on the air. Gods, I wish.
“No, Jonas. He just comes in for tea after an expedition.” That didn’t satisfy him.
“And takes you to the capital, and helps you make bread, and wins a game for you at the festival.” He sounded like a child having a temper tantrum.
“There’s nothing going on between us, Jonas. We’re just budding friends and I make things for the Scouts from time to time.” He narrowed his eyes and pointed to the box on my counter. This astounding common sense was getting annoying.
“Then who’s that gift for?” I had to come up with some lie quickly. If I told him it was for Levi, he’d never leave.
“The candy shop owner. He gives out so much free candy to those two on my request, I felt I needed to get him something.” He lowered his gaze and kicked a rock.
“I’d never think you’d lie to me like that, Ev.” My heart caught in my throat. That made me feel like shit. Especially since Levi was probably going to propel down from one of these buildings in a few minutes.
“The kids are going to get home before you can get to them. You should go.” He looked up at me and gave me one of the most heart wrenching looks. Ouch.
“I still like you… from that one time I told you when we were drunk. That wasn’t a lie. I’ll believe you for now… but I don’t think you’re telling the truth.” I was telling him the truth though. I left some things out, but there wasn’t anything between Levi and I. Did it frustrate me that there wasn’t anything? Yes. But I still wasn’t lying to Jonas. And now this unwarranted confession was making things worse. If Levi wasn’t here, Jonas wouldn’t have said anything and it wouldn’t be awkward between us now. I could live with knowing it from June, but now that he told me, it changed everything. I didn’t want that.
“I hope nothing changes, Jonas. I like babysitting the kids with you and talking to you when you come in to deliver things. Even if we do stay friends in the long run, I-” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at the kids who had stopped walking when they noticed he never started.
“Friends friends or Levi friends?” This time I glared at him a bit, but he wasn’t looking at me. I knew if he stayed any longer, we’d get in a fight, and he’d get more disappointed if Levi decided to drop in in the middle of it. It was better to send him off now and fix it later.
“Goodnight Jonas. Happy year-end.” He just nodded once and took off after the kids. No goodnight, no year-end joke. I hoped I didn’t have to wake up to someone dragging him to my café drunk like last year.
Oh.
When he was drunk last year. That’s when he told me. He was making a tradition of it. He had just thrown up on the sidewalk when the people carrying couldn’t put him through the door and I was wiping the sweat off his forehead.
I closed the door, making sure it wasn’t locked, and went to sit back on the front countertop. Swinging my legs, I replayed the conversation in my head.
“Ev, you’re so good to me,” he slurred.
“Well, Jonas, you’re drunk on my doorstep. I can’t just leave you here.” He smiled and looked like he was going to throw up again. I backed up, but kept the wet rag on his forehead.
“When you’re done throwing up, you can come upstairs and I’ll give you some water.” He burped and I grimaced. Wasn’t he supposed to be having sex at his house with some random bar girl? Why was he so drunk and here?
“I’ll like that. Your couch is comfy.” I laughed a bit.
“Why are you so drunk? I thought you had a tradition of taking someone home.” He shook his head really fast, which was a horrible decision, and held it in both of his hands to try and stop the dizziness.
“I don’t want to bring anyone home but you,” He pointed to me and I gave him a confused look. He smelled so much of alcohol.
“I come to your house sometimes to pick up orders, Jonas.”
“No, no, no, no, no. Like. I want you to come so I can kiss you.” He turned over his left shoulder and threw up again. I patted his back and just nodded. Very, very drunk.
“Can I get my pastries or do I need to wait for you to stop daydreaming?” I jumped and looked at the uniform clad man in front of me. He didn’t even knock.
“Oh, sorry. They’re cooling right now. I baked them in the last hour.” I also timed it just right so that he’d have to stay a few minutes and open his present, but he didn’t need to know that. I just sat there and drank in his uniformed look. It was much better than his usual black slacks.
“Is that the cape I wore?” He grabbed a chair and sat down right in front of me, back of the chair leaning on the table. He assumed his lounging position.
“Yes, you also left it crumpled on the floor. Don’t think I didn’t notice you stole one of my shirts, too. I woke you up, didn’t I?” He rather rudely ripped the covers off of me and kicked the bedpost three times, yes I do recall. It really ruined the ruse of the dream I had of him that night.
“Do you want it back? I’m sure the other fifteen are missing it.” He squinted his eyes.
“I’ll have you know if anyone finds out a civilian has my issued military gear with them, I’d get in trouble.” Oh, so we weren’t pretending right now.
“The military counts your clothes?” He sighed and switched his lounging leg. I looked to the side at the medium sized box wrapped in red fabric. I guess it was now or never.
“I have your gift,” I picked up the box and hopped off the counter. He stared at it for a few seconds before taking it and just sitting it on his lap. Was he not… ?Does he not know… ?
“Open it,” I waved my hand at the gift and he hesitated.
“I want to give you my gift first.” That really set the butterflies off in my stomach. The stoic, mean, scary Captain Levi actually got me a gift like he said and it wasn’t a lie to go to the capital with me? I was buzzing with warmth. I closed my eyes and held my hands out.
“What are you doing?” I could tell he didn’t move. Does he really not know how gifting works?
“My gift, Captain.” I wriggled my fingers.
“Oh, yeah.” This time he moved and I felt him place a circle in my hands. It felt similar to the shape of Jonas’s hair gel. He didn’t get me hair gel, did he? I felt it with my eyes closed again, taking a good guess.
“Is it… candies?” He groaned like this was taking too long.
“Just open your eyes, I don’t have all night.” I opened them and looked down at the jar in my hands. It was quite thoughtful of him and a very practical gift. It made my heart sing and I couldn’t hide my smile.
“S-some... Scout, he, um, he recommended it after I asked how to get rid of dry skin. They said this was the only thing that worked for them. A-And I know you’ve been looking for something… So…” I opened it right away and put it on my hands. Wow, this felt really smooth and it smelled like roses, “D-Do... you like it?” That statement made his voice raise up a bit. He didn’t want me to know that he definitely wanted to feel good about his gift.
“I love it, thank you, Levi. If it really does get rid of the cracks in my skin, you’ll have to thank that Scout too. Now open yours!” I waved my hands again, rushing him as I stood in front of him. He slowly undid the tie that held the fabric on the wooden box and it was almost like he was looking at a bomb when he went to open it. Slow and controlled. Did he think I would buy him something that popped out at him?
When he opened it all the way, he just stared. This made my smile drop. Great. Who was I to expect a big reaction out of this man? He could be screaming in his head right now and I would never know.
He picked it up out of the box and ran his hand along the simple blue design. When he looked up at me, there was just a little shred of emotion in his eyes, I’m sure I saw it. Something that wasn’t indifference. It just wasn’t there long enough for me to get a real good look at it. I just wanted him to say something so I didn’t have to prompt him into a lie. He took out the cup next and did the same thing, inspecting the design and the porcelain.
“How much did you pay for this?” Well, that was an annoying first reaction. No “thanks, Eva” or anything.
“It doesn’t matter. I saw it and thought about you. You probably have a lot of tea kettles and cups at HQ, but I guess if you ever get peppermint tea you can use-”
“I… I like it. I like it a lot actually. I only have one set at the HQ and it’s from the Underground. This one is… much better.” That was good enough for me. It brought my smile back and I clasped my hands together. I think I was more excited than he was about the gift.
I clapped my hands and he looked up at me again. There it was that same shred of some type of Levi emotion that I couldn’t put my finger on.
“Well, I think the desserts are cool if you want to take them.” I turned around to go and put the Scout’s treats in a nice paper box but he grabbed my wrist. I swear I made a noise out loud which was me reacting to Levi touching me for one of the first times. Damn, how did I hide this a few months ago? And if he came up to my apartment later, how was I going to handle that? In all of his visits the past week, he always had to get back to HQ, but I knew that after his security detail wasn’t needed, he would come to the café and stay one night. What was I going to do then?
“Can you make me tea?” I slowly looked up from his grasp on my wrist and smiled at him.
“What about your party?” It’s not that I wanted him to leave, it’s just if he kept looking at me with those eyes I was in trouble.
“They can wait. Dessert isn’t till they’ve all drank themselves to death.” He’s a hard bargainer, I guess he has to stay for at least a cup.
“Okay,” I took the tea set from him and set it up on the stove. I pulled out a cup for myself too as the set only had one. He didn’t say anything as I made the peppermint tea, he just watched me from his chair. The stare this time was almost overwhelming. I had just given him a gift, he liked it, and he asked me to make tea with it. There also had to be something said for him not caring enough about the officer party to stay here. I most definitely kept my back to him so he couldn’t see the harsh red that painted my face. It didn’t help that I could feel his stare from behind me.
“Do you not drink much?” I broke to silence because I was going to go crazy or have a heart attack. He shifted behind me.
“I drink, just not with people I don’t like. The Garrison Officers are also attending.” I nodded and noted the one Captain who comes to my café on his morning shifts. I wouldn’t want to drink with them too.
“I don’t blame you. They come in here sometimes. Loud.” He hummed in agreement and I just watched the tea brew. It felt like these minutes were taking hours.
“Why do you ask? You want to drink with me?” I finally turned around and put my hands up; the same way I did when we had the bed misunderstanding.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I was just asking that’s all. I-I mean I’m not against it, if you’re asking just in general. I drink too. Not a lot because I’m working, but I can if I want to, yeah.” I turned back around and cursed at myself. Great at hiding that. Now Levi was gaining points in my game.
“Sure, I’ll drink with you sometime. I can probably drink you under the table.” Man, everything had to be a contest. Such a competitive boy. I finally gained composure to turn around and join him and the table with the tea. Thank gods I closed the front windows.
“I don’t know. I can outdrink Jonas on a good day.” He rolled his eyes and took his first sip out of the new cup. It looked like it fit his weird grip well.
“I’m sure anyone can outdrink that idiot.”
“You don’t even know him and you’re calling him an idiot. In fact, he has great common sense.” He smirked and took another sip, probably to stifle some insult he had lined up.
“Usually when they say you have common sense, they mean you’re an idiot.” Nope, it was not stifled. It was just simmering. I couldn’t disagree with that statement.
“Did you enjoy the festival?” He shrugged and switched legs again.
“I was having an okay time watching from above when I saw this one girl losing terribly. I had to go save her from that fate.” Levi, the bunny, was still sitting on the counter too.
“What a damsel in distress! I’m sure she’s glad you saved her from the judgement of prepubescent boys. You even got them wanting to come to the café.” He tched again.
“Why were you with them anyways? The girl looked uncomfortable.” I set my cup down on the table and rested my elbow on the table.
“That girl’s name is June and she likes one of the boys in that group. I was just teasing her. You helped her cause too because I told the boys to ask her when you came to my café. You might have them at your ankles the next time you come.” He groaned and put his cup down too. It was still half full, which meant he wasn’t leaving yet.
“So you get a stuffed animal and I get a bunch of brats at my neck. That’s how the damsel in distress thanks her knight.” Maybe he didn’t mean it, but when he said her knight, as in possessive, I read into it a bit too much. I’m sure he meant nothing by it.
“Well I gave you the tea set so it evens out.” He shook his head, tapping the table.
“No, you got the tea set before you even knew about this game. You can’t opt out.”
“Hey, hey, hey who paid for you to even play that game to begin with? Me.” He shook his head again, adamant about his equal exchange.
“Exactly. You paid, I gave the rodent. You gave those brats my location, I’ve gotten nothing in return.” It was my turn to tch him as I leaned more forward, head resting in my hands. He did the same, but just one elbow and he wasn’t sitting crisscrossed.
“They aren’t brats, they’re kids.”
“Same thing.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Arguing with him was so fun to do. It was a weird thing to like, but it was fun. It wasn’t arguing, but bickering. Maybe it would seem annoying to the people around us, but trying to prove Levi wrong, the person who thinks he’s always right, was a feat I was happy to take on.
“Are you falling asleep on me?” I shook my head, eyes still closed.
“Just thinking.”
“About what?” You.
I took another deep breath trying to silence my heart. My eyes snapped open.
“Cedar.” That was the third one. Mint tea, lemon soap, and cedar. I had gotten close enough to him to figure it out. It had to be the countless ODM trainings in the trees.
“You’re thinking about trees?” It was the way his breath hit my face that I knew he was close. I didn’t want to look over and lock eyes with him because I knew if I did the heart that I worked so hard to silence would start up again. No, Levi, I’m thinking about you, but I just can’t come out and tell you that.
“Yeah.” He huffed, air again hitting my face, and I just stayed looking at the tea set. This time, I was even nervous to look at him. Not a lot of things flew past Levi, so if he saw how I reacted to our closeness he would think something was up. I wasn’t ready to give this up yet… or was I?
I mean I said that I sorted out my feelings. And if I was going to not act like a schoolgirl, like I had promised myself, then I could look at him and not get starstruck or anything. What was any different from a few months ago to now? He’s been in my house multiple times and I’ve slept a few feet away. What was the point of being meek about it? Yeah, I was going to do it.
When I looked at him, he had his eyes closed. Damn, there goes that pep talk. It was like he was sleeping. Peaceful. No harsh lines. Everything was calm and serene for him. He looked so handsome just sitting here like that. The moonlight casting down on his face from the side window didn’t help my feelings. Nor did the fact that he was staying here with me and not with the officers. Or the fact that he had swoop down and been my knight at the festival… This man was trying to kill me.
I leaned in. Apparently, we had lost all self control in those few moments looking at him, but, come on, how was I supposed to control myself when he was looking like that? I didn’t know what I was even doing kissing him like that because I knew he wouldn’t react any other way than he did. I set myself up for failure.
His lips were soft and tasted like tea and I only got to kiss them for maybe two or three seconds before he realized what was going on. He didn’t kiss back and I think he just opened his eyes, studied the situation, and sat back when he realized. I didn’t look up at him after. I just closed my eyes and positioned my head to the ground. Him pulling away like that was telling enough. I’d lost and ruined the game we were playing. There was no way to pretend now and Levi only wanted to pretend. Nevermind my racing heart.
“D-Do, um, do you have the, um, what are they called? The pastries? For the party?” His voice was low and I swore at myself that I didn’t just give them to him before and let him go. He was the one who asked for tea.
“Yeah.” It was breathy and I didn’t look at him when I stood up and went to put the turnovers in the paper box. I even labeled it To the Officers of the Scouts. Now I felt so stupid in doing that. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
I shouldn’t have kissed him.
I handed it to him and he didn’t say anything. The door closed, signaling that he was gone. I let out a long groan and sank down behind the counter hoping I could hide from everything. The chairs and the tables saw it. They were laughing at me. I really thought I could kiss Captain Levi and get away with it. The man who doesn’t even know what emotions were was going to sort them out in time to kiss me back? No.
I guess it was six months. That’s how long it took till the Captain didn’t come back.
Chapter Seven→
Chapter Masterlist
A double update for you all :) What do you think’s going to happen to them? Hehe.
#levi ackerman#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman x oc#levi x reader#snk levi#levi attack on titan#levi x oc#aot#aot levi#snk#shingeki no kyojin#shingeki no kyoujin levi#levi heichou#captain levi#original character
54 notes
·
View notes
Text
Student No. 22 —
m a s t e r l i s t
pairing: shinsou hitoshi x f!reader x class1a
genre: 1tbsp of crack, 1 tsp of fluff, a sprinkle of angst and 1 cup of chaotic randomness
synopsis: y/n was certain she would never be a Hero. She had a different goal in her mind, and that is to be a great doctor someday. With a terrible past she wants to forget, she vows she would never use her Quirk and will never let the world know what it is. Not until she finds out that the invincible quirk she thought she has can also have a certain weakness.
random updates
a/n: canon Shinsou is joining hero class for their second year but I'm gonna make him part of Class 1A already yay!
OO4.1 : Hero vs Villain —
You can feel the tension wash over you when every student started to pile out the changing rooms and proceeded towards the training ground. The farther you drag your feet, the deeper your thoughts ran riot. Who was the person who just controlled you? How did that happen so fast and why did Aizawa never bothered stopping the fight? The secret you hold on to for so long was now out in the open for the whole class to see. The adrenaline rush you felt earlier started to subside, panic once again spreading on your nerves.
Was this their plan from the start? You stopped in your tracks upon realization, clenching your fists, knuckles turning white...are they trying to control and use you? Is the HSPC behind this? Are they going to make you into something like Hawks is? You shuddered with the thought.
A warm hand suddenly pulled you out of reverie. Asui, was it? The green haired girl stood in front of you with worried eyes. "y/n-chan?" she tilted her head sideways, "Is everything okay?"
It’s not the question that startled you, but the idea of someone worrying for you shook you to the core. Growing up in a household without any affection, the warmth of the hand comforting you somehow made you feel at ease. Your eyes soften until the tension on your shoulders loosens a bit “Asui-san, is there--”
"You can call me Tsuyu," she says.
“Uhmm Tsuyu-san, actually--” you started to fidget when more of your classmates started to hover beside you. Tsuyu and her friends were now circling you asking if you were all right. Midoriya carried on staring at you somehow urging you to confide to them. After some thought, you mentally sighed and told them.
"Earlier about what happened...I didn't mean to fight that guy. My body--"
You looked at them with hesitation on your eyes, "Someone was controlling me. I wasn't in control, but my body was moving on its own telling me to fight him. After that... everything suddenly turned blurry until I slapped myself. I swear I'm not..." you sighed, your eyes meeting Todoroki’s mismatched colored ones.
"-bad." the last word turned into a hush.
Were you trying to convince them? Or were you trying to tell that yourself? The idea of being controlled somehow made you twitch in disgust, but the thought of crushing someone else's dreams weighed you even down. This is why you don't want anyone to find out about it. People obsessing over Quirks, people limiting their selves cause of it...you don’t want any of that. You don’t want to hinder anyone, so why can’t the HPSC leave you all alone?
The four of them exchange knowing glances, Uraraka was the first to speak, "We know. It's because you replied back to him." She looked at Midoriya.
"Him?"
"Ahh...Shinsou-kun. The guy sitting next to you in class." Midoriya pressed a hand on the back of his neck, lost in thoughts.
Todoroki supplied, "His Quirk is Brainwashing.”
“I don't have any idea why he would suddenly use his Quirk against you since it is not allowed inside the classroom. But can I ask you a question y/n?" Midoriya continued.
Brainswashing...so that's why. You nodded, mentally listing reasons on why he would do so and how his Quirk passed through yours. The shocking realization made you want to know more about him and his power. How and why can he pass yours? Your invincible Quirk you once thought was impermeable now has a weakness...interesting.
The five of you started to walk again towards the exit, waiting for Midoriya to shoot his question. He awkwardly waved his hands, eyes not looking at yours, telling you that it's okay not to answer if you're uncomfortable with it.
"I-I've never seen any Quirk like yours. I thought that Aizawa-sensei erased Kacchan's quirk when he was fighting you, but the fire explosions kept coming. Yet your body somehow takes the blow and the fire disappears right after hitting you leaving no damage at all. You can nullify fire attacks? But you also have Stealth since you ran so fast. Do you have multiple Quirks?" he mumbled continuously lost in his own trail of thoughts.
He looked really interested, a look just like yours whenever you take notes about different Quirks and their weaknesses on your notes. You sighed a small smile lingers on the corner of your lips. They just saw what happened but why are they acting so interested and not disgusted by it? Why are they so excited to find out about it? You expected them to reject you just like all those kids who harmed you when you were young. The main reason why you were home-schooled and never let anyone know about you. Should you just go on and tell them? You debated but before you could reply, the class representative were calling all of you to hurry up.
-----------------
Class 1-A stood infront of the large gates of the training ground— ruins and buildings scattered behind just like a city damaged by a real battle.
Holding a box, Aizawa’s tired eyes settles on everyone in front of him. “I’ll draw your names out.” His voiced drawled out in exhaustion. “7 teams in total. A group will consist of 2 heroes and one villain to act out. The only way to win is when you capture your enemies with this tape or if you get this badge pinned on your enemies. Once taped or the pin is stolen from you, you’re not allowed to fight anymore.” Aizawa held up a little button pin with a red x mark.
Iida realizing that there are now twenty two of them stuck out his hand, “Sensei!”
But before he could ask his question Aizawa already supplied an answer, “This class exercise will help you in situations were in heroes who never worked together before will get to partner up and adapt to the situation to defeat the villain. Since there are 22 of you now, one group will have 2 villains. The first two I’ll call will be the heroes and the last one would be the villain. Just group yourselves once called and proceed to the waiting room after I’ve finished.”
Aizawa started calling out names. And maybe the gods of misfortune are on your side after hearing your own name called out in the first group. Belatedly realizing that you’ll be facing the same two people who you fought minutes after you introduced yourself in class.
Whispers soon started to rise when your name was called after Bakugou and Shinsou. A look of excitement soon spread across the blonde one. Shinsou on the other hand, had his shoulders slumped, stealing some glances on your way. Midoriya must have read the panic on your face, because he waved his hands mumbling once again and good naturedly tried to comfort you.
“y/n,” Aizawa’s voice drowned out the whispers as everyone’s attention were now on you. “Think of this as a first step in our agreement. Maybe you’ll soon find an answer once this exercise is finished. You can go all out.” He then pets your head, another unfamiliar gesture that shocked you. “This class will treat you as a hopeful hero just like them. You already showed you’re more than capable. If you accept yourself that you have that potential, maybe you’ll realize the answer for yourself.”
With that Aizawa proceeded to leave. The other students started to follow, leaving you Bakugou and Shinsou on the training ground. But before Midoriya could leave, you run towards him asking something you forgot earlier.
“Midoriya-kun, about his Quirk,” you whispered. “How does his Brainwashing works?”
Bakugou noticed Deku talking to the new student. Feeling someone’s gaze were on you locked eyes wthi the guy Midoriya kept calling Kacchan. He grunted with a smirk on his face “I’ll let you know who’s the strongest. Hey you--” he called out to Shinsou. “Don’t get in my way.” With that he walked towards the front of the gates leaving you three behind.
“Remember what I told you?” Midoriya asked once again. You nodded, thanking him for some information about your assigned enemies.
Shinsou looked at you when you walked towards them as you all waited for the gates to open. Sill feeling guilty about what happened, the apology left unsaid was still hanging on his mouth.
You breathe, trying to smooth the wrinkle on your shirt. “Don’t.”
“Don’t?” he asked confused, tilting his head to look at you eye to eye.
“Don’t apologize, Shinsou-kun,” his name rolling out of your mouth made him unable to spit out the apology.
You looked up at him, meeting his gaze. “I have a feeling they used you to get what they want. I won’t let them control me. I won’t let them get their way. I’ll do this my way.” You stared back at his dark purple irises, determined to let them know that your power is nothing important nor interesting. That the HPSC are just obsessed over your late parents’ Quirk experiments, looking for another set of talents for them to hone and use for their own good. You refused to be like them, to be like him.
“I can be a Hero in my own way. But if what they want is to let them see me use my Quirk, I’ll show it to them.” You grit your teeth accepting your fate. “Besides,”
A siren blasts signaling that the exercise is now starting. As soon as the gates opened Bakugou sprinted towards the designated Hero base, leaving you two behind.
“Besides, I need to know how you got me earlier.” You looked at him once again. “I won’t let you do that again to me.” With that being said, you ran towards your designated spot with a new found determination.
Shinsou places his detachable mask over his mouth, a small smile placed on his lips. “Like I said I worked my way to be able to sit where I am. I always dreamed of being a Hero. I’ll fight my way again to reach for that.” He races behind you, realizing that there’s a part of you similar to him.
“You’re not a villain just cause of your power, silly girl. So don’t hold back. Cause I sure hell won’t.” He shouted as he fall behind you.
You were tempted to answer, but recalling what Midoriya had told you, you bit your tongue to stop yourself. So instead you mouthed the words, “I WON’T.” Leaving Shinsou dazed once again as you ran in full speed leaving him on the empty streets of the training ground.
“Ahhh I should really work on my stamina,” he murmurs to himself as he catches his breath, running to where his hot-headed partner would be.
taglist: @sugarandsoft @roesaurus @moonlightbae14 @therealwalmartjesus @redperson58 @i-bitch-you-bitch @allie-munoz
🍥 general taglist: @b0ku4ka @skusamiya @chibishae34
i got a taglist im soft ~ want to join? just leave a comment or send an ask my dudes ✨
likes, comments and reblogs is highly appreciated 🐣 ✨
#shinsou hitoshi#bnha#bnha x reader#hitoshi shinsou#class 1a#shinou hitoshi x reader#class 1a x reader#bnha fic#shinsou hitoshi x y/n#shinsou hitoshi x f!reader#sey writes#🔖: student no. 22
74 notes
·
View notes
Text
Why Do I Love You? - Asmodeus x Reader
A/N: I’ve been writing this for way too fucking long lmao. I’ve never written smut before, so this isn’t the best, but I tried. It’s also been a hot min since I’ve posted a fic. Hope y’all enjoy. Requests are also still open, if anyone’s interested.
WC: 2215
Warning(s): nsfw content, oral sex (m), angst (ya gotta squint to see it lmao), slightly graphic details of violence (no actual violence), slight description of the feeling of drowning, but no actual drowning.
fic below the cut .3.
Love is a dangerous game, especially the kind of love where you feel as though your lungs are filling with water, your chest being crushed from pressure. Still, love can make you feel alive, reviving and bringing new life to you. Call it a gamble, a game of chance. Many avoid love, not wanting to play a game they’re gonna lose.
Asmodeus has been alive for so long that he doesn’t even remember how long he’s been in existence. Over the course of his long life, he has had many lovers, who have all come and gone at one point or another. Yet, with each and every one of those lovers, it wasn’t love, but lust. The demon is well versed and knowledgeable with the concept of lust, being the Avatar of Lust. It’s all he knows. Of course, he’s okay with it, as he doesn’t need to love anyone to be adored by all. In fact, it’s not something he often thinks about, since he is the Avatar of Lust, not the Avatar of Love. Everyone will love him no matter what he says or does. At least, that’s what he believed. Was it possible for anyone to not grovel at his feet, lusting after him? Often, he finds himself reassuring himself that, no, it was not possible for someone to not love him. He is perfect.
When the human first arrived in the Devildom, of course he was intrigued. New blood, someone he could add to his body count, so to speak. It had been quite a while since he’d been in contact with a human, other than Solomon, the shady sorcerer. Frustration consumed him as he learned that the human isn’t susceptible to his Charm, which is known to charm even the strongest-willed witches and wizards. How can an ordinary human with no magic whatsoever remain unaffected by his Charm? Still, it’s never deterred him. He is known to be persistent, and won’t stop until he can get the human in his bed and gain their affection. The human is realistic, honest with him. Something he isn’t used to. Everyone has always been so quick to shower him with praise, complimenting his face, fashion, body, skills in bed, whatever. They don’t worship him, unlike his partners in the past. Despite that, he always finds himself wanting to hear the human’s thoughts and opinions on everything about him.
Butterflies fill his stomach at the thought of the human, something he isn’t sure he’s felt before. Why should he care about someone who doesn’t think he’s the best creature in existence? When the human disagrees with him, he finds himself getting frustrated, throwing makeup brushes and lotion bottles around his room. When he calms down, he reluctantly picks them up, wanting to keep his room immaculate, but not wanting to actually clean his own mess. Yet, he keeps going back to them, only for them to be swept away by one of his meddling brothers, Mammon in particular? He doesn’t understand why they would want to even be in the presence of that greedy scumbag. Too many times, he’s had to complain to Lucifer about some of his more expensive skin or hair care products going missing.
Placing his hand on the table next to the human, he leans toward them with a small grin on his face. Their eyebrows raise in a question, as if asking what do you want? He’s getting to that. Be patient, human. “So, I went shopping with Mammon the other day and I bought tons of new lotions and oils. I was wondering if you wanted to try them with me? Of course you do, what am I saying? Who wouldn’t want an excuse to hang out with me?” With a small sigh that he chooses to ignore, they stand up to follow him to his room. Excited, he practically skips to his room, the human in tow.
Upon reaching his room, he wraps his fingers around the doorknob and pulls it open, stepping inside to sit on his bed. The human follows, shutting the door behind them. “Oh?~ Naughty human,” he says, a glint of mischief in his eyes. They just sigh and settle on the bed, not too far, but not close enough. That’s okay, he’ll just close the distance. Scooting over, he reaches over to his nightstand, where he had set his lotions in preparation for the human arriving home from Hell’s Kitchen, where they’d gone with Beel.
“You’re annoying,” they say, rolling their eyes at him.
“Ah, but you love it~” He coos, snapping open the lid of one of the many lotions, squeezing a dollop of the cream into his hand. “C’mere.” The demon gestures to the human, rubbing the lotion onto their skin when they oblige. “This lotion will make your skin so soft~ And it makes you smell absolutely delicious~” His voice drips with seduction, tempting the human to let their guard down. To let him in.
“It does smell pretty good,” they admit, watching Asmodeus massage their hands with his slender fingers. A fanged smile appears on the demon’s face as he works, rubbing his thumbs in small circles on their palms. Once he’s finished, he lets go of their hands, reaching for the lotion bottle once more. Maybe it’s some Devildom magic, but the lotion seems to be working immediately, the human notes to themselves, feeling the soft flesh of their hands.
Humming, Asmodeus massages the lotion into his own hands, watching the human out of the corner of his eye. Just watching them, he feels the urge to pounce on them, ‘helping’ them give into their darkest desires. Unfortunately for him, his Charm doesn’t seem to have an effect on them, which is irritating, to say the least. What made them so powerful that they, an ordinary human being, could resist the temptation of the Avatar of Lust? He was curious, really. Curious to crack open their head and discover what’s inside. Amongst the blood and brain matter, he was sure to find something. The source of their power, maybe. Though he would never actually hurt the human, just the thought of the sickening crack of a skull got him excited, his pants becoming a little too tight. No, he could never hurt them. They mean too much to him. Hell, he can even go as far as saying that he loves them.
“Dude, what the fuck?” The human’s voice draws him from his reverie. Their eyes are a little too focused on his growing erection, he notices. “Are you getting hard from putting on lotion?’
“No. I just love you so much~,” he croons, his tone dark, sending a shiver down the human’s spine. Was the shiver from fear from his sudden mood change, or was it lust? His question is soon answered when the human slides off the bed, slipping in between his legs. They look so pretty on their knees, though it isn’t too often that he gets to see them in that position. The sight excites him.
Looking down at the human kneeling between his legs, he runs his fingers through their hair, as they rest their hands on his clothed thighs. His breath catches in his throat as he stares down at them, their eager eyes shining brightly back at him. Pink eyes follow the human’s hands as it inches closer to his crotch. He swallows thickly as their fingers latch onto the zipper of his pants, pulling it down, all while making eye contact with him. Their eyes are darkened with lust. For some reason, he feels a sudden pang of anxiety, but the routine is the same as it always is. The human notices and pauses, their eyes filling with concern.
“Are you okay, Asmo?” They ask, their voice soft, filling him with a new warmth.
Shaking his head, he swallows again and replies, “No, it’s okay. You can keep going.” As an afterthought, he adds another sentence to his reply, “Only if you want to, of course.”
“I want to.” Their eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting...strange.”
His signature grin creeps onto his face. Is he okay? No. Is he going to pretend that he is? Yes. “Of course, sweetheart. You’re always so concerned about me,” he says, a giggle bubbling from his throat as his manicured fingers brush the human’s cheek. “And I’m not strange! You’re so cruel to me!” A fake pout spread across his lips as he teased the human seated between his legs.
He squeals as the human smacks his inner thigh. “I’m not cruel. You’re just sensitive.” They stick out their tongue at him and he goes to bite it, but they’re quick to reel it back in. “Don’t bite me, you toad.”
“C’mon,” he whines. “Just do what you came here to do and suck me off! I need you right now~” He palms himself through his pants, impatient.
“You’re so whiny,” they remark, smacking his hands away so that they can pull down his pants. He huffs, but doesn’t reply, just closing his eyes instead. Once his pants are down, he feels their hands on him, feeling him through his boxers. A small groan escapes his lips as he opens his eyes to look down at them. They're just a simple human. How could they have enraptured him in the manner that they did? The demon of Lust, pinned under the thumb of a weak, powerless human.
Grinning up at him, they shimmy his boxers down his legs, allowing his hardened cock to spring free from its confinements. A bead of precum oozes from the reddened tip. The human swipes their thumb along the demon’s slit, collecting the precum on the digit. They lick their thumb, looking him in the eyes the whole time. He shudders, the human’s actions exciting him.
Slowly, they lick along his length, starting from the base, slicking it in their saliva. They’ve barely done anything, but he’s putty in their hands, twitching and groaning softly. “You’re so sensitive,” they say, pausing their ministrations to blow on his tip, feeling a shudder wrack through his body. He bucks his hips lightly as they wrap their lips around his tip, giving it a soft suck. Annoyed, they pull away, sitting back on their heels.
“I’m sorry! I’ll be a good boy, I promise!” He whines, trying to slip his cock back between their lips.They’re stubborn, though, and seal their lips shut. “C’mon~ Please?” Seeing that they’re not going to give in so easily, he pulls back, starting to stroke himself, using the human’s drying saliva and his own precum as a lubricant. His hand slides up and down the length of his cock with ease and he can see the human in front of him, watching.
After watching him for a few seconds, they nudge his hand away, replacing it with their own. Asmodeus whimpers softly as their hand glides along his length. The whimpers turn to moans when they start teasing his slit with their tongue. Warmth encases his cock as the human takes him in their mouth, sucking as they slide more of him into their mouth. His hips buck again, and he can feel the human gagging and trying to keep his hips still. Their gagging just turns him on more, making him want to fuck their mouth until he cums. Yet doesn’t, allowing them to keep control of the situation. He’ll be the perfect pillow prince for them. Maybe they’ll even fuck him, if he’s a good boy.
His fingers comb through their hair as they suck him off, gently pulling them further down his cock, feeling their throat clench around the intrusion. They gag again, focusing on breathing through their nostrils. He isn’t going to last long, he can feel it. Their throat is just so warm and tight.
Not too long after, he reaches his breaking point, spilling down their throat without warning. They pull away, wiping saliva and cum off their face. He stares silently at them for a few seconds, before grabbing them and pulling them up towards his bed. His human is so beautiful and he wants to show them how much he loves them, but they pull away, shaking their head.
“No, this isn’t about me. I just wanted to help you out,” they explain, making their way to the door. “This lotion smells really nice, by the way.” The door opens and Asmodeus starts to speak, causing them to pause briefly in the doorway, waiting to hear what he has to say.
“I love you,” he says. His eyes widen as he realizes what he just said, but it’s too late to take it back.
“I love you too, Asmodeus,” they reply, shutting the door behind him. Their response stuns him into silence, though he wants to call them back in.
But why do I love you?, he wonders to himself. Why now? After centuries of only loving himself, why does he love someone else? Loving someone else adds unnecessary complications to his life. For his whole existence, he’s worn his heart on his cheek, not on his sleeve. The bitter taste of defeat lingers in his mouth as he stares at his door that the human had just left through.
#swd#shall we date#swd om#swd obey me#shall we date obey me#shall we date om#asmodeus#obey me asmodeus#obey me asmo#om asmodeus#om asmo#asmo#obey me mc#om mc#asmodeus x reader#om asmodeus x reader#obey me fanfic#om fanfic#obey me#om#obey me asmodeus x reader#asmobby#asmo x reader#om asmo x reader#obey me asmo x reader#obey me smut#obey me x reader
88 notes
·
View notes
Note
Levi being protective of a young male recruit who saved him from a bunch of Titans when he was injured during a mission?
A/N: Thank you for the request ❤ I don't often write from the male perspective (something I need to work on) so please feel free to give me any pointers or constructive feedback to make it better. I also went slightly off piste here and it's more centred on the recruit protecting Levi but I hope you don't mind! Please also note I never write adults/underage relationships (not that you were requesting that I just want my followers to know 😊) the reader is aged up (at least 18). Enjoy!
**********************************************
You breathed deeply, focusing on the repetitive gallop of your horse as you watched the familiar walls vanish from view as you passed through the main gate. Your vision was suddenly swimming with green, endless grass and fields stretching to the horizon. You were momentarily stunned, your mind unable to process how views could stretch so far given your captivity within the walls.
This was your first expedition into the outside world and you could feel the nerves rippling through your fellow scouts around you. The formation was being led by Captain Levi and you kept your eyes trained on him waiting for any sudden commands. You had been selected for his squad after demonstrating your skill when using the omnidirectional gear and were keen to make a good first impression.
After just a few minutes out in the open you saw a black flair close to right hand side. Already!? You tried to quell the panic in your chest as your eyes searched the horizon. It wasn't long before an abnormal titan came into view, galloping fast on all fours and frothing at the mouth as it sought its prey. You calculated that you had probably around a minute before it reached the formation and you felt a small amount of vomit build up in your mouth, quickly turning to spit onto the floor.
'Brats - this is what I want you to do -' Levi starts but is cut off by the explosion of three red flairs to the left of the formation. More titans!? This was turning into a nightmare already.
'I would normally suggest we outrun them but the abnormal is too close. All of you - take out the three on the left and I'll handle the abnormal.' Levi reels off, calm and composed as ever as he tugs the reigns of his horse and veers off to the right.
'Come on then you ugly shit.' You hear his voice distantly as he rides towards the abnormal without a shred of fear. You watch him for a few seconds before swallowing hard and deciding it's time to act.
As you veer off to the left and make your way towards your fellow scouts, the sight is one that will sit with you forever. You can hear the shrill screaming from those that were situated closest to the approaching titans, as there arms and legs are torn from their body. You know that titans aren't supposed to have any free will but there's something sickening about the way they seem to slowly remove the limbs first, ensuring the victim suffers as much as possible before killing them.
You urge your horse to go faster, your fear dissipating and replaced with the need to do something, anything, to save your comrades.
You don't think twice as you discharge your grappling hooks straight into the fleshy back of one of the titans, propelling yourself forward towards it's grasping hands. You use your gas to dodge it's reaching hands and release your blades to slash it's eyes, which explode almost instantly and the hot blood covers your cloak. Now blinded, the titan grabs at the air hopelessly and you're able to easily land on its back and deliver the fatal blow to its nape.
You let out a breath that you hadn't even realised you'd been holding - your first kill. But there was no time to celebrate as the screams of your comrades entered your focus again. You were able to take down the second titan much like the first but the third was much larger and with nothing of height to grapple onto anymore you were forced to run and dodge it's stamping feet.
As you ran wildly having lost your house, you noticed a figure fast approaching in the distance. Captain Levi was riding as though his life depended on it but even from a distance you could see that his face was stained dark crimson with blood that wasn't evaporating - meaning it had to be his own.
'Captain!' You called frantically amongst the chaos. Levi met your gaze briefly before launching his hooks straight at the remaining titan. Even from your position on the ground you could see that something was wrong - his movement through the air was floppy and uncoordinated and his face twisted in pain as he hurtled himself forward.
Your heart stopped as you watched the titans large hand reach out and snatch Levi from the sky, closing its grip around him as he struggled and tried to cut its wrists with his blades. As the titan brought his struggling form towards its mouth, Levi stopped suddenly and bellowed a final order as he accepted his impending death.
'RETREAT!' He ordered and you made the decision to defy him, firing your hooks straight into the arm of the titan and propelled yourself forward. You swung your blades as hard as you could, chest filling with relief as you were able to successfully sever the arm holding Levi. He fell like a stone but you had to time to help him as you used your gas to rise and twist yourself in the air, dropping down and slicing through the titans nape. You held onto it's defeated form as it collapsed into the ground, quickly hopping off and sprinting towards Levi's crumpled form.
'Captain?' You enquired urgently, holding his face and studying his ashen experience. Fortunately he was conscious and his eyes darted around, seemingly surprised that he was still alive.
You looked around and were relieved to see that at least half a dozen scouts remained although the loss suffered was already beginning to weigh on your mind.
'Everyone retreat. Back to the wall!' You shouted and the others began whistling for the horses, a few of which began galloping back towards you. You looked nervously over to Levi, expecting a beasting for speaking for him but he merely nodded grimly, face contorting in pain once again.
'Here Captain.' You gestured, clutching the reigns of the horse you'd managed to wrangle tight.
'You'll have to help me. Ribs are broken.' He muttered and you nodded quickly, noting how light he was for someone so strong as you lifted him and placed him onto the horse. He dipped forward dangerously, threading his hands around the reigns so you jumped on behind him and sandwiched him between your forearms to keep him steady.
The ride back was fast but with a heavily silence. Levi didn't say a single word the whole time a part from a few grunts where you jabbed him lightly to make sure he was still conscious.
He stayed in the medical bay for the next 3 days. All of the scouts were stunned by what happened - the thought that humanity's strongest could be anything but invincible was unfathomable to them.
You grew incredibly irritated at the rumours surrounding Levi's injuries and kept your mouth firmly shut about your own involvement. One of the newer recruits who had yet to visit outside the walls but was hopelessly arrogant was the only one to draw a reaction from you.
'So not humanity's strongest after all? I always knew they were exaggerating about that pipsqueak.' You heard him snicker to another scout one day and the look on his face made your blood boil.
You roughly grabbed him shoulder and gave him a hard stare. 'Captain Levi has 89 confirmed kills and you haven't had a single visit outside of the wall. Are you really in a position to be criticising?' You hiss and the scout's face twists with anger.
'Who the fuck asked you L/N? Bored yet of playing teachers pet?' He spits at you and your grip on his shirt tightens.
'You should earn some respect, cadet.' You raise your voice a little and his next move takes you completely unexpectedly as he delivers a hard punch to your cheek and you feel the world move sideways as you fall to the ground. Not to be bested by some little punk, you're on your feet in seconds and pummel him in the face until he squeals at you to stop. You would have carried on but his face is so pathetic it makes you sick. You take your leave quickly when you hear others approaching, not wanting your name to be carried around the barracks.
Levi calls for you on the third day and your stomach twists with nerves as you make your way towards the sick bay. There a deep purple bruise now blossomed across your cheek from where that little shit hit you and you mentally prepare yourself to brush it off the moment he decides to bring it up.
You enter the sick bay and notice that Levi is sat on the side of his bed, dressed in a casual long sleeved grey shirt that opens slightly at the chest and dark trousers. He looks a little tired, bags more pronounced than usual but much better than his condition a few days ago.
'Y/N.' He greets you with a nod and you're surprised to hear your first name being used.
'Captain.' You respond politely and Levi tsks quietly. 'Call me Levi, I hate those bullshit formalities.' You nod, cheeks heating up slightly as he gestures for you to sit next to him. You notice his glance at your cheek and scowl slightly but there's clearly more pressing matters on his mind.
'I wanted to discuss the expedition.' He starts and gestures you to sit next to him.'
'Why did you defy my order to retreat?' In classic Levi fashion, he does not beat around the bush as he asks you the question, steel grey eyes boring into you as you pause for a few seconds to consider your response.
'You were about to be eaten.' You state after a few moments, deciding not to embellish the response with any complex reasoning for why you saved him.
'That is true. But you and your comrades could have easily been killed also.' Levi reasoned with a raised eyebrow. It made you want to look away but his gaze kept you rooted.
'I made that assessment myself at the time and believed that the chance of saving you without harming myself or the others was high.' You stated with a slight tremor to your voice.
'I see.' Levi pauses and sighs, seemingly unsatisfied with his own thought process. 'It appears that I underestimated your abilities. Don't get me wrong you could do with some fine tuning but you've made a fine addition to my squad.' He adds stiffly and you know that's the closest you're going to get to a compliment or a thank you. You feel your chest bloom with pride and Levi watches the smile tugging at your lips.
'Thank you sir, it's an honour to serve under you.'
'Levi.' He reminds you but he sounds gentler this time. You tense up when he suddenly reaches out to brush his fingertips against the bruise on your cheek. Despite the calloused feel of his fingers from years of battle and training, his touch was light.
'What happened?'
'It's nothing...just a disagreement.' You reply awkwardly, silently willing your face not to heat up as he retracts his hand.
'Between you and another scout?'
'Yes.'
'Was it about the expedition?' Levi's eyes are boring into you again and you know there is no point lying. He's not blind to other's opinions on him, although you doubt he cares much.
'...Yes.'
'I see. The name?'
'I'm not going to tell you that. It's resolved now.' You squirm slightly as you speak, embarrassed at the thought of the captain reprimanding the other scout on your behalf.
'Fine.' Levi huffs and the two of you sit in tense silence for a few moments. 'For the two counts of insubordination, I want you to clean my office every night for one month.'
'But, Sir I-' You're about to say I saved you but fortunately stop yourself.
'Better make it two months.' Levi shrugs but you can see a smirk forming on his lips and your annoyance fades away at the thought that he might just want to spend some time with you.
#levi ackerman headcanon#levi ackerman fic#levi ackerman imagine#levi ackerman x reader#levi x reader#levi prompts
96 notes
·
View notes
Text
Misery and Happiness Ch 5
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Summary: Word of an injured, possibly dead witcher has reached Jaskier in his travels and as much as he would like to walk away, he knows he can't.
Note: part of this chapter was inspired by this post by @kalinara so thank you for the inspiration!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It’s time, Jaskier decides, for Geralt to answer his questions. The bard knew that he shouldn’t press, should give Geralt more of a chance to rest and recover, but Jaskier deserved answers and he couldn’t quite trust that Geralt wouldn’t up and leave at the earliest opportunity.
Jaskier stares at Geralt, wondering how to begin his questioning. As much anger and bitterness running through the bard as there is, he still wants to be delicate. He doesn’t know what’s happening in the witchers mind, and if his delusional rambling was anything to go on, Jaskier hadn’t known what was going on in Geralt’s mind for a while.
“How were you wounded?” Jaskier finally questions softly, figuring the hunt itself to be the safest topic of discussion.
“Wyvern,” Geralt grunts, answer short and clipped. Not an unexpected response but it still managed to put Jaskier’s teeth on edge. Was it really that difficult to be forthcoming with your answers?
Rolling his eyes, Jaskier sends a scathing look Geralt’s way, “Yes, that I could manage to deduce myself, thanks. Were there too many? I’ve seen you fight these particular beasties before and rarely walk away with a scratch, let alone that nasty of a gash.”
“Just wasn’t paying attention.”
That response gave Jaskier pause, “Weren’t paying attention? That’s not like you during a hunt.” Geralt had once told Jaskier that witchers retired only when they slowed and got killed. Geralt made it a point to be careful on hunts, limiting distractions, like Jaskier’s ramblings, to limit injuries.
“Hmm.”
Jaskier frowned, grunting was not going to cut it this time, “Well surely you knew you were injured, why didn’t you go straight back to town? See to your wound?”
Geralt let out a short sigh, not wanting to continue with this line of questioning, “Took swallow, thought I’d be fine after a nap.”
“Geralt you would have died had I not found you!” Jaskier let out indignantly, a bit louder than he had intended.
“Hazard of the job.”
Jaskier stands abruptly, starting to pace the floor. “I’ve never seen you like that,” Jaskier starts, “you were delirious, even after the fever broke. Nothing you said made sense. You’re were asking for people. Names I’ve never heard. Me.”
Geralt freezes, he hadn’t realized he’d said anything to the bard until after he woke. What had he said? “I’m tired, Jaskier.” The witcher finally responds, not wanting to confront the various possibilities of what the bard might have heard.
Jaskier continues talking, ignoring Geralt’s soft decree, “You called for your mother, at least I think that’s what you were saying. Begged someone named Vesemir for help. Said you needed to find me, apologize to me. Asked me to let you die.” Jaskier’s eyes are staring intently at Geralt, the bard’s emotions are fraught.
Geralt continues staring at the wall, refusing to look at the bard, not knowing what to say. He had no reason to doubt the bard, to disbelieve him. But he also had no explanation, not for his words, not for his feelings. Jaskier’s pleading made it clear he was trying to help, wanted to help, but Geralt couldn’t accept his help, he didn’t deserve it.
A sob wrenches out of Jaskier, drawing the witchers eyes to him, finally. When the witcher still remains silent, Jaskier presses a hand to his face briefly before walking around the room, grabbing his bag and lute, and heading for the door.
Geralt knows he should let the bard go, it’s for the best this way, but he finds himself talking instead.
“She left,” Geralt mutters softly, barely loud enough for the bard to hear. Jaskier stops, stiffening his shoulders but not turning around.
“She left, and I don’t know why. We were travelling, I remember talking to her, telling jokes, singing. And then she was gone. That’s all I remember of my mother. Did I say too much, make her leave?” Geralt’s voice is raw with emotion, with pain, and when Jaskier turns around he can see the sadness on the witcher’s face.
Jaskier thinks of all the times he had wondered the same thing, wondered if he was talking too much. No, he knew he was talking too much, but he always wondered if it would be the thing that made the witcher leave him. Despite his fears, Jaskier never stopped talking, couldn’t bring himself to. And Geralt never left him.
Geralt continues talking, “If she hadn’t left me, left me to witchers, I wouldn’t be here. Wouldn’t be here to make a mess of everything, to ruin everything. I wouldn’t be a monster that destroys everything I touch.”
Jaskier wants to jump in, to cut Geralt’s words off, to assure the witcher that he wasn’t any of the awful things that he had built up in his head, but the bard clamps his mouth shut. The urge to argue Geralt’s worth is strong, always had been, but Jaskier knew the witcher needed this, needed to say these things, and Jaskier needed to hear them. He needed to understand what was going on in the witcher’s head.
“Vesemir trained me. At Kaer Morhen. He’s the closest thing to a parent I have but he helped make me into this thing. This monster with one purpose.” Geralt paused, mouth curling into a grimace, “I can’t even do that right, instead of keeping to myself and killing monsters I keep getting involved with humans. And every time I do, I fuck something up.”
Jaskier stood there, watching Geralt, as the witcher broke down. Six months ago, on a mountain, Jaskier thought he had felt his heart shatter to pieces at the cruel words of his best friend. But here, in an inn in some random village of the continent, watching the strongest man he knew crack in front of him, he felt the shatter of his heart vividly. Before it had been fractured, and it had hurt, but seeing the pain that Geralt was going through was what really did in the poor bard’s heart. Jaskier wants nothing more than to help Geralt, but how?
-
As everything collapsed around him, Geralt couldn’t help but wonder why the bard was still there, staring at him with his piercing eyes.
“Geralt,” the bard begins gently, “our pasts set us on our paths, but they don’t define us.”
Why was the bard being so kind to him? He didn’t deserve it. Hell, he still hadn’t apologized for all the awful things he had said and done to the bard over the years, still hadn’t apologized for the mountain.
Looking into Jaskier’s eyes now, the witcher wasn’t sure he could. He didn’t want to say anything else, was too afraid of what would come out if he kept talking. The bard couldn’t know the real reason he pushed him away, the witcher was too afraid of his own emotions to confront them, let alone tell someone else about them. Particularly the person causing the swirling mess of emotions.
As Geralt continued staring into the bard’s eyes, he watched determination settle across the man’s face. Jaskier stood up straight, head held high, and walked toward Geralt. Slowly the bard knelt in front of the witcher, his gaze steady, the blue of his eyes shining.
“Geralt, it is time for me to talk, and you to listen. You used to be good at it, so let’s give it another try now, yes?” Jaskier said after a few moments, voice steady.
Geralt was certain, in that moment, he would do anything Jaskier asked of him.
The witcher nodded slowly.
#mine#fanfiction#also posted on ao3#misery and happiness#chapter 5#the witcher#the witcher fandom#geralt of rivia#jaskier#eventual geraskier#the boys are dumb but theyll get there#geralt whump#mental trauma#and healing#i just love them#they deserve the world#support your fanfic authors
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fire (Final Automata)
Commander White had to stifle the urge to draw a weapon and wade into combat. Around her, she could tell that the other androids felt the same. It had not been easy to convince her fellows that humans needed to be trained for combat. The more idealistic amongst them were convinced that nothing could harm them, that the androids would always be there to protect them.
She was not so idealistic. She would, of course, gladly lay down her life in defence of the humans that had begun to repopulate Earth, but she was not foolish enough to think that she and the other androids could be everywhere all the time. It was far better, in the long run, for humans to know how to fight even if they didn’t wade into battle the way androids did.
Still, regular training and practice were so different to what she was witnessing right now. This was brutal.
A punch sent Janus stumbling back, and her fists clenched as the teenage boy staggered. He barely managed to keep his footing, and blood trickled from his split lip and most likely broken nose. Bruises and cuts littered the rest of his body, and he could barely keep his grip on the sword he held.
“Is that all?” Diana raised one eyebrow. “Is that all humanity’s greatest hope is capable of?”
The boy snarled and charged again, only to be knocked back. This time, he did loose his footing. He crumpled into a heap, and Commander White was filled with rage. Janus - her son - was there, and he needed her help. She was going to tear Diana limb from limb. She was going to -
“Don’t.” Fraise’s words cut through the haze of fury. “Don’t.”
“She’s hurting him.” Commander White rounded on the pink-haired Faunus, and she could tell that the other androids witnessing the bout were on the verge of ignoring her earlier orders and simply charging into battle in Janus’s defence.
“Trust me.” Fraise’s gaze was firm. “This is important.”
“...”
Commander White growled and turned back to the fight. To her disbelief, Janus managed to get up onto his knees. He was clearly woozy, and one of his eyes had swollen shut, but he forced himself up onto his feet again.
“Stay down.” Diana’s voice was hard.
“No.” Janus shook his head. “Not happening.”
“You can’t win.”
Janus took one step forward and then another and another. “I still have to try.” He swallowed thickly and spat out some blood. “I can’t just give up.”
Diana’s lips twitched. “You think just trying is enough?”
Janus charged. His strikes were slow and clumsy. His injuries and exhaustion had robbed him of his usual good form. Diana dodged his blows with ease and then knocked him back onto the ground.
“Stay down.”
Again, Janus got up.
Again, he got knocked down.
“Stay down...” Commander White whispered. “Why won’t he just stay down?” She knew Diana would end the bout if he just stayed down, and Janus had to know that too. So why wouldn’t he just stay down?
“Look at him.” Fraise’s voice was filled with pride. “Look at the boy... no, the man you’ve raised.”
Commander White did, and for the first time, she no longer saw the boy she’d raised. She saw the man he was becoming. Bleeding, bruised, and barely able to stand, his gaze burned with defiance. Somehow, despite the injuries and exhaustion, he forced his back to straighten and his hands to stop shaking.
Determination.
Perseverance.
Courage.
She understood now.
And Diana had seen enough.
“Heh.” Diana grinned. “That’s about enough.”
“What?” Janus blinked. “I... what?”
“You passed the test.”
Janus stared. The dark-haired teen’s jaw dropped. “How? You beat the crap out of me!”
“Did you really think you were supposed to win, given what I am?” Diana asked with a chuckle. “The test was never about you winning. It was about how you handled the certainty of defeat. Would you quit and give in to despair, or would you fight?” Diana walked over and pressed one hand to Janus’s chest over his heart. “Why did you keep getting up?”
“I...” Janus shook himself, barely able to stay standing. “I don’t know. I just... I couldn’t bear to let it end like that. I had to fight. I had to try. I just... the thought of giving up... I couldn’t stand it. I had to get back up.”
“Remember that feeling,” Diana said. “Humans are funny people.” Her lips curved up into a smile. “I’ve learned a lot about your people’s history, Janus. You were never the strongest species or the fastest. But you were smart. You were cunning. And you were determined. Your ancestors rose to the top because there wasn’t an ounce of quit in them, because when things got tough, they got tougher. We can teach you how to fight. We can teach you how to build things. But that feeling - that desire to keep going even when it seems impossible to win - that’s something you have to find for yourself. And you have found it. Congratulations.”
“...” Janus blinked blearily. “So...?”
“Heh.” Diana laughed. “Ah, right, You’re a little young for philosophy, but you’ll get it one day.” Her gaze drifted to the androids around them who were all staring at Janus contemplatively. “They already do.”
“Okay...”
Diana snickered. “Just keep this whole thing to yourself, okay? Don’t let the others know. It’ll ruin the point of the exercise. Now, Fraise, can you come over here and get him healed up? There might be a mutiny if everyone sees him like this.”
Commander White breathed a sigh of relief as Fraise began to heal her son. She found herself smiling. Humanity... she and the other androids had often wondered how such fragile creatures - and they were fragile compared to androids - could have achieved such heights. Now, she was beginning to understand.
X X X
Author’s Notes
A bold new future awaits the newborn humans of Earth. It won’t be easy, which is why they have to be ready for it. And, yeah, the Yun approach to philosophy and self-reflection generally involves beating the crap out of people, but it is effective. There is nothing that builds someone’s confidence as much as being put to the test, of being thrust in the fires of adversity, and succeeding. This particular test is one that all Yun undertake although the exact timing of it varies depending on their physical and mental attributes. As a Dia, Fraise understands it purpose as well as anyone, and now the androids do too.
If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.
I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here or on Audible here.
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Desperate Measures 15/?
MASTERLIST: (don’t ask about part ten)
Summary: Raven undergoes a terrible operation to save herself, and Finn recruits delinquents for a mission. Y/N is one of them.
warnings: surgical procedures, swearing, canon-typical stuff
notes: I’m finally back with a chapter and hopefully I’ll be able to update regularly again. Tbh, I feel like no one cares about this story anymore, so seeing it receive some new love has made my heart very very happy. Based on 2x02 “inclement weather”
***
Bellamy paced his cell, the wire digging into his wrists as he waited for another interrogation. Byrne, Sgt. Miller. It was only a matter of time before Kane decided to show up. It was only a matter of time before he had to face the man who had helped float his mother.
Today was that day apparently.
The door slid open. He had seemed taller on the Ark, more intimidating.
Down here he was just another adult who was playing with things they didn’t understand. Another adult who refused to believe them.
“How long are you gonna keep me locked up in here?” Bellamy sighed, his shoulders slumping.
Kane crossed his arms, “As long as it takes until I’m sure you’re not a threat to others.”
He resisted the urge to scoff. The only threat they faced was the grounders.
“Those are my people out there” Bellamy growled, his irritation starting to get the better of him, “I should be out there looking for them, not--”
“You shouldn’t be doing anything” Kane cut him off, tone stern, “Your time of being a leader is over.”
Bellamy clenched his jaw. His time of being a leader will never be over. As long as his people survived, he would do whatever it took to keep them that way.
The sound of metal dragging on metal caught him off guard, Kane sitting down on a lone crate, gesturing to another one he had brought over. Bellamy knew the drill.
Here came the interrogation.
“I need you to tell me everything you know about the grounders” Kane paused, inhaling, “and my daughter.”
“Your daughter?” Bellamy asked, arching an eyebrow.
Kane creased his, “You know exactly who I’m talking about.”
Bellamy decided to play his game. “I know Y/N Franco survived a bullet wound to the leg and was one of the hundred who managed to make it back home. The rest of my friends are out there, probably dying and you’re sitting here acting like the real threat isn’t out there torturing our people!”
“That’s enough!” Kane barked, teeth grit in brewing anger, “If you aren’t going to help me, then I’m afraid I can’t let you go.”
As the new Chancellor stood up to walk away, Bellamy chuckled mirthlessly, remembering what Maria had said so many times before.
“She was right” Bellamy called out, “You’re not her father.”
He watched as the Chancellor buried his emotions in a fist, slowly turning around with an ease he had only seen Y/N wear before.
The two men eyed each other, never losing eye contact as Kane sat back down, hunching over to lean in closer to Bellamy. The interrogation continued.
***
Her leg throbbed, but she could walk. The bullet had been safely removed, and she was thankful Murphy was a lousy shot.
She was thankful Murphy had only hit the muscle.
Raven wasn’t as lucky.
Y/N stood beside Finn, watching anxiously as Abby discussed what needed to be done to save Raven.
“The bullet is still shifting” The doctor informed the mechanic, “I was hoping it would stabilize by now.”
“So take it out” She and Raven spoke at the same time.
Abby and Jackson shared a nervous look, unable to hide anything from anyone down here. No one was.
“Raven” Abby’s tone turned gentle. “The bullet is pressing against your spine, if we leave it in you’ll live but...you’ll never walk again.”
Y/N swallowed at the news. On the ark, this wouldn’t have been a problem. Zero G solved that. Down here? With grounders abundant and new threats popping up everywhere? Where they needed their legs to run? Raven needed to walk. Raven needed that surgery.
“Take it out” Raven pleaded, showing no sign of backing down from her decision. “In zero g I didn’t need my legs. Down here I do.”
Abby sighed before nodding slightly to Jackson. She felt Raven’s calloused hand snake itself into her own, eyes pleading with her.
“Will you stay?” The weakened girl asked, “please?”
Y/N nodded, leaning down, her leg still hurting but she ignored it. Raven was going through much worse. She could deal with a little leg pain if it helped Raven.
“I’m not going anywhere.” She replied, brushing a hand over her friend’s hair. A weight knelt down beside her and she caught Finn staring intently at his ex, grasping her and Y/N’s hand in his own. “Neither am I” He spoke softly, his gaze never leaving Raven’s.
“We’re almost ready” Abby called, turning Raven on her stomach before lifting up the mechanic’s grey tank top, marking the infected area with a black marker. Y/N felt her breathing shift. Raven’s grip grew tighter around her and Finn’s hands, a silent plea.
The scalpel made its way to the marked area, ready to cut into her--
“Stop!” Raven cried, a tear streaking down her ashen face, fear flickering through her eyes. “I’m so scared” Her voice broke and Y/N broke along with it.
This was her best friend.
More than that. They were sisters. They grew up together. They were meant to change the world together. And now the strongest person she knew was breaking down before her eyes.
“Hey” Y/N whispered, drawing Raven’s attention away from the surgery, “Look at me and Finn.”
Understanding swirled in her dark brown eyes.
She squeezed their hands together.
She was ready.
Finn switched his gaze to Abby.
Y/N’s never left Raven’s.
“She’s ready” Finn announced.
The screams were deafening.
***
Bellamy’s blood became ice as screams rang through the small compound. What if it was Y/N? She had been scheduled for surgery. What if the screams were hers?
What if she was suffering and there was nothing he could do about it?
“It’s not Sparky, if that’s what you’re worried about” Murphy deadpanned from across the room. Irritation flashed hotly through Bellamy’s body, the traitor’s voice not helping his anxious state. “She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.”
He clenched his jaw at the statement, because against his better judgement, Bellamy knew Murphy was right. Y/N would refuse to scream during surgery, especially if it was just a bullet to the leg.
Before Bellamy could respond to the true statement, the doors slid open once again, revealing Kane and Byrne ready for another interrogation. Except this time the subject matter was one person.
The same person he had been thinking about minutes before.
“What the hell happened to my daughter?” Kane’s eyes were ablaze, searching back and forth between the two men, desperate for answers. Kane turned toward Bellamy, stalking forward, “You told me grounders don’t have guns.”
“They don’t” Bellamy spoke calmly, slightly unnerved with how desperate the Chancellor seemed. No one had ever seen him this vulnerable. Or this angry. “You wanna know what happened to your daughter?”
Kane clenched his jaw, the slightest nod answering the question.
“Ask him.” Bellamy gestured toward the opposite wall.
Toward John Murphy.
***
Y/N exhaled, wanting to cry tears of relief.
She had made it. Against all odds, Raven Reyes had survived.
“She’s a fighter” Abby pointed out later, wiping the scalpel and tweezers clean of the crimson liquid. “You all are.”
Y/N smiled shyly at the compliment, her thoughts drifting toward Bellamy. “Some of us more than others.” She murmured.
Abby froze, turning around to face the engineer. “You want to go see him.”
It wasn’t a question.
Y/N nodded.
“Please Abby” She pleaded, “If you knew what Murphy’s done, what he did to me, Raven and Bellamy, you wouldn’t have him locked up.”
The doctor sent a puzzled look before glancing between the two girls. Her mind began to weave the pieces together, an incredulous look on her face as Abby threw another glance at Y/N’s freshly stitched up leg.
“This way,” was all Abby said, pulling the engineer forward through the curtains of the med tent until she landed in front of a panel that looked out of place. “You can exit through there, your dad’s waiting out front, but this should be able to get you past him and Byrne.”
She threw her arms around the woman who had saved her and Raven’s life, grateful that she had someone in this camp on her side.
Her feet stepped out onto the grassy fields, sunlight streaming across her face, blinding her vision and heating up her face as she soaked up the yellow rays. Her boots crunched against the patches of dry grass underneath her as she managed to find the entrance to the newly dubbed Camp Jaha.
She avoided the awestruck gazes of her fellow Ark citizens, every one of them knowing exactly who she was. The poor orphan from Mecha station taken in by Marcus Kane. Before she was thrown in solitary with the rest of the delinquents to be sacrificed for their sick experiment.
Before she was sent down to die.
Alpha station was exactly the way she remembered it. Down to the last piece of scrap metal that had fallen from the sky. The metal walls confined her. Everything was too small.
She couldn’t believe she ever thought this was the biggest thing in the world.
The earth was a never ending maze, the same way she had viewed Alpha at one point, and now Alpha was nothing to her. A confining box meant to keep everyone in line.
She peeked down the corridor leading to the stockade, watching the guards, wondering if there was some way to cut the power so she could sneak in unseen.
An arm on her shoulder caused her to flinch.
She whipped around, senses on fire as she drew her fists, stopping when she met the shocked face of David Miller.
“Sgt. Miller?” She asked, disbelief crossing her features. The Chief of the guard relaxed, all the tension gone from his shoulders as he recognized the face in front of him.
“Y/N,” The chief breathed, “I’m so glad I found you. Did Nate follow you back at all?”
She froze at the question.
For the first time since being discovered at the dropship, she allowed her thoughts to turn toward those she failed. Miller, Monty, Jasper, Clarke.
All gone.
Taken.
By grounders or something else. But it didn’t change the fact. She hadn’t saved them. She had failed them all.
“I’m sorry” She swallowed, ignoring the guilt pressing against her chest, “I don’t know where he is.”
David’s face fell.
“I broke my promise” Y/N admitted, voice thick with emotion, “I promised you I’d take care of him, and I--I failed. I’m so sorry.”
He left with a broken smile and a pat on the back. His words ringing in her head long after he was gone.
“You did what you could.”
No she didn’t. She should’ve gone after them. She should’ve stopped hiding. She should’ve tried to fight off those who would try and harm her friends. And now she was paying the price. A hand grasped her bicep and pulled her backward, pressing her against the wall, a hand covering her mouth.
Her eyes narrowed when she saw who it was.
“Finn?” She spoke through his hand, the muffled sound muted by the flesh against her lips. The long haired delinquent shot several paranoid looks behind his shoulder before whispering his plan to Y/N.
“Your dad lied about the search team. Finding our people, going after the grounders, all of it. They’re not going after our people Y/N,” Finn informed her, his eyes bugging out of his head, “So we’re taking matters into our own hands. Monroe and Sterling are on watch, you and I are going to sneak in and free Bellamy. What do you say?”
He gently lifted his hand free from her mouth to let her give her answer.
It was a reckless plan. And there’s no telling whether the grounders even had their friends in the first place unless they managed to build smoke bombs. But it was better than anything she had come up with.
It was better than staying here and failing again.
“I’m in.”
Sneaking in was marginally easier than she expected. Especially with Marcus putting several guards in front of the door because he didn’t like how close Bellamy had gotten with her. Thank whatever higher power above for secret passages.
They had kept her safe from Marcus’ disappointment on the Ark and now they’re going to help her save her friends.
“Get up” Finn instructed, Y/N using the pliers to cut the zip ties around Bellamy’s wrists, “We’re going to save our friends.”
Bellamy’s skeptical look disappeared as he rubbed his raw wrists. Anger stirred in her chest at the sight of the red lines, but she shoved it aside. She would deal with her father later. Right now her friends were in trouble.
“About time,” Bellamy smirked, turning toward Y/N, “Your idea?”
She shook her head, “Finn’s, and we gotta hurry. Now.”
Bellamy grasped the pliers from her hands and moved toward the opposite wall, her anger spilling out of her as Finn finished her thoughts for her, “What the hell are you doing?”
He had cut Murphy free.
“He’s the only one who’s been to their camp.” Bellamy explained as if Murphy’s presence being needed was the most obvious solution in the world.
Y/N rolled her eyes, moving forward to meet Murphy, “You shoot me again, and I promise I will kill you.”
His response was cut off by the appearance of Monroe, “Hey, Sterling just signalled, someone’s coming.”
The four of them ducked out, closing the panel behind them as Alpha station dropped them back by the medical tent.
“You’re late” Abby scolded, David by her side as their flashlights lit up the area surrounding the gate.
“Bellamy decided to bring company” Finn retorted.
Bellamy sighed, pulling Murphy’s bonds tighter, “He’s the only one that’s been to their camp.”
The two adults nodded before handing off the firearms to the delinquents, David entrusting his own pistol to Y/N, his gaze never leaving hers.
“Find my son, his name is Nathan Miller.”
She didn’t need to know that.
She knew exactly who to look for.
She knew exactly who she had failed.
***
DM Taglist (closed): @chloe-skywalker @im-a-writer-right @clarkewithameme @shatteredlovesick @your-typical-giggle @rhyxn @amongthewildthingss @furiouspockettoad @niammain @cxddlyash @lena-davina @kaylinfayezink @gingerxarmy @super-marvel-dale @travelnottogoanywherebuttogo @nerdbookish @valeskasecco @strangerliaa @simsvetements @molethemollie @thebookisbtr @im-a-stranger-thing @jordangdelacruz @oopsiedoopsie23 @multifandombookstore @okj232 @asian-male-enthusiast @minigranger @jooheonbee @libraryoffandomsuniverse @pancakefancake @weird-pale-blonde-person
#the 100 imagines#the 100 imagine#bellamy blake x reader#bellamy blake imagine#bellamy blake x kane!reader#bellamy blake x franco!reader#bellamy blake imagines#bellamy blake x nightblood!reader#fic: desperate measures#series: desperate measures#the 100 fic#the 100 fanfic#the 100 fanfiction#bellamy blake fanfic#bellamy blake fanfiction#otp: you have me#my fics
96 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hi Good Omens fans, ever since making this blog, and trawling through the archives for old art, I have been thinking again about trends from before the TV-show, and the way people draw Aziraphale and Crowley. I wanted to make this post addressing it but this is not “discourse” or to start a fight, in fact I would be perfectly content if all I did was make people think critically about what I am about to say and not even interact with this post at all, but I feel like I need to say it.
Talking about any racist undertones to the way people draw our two favorite boys usually makes people dig their heels in pretty fast. This is not a callout post for any artist in particular, this is not me trying to be overly critical of artists especially since they have more talent and skill than I do, and I’m going to address some common counterpoints that I frankly find unsatisfactory. Let’s just take a moment to set aside our defensiveness and think objectively about these trends. It took me a while to unlearn my dismissive attitude about these concerns so maybe I can help others get over that hurdle a little faster. Now let’s begin.
I’ve been kicking around the Good Omens fandom since maybe 2015 and for art based in book canon, whether it was made before the TV show came out, or because the artist is consciously drawing different, original designs, I’m going to estimate that a decent 75% of all fanart looks like this
Aziraphale is white and blonde and blue-eyed while Crowley is the typical “racially ambiguous” brown skin tone it’s become so popular to draw podcast characters as nowadays.
And the question is why? With the obvious answer being “it’s racist,” but let’s delve a little deeper than that.
A common thing I hear is that people get appearance headcanons fixed in their mind because the coverart of the book pictures the characters a certain way. My first point is this only shifts the question to why the illustrators drew them that way, when there aren’t many physical descriptions in the book. My second point is that while there definitely are cover arts that picture Aziraphale as cherubic, blonde, and white and Crowley as swarthy, dark-skinned, and racially ambiguous...
(side note: why is Crowley’s hand so tiny? what the hell is going on in this cover?)
It’s much more common for the covers to simplified, stylized, and without any particular unambiguous skin tones
I don’t know about the UK but the most popular version in the United States is the dual black and white matching covers
And while you could make an argument that the shading on Crowley’s face could suggest a darker skintone, it seems obvious to me that lacking any color these are not supposed to suggest any particular race for either of these two, and the contrasting colors are a stylistic choice to emphasize how they are on opposite sides. If anything, to me it suggests they are both white.
In short I simply do not buy the argument that people are drawing Aziraphale and Crowley this way because that’s how they were represented on the cover art of the book. If you draw them the way they are on the cover then whatever, I don’t care, but I don’t believe that’s what’s driving this trend.
The second thing people will say is that Good Omens is a work of satire, and it’s based in Christian mythology which has this trend of depicting angels as white, and it is embodying the trope of a “white, cherubic angel” paired with a dark-skinned demon for the explicit purpose of subverting the trope of “white angel is good, dark demon is bad” since Aziraphale is not an unambiguous hero and Crowley is not a villain. “It’s not actually like that because Crowley isn’t a bad demon, and Aziraphale isn’t actually a perfect angel” is the argument. This has a certain logic to it and allows some nuance to the topic, but to this I say:
Uncritically reproducing a trope, even in the context of a satire novel, is not enough to subvert it. Good Omens is not criticising the racist history of the church, and while the book does have some pointed jabs at white British culture (such as Madam Tracy conning gullible Brits with an unbelievably ignorant stereotype of a Native American) it is not being critical of the conception of angels as white and blonde or the literal demonization of non-white people. That’s just not what the book is about. So making the angel white and the demon dark-skinned, playing directly into harmful tropes and stereotypes, is not somehow subversive or counter-cultural when doing so doesn’t say anything about anything.
Please consider fully the ramifications of the conception of white and blonde people as innocent and cherubic and dark-skinned people as infernal and mischievous, especially in modern contexts...
Black people are more likely to be viewed as violent, angry, and dangerous. Priming with a dark-skinned face makes people more likely to mistake a tool for a gun. Black people are viewed as experiencing pain less intensely by medical professionals. Black men are viewed as physically larger and more imposing than they actually are. The subconscious racial bias favoring light skin is so ingrained it’s measurable by objective scientific studies, on top of the anecdotal evidence of things like news stories choosing flattering, “cherubic” pictures of white and blond criminals while using unflattering mugshots for non-white offenders.
This is why I say that if you’re going to invoke the “whites are angelic” trope, you better have a damn good subversion of it to justify it, because this idea causes real harm to real people in the real world. And Aziraphale being a bit of a bastard despite being an angel, I just don’t see that as sufficient. I am especially cautious of when it’s my fellow white fans that make this argument, not because I believe they do this out of any sort of malice or hatred of people with dark skin, but because I know first-hand it stems from a dismissiveness rooted in not wanting to think about it for too long because it makes us uncomfortable. Non-white people do not have the luxury of not thinking about it, because it’s part of their life.
Now the strongest textual evidence people use, in the absence of much real descriptor, is this:
"Many people, meeting Aziraphale for the first time, formed three impressions: that he was English, that he was intelligent, and that he was gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide. Two of these were wrong; Heaven is not in England, whatever certain poets may have thought, and angels are sexless unless they really want to make an effort"
This piece of art has circulated in the fandom for so long I don’t know the original artist and it’s been used for everything from fancovers to perfume. This is where I found it and it’s one of the first things that come up when you google this quote about Aziraphale.
Doesn’t it just feel like this is the man that’s describing, some blonde effeminate gay man? Well guess what, there’s the “blonde as innocence” trope rearing its ugly head again, because the stereotype of gay men and effeminacy as being a white and blonde thing is--ding ding ding you guessed it--racism. And why would intelligent suggest a white and blonde person, except if the stereotype of a dark-skinned person is less intelligent?
Now the point of “people assume Aziraphale is British” is another sticking point people will often use, claiming that the stereotype of a British person is white and blonde. I guess this has some merit, since the British empire was one of the biggest forces behind white colonial expansion, and it seems disingenuous to assign “British” as “nonwhite” as soon as we’re being satirical, in the same way I found it distasteful that the TV show made God female when so many of the criticisms of the church are about its misogyny and lose their teeth as soon as God is no longer male.
However consider that 1.4 million Indian people live in the UK. I heard a man say aloud once that the concept of a black person having a British accent was a little funny, as though Doctor Who doesn’t exist and have black people on it. And I’m not overly familiar with the social landscape of the UK, but I understand they’re experiencing a xenophobia boom and non-white Brits aren’t considered “really British.” The stereotype of non-white people not being British only exists because of reinforcement in media. If you really want to be subversive, drawing Aziraphale as Indian goes way further than drawing him as white IMO.
Now let’s talk about Crowley. He is almost always drawn with a darker skin tone than Aziraphale, even when they are both white, and while I’ve outlined above how this is problematic on terms of linking light skin with innocence, I think it does have an extra layer. I think it also has to do with the exotification and fetishization of brown skin and non-white people.
This artist’s tumblr is gone now but their art is still on dA and while it’s definitely beautiful and well-done, I think this is a very good example of what I’m talking about.
Crowley and Aziraphale necessarily contrast each other, so describing Aziraphale as “British” might suggest that Crowley is “foreign-looking.” I also know *ahem* that the fandom generally thirsts over Crowley to hell and back, so making him a swarthy, tall dark and handsome is not necessarily surprising.
An interesting thing happened when the TV show came out, and everyone started drawing Michael Sheen!Aziraphale and David Tennant!Crowley more and more often: It’s not ubiquitous, but it does happen that sometimes artists will draw David Tennant’s skin darker than it actually is. The subconscious urge to see Crowley with dark skin is for some reason that strong for many people. And I really encourage people doing this to think about why. Not naming any names but I’ve working with fanartists before for collabs who I had to ask to lighten “bad guy” demon’s skin tones because it looked like they were making the skin darker on purpose to make them look scarier. This person is a perfectly pleasant person who tries not to be racist! And we both still fell into it accidentally, and it took me a while to notice and point it out, because the ingrained stigmatization of darker skin is pervasive yet often goes unnoticed.
What is the solution? I don’t know, and as a white person I’m not really qualified to make that call. Do we draw them both with the exact same skin tone? Is it better to make them both white? Should we make both of them non-white? Should we only make Aziraphale non-white? I am consciously aware of the fact that the Good Omens fandom is mostly white people, so most of the art we make is being both made by and consumed by white people, so I don’t feel comfortable saying “draw these characters of color specifically” because that can also veer into fetishization territory very quickly. This is not specific to good omens but I think we should pay attention to what fans of color say in all fandom spaces and weigh our choices even if they seem insignificant. And it’s important to realize that fans of color will not be a monolith in their opinion either, and it’s our responsibility to recognize that everyone can be affected by racism and social issues differently, the same way all women are affected by misogyny differently so just because one woman says such as such is misogynistic and another says it’s not. I’m sure there are non-white fans who think it’s perfectly fine to draw Aziraphale as white and Crowley as ambiguously non-white. I’m not saying they’re wrong. And I’m not saying you can’t reblog this kind of art, or that people who make or made it should feel bad about themselves. But so often this sort of thing goes unaddressed just because people don’t like thinking about it, and well, avoiding hard questions never really goes well I think.
193 notes
·
View notes
Text
Before the Wall part 37
Masterlist
TW: Hallucinations (heavier then last time), panic attacks (or something similar) Please skip the third scene (scenes separated by these lines ----) if these things are triggering for you!
A/N: This chapter is only Miryam's pov for once because it seemed to fit best, the next chapter will go back to being multiple pov
----
“Before we proceed with this,” Miryam tells the human councilmembers a day after she finished her spell, “there are two problems we need to discuss.”
They are meeting in one of the southern human-owned palaces that they already used once, which is a good thing, since Miryam isn’t sure if she could have managed to create any wards today. She spent the entire night tossing from one side to another in bed, too nervous to sleep. Her power has been acting up as well, flaring and ceasing seemingly at random.
“The first problem is that the spell needs to be cast as soon as possible, but can’t take effect immediately because it’s meant as a security measure,” she says. The others are watching her in silence, all of them tense. They all spent the past years waiting for this, and now, Miryam has the attention of the entire room. “This means that there needs to be a way to activate the spell at any given point at time after it has been cast, and it can’t be just me who is able to do it, since that would leave the spell useless should I die. I’ll get to the solution for that in a moment.”
Now, Nakia does interrupt after all. “If you already solved the problem, why are we discussing this? Isn’t it enough that the spell works?”
“Unfortunately not. Because the second problem is that I don’t have enough power to make the spell work.”
That earns her some dismayed looks, but it is true. Even if she combined every trick she knows – the strongest grounding spells, bones and gemstones and blood to draw more power – it wouldn’t be enough. She could cast the damned spell during a solar eclipse and still wouldn’t even come close to the level of power necessary to as good as split the world in two.
“Remember how I said this is impossible?” She asks. “Well, this is what I meant.”
“And your solution is…” Andromache leaves the end of the sentence hanging in the air and looks at Miryam expectantly.
Miryam has to resist the urge to fidget. “There is another way for a witch to get power. It��s called Sacrifice.”
Jurian and the queens tense in their seats, staring at Miryam like she just suggested they jump off a cliff.
“What kind of sacrifices?” One of the independent human generals asks.
“It means…” Miryam hesitates. “It means that you use up another person’s life force. Or their soul, as some might call it. The person who gets Sacrificed dies in the process, their very essence gets destroyed, but the power it generates…” She shakes her head, trying to shut down the memories. A circle on the ground, Artax smiling. Her mother looking at her. “I’ve seen it happen,” she says tightly, “but I’ve never done it myself – and I’ve sworn I never would. But if we want this spell to work, it’s the only way.”
For a moment, silence reins around the table. People exchange uncomfortable looks. Miryam almost hopes they’ll reject the idea, call it monstrous and tell her that it’s not worth it.
“How many…” Andromache begins, but cuts herself off. “I mean, theoretically. If we were to do this. How many people are we talking about?”
“Six.”
Together with the caster – Miryam, in this case – that makes it seven people involved in the spell, which is a good number. Artax usually goes one further, using forty-eight Sacrifices, making it two times seven people involved, but Miryam could never bring herself to Sacrifice this many people, even if such a huge number of People wasn’t too unwieldy for this particular spell. Even the idea of using six is horrifying.
“Well,” Jurian says, “At the danger of sounding like an asshole, but is this a problem? We take prisoner after each victory and most of them get killed either way. Why not use them?”
Murmurs of agreement rise around the table. Miryam feels sick. This entire discussion is wrong. She doesn’t want to do this, not at all.
“Because I need to tie the spell’s activation to the Sacrifices, and I don’t know how to do this if they aren’t willing.”
This gets her confused looks. Miryam sighs and begins to explain.
“The Sacrifices won’t happen when the spell is cast, but when – if – we actually activate it. They will have to be the ones to say the final words, since we can’t count on me being around to do it, and because of that, they will have to participate willingly.”
Again, silence follows. “So we need volunteers,” Andromache says finally, “This means humans.”
Miryam nods slowly, staring down at her hands. “With families, preferably. It’s a blood spell, so if one of the people we pick dies, close relatives will work as well.”
She can’t believe she’s saying this. She despises herself for it. Hasn’t she sworn to never do it? She’s going to murder people, damnit. Worse than murder, actually. Suddenly, it’s hard to breathe. This is just what all these other witches do. What Artax does.
“Six people you say,” Nakia says softly. “Then the matter is clear.”
Andromache catches on before Miryam does. “You mean…”
Nakia simply nods. “It needs to be someone from this room, if only for secrecy reasons. And really, what types of rulers would we be if we asked anyone else to step in for us?”
Miryam opens her mouth to object, then closes it again. She doesn’t know what to say, what to feel. She is torn between newfound respect for Nakia and horror at the fact that they expect her to as good as kill some of her closest friends. But would it be better if they were strangers?
Please, she thinks, begging Jurian, Andromache, anyone. Please, stop this. Don’t ask me to do this. I can’t, please don’t make me.
But Andromache nods slowly. “Then it’s decided.” She turns to Miryam. “You tie the spell to the six of us.”
----
“I can’t do this,” Miryam whispers.
In an hour she will meet the human queens in a clearing outside of Telique. The timing is perfect so that she can cast the spell at noon when the sun is at its peak and so is the power. She took every precaution, but she’s still scared out of her mind. Her fingers are shaking and the shadows have been around all day, lurking at the edge of her vision.
“What?” Jurian asks. They are both sitting in his tent, he on the table, she on the bed. “I thought the spell worked.”
“It does.” Miryam wraps her arms around herself like she can keep herself from falling apart that way. “But I… I can’t do this, Jur.”
She’s so scared. Scared of what is happening to her, and absolutely terrified of what casting that spell might do. She doesn’t want to do this. Just for once, she wants to be allowed to be scared. She wants to sit down on the floor and cry, and for Jurian to put an arm around her and tell her that everything will be alright. That he understands, that she doesn’t have to do this if she doesn’t want to.
Instead, he glares at her. “I just don’t understand you, Miryam. This spell could save millions of people, you have been working on it for years, and now you say that you can’t?”
One of the shadows lets out a shrill laugh. Miryam feels tears burning in her eyes and furiously wipes them away, but the tears just keep coming.
Jurian sighs. “Sorry. I just…” He puts a hand on her arm. “Are you scared of having to cast the spell? You don’t need to be. Come on, Miryam, you’re brilliant at this.”
That just makes her cry harder. Did she truly lie so well? But she doesn’t want him to not know. They always solved everything together, so maybe they could find a solution for this, too. Maybe Jurian will say just the right thing to make it better, or he will even find a way to get her out of this. She just needs to tell him.
“No,” she says, stumbling over the words. How is she supposed to explain? “I’m not…” She hesitates and Jurian frowns at her. “These problems I’ve been having with my power, they’re bigger than – “
The door to the tent opens and Miryam flinches, but it’s just a soldier who enters. He inclines his head and passes Jurian a note. Jurian quickly scans the contents, then looks back up at Miryam.
“Amarantha’s army is on the move.” Miryam knows what he’s about to say next, even though she desperately hopes he will not. But Jurian only looks conflicted for a moment, then says, “They’ll be passing through a forest – it’s perfect terrain for an ambush. I need to go make a plan, we don’t have much time.”
“But what about the spell?” Miryam asks. She hates how small her voice sounds. “You promised you would come along.”
“I know.” Jurian sighs and takes her hands in his. “But I can’t really help with the spell anyways. I’ll be useless there, but here, I could win us a real victory.”
His eyes search her face. Clearly he’s hoping for her to agree, but she can’t. Jurian wouldn’t be useless if he came along, because him being there would make the spell at least a little less terrifying. And he promised that he would come, but now, he’s going to go chasing after Amarantha once again and leave her to cast this spell alone. She has no idea what’s going to happen to her once she casts the spell and now, Jurian isn’t even going to there with her. For all she knows, casting it might kill her and if that happens, she wants him to be with her.
“You understand this, don’t you?” Jurian asks, voice pleading.
And just this once, Miryam wants nothing more than to tell him no, she does not understand. Just this once, she wants to beg him to choose her over his revenge, and see what he will do. But she can’t bring herself to say the words. Because no matter what Jurian might once have told her, they both will always be bound to this war first. It’s why Jurian will go to fight Amarantha once again instead of staying behind to help Miryam. And it’s why she will let him go and go to cast the spell alone, even if it kills her to do it.
----
Miryam’s fingers shake so badly that she has trouble drawing the circle. She keeps having to redo symbols and is much slower than usual; it takes her almost an hour to draw the main circle and the six smaller ones at the sides, one for each of the queens, who stand by and watch her work in silence. The shadows watch as well. They are closer than ever before and their presence terrifies Miryam.
“Alright.” She straightens and pushes an unruly strand of hair out of her eyes. “You need to – “ One of the shadows shrieks and she flinches. “Go stand in the smaller circles please.” Now, her voice is trembling ever so slightly. “I’ll activate the circles now.”
The queens follow her request without a word. Miryam wonders if they are as nervous as she is, or if they simply believe that an important moment like this should be greeted in silence. Miryam would have preferred for them to talk, the silence is nearly unbearable.
All too soon, everyone is in place and Miryam has inspected the circle one final time. There is no excuse to delay this any further.
Step by step, she tells herself, gripping the paper with the spell so hard she crumples it, Just activate the circle, then keep going from there. This is okay, you can do this.
Slowly, carefully pronouncing each word, she begins to speak. The strings thicken around her immediately, new ones appear for her to hold onto. The candles she put up around the circle flicker to life, flames dance around her. For a moment, everything is going well.
Then, her power flares so hard it nearly slips her grip. The flames are suddenly reaching far too high. The shadows move closer. They dance around her, mingling with the strings, and scream her name in a thousand voices.
“Stop,” Miryam whispers. “Stop.”
She has enough control left to clamp down on her power. It protests, cutting through her like a knife, but the flames die down. Tears run down her cheeks and she is shaking so badly that the paper slips out of her grip and falls to the ground.
“Miryam?” Andromache asks softly. She is still standing in her circle and watching her from dark, worried eyes.
“I can’t do this,” Miryam manages.
Stumbling, she takes a step backwards, then another, until she is out of the circle.
“Miryam.” Andromache reaches out for her, but she doesn’t seem to dare to leave her circle. “What’s wrong?”
Miryam can’t answer. The shadows are still there, lurking between the trees and she just can’t do this. Can’t face this. Sobbing, she turns around and runs into the forest. She is still crying, tears reducing the trees to shades. She doesn’t know how long she’s been running when her foot catches on something and she ends up sprawled on the forest floor. Pain races through her foot, but it’s nothing compared to what her power is doing to her.
With shaking arms, Miryam pulls herself into a sitting position, back leaning against a tree. But then, the shadows are back. They press in on her, screaming, whispering, crying out for her. Miryam presses her hands against her ears but the voices only grow louder.
“Go away!” She screams. That makes them laugh. Her power flares, but she won’t let it out, so it just keeps rebounding through her body and it hurts.
“I most certainly will not,” a new voice says, cutting through the noise.
It startles Miryam enough that she looks up, only to come face to face with Nakia. The old queen is frowning at her. Around them, the shadows pull back, their whispers growing fainter as if they are curious what the queen wants from her.
“Get up,” Nakia says. Her voice clangs through the forest like a whip.
“I can’t.” Miryam is still crying. She tries to wipe the tears away, but her hands are shaking too badly.
“You are the leader of this Alliance.” Nakia’s voice is iron, cold and unyielding. “Unsuited as you are to the positions, you chose it. You don’t get to lay down and cry about all the things you can’t do. And now get up.”
Miryam shakes her head. “I never wanted this,” she whispers. Her magic flares again and she curls up on herself, whimpering. “I never wanted to lead the Alliance, I just…” Her voice breaks.
“Bullshit.” There is not a hint of sympathy in Nakia’s voice. “Of course you chose this, or do you want to convince me that you somehow failed to notice what you’ve been doing these past few years.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “We had decided that this war was madness, but you couldn’t accept that, could you? You thought you knew better, so you dragged the entire Continent into a war without ever thinking that if we lost, millions might die.”
This makes Miryam cry even harder, but Nakia isn’t finished.
“And afterwards – did you ever stand back? Did you ever, just for one moment, think that maybe a little girl like you has no business telling a bunch of adults what to do?” She snorts. “But no, not the great Miryam. You just never shut up, do you?”
Miryam shakes her head. The pain is nearly unbearable and the shadows are moving in again. “I only ever wanted to save them,” she whispers. “Everything I did…”
“What you did,” Nakia cuts her off, “dragged an entire Continent into war. What you did risked the life of every human on this Continent. And now you have the nerve to sit down and cry because you can’t?”
Nakia reaches out and grabs her by the arms, dragging her to her feet with more strength than Miryam thought she had.
When they are almost face to face, Nakia says, “And now, you will go back to this clearing and you will make this right. You will cast that stupid spell, and if it kills you. You owe my people this much.”
Miryam stares at her, trembling. She wants to object, but she can’t think of a way to defend herself. After all, she did cause this war without truly thinking about what might happen if they lost. The queens had decided not to join the fighting and Miryam forced them to. And if she’s entirely honest, she is also the one to blame for her position with the Council. She had every chance to stand back, but chose not to. Maybe this is punishment.
With shaking fingers, Miryam wipes her tears away. “Alright,” she whispers. “I’ll try.”
“Good.”
On the way back to the clearing, Miryam keeps stumbling over her own feet, but when Nakia offers her a hand, she shakes her head and keeps walking on her own. The other queens are still standing in their circles, varying degrees of worry on their faces.
“Is everything alright?” Andromache asks.
Miryam nods, but keeps her eyes trained on the ground. The paper with her spell is still lying on the ground where she dropped it, but by now, the sun has almost reached its zenith. She’ll need to hurry if she doesn’t want to miss the correct moment to cast the spell. At least the circles are still active.
“Good,” she says, mostly to calm herself. “This is fine.” The shadows seem to disagree since they move in more closely, but Miryam does her best to ignore them and instead turns to the queens. “Don’t leave your circles until the spell is finished,” she says. “I’ll be using a lot of power and you might get scared, but no matter how the spell goes, there are security measures at place to make sure you don’t get hurt.”
Usually, circles like this are keyed to transfer power to the outer circle and protect only the caster in case anything goes wrong, but Miryam changed it around to work the opposite way. Risking other lives to save her own isn’t her style. At least this way, she’ll be the only one who ends up dead if she messes up.
She carefully straightens the paper with the spell. “I’m starting now,” she says. Right about now, she could really use someone telling her that everything will be fine, but no one seems inclined to offer words of reassurance.
The first words are always the most difficult. They burn and cut in her throat and Miryam has to watch out to pronounce them properly. Her power rises, circling higher with each word until it fills the air around them and Miryam has to yank at it to keep it focused on the task she wants it to fulfil. The words come easier now, more natural.
Still, her power keeps rising, higher and higher. She has never gone this far before and soon, it is nearly impossible to keep it in check. Voice trembling, Miryam keeps going, calling power from the air and sky. The sun is shining high above her, its light drawing beams of light into the air.
The power twists in her grip, lashes out. Miryam pulls it back and redirects it towards the net of strings she is weaving, the tear through the world she is instructing it to lay the basis for. The shadows move closer again, screaming, but Miryam is almost finished not. Just a few. More. Words.
But as the spell reaches its climax, so does her power. It strains against her hold and this time, a tendril manages to break free. The strings she was so carefully weaving together tremble and begin to drift apart.
“Sheje,” Miryam hisses.
Her power snaps back to her grip, but now, it is moving around her, shooting through her body. Miryam grits her teeth and continues with the spell. Slowly, the strings fall back into formation.
The last line. Her power builds up, towering over her like a wave about to break. Miryam finishes the last words, voice barely more than a whisper. For a moment, the world seems to hang in a strange balance, suspended in the air. Miryam sees the sunlight glinting through the air, the fear in the eyes of the queens.
Then, her power comes crashing down. It rushes through her, burning like fire, freezing like ice. Before she even has the chance to scream, it is gone again, rushing into the sky, strings scattering and forming anew in its wake. The spell takes form, a tightly woven net of strings, shimmering in a hundred colours.
Miryam’s legs give out from under her and she drops to her knees.
Fire in her veins. Ice and fire, rushing through her. Someone is screaming – maybe her, she can’t tell. Her throat is so sore it feels like it’s bleeding, so it might well be her. The screaming increases, more voices joining in. That definitely isn’t her.
“Miryam?” Someone asks, panicked. “Can you hear me?”
Yes, she wants to say, but her tongue won’t form the word. Her power flares again and now, she is sure that she is screaming, screaming and screaming. The pain simply won’t fade and she can’t breathe.
“What’s wrong with her?” Another voice asks.
Finally, Miryam manages to open her eyes, but all she can see are the shadows, pressing in close against her. They are laughing, crying, screaming at her. She tries to crawls back, away from them, but her arms won’t hold her weight and then there are hands grabbing her, holding her in place. She tries to push them away, but the world tilts sidewards and everything around her begins to spin.
For what might as well be a second as a year, there is only pain, and darkness, and incoherent screaming. Miryam is drowning in it, pulled down as if weighed down by stones. Finally, she manages to fight her way back to the surface. She opens her eyes, gasping for air.
She’s lying on her back, and a woman is kneeling over her. Dark, curly hair, brown skin and a kind smile. Miryam stares at her, too stunned truly understand.
“Mom?” She finally whispers, voice breaking.
Her mother reaches out for her, still smiling, but as she does, her hand begins to dissolve into smoke, first the fingers, then the entire arm.
“No!” Miryam makes to grab her, trying to stop her from vanishing entirely, but she has already dissolved into smoke.
Artax appears in her place, staring down at her. Miryam screams and scrambles backwards. Suddenly, the ground is gone from under her, she’s falling, but only for a moment, then she lands hard on the ground.
“Miryam, calm down.” Suddenly, Andromache is kneeling over her, frowning. “You’re safe, nothing can happen to you.”
She reaches out for Miryam, but as she does, her face begins to change and then, it’s not Andromache but Ravenia who is kneeling over her. Miryam lifts her hand, trying to call her power, but it won’t come. Instead, a sharp pain shoots through her chest.
“You need to calm down,” Ravenia says with Andromache’s voice.
“Get away from me,” Miryam gasps.
She tries to crawl away, but her back pushes against something hard. The world is spinning again, and the shadows are back, surrounding her.
“What happened?” A new voice asks, cutting through the general noise.
Miryam tries to focus on it. Someone is talking, she knows, but the words don’t reach her. She groans in pain.
“I don’t know why - ,” someone begins. Then, there’s more talking, but she doesn’t understand the words over the roaring in her ears.
“Where the fuck is Jurian?”
Jurian. Miryam tries to hold onto the name, but it doesn’t work and he isn’t here anyways and she’s caught alone in the dark. It hurts so badly. She tries to move, to somehow escape the pain, but it won’t leave her alone. The shadows are still screaming.
“We need to do something!” Someone snaps, and that’s the last thing she hears before the world goes mercifully silent.
----
Miryam wakes up in a bed that isn’t her own. She blinks up at the ceiling of the tent – a different colour than hers – for a few moments while her still-slow mind tries to catch up. She attempts to sit up, but her body seizes up and she falls back into the pillows, gasping.
“Miryam.” Before she can truly panic, Drakon appears next to her bed. “It’s alright,” he tells her, “You’re safe.”
Miryam stares at him, trying to figure out if he is actually here. Maybe she’s seeing things again. He did seem to appear rather abruptly.
“Are you in pain?” Drakon asks. “I can get a healer if you need one.” When Miryam doesn’t reply immediately, he turns to the door and she decides that a hallucination likely wouldn’t try calling a healer.
“It’s alright,” she says, although it technically isn’t. Everything hurts so badly she can barely lift her arms and when she tries to reach for her powers, there’s no response.
Drakon hesitates for a moment, watching her as if he’s trying to decide if he needs to get a healer in spite of her reassurance. When he seems satisfied that she isn’t in immediate danger, he pulls a chair that was standing by the beside closer and sits down.
“Here.” He takes a small glass vial from the nightstand and hands it to her. “For the pain.”
Miryam nods in thanks, but when she tries to take the vial, her fingers shake so badly that she can’t grab it. Without commenting, Drakon opens it for her and holds it to her mouth so that she can swallow. The liquid burns in her throat.
“What happened?” Miryam asks.
“I don’t know,” he says. His face is grave. “Andromache refused to tell me, and she only had someone get me after you were already…” He breaks. Miryam shudders at the memory. She remembers all too well what state she was in. The pain, the absolute helplessness. “We decided it would be best to take you to a Fae healer,” Drakon continues, “so I brought you to my camp. That was yesterday.”
Miryam nods. She doesn’t bother to ask if the healer found anything. If the book she read is anything to go by, they won’t be able to help her.
“And Jurian?” She asks. “Does he know where I am?”
Drakon’s face tightens further. Miryam can only imagine that he’s thinking about Jurian’s notable absence during her breakdown, but he doesn’t comment. “Andromache says she’d tell him.”
Miryam nods and leans back into her pillows.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Drakon asks. His voice still sounds strange and for once, Miryam can’t place the emotions in his tone.
“No.” She knows he deserves better than that, but even if she wanted to, she couldn’t tell him about the spell she cast and she doesn’t know how she should explain the other things that happened.
“Then allow me to take a guess.”
Miryam’s bed shifts as something lands on the matrass next to her. She turns and finds a book lying next to her – once she recognizes immediately. Her stomach twists even further.
“You went to the library,” she says.
“Yes. Since you had told me you had your powers under control, I was rather confused when the healers told me you were basically tearing yourself to shreds with it. So I decided to take a look at what had been written in that book you said had helped you.” Anger – that’s what it is. He’s angry, but trying hard to conceal it. “I think you know what I found.”
Miryam pushes herself back in her bed, trying to get into a sitting position. She can’t have this conversation while lying in bed. It’s bad enough that her entire body aches. It takes her embarrassingly long and by the time she is at least somewhat upright, she’s out of breath, but she manages to sit up.
Drakon is still watching her. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” He asks.
“I don’t know what,” Miryam admits. She doesn’t want him to be angry with her, but she can’t take back the lies she told, or stop herself from dying slowly.
“Maybe you could explain why you spent the past year lying to me.” He still sounds calm, doesn’t raise his voice even a bit, but she can feel that he’s angry. And disappointed, which is worse.
“I didn’t want you to worry,” she says, “I knew there was nothing to be done, and fretting over it seemed pointless.”
“Nothing to be done?” Drakon repeats. “We tried to find a solution for one day, Miryam. There were a million things we could still have done if only you had said something!”
“And what?” This argument, Miryam decides, would go way better if she wasn’t lying in bed. Or at least if her head stopped hurting this much. “What could we have done? Because the only people who would truly be able to help me are other witches, and the Guild would rather kill me than help me.” She crosses her arms. “We could have done nothing and I wasn’t about to let you waste time used trying to find a solution that isn’t there. Not in the middle of this war.”
Drakon jumps to his feet so quickly that his wings brush against the nightstand. He begins to pace before Miryam’s bed. Miryam watches in silence, without interrupting. Let him come to the conclusion that this is hopeless himself, that will be easier.
“No,” he finally says. He stops walking and turns around to face Miryam. “No, this has nothing to do with the war. You had every option to try and find a solution to this problem. You had over a year to figure something out, but you chose to do nothing.”
Miryam presses her lips together. “The war is more important, I need to – “
“You won’t be able to do it if you’re dead!” Drakon snaps. He shakes a head and runs a hand through his hair. He looks tired, like he hasn’t slept all night. “I promised you that you would survive this war, remember?” He asks softly, anger gone. “Well, I intend to keep that promise, even if you seem hell-bent on making it difficult.”
Miryam can’t meet his eyes. He’s right, she realizes. She chose to do nothing not because of the war, but because she was scared. That’s what it always came down to, from the very beginning. Too scared to face her power, too scared to face her past. Deep down, she knew that, and maybe some part of her indeed chose to die rather than confront her fears.
“I’m sorry,” she says, “But there’s nothing you can do.”
Drakon taps his foot against the ground. Looks around the tent like he’s hoping to find the answer there.
“There might be something,” he finally says, “But I’m not sure. I need to go check.” He steps towards the door. “I’ll ask Nephelle to keep you company while I’m gone,” he says, already halfway out of the tent.
“Wait.”
For a moment, Miryam forgets all about her pain and tries to sit up. She immediately regrets it. Groaning in pain, she lets herself drop back into the pillows. Drakon is immediately beside her.
“Do you truly have a solution for this?” Miryam asks. Her mind is still moving to slowly for her to entirely understand what he is saying, but this, she understood.
“I don’t know. Like I said, I need to check.” He begins fidgeting around with the hem of his coat. “And I’m technically not allowed to talk to you about this. About any of this. Just…” He sighs. “I know this is a stupid thing to say, but please just trust me that I would tell you if I could. And that I’ll do whatever I can.”
Miryam doesn’t want Drakon to leave. Chances are he won’t be able to find a solution, anyways. Why would he, if those scholars at the university couldn’t? She doesn’t want him going on some wild chase all alone, trying to find answers that aren’t there. But if it makes him feel better about the fact that there’s nothing to be done about what’s happening to her if he tried, then she won’t stop him.
“Okay,” she says, “Go on. I’ll be waiting.”
Drakon nods tightly. He stands around awkwardly for a moment, as if trying to decide if he should do or say something else.
“I’ll find something,” he finally says and turns for the door.
“Drakon.” She calls him back again. “What did the healers say?” She asks. “How long do I have?”
Drakon pauses in the door, fingers curling and uncurling at his side. “They don’t know for sure,” he says softly, “A month. If you’re lucky.”
----
Tags: @croissantcitysucks @sjm-things
#I can't believe I wrote this entire chapter in 3 days#thanks to early holidays I guess#before the wall#miryam#jurian#drakon#tw hallucinations#tw panic attack
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Once upon a time
Title: Once upon a time
Prompt: Everything seems to be going perfecrly so why do you feel the need to self harm after being 'clean' for so long? A reader insert where the reader is struggling with self harm again and Morgan helps.
Author: remindmetohaveherdrugtested
Tags: #reader insert #Derek Morgan #Comfort
Trigger warnings: #self harm #blood mention #murder/kidnap #mild swearing
Sat in the back of the SUV, you rest your head against the cool glass of the window and stare into the small gap between Derek's headrest and the cars' frame. Your eyes focused on the steering wheel, held steadily in place by his hands, before flicking back to the oncoming traffic.
Your mind wasn't really there. It was flicking between a million and one thoughts that were barely forming before the next one took over. You should be happy. You had exactly what you wanted from life; a happy little family, a job that you loved, a beautiful house and friends that you could count on. So why were you feeling so numb? Once upon a time that was all you dreamed about.
"Are we almost there?" A sleepy voice from the front broke you from your thoughts and you moved your head.
"About 10 minutes" Dereks steady voice answered, not taking his eyes off the road. "I wouldn't go back to sleep if I were you".
You watched him glance quickly at Spence beside him who looked like he was about to fall back asleep at any moment. It was 2am and the case was quite urgent according to Hotch and Garcia. Derek had swung by to pick you and Reid up as neither of you drove and the rest of the team wouldnt be long.
It wasnt long until the SUV was pulled up beside the rest of the team who were just starting to grab their go bags from another SUV to board the jet. Quickly stretching, you hopped out of the car and went to the boot to pull out your black bag and sling it across your shoulders. "We good to go? I need to get some serious sleep before we land" You asked, forcing a tiny smile at the rest of them. You barely waited for Hotch to nod before you were walking up the steps to the door and entering the cabin.
Immediately you slung your bag into the overhead bin and then settled yourself onto the sofa out of the way, watching as the rest of the team joined you. Each member put their bags away before settling down in a chair. It wasnt long until the jet was airborne but you knew you wouldnt land for a couple of hours and it would be a half an hour drive to the hotel.
"I'll let you all get some sleep shortly. We're headed to Texas" You knew that already from the call that Garcia had made earlier. "We think we have a cold case re-emerging. 10 years ago 2 brown haired, blue eyed and low risk women went missing. 5 years later their bodies were found having only died recently. 5 days later 2 more victims went missing and their bodies have just shown up. If the unsub sticks to their schedule the next two victims will go missing in 5 days and we will loose the trail again. The victims both looked to be kept in relatively good condition, cause of death was a single stab wound through the heart. Crime scence photos are on your tablets to have a look at and then you should try to get some rest" Hotch finished.
-------------------------------------------------------
It was 7pm and Hotch had sent everyone back to the hotel for the night. You stood in the onsuite bathroom and stripped quickly to shower. As you got out you caught a glimpse of your arms in the mirror. Thin silvery lines marred them and although the last time you had cut yourself deliberately was years ago the lines had not fully faded yet. Your fingers traced them slowly. You weren't proud of it and no one else on the team knew about that part of your life. The familiar urge took hold of your chest. It was a deep and sinking feeling. Like you couldnt breathe. You knew that harming yourself would get rid of the feeling. It would allow you to feel anything other than the numbness that had taken over recently. Usually you were able to push away the urges, breathe through them and distract yourself but today was just different. You were tired of pushing them away and you just wanted it to go away.
Almost in a trance your fingers had found a razor and was removing the blades from it. It was like you were watching someone else draw on your skin. Watching blood trickling down your arms, as if it were rain on the windows. The pain was fresh. It felt good to be able to feel anything other than that pressing feeling on your chest and numbness.
The second the razor touched the side new feelings rushed through you. Guilt. Panic. Anger. How could you give in after so many years of being clean? How would you hide this? Why did you even feel this way when every part of your life was, by definition, perfect.
"Shit. Shit. Shit"
You spun around and shoved your arm into the shower, wincing as the running water touched the fresh wounds and watching as it took away the blood.
Pulling the towel back around you quickly, you walked quickly back into the room and rumaged in your bag to pull out some bandages you kept in there for minor injuries in the field. As you pulled the bandages out there was a loud thud as your bag fell to the floor onto your foot and you swore loudly but didn't pick it up.
With experienced hands you started bandaging your arm up. You'd banaged injuries up all the time in the field but this being from yourself made you feel a wave of guilt again.
The silence in the room was broken by a few raps on the door.
"Uh yeah?" You called trying to quickly pin the bandage in place.
"You alright? I heard some thuds and swearing" Dereks deep voice came through the door.
"Oh, uh ,yeah. Just dropped my go bag on my foot" You tried to laugh it off but something in your voice must've given you away because a moment later the door cracked open.
"Are you sure Y/N?" Dereks voice was clearer with the door cracked.
"Yeah yeah, it'll just a little bruise" You said, rushing to pull the towel around yourself so that he didnt see everything. You closed your eyes and sighed as you realised you had answered too quickly and your voice had cracked.
The door opened slowly before softly shutting. "Whats wrong? You've seemed a bit off all day. Did something else happen?" He paused, his eyes glancing over you and resting on your bandaged arm which was trying to help keep your towel in place. "Y/N?" His voice trailed off and he walked quickly over to you "What happened?"
"I happened" You muttered, turning away and sitting on the edge of the bed.
"You happened? What did you do?" Derek half laughed, clearly expecting you to have fallen or walked into something. His eyes narrowed as you didn't reply. "Y/N?"
You felt the slow burning prickle behind your eyes and felt a tear roll down your cheek. "Nothing" You snapped and turned. "I-uh-Sorry, Im just tired and was a bit clumsy"
You felt a soft hand touch your shoulder. "Doesn't seem like nothing. Why don't you get dressed and we'll talk about it?"
Your hand clenched around the towel as you became painfully aware that you were still naked with nothing but a towel around you. You nodded but said nothing as you got up and grabbed the pyjamas that were at the foot of the bed and walked quickly into the bathroom. Your eyes caught site of the bloody blade lying in the sink and you fought a wave of sickness that arose from it. Quickly pulling on your pyjamas, you turned the tap on to wash the blood away and the dropped the blade out of sight. You didn't need more temptation.
Re-emerging from the bathroom you saw Derek had moved your bag onto the chair and had perched himself on the end of the bed. You walked around him and on the side of the bed.
"So are you going to tell me what happened?" Derek slowly turned around to look at you although you determinedly avoided his gaze.
"Lapse of judgement" You muttered. It wasnt a lie but it wasn't the most straightforward answer. It didn't deter Derek.
"You can talk to me you know. I won't tell anyone and I might be able to help."
You laughed. It was cold and seemed hollow even to you. "If I knew do you think Id be in this mess."
The bed moved and you looked up as Derek sat beside you and slowly wrapped his arms around you. It seemed to break some dam inside you that you had been holding back since he had knocked on your door and tears began to stream down your face.
"I didn't mean to" You whispered. "I haven't in so many years. I was doing well but I just lost my focus. It wont happen again. Please don't tell the others"
Derek pulled you in closer and you turned to press your face into his chest. His heartbeat was comforting. "If you don't want me to tell anyone then I won't" He said simply.
"Im just so numb and it just happened and I just wanted to feel something again. I don't know why because everything is perfect so I dont have a reason to feel like this and why should I have any reason to do that" You rambled coming to a halt with a look of disgust on your face.
"These things happen. It can happen to anyone" Derek soothed. "This line of work is tough, even on the strongest of us. And these feelings can hit anyone. Even those who think everything they have is perfect. Theyre normal"
More sobs racked you body, getting stronger and stronger. It was like you lost all control. "Please" you sobbed. "I just want to feel something. Help me feel something"
Derek pulled you up the bed and pulled you into his chest. "You had a slip. Everyone has relapses. It doesnt mean anything. You'll get through this. I'll be there for you. Always"
You had no more words to say, what else was there to say? Instead you buried your face in his chest and continued to sob until you felt tiredness overcome you and let it take you off into nothingness.
When you woke up, Derek was gone. At the bottom of the bed you saw a pile of fresh bandages, a small tube of antiseptic cream and a note. Picking up the note, you quickly read through it.
"Baby girl,
Once upon a time is the start of a story. You have to keep fighting to see the end."
23 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
crowazira
you're being silly
citiscapes
@CITISCAPES.
softwarerot
sick in the head with anemoia
princessjevieolaivardagapio-blog
I'll be your Princess
titsoutfortntduo
she's a fartist, paints across my chest