#they really said you can strip bare and show someone your true self
Note
Girl pls pls write stripper reader and Spencer where she thinks he would never date her bc she’s a stripper and just a sprinkle of angst with lots of comforting fluff and Spencer reassuring
thank u for requesting! ♡ fem, 1.5k
cw mentioned past domestic/workplace abuse, unhealthy eating habits
Someone broke into my apartment. 9:14AM
Spencer reads the message under the table but forgoes discretion when he registers what it says and who it's from. He excuses himself from the round table, something he isn't even sure he's allowed to do, and hurries out onto the landing.
You answer on the second dial. "Hey, did you see my text?" you ask.
"Are you okay?" He squeezes his phone.
"I'm not sure. I'm fine, but my lock is busted and the door won't stay shut."
"Where are you?"
If you're surprised that he's steamrolling, you don't show it. Spencer leaves work to meet you at the coffee shop you've chosen for refuge, your eyes tired, a small bag of your most important possessions hanging on a slumped shoulder. He hugs you straight away.
"I'm fine," you say into his neck.
He hugs you tighter. "That's good," he says, feeling useless, fingers stroking little paths into your shoulders. He pictured the worst from your text, and seeing you in person is the only true mitigator. You'll talk down bruises and black eyes —you have in the past.
He pulls the story from you as you walk back to his apartment, shoulder to shoulder in the cold street. "It was open when I got home, the door, but I did what you asked me to."
"You didn't go in?" he confirms proudly.
"Not at first."
"You really won't call the police?"
"I texted you."
Spencer takes the strap of your bag from you and throws it over his own. "I'm not that kind of cop. I'm not really a cop at all."
"No, you're a fed, which is worse. The girls at work told me to stay away from you." You wipe under your eyes sluggishly. Sleep clings to you like a shadow trailing behind you, ever-present.
He puts his hand behind your back, worried you'll fall up the steps to his apartment building. "They think I'll what, extort you?"
You shake your head, something sad in the slow side to side. "Girls like me have no business around guys like you."
"You probably get too much business from guys like me."
You laugh, but you both know it's not what you meant. Spencers noticed it more and more lately, nothing so obvious until now, this dead set belief you hold that he's one type of person and you're another. He gets that your work isn't what you wanted for yourself when you were growing up. He knows it isn't easy, even on your 'good' nights. It takes a toll to be seen as you are, nothing left private. But you've always said you liked stripping as much as anyone should like their job. "It's a job," you'd said, having barely known him, tired and hungry, curled up on his couch with nowhere else to go. "Only the luckiest get to really enjoy work. S'why it's called work."
He'd hoped, perhaps in a self-absorbed way, that having more support might make you feel better about yourself; he wanted his friendship to give you some confidence, basically. Before you met Spencer there was no one else you could depend on. It's why you stayed working for a man who broke your wrist until Spencer weaselled his way into your life and made you a bed in his living room for the time it took to get you out. His credentials helped, of course, but you survived it because you're resilient. You're awesome. You've done everything you can with what you have and you don't think it's enough.
You and Spencer take the elevator to his floor, and for the twenty seconds it takes to get there, you let your cheek rest on his shoulder. He's just about to drop his head on top of yours when the doors open, and the slice of quiet you'd both savoured slips like sand between his fingers.
"I can go back and get some of your stuff," he offers, guiding you the short walk to his door. He passes you the key rather than struggle with the lock himself.
Your hand shakes as you push down the handle. "There's nothing worth going back for."
"Don't say that, you have all your clothes there, your couch. You have things. I'll take my car."
"You hate driving."
"I'd hate someone robbing you even more."
"Robbing me again," you correct, holding the door for him.
You didn't have anything worth the trouble, it seems. You keep your savings in a locked box hidden in the bathroom that they couldn't find, and though your apartment is clean and bigger than the one you lived in before Spencer met you, it's mostly empty. You don't have a TV, you're not a collector. They took the radio off of the refrigerator, your microwave oven, and a box of cosmetic jewellery worth chapel change.
"But it's your stuff. You deserve to have stuff." Spencer drops your bag gently and his with less care by the door.
"It's only until the locksmith can come tomorrow," you say with a yawn. "Let the junkies lavish in my stuff for the next twenty hours."
"That's not a problem for you?"
"I don't have the luxury of that being a problem for me, Spence. What am I supposed to do? The locksmith can't come–"
"There are a hundred locksmiths."
"Not that I can afford." You shrug out of your jacket. "Spence, listen to me. It's okay. I can't ask you to do that, anyways. You've done more than enough for me already," you say, sitting on the couch. You perch for a moment like you're trying to be polite until fatigue overtakes you, and you sink into the cushions with a relieved sigh.
Spencer crosses the space between you and kneels by your feet to untie your shoelaces.
"Don't do that," you mumble, hand over your mouth as a second yawn in as many minutes catches you.
"Why not?" He slips your shoes off, letting his hand rest on your ankle. "Wanna watch that weird cooking show–"
"Why aren't you at work?"
He climbs onto the couch next to you, unafraid to sit shoulder to shoulder. "You were having an emergency."
You rub your face with both hand. "I knew I shouldn't have called you. You can't just leave work because of me, Spencer, what if you get in trouble?"
"Someone I care about needed my help, and Hotch understands that." Spencer puts on his big boy pants with a wince. "Do you get that?"
"I don't really… I don't…" You falter. "We're never going to work. You'll never…"
"I'll never what?" he asks insistently, voice lilting up with a little incredulity. He can't help it.
You refuse to answer, turning your face from his.
Spencer knows what you're going to say. He's bad with girls but he's good at recognising human emotion; he sees the same insecurity in himself as he does in you. He knows the feeling.
You're not right, is the thing.
Spencer would kiss you if he thought that would change your mind. But tired as you are, angry with yourself, defeated, he knows it's not a good idea. He takes your hand instead, sewing your fingers together with a deliberate slowness. He brings his other hand to them and strokes the back of your index finger with his thumb, careful not to disrupt your press on nails. He knows they have a tendency to come off with too much pressure, and you're always losing your glue.
"If they really need me to go, they'll call me. But I'm staying here." His thumb moves down to your knuckle. You have little calluses and cuts and bruises everywhere from dancing. He's seen the contusions that line your thighs on a semi permanent basis. "When was the last time you had something to eat?"
"Spencer," you murmur.
"Let me take care of you, please," he says, hand curling around your wrist with extreme gentleness. "You need to eat. You need to sleep. Let me worry about everything else for once, I want to."
You still don't look at him, but you sink down an inch at a time until your cheek is on his shoulder again, like it had been in the elevator. Hesitant, you wrap your arm around his stomach.
"I'm so stupid," you say.
He wonders if that's a placeholder for what you really want to say. You think so little of yourself sometimes, but it's like you've told him before. Not everyone has the luxury of enjoying their job.
"You're amazing." Spencer feels like he's on fire everywhere that your skin touches him. Is he saying the right things? "You are. You're the only person who doesn't see that."
"The only person here, maybe."
"You should always be here, then. With me. That way I can remind you."
You sound more like yourself when you answer, though tiredness lines every word, "Thank you, Spencer. I don't deserve you."
"Yes, you do."
Spencer rubs your hand until you fall asleep, and then he buys you a new toaster oven on his phone, and an industrial security lock. He doesn't know what it'll take to convince you that you deserve him, you deserve better, but he's gonna try.
He presses his cheek to your temple and focuses on the softness of your skin where it touches his.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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Hi bee! I wanted to ask if you have any thoughts you can share about Kaeya? From what i see on your blog he may not be one of your favorite characters to write for but i trust you with characterization and don't see many people writing about him so i wanted to ask. This is not a request or anything feel free to ignore it if you'd like!
hi anon!! first off thank you so much for liking my characterization?! it's one of the best compliments i can get, so truly thank you 😭 and i always love talking about characters!
and actually—i absolutely adore kaeya! you should see my dms lmao. i just...get nervous about writing him. he's so complex in a lot of ways and also his talking is such a core component of him and dialogue is my weakest point as a writer!
some kaeya thoughts, though! it got a bit away from me so under a cut. also under the cut—mentions of somno, edging, and overstim.
from his voice lines about being a sinner, there's a lot of question around how much he values himself as a person. kaeya sort of falls into the same category as nanami for me when it comes to self-worth—he sees value in himself as a tool and protector of mond. as a person, he doesn't have that same value. he's a sinner, a liar, and a betrayer.
we also know he's willing to use any method possible to get the outcome he wants. that he likes making people make tough decisions. manipulation is ingrained in kaeya, and i think he considers it a survival method—something he can never let go of. it's an integral part of himself in his own mind. diluc is the only person who has ever seen his true self, and i think it would take a lot for him to let anyone see that again.
but despite his walls (and boy does he have walls), i think kaeya loves deeply, even if he doesn't always know what to do with it. we know now that he was the one who first reached out to diluc after their fight and that he reached out early. he's sentimental—keeping the letters, keeping the shells, keeping the scrap from the fire—even if he prefers to hide that fact.
i actually think when romance is on the table/he really likes someone he can get a bit flustered! he still maintains a majority of his composure and his silver tongue and his playful teasing but if you catch him off guard—he kinda bluescreens for a minute, flushes a bit, his eye widening just a hint. he recovers quick, though.
i think kaeya struggles with the idea of a true lover, though. he's caught up in his struggle with his origins and his worth. there's his penchant for manipulation and how it's second nature to him. it makes truly opening himself up to emotional connection difficult.
on a nsfw note, i think it takes kaeya a minute to find his footing in the bedroom but once he does? good luck. he'll wring you out and love every second of it. loves to edge you and then overstim you, all while cooing at you.
also i see him liking somno—it's not unusual for you to wake up with him between your legs, mouth shining with your slick, his tongue deep in you. he pulls away from your cunt when he sees you stirring awake, purring out a teasing good morning. he likes the idea of you waking up already wound up, even though you're still pliant under his mouth.
when deep feelings get involved, though, i see him as being a bit quieter when you have sex. there's a lot of vulnerability in it and i don't think he particularly enjoys any sense of vulnerability. he wants to keep that tight control, but he can't quite help the way you make him feel stripped bare. even still, it's relatively rare that it actually shows up. a majority of the time, you still end up with teasing—borderline sadistic at times—kaeya taking you apart.
like i said, i think kaeya is a complex and difficult character to pin down, and my thoughts about him shift all the time! i'm really looking forward to getting more about his relationship with khaenri'ah and about him in general!
#🪴.ask#anon#rlly thank you so much <333#somnophilia tw#edging tw#overstimulation tw#i didn't even touch on his loneliness and how core it is to his person lol#.kaeya
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“People think intimacy is about sex. But intimacy is about truth. When you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can show yourself to them, when you can stand in front of them bare and their response is “You’re safe with me”-- that’s intimacy.”
c taylor reid, the seven husbands of evelyn hugo
#not me the series#not me#nmedit#notmeedit#danyok#danyokedit#i love this quote so much and it fits them perfectly#they really said you can strip bare and show someone your true self#all your beauty and ugliness all you light and darkness#and if it's right they will see all of you and love you even harder#hold you even tighter#and i lost my mind#is that not truly what everyone wants deep down
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I would like a request for Steve Demon, something very dark and hot, thank you! 😈❤️
Hi darling! Thank you for your patience 🙏💖 This story was inspired by Slavic witch legends and VN Demonheart!
Oh, my love, don't forsake me
Pairing: demon!Steve Rogers x witch!Reader
Warnings: yandere, obsession, dark magic, dubcon, witch!Nakia, mentions of violence.
Words: 1670.
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You remembered your first encounter with him well. It had been your first Walpurgis Night when Nakia presented you to a coven: you had been taken through an initiation ritual to become a true witch, and all of you danced and drank and laughed, jumping through grand fire and burning your clothes till you all had been naked, only jewelry - necklaces, earrings and bracelets - left on your bodies.
It was then when demons had arrived, many of them flying directly to their witches and starting dancing with them, picking them up and letting them ride them high up in the sky as if they were horned horses, and you froze on your spot, watching their red bodies glowing.
"You will choose your demon lover today." Nakia whispered to you, smiling to her own mighty demon, his shoulders wide and muscular, his gaunt wings so large he could cover ten people with each. "There are several of those who are free."
"Today?" You asked her nervously, watching those demons without a witch on their backs. "But I thought I would be given time to let them know better."
You knew no one but Nakia, and the thought of choosing your demon right this very moment seemed a bit frightening to you. The witch was choosing her demon lover for eternity - unless both her and him would decide to separate, but it was highly unlikely as the bond they built had always been hard to break. How could you do it without knowing a demon first? Today you could make the worst mistake in your entire life - and afterlife, considering that your soul would travel back to Hell with your demon by your side.
"Don't fret over little things." The witch flashed you a wide smile, her flawless skin glowing softly in the dim light coming from the fire meters away from you. "You will be fine. Look at them! Who is the one you want the most?"
She motioned to the demons flying up in the air, their wings flapping, and you realized you could actually see what was beneath the loincloth of some of them, your face growing unbearably hot. How indecent! Why didn't they wear something more concealing?
"Because they are showing new witches what they got to offer." Your mentor laughed at your bemused expression, and you chuckled, thinking how you were standing naked in front of them with just a think golden necklace on, the only valuable jewelry you had. "Don't be shy, dear. Look, look at them! Ask me if you see someone attractive, and I will tell you everything I know."
Oh dear, it was probably the most embarrassing thing you had ever done, but you couldn't miss your only opportunity to know more about your future lover. Besides, you didn’t become a witch to spend your days caring about morals and decency, did you? You were going to sin till the very end of your life, and today could be a nice starting point. In the end, a physical body and all its parts were nothing to be ashamed of.
Watching several men, their skin scarlet, floating above the grand fire and laughing along the other couples, you tried focusing on those who you thought looked the strongest and sheepishly whispering to Nakia. You felt a little distressed her own lover had to wait for you, but the demon only grinned at you, baring his pearly white teeth, and bowed his head a little, visibly agreeing to wait longer. Maybe they weren’t all as scary as you imagined? You certainly hoped so, pointing to several demons and asking your mentor about them.
“This one? This is Tony, he’s a clever but vicious sort.”
“Aren’t they all?”
Turning her face to you, Nakia gently caressed your head as if you were her child. “No, darling. Not to us. But you are right, I doubt Tony would be the right choice for you. Maybe young Peter? It is his first Walpurgis Night, but he’s of age. Or Brock, that demon over there? Oh no, look at this ruthless barbarian...”
However, before you had time to look at the man she had pointing at, another demon suddenly crossed your way, and you stilled when he looked directly at you, his large crimson wings blocking the view for both Nakia and you. He stood out from the crowd with his glowing golden hair and immense wings that were bigger than even Nakia’s lover, and you frown when the demon landed on his goat hooves, aggressively ripping his loincloth away and baring his flesh in front of you. Your face grew hot at his shameless display, and searched for your mentor’s hand, clutching it in yours like a child, truly. What was that? Did you make the demon upset? Had you broken some rule you didn’t know about?
Nervously glancing at Nakia’s lover you saw him distressed, too, but he didn’t move further to protect you, standing on his place. Was it because there was no true danger or because he simply couldn’t protect his witch against the monster in front of you?
“Who is he?” Your whisper was barely audible as you trembled, clinging to Nakia, and she wrapped her warm arm around your shoulders, leaning closer to your ear.
“Steven of Triskelion. Do not be scared, my darling, he isn’t here to hurt you. I wonder why he’s courting you so... passionately, though.”
“Courting me?”
“Oh yes, my dear. Look at him, putting himself on display like that for a young witch. His desire for you must be strong.”
Softly waving at her lover and seeing him relaxing, Nakia gently pushed you in front, encouraging you to come closer to the demon whose gaze was so intense you were worried he would make a hole in you. Oh, you needed to talk to him. Probably. You weren’t sure, but by the look on the witch’s face you guessed the demon in front of you wasn’t necessarily a bad choice. Judging by his enormous form and his thick, veiny cock in between his muscled legs, maybe he really weren’t.
Suddenly feeling very self-conscious in front of him, you tried smiling and prevent yourself from covering your body with your hands - he had just shown himself completely naked to you, and it would be disrespectful of you to do otherwise. You certainly didn’t want to upset a demon like him.
“Hello, Sir. It is a pleasure to meet you.” You said politely, hoping he wouldn’t mind the way you talked to him. Should you bow to him? Offer him your hand? Kiss his cheek? No, no, you wouldn’t dare.
For a second you thought he was going to hit you, but you knew a demon would never do that to a witch, especially with a whole coven present. They’d ban him from ever pairing with any of them, stripping him of a possibly ally and lover. Only the most insane demons would try doing something as reckless and disrespectful, but they weren’t allowed to Walpurgis Night celebrations. Thank... Devil?
The demon suddenly chuckled, baring his sharp fangs, “You don’t have to be so polite with me, little witch. I am sorry for intimidating you for it was not my intention. Come closer.”
Liar! He loved the effect he had on you, you didn’t have to get inside his horned head to see it. Was he of patronizing kind? Maybe. It wasn’t the worst one among demons straight from Hell, and you smiled at him, putting your arm in his as he drew you closer to him, his other arm softly cupping your chin. His crimson body was radiating heat, and you enjoyed it when demon made you lean onto his wide chest. Despite being somewhat shy about the whole encounter, you were starting to warming up, demon’s touch having a strange effect on you.
“Allow me to give you this.” The man murmured into your ear, and you felt the heaviness of a string of pearls on your neck, touching it with your fingers and watching the demon with wide eyes.
Of course, you have heard of witches receiving gifts from their demonic lovers, but Steve was still a stranger to you. Was it right to accept something so expensive from him? While you tried looking for Nakia to ask her advice, the demon wrapped his large gaunt wings around you two, preventing you from searching for your friend, and forcefully turned your face to him, claiming your lips as if he wanted to devour you. You had no time to react before his huge tongue got inside your mouth, his clawed hand running up your rib cage and cupping your breasts as you whimpered against him, his body blazing hot. He didn’t give you a second to get accustomed to the kiss before spreading his wings and flapping them as he unceremoniously grabbed you by the hips and flew up, taking you with him. You let out a little mewl, clinging to Steve for life. What was he doing?!
“Don’t be scared, kitten. I’m not asking you to ride on my back just yet.” The demon’s voice was soft, but you could see his grin getting wider, and a part of you was nervous at his somewhat aggressive courting. “But wouldn’t you like it? I can be a powerful ally for a witch and a gentle lover for an innocent kitten like you.”
“Be careful, dear. Steve became bitter after his witch has left him to return to God,” Nakia’s voice said in your head, and you frowned, knowing the demon most certainly heard her, too.
She left him for God? What, how was this even possible?
Demon’s grin turned wicked as he kissed your forehead, getting higher and higher as other demons and witches danced below you. “It’s true, darling. That’s why after you choose me to be your lover I will carve your heart out of your chest and keep it with me.”
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Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess
#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers#dark steve rogers x reader#dark steve rogers#yandere#captain america#requests#mcu#mcu fanfiction
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Safe
A Danse and Nora fic.
[Read on AO3]
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“It’s eerie how well preserved this area is,” Paladin Danse said, as the elevator cage opened to reveal the silent Vault 111 in front of him.
“That was kind of the whole point, Danse,” Nora said, smiling over at him. “If they could preserve me this well for 200 years, it only makes sense that the metal walls held up too.”
“They preserved you wonderfully,” Danse agreed with a nod.
“Is that a line?” Nora asked, raising an eyebrow at the Paladin and making a slight blush rise in his stubbly cheeks.
“I… of course not,” Danse fumbled. “I just meant, from a medical standpoint, what they were able to achieve in this vault was… impressive.” Danse let his words trail off towards the end of his sentence, finding that he was only making things worse.
“Relax, Paladin,” Nora said, her grin still in place. “I was only joking.”
“Of course,” Danse said, trying to sound confident even though he still felt flustered. “I knew that.”
The way Nora gave him a short nod and held back a laugh before walking further into the vault told him that she knew he was lying. He appreciated that she didn’t state this outright.
Danse followed behind the vault dweller in silence. Or, in as much silence as he could manage when the sound of his power armor reverberated off the walls so loudly.
“The gun should be right through here,” Nora said, leading Danse through the halls of Vault 111 expertly. “I saw it when I first… woke up in here. But I wasn’t as familiar with lockpicking back then.”
“You’ve definitely honed that skill since wandering the Wasteland,” Danse agreed, giving her the smallest ghost of a smile.
He admired Nora for so many reasons. Her lockpicking skill was just one of the many ways she’d adapted to an impossible situation after waking up to a world she didn’t recognize.
She’d lost her son. She’d lost her husband. And yet, Danse had never seen her show the people of the Commonwealth anything but kindness. He didn’t know such people still existed in the world. Meeting her had shifted his perspective on a lot of things.
“If I can get the lock open, will you check out the gun to see if it’s something that might be useful for us?” Nora asked, shaking Danse from his internal musings.
“Of course,” he answered.
Nora led him to a small room within the vault and quickly began working on the locked glass case that held the gun.
“It’s called a Cryolator,” Nora explained, puckering her lips as she moved the bobby pin and screwdriver in such small subtle ways that Danse could hardly tell she was moving them at all. “From what I read on the terminals when I first woke up here, the Overseer of the vault made it as a way to pass time. It’s supposed to freeze enemies.”
“That definitely sounds like a unique weapon to have in your arsenal.
Nora nodded but didn’t say anything. She was focused on the lock in front of her, still trying to crack it as Danse watched her.
In this moment, with her full attention taken up by something else, Danse allowed himself a moment of self-indulgence. He watched the way her brown hair fell out of its bun in small wispy strands. He saw the freckles on her cheeks that she swore she didn’t have before leaving the vault. He studied the way her vault suit fit her a little too perfectly, which had been one of the reasons he’d tried to convince her to trade it in for a Brotherhood suit.
Her pink lips were still puckered as her long fingers worked at the lock.
Danse swallowed hard, realizing that he shouldn’t be staring at his partner this way.
“Bingo!” Nora said, standing aside with a triumphant smile.
“Outstanding, soldier,” Danse said, hating the way his voice sounded ever-so-slightly off after studying her so closely.
“Have at it, partner,” Nora said, gesturing to the gun and standing aside.
The Cryolator was definitely something Sanctuary could use to keep the settlement well-defended. And as Danse studied the weapon, he imagined the various ways it could be used to ward off Raiders.
“You really do wonderful work, soldier. Have I told you that lately?” Danse asked, turning around to find that he was alone. “Nora?”
Feeling his pulse pick up a few paces, he left the small room and began making his way through the halls of Vault 111.
What if something had happened to her? What if Raiders had been camping out inside the vault and they’d somehow missed them on the way in?
It wasn’t until Danse entered a cold room full of large metal containers that he found his partner. She was standing in front of one of the pods with an expression he couldn’t read. When Danse approached and curiously looked at the frozen man behind the glass, his brain made the connection.
This had to be Nate. This had to be the man Nora had loved. The man she’d built a life with, only to have it all stripped away in mere seconds.
He looked from the man in the pod to Nora, watching the way her jaw tightened as she stared at her spouse. She didn’t let any tears fall, though Danse wouldn't have faulted her if she did.
He wasn’t sure what to say to her at a moment like this. He wanted to tell her that she was welcome to grieve however she wanted. He wanted to make this better for her. But he was at a loss.
“Take all the time you need, soldier,” he said, because what else could he really say?
“I’m fine,” Nora replied, taking a deep breath, turning on her heel, and walking quickly away from the room.
Danse barely had time to register what had happened before she disappeared completely.
He could hear the sound of the vault elevator in the distance as it brought Nora back up to the surface.
She probably needs a few moments alone, he thought to himself, looking back at the lifeless form of the man Nora had loved. The one she had trusted.
His heart ached for her.
Danse waited a while before making his way back to the vault elevator, not wanting to impose on Nora’s private moment the way he accidentally had when he’d clomped into the cryochamber. But to his surprise, Nora wasn’t waiting for him on the surface.
She probably went back to Sanctuary.
He wasn’t sure if this was true, but he hoped it was. Any time he lost sight of Nora, he began to feel a panic take over his heart. He’d had a lot of partners and lost a lot of partners. But he’d never worried so much over someone in his life.
Nora had proven herself a capable soldier in the field. Despite her kindness and her tenderness, she could also be tough. She was a walking contradiction wrapped up in a blue and gold vault suit. Danse didn’t have to worry about her being safe on her own.
And yet, he did.
The sound of Danse’s power armor tromping through the dirt was anything but stealthy, but he didn’t care about being quiet at the moment. He only cared about finding Nora and making sure she was okay.
Walking through the streets of Sanctuary, Danse found the first settler he could, even though he wasn’t exactly happy with who it was.
“Have you seen Nora?” he asked the ghoul in front of him.
“Wait… are you actually asking me, a lowly ghoul, for help?” Hancock asked, his mouth quirked up into a half smile.
The Paladin knew the ghoul was pushing his buttons on purpose. And in the back of his mind, he knew he deserved it. But that knowledge didn’t do anything to quell Danse’s rage.
“Listen to me, you…”
“Careful Danse, if you get too worked up, your power armor might rust and you’ll be stuck in there forever,” Deacon said, stepping up beside Hancock with a matching smile.
Of course it had to be Deacon.
If there was one person who liked to get under Danse’s skin more than Hancock, it was Deacon.
Danse clenched his jaw tightly, to try to keep his temper from flaring up. “Nora is distraught from something we encountered on our mission,” Danse began. “As her partner, it’s my job to make sure she’s okay.”
“I think he still thinks he’s part of the Brotherhood of Steel,” Hancock said to Deacon.
The jab shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. But the reminder that the organization he’d dedicated his entire life to had thrown him out like an old pipe pistol after they’d found out who he really was, stung him to his core.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever be okay with the way things had ended. And he wasn’t sure he’d ever be okay with who… or what… he truly was.
But Nora was. She wasn’t just okay with what he was, she’d convinced him that he had something to live for. She’d saved his life in so many ways. Because that’s who she was.
“Garvey,” Danse said, while still keeping his eyes locked on Hancock’s in a scowl.
He’d been aware that Preston Garvey had been watching the exchange with mild interest. He also knew that Preston would give him the information he needed, rather than needling him for fun.
“The General is in her old house,” Preston said.
“Oh come on,” Deacon whined. “Why did you have to ruin our fun?”
Danse simply shook his head in annoyance, never letting the scowl leave his features as he walked away from Hancock and Deacon. “Thank you, Garvey.”
“Ad Victorium!” Deacon called after Danse’s retreating form.
“Ingrates,” Danse mumbled under his breath as he made his way to Nora’s old home in the quickly fading light.
It didn’t take long for his expression to soften as he heard the soft sounds of music coming from her living room.
Danse exited his power armor and knocked on the front door, straightening his posture and trying to figure out what he could possibly say to Nora about what she’d just seen. He should have known that going back into Vault 111 would be difficult for her. The fact that it had never crossed his mind only made him feel that much more responsible for her current dismay.
“Come in,” she called over the music.
Danse opened the door to her home and entered the living room to find Nora sitting on the couch with a large bottle of bourbon in her hand.
“Soldier,” Danse warned. “I know it’s tempting to lose yourself to something like that. But it isn’t wise.”
Nora laughed at his words before patting the couch beside her. “Come sit with me, Danse.”
The Paladin looked around the room, as if he’d find someone else there who would tell him it was a bad idea. There was no one. And the voice in his head that was constantly telling him to be better was nowhere to be found right at that moment.
Danse swallowed hard before taking a seat beside Nora. He felt oddly exposed without his power armor on. With only the orange Brotherhood jumpsuit between himself and the outside world, he wasn’t quite sure how to act. He felt too vulnerable.
“Why do you still wear that thing?” Nora asked, running her free hand over the arm of Danse’s jumpsuit in a way that gave him goosebumps.
“I could ask you the same question,” he answered with a smile, looking at her blue vault suit.
She took another long drink from the bourbon bottle before smiling at him. “Touche, Paladin.”
The bottle was almost empty and he silently cursed himself for giving her so much time to herself after she left the vault. She’d most definitely be inebriated by now.
The way she lazily watched him told him that the alcohol was definitely doing its job. And while he didn’t approve of her drinking, he had to admit it made it easier for him to address what had just happened.
“Are you… okay?” he asked.
“You mean after seeing my dead husband frozen in a metal container?” her words should have sounded harsh, but coming from Nora, nothing sounded harsh. “I’ve felt better.”
“I know that couldn’t have been easy, seeing him like that again.”
“I wasn’t planning on going into that room,” Nora admitted after another drink. She looked down at the bottle in her hands. “I told myself I wouldn’t do it. And then I did.”
Danse watched her carefully. Her cheeks and nose were red from the bourbon and she looked sad. Sadder than he’d seen her in a while. How could he possibly make this better.
“I’m sorry,” he said simply.
Nora looked over at him. Her green eyes were wide as she watched him. “You remind me of Nate sometimes.”
“Oh?” Danse wasn’t sure how he should respond to that. Keeping his response vague felt like the best course of action.
“I mean… you don’t really remind me of him. But that feeling of safety I always felt with him… I feel that with you too.” Nora smiled now, before setting the bottle down on the coffee table in front of her. “I feel safe with you. And that’s… it’s an invaluable thing in the Commonwealth.”
Danse tried to look away from Nora as she spoke, feeling uncomfortable with how vulnerable she was being. But he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away. “Thank you, soldier.”
Nora laughed softly at his response. “You don’t have to call me that,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder. “We’re not on some official assignment. You were just… accompanying me on my own little recon mission.”
“I prefer keeping things formal,” Danse lied. The truth was, he didn’t feel like keeping things formal with Nora. But he wouldn’t tell her that in a million years. Danse was broken beyond repair. Nora was many things, but there was no way she would be saintly enough to look past what he was.
“Do you really, Danse?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him and leaning in closer.
“I think you should probably go lie down for the night,” Danse said, suddenly feeling uncomfortable at just how close they were on the couch. “Sleep off that bourbon.”
Nora leaned away from him and sighed. “You’re probably right.”
She seemed… disappointed. Danse wasn’t sure why she’d be upset by his suggestion.
As Nora stood up from the couch, she stumbled slightly, catching herself on the arm of the sofa.
“Okay fine,” she said with a giggle. “Maybe you’re right. I do need to sleep this off.”
“Indeed,” Danse answered, standing up and placing his hand under her elbow to help keep her steady. “Easy now.”
Nora leaned against him as he walked her through the hall to her bedroom at the back of the house. He tried to ignore the way his breath seemed to catch in his throat at her touch.
When they entered her room, Danse let her go for a moment to pull her covers down for her. When he turned back around, she was staring at him with a look he couldn’t quite read.
“You always take good care of me,” she said, her voice so low that he could barely hear it.
“I'll always have your back,” he said. “That’s what we do. We watch out for each other.”
“We do,” she said, the lazy smile returning to her lips.
Danse watched her in silence for a moment before his discomfort grew to be too much. “Are you ready for bed?” he asked, looking away from Nora for a moment.
“Was that a line?” she asked, her grin widening.
“Nothing I’ve said today has been a line,” Danse said, hoping she was too intoxicated to notice how red his cheeks had become.
Nora stepped closer to Danse with the grin still in place. “Are you sure about that?”
Danse backed away from her but couldn’t move very far before the back of his legs hit the mattress. Not wanting to encourage her further, he stepped away from the bed. Of course, this only brought him closer to her.
Seeming to take this as a sign, Nora pressed her lips firmly against his. She tasted like alcohol, which only helped to remind Danse of why this was incredibly inappropriate.
Pushing her away gently he tried to gather his thoughts as his mind desperately tried to push him closer to her again. “Soldier, this is… inappropriate.” His words were stilted and his voice sounded tight.
“Again, Danse, that’s kind of the point,” Nora said, bringing her lips to his again and wrapping her arms around his neck.
Danse knew he should push her away. She was intoxicated and he had no business kissing her. But he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her back. Only for a moment. Only long enough for his heart to begin hammering inside of his chest.
His breathing was shallow as his mouth moved with hers, and he hated himself for kissing her back when it was so obvious she wasn’t in her right mind. The guilt that flooded his mind was only outweighed by the sudden deep desire he had to deepen the kiss.
Danse couldn’t remember the last time he’d been properly kissed. And as much as his hands were itching to pull Nora closer, he pushed her away again.
“Soldier,” he began. “Nora… this… this isn’t okay. You’re drunk.” His voice was soft as he stared into her green eyes. Those beautiful eyes that had looked into his soul when he’d first found out he was a synth. Those green eyes that had convinced him he had something to live for.
“I’m not that drunk,” she said. “And I know what I want.”
Nora kissed him again, this time more desperately. She parted his lips with her own, tangling her fingers in his dark hair and pulling him closer and closer. Her kisses grew hungrier with every second and with each one, Danse found himself less able to do the right thing.
He wanted her. And that realization terrified him. He’d never wanted anyone this way.
“Nora, please,” he insisted between kisses. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to resist the woman he’d spent so long admiring.
In response, Nora dropped her hands to Danse’s waist, pulling him against her. “Don’t you want this?” she asked breathlessly. “I’ve always thought you did.”
How did he respond to that? He couldn’t possibly tell her the truth. That he’d wanted this since he’d met her. That would only encourage her. And Danse wasn’t the type of person to take advantage of someone when they couldn’t properly think for themselves.
“Nora,” he said, pushing her hands away and taking a breathless step back. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he watched her. Even now, knowing he had to do the right thing, his body was screaming at him to pull her close again. “You’ve had too much to drink.” His words were short and to the point. He didn’t think he’d be able to stay away if he let any emotion sneak into his voice right at that moment. “If this happened, it wouldn’t be right.”
“I already told you I want this,” Nora insisted, but as she took a step closer to Danse, he sidestepped her.
“You aren’t sober enough to make that decision,” Danse answered, furrowing his brow and wishing Nora hadn’t found that bottle of bourbon. “So I’m making it for you. You need to go to sleep.”
Nora watched him with hurt in her green eyes, her brows knitting together. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable,” she said, turning away from him. She seemed to take a deep breath before crawling into her bed.
Nora turned her back to Danse, instead facing the wall after lying down. The silence between them was suddenly deafening.
Even though he knew he was doing the right thing, her response made him feel like the bad guy.
“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” he said. “I just… want you to be safe.”
He watched her for a moment longer, feeling like he’d done something wrong somehow.
“Goodnight, Danse,” Nora said.
He sighed deeply at her words. In the morning, he’d come by and check on her. She probably wouldn’t remember any of this. He wasn’t sure if he was happy or sad that he couldn’t say the same.
This evening would be burned into his memory for the rest of his life. The feeling of Nora kissing him was going to make it almost impossible for him to keep working with her. He’d always been vaguely aware of his feelings for her, but he’d managed to tell himself that they were simply a result of finding a genuinely kind human being in the midst of a place as awful as the Commonwealth.
Now he knew the truth. He was head over heels for Nora. But he knew there was no way she’d ever want a synth. And why should she? He’d brought her into the Brotherhood. He’d taught her that synths were an abomination. And now he’d have to reap what he’d sown.
He watched her with sad eyes as her breathing slowed down and she fell asleep.
He’d be a good friend to her. He’d always try to be a good friend to her. Because despite his feelings that he knew couldn’t be reciprocated, she deserved a good friend. Danse would rather have Nora in his life as a friend than not at all. And even though he knew it would be torture to be around her after realizing just how much he cared for her, he couldn’t live with the alternative.
“Goodnight, Nora,” he said into the now-dark house.
.
[Part 2]
#fo4#fallout#fallout 4#danse#paladin danse#fallout danse#nora#fallout nora#sole survivor#fanfic#fallout fanfic#fallout 4 fanfic#danse x sole survivor#danse x sole#paladin danse x sole survivor
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I saw this question n i really want to know yout pov . JK is a troll and he's using both JM and Tae. Lets see. JK wears a purple and green shirt the other day. Purple and green earrings during Muster and purple and green bracelets. But then he says Purple goes best with Yellow and wears matching clothes with JM. He grabs Tae away from Jin, but then grabs JM from people. So is he purposely being a fan service troll or is he stringing them both along? I don't think he knows what or who he wants anymore. he's just enjoying the attention from Vmin.
JK IS STRINGING VMIN ALONG??? I 👁👄👁
I feel like I've answered this Ask before.
I think the problem with such rhetorics for me is, it strips Jimin and Tae completely off their self agencies and reduces them to a bunch of fabled dickmatised pick me hyungs waiting on a patriarchal head with a self acclaimed big dick who then is Jungkook to choose between them to move the plot.
If that is true, then I recommend Vmin go and love themselves or better yet fuck eachother to liberate themselves from this mental hebetude.
Photo: Two pathetic dick whipped men comforting each other over a piece of dick
What at all makes y'all think that Jimin who have categorically stated he doesn't share his friends, would be ok sharing his boyfriend with his bestfriend and soulmate?
Didn't you hear BTS, Suga complain that Tae's friends are like unicorns and that he talks about them alot but none of them have seen those friends ever in one of the team building run episodes they did recently?
What makes y'all think a man who tries to keep his intimate friendship groups separate and compartmentalized from his work friendship groups- what makes you think he would be ok dating a bandmate in the first place much less share his partner with another bandmate?
Y'all make it make sense to me please.
Y'all create this rhetoric of V and Jimin so in love with their Maknae they would allow this goofy ass gen z to play them like booboo the fool. But frankly I think none of them would shed a tear over a piece of dick. I'm sorry but I just don't see them that way.
Jk barely has the reins on Jimin, how he's gone manage Tae and all these other idols yall ship him with on top🤣
Jimin is slippery than y'all think he is. He'll be gone before JK makes up his mind chilee. And if he won't go, I and JK's mom will carry him kicking and screaming cos we love us some self confident self respecting Park Jimin.
May be I'm gay but I don't think dicks are all that great for two full grown adults like Tae and Jimin to sob over. The misogyny of it all!
Now this whole fan service troll bit however...
I think I have said a couple times that Jikook, Jk especially do intentionally troll us from time to time with certain things he does with Jimin- the tissue thingy he did with JM, the pinkie ring thingy, the bottle thingy and certain "fan service" interactions with Jimin and certain members, blowing Jin a kiss and making sure it was captured etc.
It's all part of his persona I suppose and I think it's cute frankly. I just know he laughs his butt off at certain edits and analysis we throw out there. He does. Lmho.
Photo: Jimin and Jungkook watching shipper armys be clowns
Lmho.
Do I think he trolls us from time to time? Yes. Sometimes we catch on, sometimes it flies over our heads completely. I guess we need to pray for the spirit of discernment to be able to clock these moments cos 👁👄👁
That however doesn't take away from that he has genuine interest in his relationship with any of these men. It in no way invalidates what he has with Jimin. Or Jin. Or Tae because like I said, his right to be a fuxkboy is contingent on the self worth and agencies of these autonomous human beings with brain and self determination.
He can be a fuxkboy just not in Jimin's space. I would fight him otherwise 🤺
Jungkook is not a fuck boy. He values the people he loves- y'all uWu and akekeke when he shows loyalty and commitment in caring for Army's health and often praise him for how thoughtful and empathetic he is but then somehow y'all imagine the exact opposite of him in his private life. That he is a community penis who doesn't care about hurting his boyfriend, someone he claims he loves and goes ahead and falls in love with his bestfriend anyway.
Worse, those two besties obsequiously wait on him to choose between them.... why?????
Now, I don't think it's fair for OP to opine on the aesthetics Jungkook gravitates towards in this way. It feels like they are stripping Jk off his agency and self determination and reducing him to a caricature who exists solely for a ship and thus everything he does is interpreted from a ship lens. I think that's a low blow.
BTS have said their looks and style are often curated by staff- they have stylists for a reason you know? Granted, these stylists often make sure Jikook or other pairs are matching clothes or wearing complimentary outfits or hairstyles most times- like JM says, there is a reason for that.
And yes, sometimes they do make their own decisions as to what they want to wear and how they want to look- because again, agency. We've seen it and the stylists have said so themselves.
How you interpret these clothing choices is totally up to you. But do not judge them for the interpretation you give to these choices they make. Sometimes they wear stuff cos they like it. It may coincidentally be your faves favorite color- it don't mean they were trying to imply subtext.
Sometimes too, they do that to actively feed a ship agenda- like Vmin and their soulmate agenda or Jikook and their I am you you are me agenda or even Sope or Namjin.
It behooves you to discern and to be able to discern the intent behind such decisions and choices. And when you do, understand it's only speculation.
I think Jungkook knows who and what he wants. You corny for saying he don't. So cheesy. Lmho.
He has shown that again and again y'all just wanna act blind. Jimin is not confused between Jungkook and Tae. JK is not confused between Tae and Jimin- for the simple fact, they each bring something different to the table.
He can have a boyfriend and have a partner in crime. Just as Jimin can have him and have a bestie he calls soulmate. Jungkook is also, a complex human being with complex emotions. He is capable of having different emotional depths and connections that don't at all necessarily mean he is fucking them all or wants to fuck them all. Hell is wrong witchu?!
Perhaps, rather than brush Jimin and Tae as occupying the same spot in JK's heart and wants, try and understand what each mean to him because trust me they don't mean the same thing to him at all.
Personally, I think Jimin is the love of his life. Period. Tae is his childhood bestie whom he grew apart from and have in recent times rekindled that friendship. He is not fucking Tae and he doesn't want to fuxk him. We DO
I'm calling Jesus on y'all cos the things yall be imagining in this fandom is hell worthy🤧
Besides, Jk is not at the center of VminKook. Jimin is. Vmin are not vying for Jk's affections, but Tae Kook are vying for JMs you coconut head 🙃
Tae: Jimin I like you the most
Y'all: 🥥🥥🥥🥥🥥
This man don confessed his whole chest on his feelings for JM on national television and yet yall gonna act obtuse.
When Tae wanted to fix his relationship with JK he said it to y'all's hearing in Soop. When he wanted to confess his feelings about Jimin he did that too. He is not hiding his feelings for Jk or Jimin for yall to concoct these elaborate theories about him and JK.
If I master black magic, I will turn y'all into coconuts so your insides can match your outsides😫
FREE JK
Signed,
GOLDY
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Part 6
There was a terrible disorientation, darkness, pressure, and then he was lying facedown on something soft. He flinched as a familiar weight thunked against the back of his thighs; his shield. His sword was still in hand; he was gripping it tightly, out of pure instinct.
Somewhere above him was movement, and the sound of a sword being half drawn, and then a gasp. He recognized the distinctive traits of all three; and decided to simply lie there a bit yet. He had a raging headache suddenly, and there was no danger he could think of that could possibly get through his wife to harm him.
“Foicatch!?” She sounded shocked. There was a soft thump as Ice hit the soft rugs beneath them, and then hands on him, on the back of his shoulders and on his cheek. “Beloved?”
“Fuck.” He said into the carpets. With some effort, he pulled himself up to his knees and took a look around, instinctively taking in his surroundings and the lay of the land.
A tent of some sort, on a wooden platform. A wagon, most likely, judging from the slight give and sway. A large camp, from the noises outside. The tent was rich; gold and jewels glittered in lamplight, and the pallet he was on was of rich, soft carpets and furs. He did not recognize any of it, but was again not surprised. Gods played games with his wife’s life, and wherever she was he knew in his bones that she’d soon rise to the top.
Quite suddenly, arms were around his neck, and Systlin was clinging to him in a bone-creaking embrace. He started, surprised; she was normally a reserved woman, but now she was acting as if she’d not seen him in weeks.
“Sys.” He said weakly. “Sys. Darling. What…”
“Is Senna all right?” She pulled back and stared at him, her eyes bright, desperate. “Is she all right?”
“Of course she is. You saw her half an hour ago.” Foicatch rubbed at his aching temples. “What the fuck was that?”
Her whole body seemed to relax, almost slumping with abject relief, and she pulled back a little, but left one hand on his knee. “For me,” she said. “It’s been three months.”
He blinked a couple of times. “What.”
“Three months.”
“How…”
“The Lady.” When he’d been a boy, he’d never dreamed that he’d ever hear someone make such a matter of fact sort of statement about the Lady, Mother of All. Let alone that he would be married to that person, and that such a statement would make utter sense. “We’re on a world called Gor.” A slight pause. “’Catch, love, you’ve no clue how happy I am to have you here. This place is a shithole.”
“It can’t be that bad.” He waved a hand around at the tent. “This seems nice.”
“I had to kill three thousand men to unfuck this one tribe.” She said bluntly. “And it’s still not really done; that was just lancing the boil. ’Catch, the men of this world are slavers. All of them, from what I can tell, or at least most. They keep women as sex toys.”
Foicatch stared at her for a solid minute or so, appalled.
“What.” He finally managed.
It took her half an hour to fill him in on the details. By the end, his headache was fading, but a second one was threatening on his heels. He’d gotten to his feet some time back, and he was incandescently furious and pacing the tent. (The Ubara’s tent. He felt a flash of pride, at that. Of course she was Ubara; queen by her own hand within a day. He’d expect nothing less of her, and marveled, again, that such a woman as her had chosen him.)
He stopped his pacing long enough to touch her face, to brush her plait back. “You said you killed three thousand that first night.”
“Yes.” She said. The word was a flat statement of fact.
“You must have used your power.”
“Yes.” Again, a statement of fact.
“Are you all right?” He asked it softly. She never admitted to anyone else save Sura the cost of her gift for Breaking, the strain it caused when used too much. But he knew, because she trusted him.
“I am.” She covered his hand with hers. “I told you once; it gets easier to restrain it, with practice. And I’ve had a lot of practice. And the women…” She looked off, at the tent flap. “They’re remarkable. All they’ve been through, and survived. Many are brilliant, and funny, and kind, and fierce. They’ve not let me stew alone.”
He nodded, relieved. Do not let her be alone, Sura had told him once. Sura, bright, brilliant Sura, who’d realized before anyone else living what Systlin was, that there’d come a Breaker strong enough to break even her curse to her will.
They stood there for a moment. She stepped into his arms, and leaned against his chest. He looped his arms around her waist, and let her take comfort as long as she needed it.
At last, he said “So you’ve been gone months, but it’s been but moments at home.”
“Thank the gods.” Systlin’s voice was muffled by his chest. “I’ve been so, so worried, about you and Senna.”
“It’s reasonable then to assume that however long we take here, little or no time will have passed at home.”
“Thank the gods.” She said again, fervent.
“Well.” He said. “We might as well make a proper job of it then. Why don’t you show me around, Ubara?”
He was a very tall man, broad and muscular and strong, a fighting man in true. He wore a sword and shield with the air of a man long accustomed to their use. His eyes were green, and sharp. His hair fell to his shoulders, caught back in a leather tie. His beard was braided into a short plait bound in silver.
This is a proper man, I thought, but then to my horror I saw the glint of silver in his ear.
A man….a man, a fighting man! Had allowed his ear to be pierced! It was shameful, beyond shameful.
The she-sleen emerged from the wagon behind him. She said something, and he turned to listen. I realized that the ring in his ear was a twin to the silver one she wore, and in a flash realized that this was her mate, the one she’d claimed to be bonded to.
He laughed at something she said, and she grinned at him.
I thought that I had seen the she-sleen fight, that day she had slain Kamchak, Ubar of the Tuchuks.
I had not. Not truly. I had realized, of course, that she had been toying with him, toying with a Tuchuk, known as the fiercest and cleverest of warriors. But I had not known, not really, what she was.
I stared as she sparred the man…her husband, it still was a thing of horror to think of bedding such a woman, but if there was a man to master such a woman then I could believe it of this man.
He was magnificent. It was hot; he had stripped to his waist, baring a marvelously formed body to the sun. There were scars here and there, showing that he was a fighting man and had won many battles. His eyes were fierce and keen, and he wielded that metal shield and his sword as easily and lightly as if they were wooden toys, muscles rippling under taut bronze skin. He was fast, as fast as a snake, and his footwork was superb. Any city would have been honored to have a fighting man such as he in their ranks; I am man enough to admit that in battle he could have bested me, and it would have been no shame to lose to such a superb warrior.
But then there was her.
He was magnificent, the pinnacle of what a fighting man strives to be. And out of the three bouts I saw them fight, he lost two.
He was fast. But she was like the speed of a falcon bound into the body of a woman, and made the swordplay look almost as a dance. She would, I thought, have been magnificent in dancing silks.
She flowed like water around strikes. She was, quite nimbly, never where a strike seemed to go, and used her blades with the precision of a physician excising a tumor. Her stamina seemed boundless; indeed, even under the heat of the sun she was not even sweating.
The first match ended after what seemed an impossibly long time to hold out against either of those displays of masterful swordsmanship, with his sword at her breast. My heart soared; surely, I thought, now he would put her in her place, teach her what it meant that he was a man, and she but a female…
But it did not happen. She laughed, and he grinned, a brilliant flash of white teeth.
“See what I mean?” She said, and rolled her shoulders, stepping back. “I’ve needed this. There’s no one here who can really test me, and I’ve been getting sloppy.”
The comment stung; she’d faced the whole of the Tuchuk, and me, a warrior of Ko-Ro-Ba!
He snorted. “The Lady should have brought Stellead here if that was what you needed; a training dummy and someone to teach.”
“Hm.” She gave him a look out of the corner of her eye that shocked me; it was playful, and warm, and very unlike the coldness she usually showed. I wondered if there was a slave under that armor after all, but then of course that could not be; no self respecting man would let a woman who was his slave on the couches and in the furs carry on so in public. “No, I think I’m glad. You are much better looking.”
“Well.” He smiled again. “With all due respect to your lovely and very terrifying aunt, I must agree.”
There were more like her? The thought was horrific. But then they crossed swords again, and I could only watch.
She won that second bout, and the third. At the end of the third, they were staring at each other with a particular heat in their eyes that I knew well; I have seen lust, in many forms.
I was shocked again when she grasped the end of the short plait of his beard, pulled his head down with no great gentleness, and kissed him as thoroughly and passionately as a slave girl might.
I had thought that she must be frigid, in denial of her own womanhood, wishing to be a man and putting from her head all thought of licentiousness and lust. And yet here I saw her, dusty from the training ring, her sword still in her hand, still as unyielding as steel, her movements and body language all sureness and authority, and kissing like a passion slave.
It was shocking, as well; she was demanding of him, not begging, and instead of silks she was attired entirely unflatteringly in leather and wool. And yet somehow the magnificent warrior seemed as enthusiastic about this embrace as a Gorean man with a pleasure slave at his mercy.
She pulled back, but did not let go of his beard or break eye contact. “My tent, I think.” Her voice was all anticipation. “You can leave the boots on.”
“Only if you leave the sword belt on.” He took her hand, and they were gone.
A wagon is not really the most sound-proof of dwellings. Out of some terrible fascination, I drifted towards the wagon of the Ubara.
The noises were loud, and enthusiastic. They lasted quite some time. At times, it sounded as if a pitched battle was taking place within the wagon. It was, indeed, some hour and a half before the she-sleen emerged at last from the wagon. She looked quite pleased with herself. Her hair had been freshly plaited, and she was wearing new clothing. She headed off again towards the training fields, humming some tuneless little song to herself.
Foicatch exited the wagon some time later. He looked the way that a man only does after he has been well and thoroughly pleased. He had put on a tunic, but it was not laced up the front, and his magnificent musculature was still visible through the thin cloth anyways. He was eating a sar fruit. There were imprints of small, even teeth several places on his neck, I saw, and scratch marks down one forearm. He seemed equally pleased with himself.
He saw me staring, and gave me a wide grin. It was quite a smug grin.
“Jealous?” He laughed quietly, drew another sar fruit from his belt pouch, and tossed it my way; I caught it on reflex. “Can’t say I blame you. She’s magnificent, isn’t she?” He looked off in the direction of the practice rings, his expression fond.
“I would think,” I said. “That in going to bed with such a creature, you would risk death should you be found wanting.”
“Oh.” His grin grew wider. “Well, that’s gotten around already? It’s true, actually. She does kill lovers she finds unsatisfying.”
“Foicatch!” A sharp voice, as the she-sleen appeared again, and shook her head at her mate. “You are terrible.”
“Likes to nail the skulls up in the bedroom, just for motivation to any new ones.”
“Foicatch!”
“What? I’m only adding to your legend.”
She rolled her eyes, and gave him a look that was both fond and exasperated. “Terrible.” She vanished back into the wagon. “The council will be here soon to discuss strategy for gathering resources on the migration route. There’s many small towns and cities along the way, and I don’t intend to leave a single whip unburnt in our path.”
“And before you ask,” Foicatch said, as she vanished. “Yes, we’ve been married for thirty years.” A self satisfied grin. “Take from that what you will.”
I stared at him.
“What? Shut your mouth before a bird nests in there, man.”
“You…” I struggled for words. “But you are…you’re a red-blooded fighting man!”
A slight shrug. “Last time I checked, yes.” He finished the fruit.
“And you let your woman be…that?”
“Ah.” His expression shifted in a moment, going dark. “Right.” He gave me a disgusted sort of look. “To begin, there’s nothing on this world or any other that could make Systlin be anything but whatever she wishes to be; she’s herself, and that is why I love her.” The frown deepened. “Just because you lot on this world can only handle women fawning at your feet and fearing for their lives if they say one word against you, doesn’t mean we’re all such cowards on all worlds.”
That struck me deeply. I am many things, but a coward I have never been! I am a fighting man of Ko-Ro-Ba! I am a fighting man of Gor, where the strong rule!
“I am no coward!” I hissed, and had taken a step towards him before I knew it.
“Mmm.” He sounded unconvinced, and was entirely unconcerned at my anger. “Right. That’s why you keep women in chains.” He straightened a bit. I am a tall man, but he was taller, and I had to look up to stare angrily at him. Quite suddenly, in a flash, I wondered if this was how a slave girl felt, before a warrior such as myself, having to tilt her head back to look up at him. “Just because none of you can get a woman without buying her like a horse, chaining her to your bed, and beating her into submission…On my world, such a man would be ridiculed at the least and most pathetic of men.” A pause. “Well, and then executed. But also ridiculed.”
I stared. I had never heard it put so. “They are just women. They deserve no better”
I saw the blow coming, and moved to avoid it, but he was terribly quick and I was still recovering my full fitness since my broken leg. The strike across the face was sudden and sharp, and to my humiliation I realized that I had not been struck with a closed fist, as befitted a warrior, but backhanded like I was a misbehaving slave.
“Did that hurt?” His voice was low, and I realized that he was terribly angry. “Would you like it, to spend your life cringing, waiting for that at any moment because you did not stand correctly? It is braver, I think, to survive such a life than to be the monster who holds the other end of the chain. You are a coward, Tarl Cabot, and every man on this world is a coward if he thinks as you do. If you are afraid of women holding any role but your slaves, that is your failing, not that of men of other worlds.”
He spat in the dust at my feet. “Systlin said the men of this world were awful.” A shake of his head. “I didn’t realize how very much she was right. Go. Get away from this wagon. If I see you again today I might have to throttle you to death.” He turned, and ducked once more into the tent.
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Career Advice
Hi everyone!! This story was inspired by a news anchor that I saw on TV, and thought to myself “what would happen if Alya asked that woman for an internship and showed that woman the Ladyblog.” There wasn’t originally going to be Alya redemption, but I decided that the girl needed some love too. Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!!
Alya was practically vibrating in her chair as she sat in the reception area of TVi News. She had heard from Aurora and Mireille that there was a summer internship opening and that she should submit an application. She had spent an entire week working on her resume with her mom’s help, citing her blog as experience. Her mother had told her that she might want to double check all her stories before going in, but already knew that she’d be fine. After all, she was an awesome reporter.
There were four other people in the room with her, and she was definitely the youngest. Two of them looked like they were university age and the other two probably attended lycee. That meant that they likely had a bit more experience than she did, but Alya was confident that her blog would set her up for the win. Not only that, Lila had put in a good word for her with the higher ups of TVi News. All she had to do was nail the interview and the internship was hers!
It was about an hour and two interviews before her turn came. Holding her head high; she grabbed her tablet and portfolio, straightened her skirt, and walked in as smoothly as she could in her heels.
The person conducting the interview was Claudia Ramonte, a no-nonsense kind of woman that always seemed to be on a deadline. She preferred people always be on-point and despised people that wasted her time. She was a legend in the industry, she had been an investigative journalist for over 20 years before going into semi-retirement by helping run the company and hiring new journalists. It was said that she had an eye for who had talent and who was just playing journalist. And if you fell into the latter or made the mistake of insulting her craft, you could kiss any hopes of making it big in the industry goodbye. So as soon as Alya shut the door behind her, she put on her most professional smile and extended her hand to her.
“Mme. Ramonte, Alya Cesaire, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She gave her a slight smile as she shook her hand. “When I saw that a kid in college was applying for the internship, I thought that you were either an idiot or you had a pair of steel balls. Show me which one it is.”
A little taken back but her forwardness, Alya’s hand shook slightly as she pulled her resume from the file and handed it to her. “As you can see, I’ve been running my blog, The Ladyblog, for close to a year and a half now.”
“Everyone and their mothers have blogs nowadays, Cesaire.” The woman scoffed as she tossed Alya’s resume onto her desk and turned to her computer, typing quickly. “Every candidate I’m interviewing today has at least two blogs, multiple news articles in their school newspapers, or videos from their college news or radio stations. What is it about your blog that makes you think that you are more qualified than any of them?”
Alya faltered for a second but wouldn’t be deterred, she was an awesome reporter and she would get this internship. “I’ve conducted multiple interviews with different celebrities; including Ladybug herself, other heroes of the Miraculous Team, the daughter of a diplomat who is also Ladybug’s best friend…”
“So have others, Cesaire.” She sounded bored, as she continued reading something on her computer screen.
Squaring her shoulders, Alya kept going. She refused to back down when she was so close to her internship. “I have also done extensive work on recording akuma battles and have compared my footage to other sites. None of them get as close or in depth as I do.”
“And why do you think that is, Mlle. Cesaire?” Her voice going cold
Alya blinked, not expecting the question. “Um… well-”
“Reporters and journalists are not to engage in dangerous situations that are considered life threatening. Whether someone is part of a staff or freelance, they are not to enter danger zones on their own, which you have apparently done numerous times. I will admit that when it comes to journalism, it is never without risks; but no story is worth your life.”
“But there’s no real danger, Ladybug always-”
“A terrorist is a terrorist, Cesaire.” The chill in the woman’s voice gained a hard edge. “And the attacks that have been done by the akumas have, on more than one occasion, shown the potential to be fatal. Should there be even a single time that Ladybug and Chat Noir not pull through, that could result in thousands of deaths. If you think that any credible news source would allow their people to do what you’ve been doing; then you’re more than an idiot, you’re a reckless idiot.”
Then she turned one of her computer screens towards Alya, which was queued up to the Ladyblog. “And from what I’ve seen from your blog in the two minutes you’ve been in my office; you are not only reckless, but mediocre in your work as a journalist. I have looked through multiple posts and have yet to see a single credible source mentioned. So tell me, how can you think that you are qualified to work here if you cannot follow the most basic rule of journalism and check your sources?”
“I can assure you, everything I post is completely true!”
“And I’m just supposed to take your word on that? Hardly.” She turned the screen back to herself, then started playing the first interview she had done with Lila. Mme. Ramonte played it for only 15 seconds, in which Lila claimed to be Ladybug’s best friend after she had saved her life, before pausing the video and looking at Alya. “If Lila Rossi, the daughter of a diplomat, had been saved by Ladybug, there would have been multiple articles and recordings of the incident. I just did a cursory search and the only link that came up connecting Rossi and Ladybug is your own blog.”
Alya was speechless. She wanted to say that Lila was telling the truth, but what reason would there be for Mme. Ramonte, who continued playing Lila’s interview, to lie? She stopped the video again a few seconds later, after the tale of saving Jagged Stone’s kitten from being run over by a plane on an airport runway. The look the legendary journalist gave her was that of total disgust and anger.
“Do I even need to list all the things wrong with
this story?” When Alya didn’t say anything, Mme. Ramonte went off on her, practically ranting. “Firstly, Jagged Stone has been quoted multiple times as being allergic to animal fur, and would not own a cat. Second, no one would allow a minor onto a airport runway, as it would be seen negligence and possibly as an act of terrorism. Even if she had saved some cat from being run over and Jagged had been grateful, no self respecting musician would write a song about a minor that was not their daughter, as doing so could have him labeled as a pedophile. You are very lucky that M. Stone has not seen this interview, because if he had, you would have been served with lawsuits for slander. So, I’ll ask again. Is there anything to keep me from saying that you are nothing more than a wannabe-journalist that isn’t fit to work at a news stand?”
She wasn’t even sure how to respond. Alya had been so sure that her blog was perfect, but after what Mme. Ramonte had said and how she was looking at her, she really did feel like an idiot for believing what Lila had said. Especially since she should have known better.
She now remembered when she flew to Spain with her parents when she was younger and how far away the landing strip was from the airport. There was no way Lila would have been able to see a kitten from that far away. Alya also remembered how she wanted to go outside and play, but her father told her that only authorized personnel were allowed outside at the airport. Then there was Marinette, the designer had mentioned how she couldn’t do certain designs for the rock star because he had fur allergies from when he was a kid.
Oh no, Marinette has been saying for months that Lila was a liar. Ever since she had seen Lila’s interview. And since she designs for Jagged Stone, she would know that Lila was nothing but a liar. She was also the one that got me my first exclusive with Ladybug, so she’d probably know that she was lying about that, too. And I had the nerve to tell her that she was just being jealous… I’m a terrible friend and an even worse journalist.
Looking back up at Mme. Ramonte, she was barely able to hold back tears as she shook her head. “No, Madame. There is no excuse for such shoddy journalism, it doesn’t even deserve to be called that. I apologize for wasting your time.”
The woman’s features softened slightly, but not by much. “You’re still very young and have a lot to learn about journalism, Cesaire. If I ever see you in my office again, I’ll expect more from you than any other candidate. That means looking out for your safety, knowing what is okay and not okay to publish, and checking your stories through multiple, reliable sources. I would also recommend killing your blog and starting new, the Ladyblog will become toxic to your career if it continues. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Alya couldn’t help but stare at the woman across the desk from her. Despite not deserving it, Mme. Ramonte had given her very sage and constructive advice that just might save her career in the long run. If she killed her blog now, started a new one or two, and followed her advice; by the time she finished lycee, she might be able to use them as proper references for her future career.
“Thank you, Mme. Ramonte. I won’t forget this.”
“Don’t thank me yet, Cesaire,” she waved her hand dismissively. “I’m going to remember this and I will be telling other news sources about your blog as well, to make sure you never repeat these mistakes again. So, if you are really set on being a journalist, don’t just prove it to me, prove to everyone that you are better.”
“Still, thank you. Have a nice day, Mme. Ramonte.” Alya stood from her chair but paused before she turned to walk away. “So you know, I think I’ll be doing one final post on the Ladyblog, to admit my mistakes and all the things I reported incorrectly on my blog, along with the sources to back it up. Sort of a final expose to rid myself of the bad energy from my blog, so I’ll be able to move forward.”
The woman gave a nod of approval. Before waving her out of the office.
Alya kept her head high the entire way out of the building while doing her best to remain calm, or else risk attracting an akuma. As a bit of a cleanser, she sent a text to Marinette.
To FashionGurl: You were right about Lila. I’m so sorry for not listening to you. Can we talk on Monday?
A few minutes later, she got a text back.
To FoxyJournalist: You can come by today if you want to talk.
To FashionGurl: Sorry, I’m going to be busy. I have a new story to write about that liar, one that will have multiple sources, showing everyone exactly the kind of person she is.
To FoxyJournalist: Can’t wait to read it!!
~oOo~
What followed for Alya was a very long weekend writing out every story/lie that Lila had ever told her and the class, research into Lila’s old schools, staking herself out in front of the Italian Embassy until Ambassador Rossi came out so she could introduce herself, and then a long conversation at a cafe with the very angry and distraught mother. There were a lot of questions, show-and-tell with the videos on Alya’s blog and news reports from Lila’s old schools, and then the recommendation that she go to speak with M. Damocles and Mme. Bustier.
Monday morning saw Alya going into the bakery before school, telling Tom and Sabine the truth about Lila, and then grovelling at Marinette’s feet for being such a terrible friend. One thing she did not hesitate to show the Dupain-Chengs were the records and news reports she’d found pertaining to Lila’s old schools. Tracking Lila’s social media, Alya had found three schools and discovered the kind of mayhem the girl left behind.
One school had a perfect student named Gaia, much like Marinette, bullied until she was expelled. Another school showed another popular girl named Alessia had “fallen” down a flight of stairs and broken both of her legs, a few ribs, and one of her arms. Even though there were multiple eyewitness reports that Lila had pushed her, the Italian girl moved before she could be brought up on charges. The report from the most recent school made all of them sick. A girl named Ludovica had been stalked, harassed, and bullied over social media beginning the day Lila joined the school until the day the girl committed suicide. A quick backtrace on the account showed that it had been set up by Lila Rossi.
It was quickly decided that Sabine would be going to the school to have a word with the principal and teacher. Alya gave them a thumb drive with a copy of all the information she had found, she had multiple copies, so that if they decided to pursue legal actions, they had evidence to back it up.
At school, Alya went to class while Sabine took Marinette M. Damocles' office to speak with him and Mme. Bustier, since the woman was decidedly absent from the room. She had barely sat down when Lila entered the classroom, spouting off some story about meeting Ryan Reynolds over the weekend. Alya barely suppressed her snide grimace before hiding it with a smile.
“Really, Lila? That’s amazing! Did you get any pictures? I would love to post them on my blog?”
Now that she was watching, she saw the girl flinch when asked for actual evidence before putting on a sugary sweet smile. “I didn’t get a chance, my phone died.”
“Oh that’s annoying. Where did you see him?” She asked, pulling up the movie star’s Twitter account. “Because you were here in Paris over the weekend but according to his social media, he was visiting his home town in Canada this week.”
Alya definitely saw the girl scowl that time. “Oh, he just said that so he could come here without anyone knowing. He’s researching a role here in Paris and I was showing him around until my mom called me home.”
“Didn’t you just say that your phone was dead?” That got the classes’ attention, as they had just heard the girl say that was the reason she hadn’t taken any pictures. Lila was about to spout some new excuse; but Alya, who was now channelling her inner Mme. Ramonte, raised a hand to cut her off.
“Don’t even bother coming up with another lie. I know you’re full of crap and it spills out of your mouth with every word you say. And before you try to accuse me of lying, taking Marinette’s side, or bullying you; I think you should know that I spent the majority of the weekend looking into everything you’ve told us.”
The entire class watched the Italian girl’s olive skin turn a sickly white. But Alya wasn’t finished, this girl had been attempting to do the same to Marinette that she had done to Gaia, Alessia, and Ludovica. And as her BFF, she was not going to stand aside and let that happen. “I have piles of evidence that you were never in Achu and have never met Prince Ali, you were just playing hookie. I’ve got evidence that you are perfectly healthy and have never suffered from any of the diseases or ailments that you’ve claimed to have since returning to school. I’ve also got evidence that you have never met any of the celebrities that you claim to know. That includes Ladybug.”
Not so surprising, Lila attempted to turn everyone against Alya by turning on the tears. “That’s not true! I would never lie about all of that. You’re just saying that because you’re mad at me for not getting the internship!”
When the class looked back at Alya, they were surprised to see her grinning like a fox. “Did I forget to mention exactly how I know you weren’t in Achu? Or how I know you're perfectly healthy and don’t know any of those celebrities you’ve claimed to be close to?”
She paused, mostly for effect before going in for the killing blow. “Your mom and I had a very in depth conversation yesterday when I ran into her outside the embassy. She wasn’t happy about your interviews on the Ladyblog, and she was confused as to why you were claiming to be Ladybug’s BFF when you’ve been telling her for months that she and Chat Noir were a couple of lazy, incompetent, and downright terrible heros; which was why the school was closed.”
If it were possible Lila paled even more before turning to run out the door. The door swung open just as she was reaching for the handle, and was met with an upset Mme. Bustier. “You are needed in the Principal's Office, young lady.” To the surprise of everyone there, Lila attempted to shove her way past their teacher. But the woman was faster and grabbed the girl by the arm in a firm grip before escorting her out of the room.
When the first bell rang a few minutes later, M. Harpele came in to act as the substitute until Mme. Bustier was finished with her meeting.
Marinette returned to class before their teacher did, smiling bright as the sun and visibly more relaxed than anyone had seen her in weeks. She sat down beside Alya and gave her a tight hug while whispering “thank you” over and over.
“I take it things went well for you instead of Lila?” Alya grinned.
Marinette giggled. “She tried convincing her mom that all of us were akumatized and were trying to ruin her life, but she wasn’t buying it. Especially when M. Damocles showed Mme. Rossi her school records. Mom demanded that Lila give a formal apology and confess everything to the class, or she would get the Board of Governors involved. When Mme. Rossi found out that Lila tried to get me expelled, she lost it and started talking about a catholic reformatory school in Italy. Lila looked like she was going to be sick when she heard that.”
“It’s not perfect, but it’s what she deserves.” Alya shrugged before looking Marinette in the eye again. “I’m really sorry, girl. You’re my BFF, I should have listened to you when you told me Lila was a liar.”
“No, I don’t expect you to listen to me every time. I just wanted you to check things out and make sure that you weren’t being taken advantage of.” Then her brow creased. “I’m curious, what brought all this on?”
“Let’s just say that I just got some much needed career advice.”
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Can you rec some omega harry fics pls?
Yes I can!! ^-^ So because this is a particular favourite of mine I counted 68 fics in this list so as a warning it’s a long list!!
In case no one makes it to the bottom I’ll say it here too! Please stay safe and read the tags!!💕💕
'Cause Your Embrace Keeps Me Warmer by scribblewrite
Mates and soulmates are two completely different things. Mates are two people, an alpha and omega, who bond together while knotted together when the alpha bites a bond point on the omega’s body. It ties the two of them together forever or until one of them breaks the bond. It's normally the step after marriage.
One could only hope to meet their soulmate.
You Could Be My Ever After by scribblewrite
His heat was gone, finally gone, and he'd been able to sleep for longer than thirty minute intervals. Not only that, but he was in his alpha's arms. He felt warm, and safe, and protected, and he honest to god didn't want to move.
Harry and Louis spend the next couple days together after they've bonded with Louis taking care of Harry and the two of them getting to know each other better.
Louis and Harry meet for the first time and, being soulmates, Louis's rut and Harry's heat are triggered.
Fill My Heart With Sweetness by loopdelouis
Harry's a late bloomer, but since his luck is shit, it's no surprise that he'd be the last to get a heat, but the first to get pregnant. In high school.
Let's Embrace The Point Of No Return by sweaterpawstyles
Louis was a whole new scale of beautiful, he was richer than Harry could've ever imagined, and he was the most powerful, dominant alpha that Harry had ever come in contact with. The only problem now is that Louis is also Harry's boss.
Louis believed Harry was an alpha, and had no idea about how he had lied about his status just to get an interview with Louis. He was in too deep now and he couldn't look back.
Or
Harry is an omega intern at an all alpha company. Louis is his boss. There's some complications.
Count The Wolves And We'll Sleep Tonight by scribblewrite
Louis's the Alpha of a powerful pack and Harry's his omega.
When Harry's taken by rogue alphas, Louis will do anything to bring him home safely.
turn the sky black into a sky blue by orphan_account
Harry forgets that noses exist. Louis is a badass motherfucker. They bang.
“I’ve been in love with you since I dropped my books in the hallway and you made fun of me when you picked up my John Green novel off the ground.”
Our Lips Are Made Of Candy by Waking_dreams
“Your knot, please, Louis,” he managed to whine. He needed it, that extra stretch and burn that made him Louis’.
“Fuck,” Louis moaned, and his thrusts became unsteady. “Can’t do it here, baby, Hazza, can’t—“
Or, Harry accidentally missed a few doses of his medicine that controls his heat and starts his heat in the middle of Biology. Oops
I Can't Hear You by kikikryslee
"I’m not supposed to be built this way!" Harry said. "I’m supposed to be shorter than you, and you’re supposed to be stronger than me and-“
“Harry!” Louis tried to interrupt.
“And what if I’m not supposed to be an omega? What if my body screwed up somewhere or something? What if I’m not supposed to be your omega?”
---
Or, the one where Harry is self-conscious about his body because it's not the 'typical omega body' and Louis shows him why he loves that.
You Know I'll Be by JustAnotherShadow503
Louis Tomlinson, 27, is the personal photographer for well-known model Harry Styles, 21. Louis, an Alpha, has been in love with Harry for years, though the younger man has seemingly not presented yet.
Or, the one where Louis is in love with Harry, tries to be a martyr at his own expense, and is a hopeless romantic.
Or, the one where the author is shit at coming up with summaries and hopes you'll read the story anyways.
I'd Go Out of My Way To Make Sure That You're Okay by littlepinkbow
This was for this prompt: "Harry's embarrassed about going into heat, but Louis decides it's up to him to teach Harry to be more open about what he wants."
As Small As Possible by Mickey_D
Harry is a rather shy omega who's quite convinced everyone (except his best friends) laughs at him behind his back and sometimes to his face.
Louis is a confident alpha who is taken with his best artist's friend.
Zero Means Nothing When I'm With You by StripedAndBowtied
Louis doesn't know what he's looking for until he finds it.
Harry just knows he may defy his gender norms, with his height and clumsiness, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want litters of pups running around while he does domestic things all day long.
In other words, boy meets boy and no one can stop pining.
Boys Fall Like Dominoes by orphan_account
Harry slips into an early heat while riding the tube. Naturally, that's when he meets Louis.
Looking In The Dark by orphan_account
Another self-indulgent a/b/o fic. This carries on from the same verse of Boys Fall Like Dominoes.
As per always, you can find me on tumblr : domestic-harry
Enjoy!
-Lis xx
Too Hot (Hot Damn) by louissass
“I’m what?”
“You’re in heat, baby,” He repeats, frowning when he catches the look on Harry’s face. “I thought you realised?”
Or, the one where Harry goes into heat in the middle of a concert but doesn't realise because of the heatwave.
i don't wanna be your friend, i wanna kiss your neck by crybaby
Harry has been in love with Louis Tomlinson for four years, five months, and thirteen days.
Harry had fallen in love with Louis Tomlinson like how he’d seen in movies, and how he’d read in all the books he’d stolen from Gemma, headfirst and shameless.
The only problem was, that in films and books, love was always either returned instantly, or else it took time for unrequited love to lose the first two letters, and since the first option was obviously not true, Harry decided he would wait for the second to become reality.
And so Harry waited, three years, eight months, and four days, before his heart had been broken by a gentle rejection and a misplaced blowjob, before Louis and Gemma had packed up and gone to Manchester for university.
(Harry is a hopelessly romantic omega and Louis is his sister's best friend)
Drape Me In Your Warmth by fookinglousers
TMH era fic where Harry is an omega whose heat comes a little earlier than expected and really, who is Louis to deny him his knot?
pick my petals off (make my heart explode) by orphan_account
It’s when he’s frantically looking into the medicine cabinet for something to take that it hits him. He stares at the bottles of pills in horror, realizing what’s going on with him.
He’s completely forgotten about his suppressants. And he’s been spending so much time with Louis, too—of course the alpha’s constant proximity is going to trigger it.
He breaks into a sweat, now recognizing the hot feeling twisting inside him.
He’s going into heat.
(harry unexpectedly goes into heat in the middle of finals, and louis, being the good boyfriend that he is, helps harry through it.)
harry, you little shit by juliusschmidt
Harry’s an omega and he’s learning to like it. A lot.
All These Lights by MediaWhore
“People vote for alphas because they’re strong and they’re not only beautiful but also mesmerizing. They make you want to give them all of your attention, make you want to beg for some of theirs back. They’re shiny, oozing sex appeal and a commanding presence, and people always want more and more. Omegas are enticing too for sure, but it’s not the same. It makes people uncomfortable. It doesn’t make them want to root for you.”
the canon fic where Harry is an omega and dreams come with a price.
Pretend It's Okay by TheIfInLife
Harry and Louis are busy with life. Busy watching Zayn and Niall's twin boys, busy hanging out with friends, busy with life. And they forget Harry's suppressants.
taste on my tongue (just can't get enough of you) by messyjessy08
“Babe?” Louis asks, running a hand through Harry’s hair, soothingly. “What is it?”
Harry shakes his head, teeth digging into his bottom lip, sharply. “My—it’s—”
Louis’ eyebrows furrow in confusion, “What, Harry?”
He pulls a hand up to his chest, pressing hard against one of his pecs, “My fucking—her crying’s making them—Lou.”
Louis gasps, understanding. He reaches a hand up, pushing Harry’s aside, and thumbs gently across Harry’s nipple, somehow already dark and swollen, without having touched them once. “Harry,” He says in a low voice, chest rumbling at the sharp gasp Harry makes.
“Lou, they’re fucking—’m leaking.”
(Harry and Louis just had a baby and it's been a while since they've had sex.)
you took your toll on me (you got a hold on me) by messyjessy08
“Well give us a twirl. Let’s look at you from every angle.”
Harry cocks an eyebrow, gaze heavy. “Alright.” Pulling back the tail of his shirt, he spins slowly, pausing when his back’s facing Louis.
“Harry.” Louis attempts to gather his wits, speechless. “Baby.”
“Thought you might like that part as well,” Harry says, a smirk in his voice.
Thick strips of lace drape delicately over his skin, just under the bottom of his spine, connecting with thin elastic straps that move across his arse, leaving little sections of bare skin showing. The straps connect to form a diamond pattern, creating an opening right over where his hole would be. The skin surrounding it is already shiny with slick. Louis’ breath gets trapped in his lungs.
(Harry and Louis have the weekend to themselves, they make the most of it.)
This Thing Upon Me (howls like a beast) by SadaVeniren
Harry and Louis weren’t meant to be together. They’d met when they were put together through their university’s AO MatchUp, a program that set up alphas and omegas based on the schedules of their ruts and heats so they had someone to help them through it. It was pure luck that they were put together.
Lunch Break by purpleeyestelllies
Harry decides to bring his alpha lunch at work and surprise him with a visit from him and their baby daughter. Louis gets more than one surprise.
drunk on rose water by brainwaves
It’s the first time in a few years that Harry has a strong desire to risk everything for something he loves.
The last time, it was being a fashion model. This time, it’s Louis.
with his educated eyes (and his head between my thighs) by orphan_account
"We're...we're not the same," Harry says softly, looking at his hands.
"I don't care," Louis replies back, fire and fury in his eyes.
or where Harry is just a little boy in a world full of arseholes, Louis is in way over his head, and destiny is a bunch of shit.
Everything I Do (I Do It For You) by LSFOREVER
"It's gonna be perfect," Harry whispers, taking Louis' face in both of his hands, nosing close but not yet kissing him. "Always is. You always make everything perfect."
"Good. Whenever your heat finally kicks in, I'll make sure to treat you perfectly too... I'm gonna bond you so hard."
or, Harry's heat is coming up and they've planned to finally bond, so Louis decides to plan a very eventful and loving week leading to said bonding.
resolutions and lovers in the kitchen by orphan_account
Their dinner’s probably going cold, but this feels monumental. So instead of sitting them down on the table and talking about it face to face over chicken and pasta, Harry just puts his hands over Louis’ where they’re settled on his lower stomach, not letting the moment slip past them. He takes a deep breath, carefully arranging his thoughts. “She looks really lovely, Louis. Positively glowing. Her bump’s so big, and…” he trails off, breath hitching slightly when Louis lifts his hand higher, settling it right over Harry’s stomach, and that’s—
“And what, baby?” Louis asks, voice now dropped to a whisper, and Harry has to take a moment to collect his thoughts.
“She, um. She knows about you, of course, and she asked me when we’re—when we’re having a baby of our own.”
(harry teaches little kids and louis writes sports articles. they're trying for a baby.)
Make It Work by fanshae
Prompt: Arranged marriage AU. Harry is an omega who has reached the age where he must be married due to his family's income status. Only the aristocratic omegas are exempt. His parents try to hide him but eventually the government gets word and in punishment, gives the omega to a spoiled aristocrat son of a lord, Louis. Louis is more than thrilled to have his own omega and once Harry goes into heat, he explores the boy with fascination and unintentionally impregnates him. This leads to a boy used to living carefree and drinking the day away with other nobles to having to face fatherhood.
This is only vaguely similar to the prompt so I'm sorry to OP in advance v.v
Stars Will Align For Us by 2tiedships2
"The serial monogamist is single," Niall said by way of introduction when he sat down across from Harry in the canteen.
Harry sipped his chocolate milk. "What are you going on about?"
"Your alpha dream boat," Niall said. "That tiny little footie player? I heard from Hannah that he's broken it off with his boyfriend so he’s single and ready to flamingle. Now's the time to make your move."
Harry sipped his chocolate milk harder to keep himself from replying.
Or the one where Harry is an omega at a loss of how to get past his pining and gain the attention of Louis...especially considering the alpha is always in a relationship.
Watch the Sun Coming Up by SadaVeniren
As Louis approaches his thirtieth birthday his pack is desperate for him to find a mate.
Harry has always expected one day he may settle down with a nice alpha and they would continue to live in his small hometown.
Together they somehow will make this work.
Dancing Shadows by SadaVeniren
The house was quiet by the time Louis walked up to it. He’d been away for a week and while it wasn’t the longest he’d ever been away from the pack, it was the longest he’d been away from Harry and the kids.
i'll be hurt from the heat (running from the heat) by itiswhatitisbutterfly
It's engrained into him, nothing else matters, protecting Harry at all costs is what pumps his heart and floods his veins. It’s just, he didn't count on the one thing Harry would need protecting from would be himself.
(Harry and Louis are in love, and they are probably soul mates. They just can’t be bond mates because despite the undeniable pull, it's them against the world.)
A Howl in the Night by emeraldharry
They've been trained to become Alpha protectors of their city, tasked to battle gruesome beasts and put their lives at risk on a daily basis.
Louis is a skilled warrior and dedicates his life for the protection of others, along with his four adopted brothers and comrades; Zayn, Liam, Niall, and Harry.
Troubles emerge when Harry proves to be a little less like the older Alphas, finding it hard to become who he's supposed to be and failing to reach other people's expectations towards him as a soldier.
Somewhere along the way, Louis and Harry realize that there's more than brotherly love between them, and that the world they live in requires a whole lot of suffering and sacrifices.
The biggest challenge yet arrives when the choice finally comes down between two things: their love for each other, or their responsibilities to the world.
[alpha/beta/omega dynamics with a twist]
© 2019
Pretty Please (With Sugar On Top) by angelichl
Harry is a sugar baby omega who cons rich alphas for a living. Louis is a rich alpha with too much self-control.
Peppermint and Lavender (and Coffee) by 2tiedships2
“He was there again,” Louis announced by way of greeting. “Lottie was right and she can never know.”
"What the fuck are you talking about?” Niall asked as he snapped his laptop closed.
“The omega, Niall. He was there today. Just sitting in the corner looking pretty. Or at least his back is. He hasn’t turned around when I’m available to see. I know he’s beautiful though.”
"Okay?” Niall questioned. “What does that have to do with Lottie?”
Louis let out a huff. "She told me I shouldn’t work at a coffee shop. She was right.”
Or the one where Louis might have met the love of his life in a coffee shop. But that’s not how it’s supposed to happen.
Shadows Come With The Pain That You're Running From (Love Was Something You've Never Heard Enough) by hlftanna
“Thanks, Ni, I guess I needed to hear that,” Harry sighed and wrapped his own arms around Niall and squeezed him tightly not caring if Liam would be mad. He missed Niall so much.
“Does it really come as a surprise to you that I’m right? Shaking my head, Haz. You should know me better,” the brunette teased.
Harry giggled again.
“You know Hazza, you really are so different to all the other alphas out there. You’re soft, caring, cuddly and sweet and those damn dimples. So freaking pretty, it’s almost annoying. I would hate you if you weren’t my best friend. You’d really be a brilliant omega. Nature really did a number here,” Niall mumbled. It was his turn to smash his nose into Harry’s neck and Harry was extremely thankful for that because he wasn’t sure he had his facial expression in check at all.
Or a Band AU in which Harry isn't allowed to be who he really is and the North American Tour might bring some unexpected truths into the web of lies and also a bit of heat that has very little to do with the summer in the US.
Home (It's You) by sunniskies
When Louis left his high-powered life in the city to settle down in the suburbs, he had hoped to one day fall in love and start a family. He certainly didn’t expect to meet the omega of his dreams within five minutes of moving in.
He also didn’t expect the love of his life to hate him so much.
Or, Louis and Harry are neighbors who can't seem to get along...until they fall in love.
sometimes green and sometimes blue by itsmiz
Harry's an omega, and Louis is an Alpha. They're best friends growing up together on the outskirts of Washington, D.C., but they've always been a bit more than friends.
little bitty rattle (and all our dreams are comin' true) by itsmiz
Louis and Harry are young mates in love. This is the story of them expanding their family, and all the love, hormones, and events that come with that.
cradles and crayons by itsmiz
Harry and Louis continue to expand their family.
Just Jump by jaerie
Finally, after years of suffering alone, the insurance plan at Harry's new job covered omega heat services. As a grown omega adult, it finally felt like the right time to try it out. And, since taking an entire week of heat leave would really put him behind at work, using a service to shorten it seemed like a responsible decision. At least that’s how he rationalized it. He was nervous about his decision but it was too late. The doorbell rang.
“Hi!” The alpha said again and Harry took the hand he offered and shook it firmly. “I’m Louis from Omega Services. It’s nice to meet you.”
Want It Flowing Through My Streams by screwstyles
Wimbledon ABO AU: Harry has just qualified for his first Grand Slam, and he’s prepared to make the most of it – that is, until his heat unexpectedly hits him only a few days before his first match. And it’s just his luck that Louis Tomlinson, the resident bad boy of British tennis, is the only person around to help him.
hard to confess by hereforlou
One, they only did it without a condom once (and a half) and not during his heat. Never during his heat. Two, he never once forgot to take his birth control (he’s almost sure). Three, his plan is to be married for a year before he even starts trying for a baby, and not only is he very, very single, him and Louis aren’t even sleeping together anymore. Which brings him to reason number four why this can’t be happening: Louis.
Louis doesn’t want a baby with Harry.
(Or, the one where Harry knows he messed up and Louis knows nothing.)
Just a touch of your love by thegirlontheblackhoodie
“What if something happened to you? What would I say to Niall?”
“Nothing, he would have to wait to see my corpse on the news like everyone else.” Deadpanned Harry. Louis’ gasp was all the answer he got. Ok, so that might have been a bit too much. With a calmer voice, he said, “It’s really fine. I’ve walked to the tube countless times, I can handle myself. Just go home and tell Niall to stop mothering me.”
Louis was finally walking by his side and gave him a sideways glance before talking. “He doesn’t know, does he? Of your, uh, condition.” Harry tensed and his breath became erratic, but he didn’t say a word. Louis continued. “His nose probably hasn’t picked it up, and you’re lucky Liam’s also a beta, but it took me a minute to confirm it. Your scent is gettin’ so…” He seemed to struggle to find a word. He didn’t finish the sentence, but the emotion in his voice made Harry’s tummy churn.
--
Or, Harry is a touch starved omega trying to get through it on his own. Louis happens to be the only alpha around to realize it and offers to help.
Face Your Fears by SadaVeniren
Harry is a single father, pretending to be a beta after his alpha mated him and left him. He’s getting by just fine raising the twins when Louis walks into his bakery. Too bad him and Louis will never be a thing.
I Just Want You to Stay by SadaVeniren
“Remember the vet job up in Edinburgh I interviewed for right before your rut?” Louis nodded. “She just called me back. I got the job. I start next year.” Harry let out a shriek as he said the word year and he clapped his hands in delight. “Isn’t that great! Full time vet job! New animals to meet! A new environment!” He settled his eyes back on Louis, who was still standing there in front of him with wide eyes. “Isn’t it great, Lou?”
That seemed to jolt Louis out of his thoughts and he nodded immediately, opening his arms up for Harry to dive into. “Holy shit, yes. Congratulations. Come here,” he wrapped his arms around Harry and cuddled him close, pressing his nose into Harry’s neck. “Holy shit,” he whispered.
aka Louis and Harry have been roommates for four years, comfortable in their routine and their relationship. But all of that is about to change.
kiss with a fist (is better than none) by orphan_account
Harry and Louis don't get on at all.
BUT they do, in fact, do an awful lot of getting off~
Harry startled visibly, shaking off his deer in the headlights look and huffing quietly. Louis took a final, lingering glance along his scant frame, except the puppy chub at his hips, and then kept washing his hands with a faint sneer. He expected words, biting and sarcastic, as usual. Instead, he was met with silence. Confused, Louis turned back to him as he dried his hands, ready with a scathing remark. It died on his tongue. Harry's eyes were locked, very deliberately, on his crotch. His crotch, which was still unzipped, and therefore dick on display. Oh fuck.
“My eyes are up here, Styles,” Louis growled, cheeks flushing despite himself as he reached to do up his fly.
“Leave it.” It rasped from Harry's throat, thick and shaky. Louis froze, fingers cupping himself.
“Excuse me?”
Sigh Softly by aalexandravictoriaa
It was an unconventional nest, to say the least. Quite inconvenient too, not that Louis would ever dare admit that. The fact that his omega was nesting could only mean that he was pregnant and Louis’ chest rumbled at the mere thought. Harry stirred from his perch, blinking his eyes open at the sound of his growling alpha. Louis shushed him immediately and tucked him back into the safety of his nest. Louis just so happened to make up the majority of said nest.
Do Not Falter (There's a Star Ahead) by LadyLondonderry
It's Christmas Eve, and every single one of Louis' family members are crowded inside his little flat. Really, what more could he ask for on his birthday?
The present he never knew he wanted - in the form of an omega from his past - might just make this his most memorable Christmas.
a body wishes to be held & held by turnyourankle
Harry wants to return the favour after Louis helps him out with his heat.”
the beast you made of me by orphan_account
The bell tinkled, and Harry froze as an overpowering scent, musky and thick, crisp and slightly sweet, yet utterly masculine, delightfully tickled his senses. Harry's eyes slowly slid up to see the source of this wonderful scent, and his breath was taken away at the sex god before him, all muscled and compact and utterly screaming of Alpha. Icy blue eyes stared him down, set off by sharp cheekbones, a stubbled jaw that looked yummy enough to nibble on, and caramel hair, which was lazily gelled, a few pieces falling over his forehead. His skin was tan, his hands strong and steady, his biceps still clearly visible even through his jacket. Every fiber of Harry's being stood at full alert.
The one where Harry's a vanilla-sweet Omega and Louis walks into his bakery one day.
How Much My Heart Depends by lululawrence
Louis is an alpha working as a fraud analyst who keeps having Bad Days. Harry is an omega working in Quality Support who shares a cubicle wall with Louis and only wants to help. Maybe this is the perfect chance for them to finally meet face to face.
A Tentative Peace by colourexplosion
“I dunno.” Harry’s not whining, he’s not. He pulls himself free, finally, turns away and busies himself again with the dishes. “I didn’t want it to be weird.”
“It’s not weird,” Louis says, appearing in Harry’s periphery when he leans against the sink. “Biology, innit? You know I’m always here for you.”
It stings. Louis won’t sit and have a conversation with Harry, but sure, he’ll fuck him through a heat like it’s nothing. “It’s a little more than biology,” he mumbles, but Louis either doesn’t hear him (not likely) or flat out ignores him (very likely).
(Or, A/B/O featuring omega!harry and alpha!louis.)
Seeing Blind by zedi
Louis finally turns his head in Liam’s direction, knows his face is showing the longing he’s been aching with ever since it took root in his chest. “What the fuck do I do, Liam? He wouldn’t want me like that, but I want-” his voice cracks, and he turns his face back downwards. “What do you do when you’re not perfect for the person who’s perfect for you?”
OR the one where Harry’s an independent omega who likes to have his fun and Louis is the blind alpha that changes Harry’s priorities.
wanna taste your heart, don't interfere by orphan_account
Harry still remembers how unsure he felt when he first told Louis, how self-conscious he was. Louis had been nothing but understanding and kind, though, reassuring him that nothing’s going to change between them, that they’re still best friends regardless of sex. Harry had been mostly relieved at that, because he really doesn’t want to lose Louis as a friend over this, but another part of him had been a bit sad because… well, because nothing changed between them. Or rather, there is change, but it’s completely one-sided as far as Harry can tell.
This change being him not getting enough of the way Louis smells. He just can’t help it, is the thing, unable to stop himself from trying to subtly press his nose against the fabric of Louis’ shirt by his shoulders. He still smells like faint cologne and sweat, which is enough to make Harry start feeling slightly dizzy.
(harry presents as an omega, louis is his alpha best friend, and there are hidden feelings that just get harder to control.)
A Distant Hazy Light by green_feelings
Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.
Or, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down, until he builds his own up.
London Calls Me a Stranger by Thatscoolbutwhataboutlarry
"Hello, my beautiful, conceited coquette."
"Hi, daddy."
Or the one where Harry is a tease, and Louis is his new neighbour.
Between the Shadow and the Soul by orphan_account
“It’s just easier to stay in Donny and train, Haz,” Louis says quietly. “Two transatlantic flights in less than a week right before a big match is a terrible idea. We should have known that before, but...”
Harry nods. It’s reasonable. It’s totally, completely reasonable and Harry can support that. Another five or six days of not being able to hold Louis’ hand and kiss him sweetly is killing Harry, but he can handle it. “Okay, so that’s, what, the 20th that you’ll be coming over here?”
Louis hesitates, and Harry has to bite back a frustrated growl. “I’ve got writing sessions and time in the studio scheduled as of yesterday, plus I’m supposed to get papped clubbing in London again and just… it’s shit but there’s no time to make the trip until early May, at the least.”
Or, Harry and Louis spend a month apart.
Wonderland by jacaranda_bloom
Louis has always loved lazy mornings in bed with his mate, but now that his Omega is carrying their pup, they’ve reached a whole new level of wonderment.
OR the one where Louis loves to worship his Omega’s body and Harry loves to let him.
All I Needed by FallingLikeThis
Harry is the omega captain of the Slytherin quidditch team with a team that won't listen to him. Louis is the alpha captain of the Gryffindor team who doesn't know how to offer help without seeming like a knothead, pushing his opinions on Harry. When he comes up with a rather questionable plan to try and get Harry to ask him for help, they may just both get what they need.
Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)
He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment.
He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped.
He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was.
Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.
Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.
Put It Into Words by orphan_account
“It’s a good storm though, our families,” Louis says, flopping down on to the bed and cuddling close to Harry. He tucks his arm around Harry’s waist, kissing his temple. “The Cheshire house is perfect to raise the baby; your mum’s close, and my mum can stay in the guest bedroom when she visits.”
“And until then we have the long weekend to ourselves.”
Or, Harry and Louis go on a babymoon.
No Love Like Your Love by Rearviewdreamer
When it comes to saving the world from itself and convincing rich CEOs of environmentally harmful companies to go green, there's nobody better than Harry Styles. That is, until Louis Tomlinson, his ex and former Alpha, is involved.
We Are Inevitable by mmargarita
“What’s the second flaw?”
“The second inevitable flaw in your plan is:” Louis stood straight and walked towards Harry, grabbing his chin. Harry’s breath hitched. “Us.” Louis smiled. “We’re inevitable, baby. We’re soulmates, and we both know it. You just need to come back to me.”
.
.
.
30/07/2020: This work has been edited and corrected, and now has 7k words more.
Take Me As I Am by lovelarry10
“Suppressant? But… why would I need a suppressant? Alphas don’t take suppressants.”
“You’re right, they don’t.”
****
Secrets. Lies. Deception. Betrayal. Self-discovery.
Alpha. Omega. How far will they go to hide the truth?
to wrap me in paper by juliusschmidt
Louis hasn't been keeping track of his ruts, but, it turns out, Harry has.
If you’ve made it to the end then congrats! and please stay safe and read the tags!!💕💕
#Larry Stylinson#fanfiction#fanfic#fic rec#larry stylinson fanfiction#larry stylinson fic rec#larry#larry fanfiction#larry fic#larry fic rec#larry fanfic rec#bottom harry#top louis#omega harry#alpha louis#dom louis#sub harry#mine#Lottie fic rec#ask lots
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(Sorta nsfw??) Could you do an HC of the main 6 (plus Valdemar) with an MC who, during their first smexy time with their LI, insist on having the lights off because they're insecure about how they look?
Sure thing babe, I don’t really do the main six but I made a note on that at the bottom somewhere for people to keep in mind.
-
Asra
He’s already kissing down you neck, smooth lips against your warm skin, hands on your hips. It’s so good that you nearly forget..
You push on his chest a bit and while he almost didn’t notice he pulls away fairly quickly, worried that something is wrong or maybe you even changed your mind about this.
“What? What is it y/n?” He speaks with a slightly worried tone and you look up at him with shy eyes and pink cheeks. He swoons a little, why do you have to be so cute?
“C-Can you turn out the lights?” You say in a barely audible voice but he hears you and it makes him pause a bit more. He blinks a bit confused. The.. lights? Why?
“Do you not like them? I tried to get colors that you said you liked..” he hums looking at the variety of candles he had to set the mood for tonight. However now he was worried he’d miscalculated something. You perk up a little at that waving your hands in front of his face which makes him tilt his head a little.
“N-no no! It’s not that.. It’s just my body.. what if you don’t like it? What if I’m not-“ and he kisses you again to honestly shut you up. Now he knew what this was about... Asra isn’t one to really focus on body types. He’s been with many people with many different bodies and never once had he considered he’d dated them just for the body they had.
His kiss is passionate and even though your still a little shy it calms you down. He doesn’t even have to say much to make you understand but when he pulls away you’re panting a little and he licks his lips. “You weren’t going to shame yourself just now... were you?” He asks carefully and there’s a shameful look from you as you try to turn your head away from his bright gaze only for him to stop you by cupping your cheek.
He’s smiling as you look back at him, a soft and gentle smile. He doesn’t judges because he knows what it’s like not being comfortable with something about yourself. You both look at each other for a while and slowly the blush on your cheeks is getting darker but when you calm down you’re the one to kiss him.
He simply accepts it and holds you for the rest of the night. As I said Asra isn’t one to judge off looks like that.
Nadia
While Nadia prefers a decent looking partner Nadia also believes she has really good judgment, which she definitely does. She’s not picky, no but Nadia wouldn’t pick someone she knows she won’t have a good time with. Lucio is just another story..
The shyness in bed confuses her a bit, you weren’t acting shy before so what was wrong now? When you stop her she gives you a slightly worried look.
Is something the matter? Do you not want to do it anymore? Ah, but you look so good against her bed and her pillows, hair messy and cheeks flushed, her lipstick smeared on your neck.. Ah but no, she’d definitely stop if you didn’t want to do it anymore.
“What’s the matter? Do you want to stop?” She asks wanting to get to the bottom of the issue if you’ll allow her to know what it is. You halt like a deer in headlights but then you look away, shyness coloring your face and she has the urge to kiss you but she holds herself back.
“N-No.. don’t stop..” you whimper and now her eyebrows furrow. Ah she’s so beautiful and you’re so you.. the self conscious is starting to dig in.. why has she picked you? Sometimes you compared yourself to others while being around her. She was so elegant and lovely while you were simply a magician.
But she liked you. A lot.
You didn’t even have to speak again for Nadia to start to get it and once she did she took hold of your chin and gave you a deep passionate kiss which snatched your breath away. She holds you there but pulls back when you wiggle under her needing air.
She pulls back with a hum and as you pant she spoke. “Are you.. self conscious?” She asks and she knows the answer but she still wants you to know that she knows.. you nod shyly and she kisses you again but much softer now helping you ease back into a calm state.
“Don’t be.. I like you the way you are..” she whispers against your lips like it’s a secret. Nadia doesn’t lie though so with a light sigh you wrap your arms around her shoulders and let her hold you for tonight. She’ll help you open up more for sure.
Julian
Sneaking off with Julian to make out in one of the many guess rooms in the palace isn’t something you were expecting to do today and yet here you were. His much taller form bent down as your lips together in a passionate dance.
Julian doesn’t really take the lead like ever but he’s got you right now and as he leads you to the bed you can’t help but let it happen.
You slide your leg between his thighs and he moans against you, rocking his hips letting you feel the bulge in his pants along your thigh.
It’s when you starts to strip himself that you realize the lights are on and with swiftness you grab his wrist making his jump a little. One of the buttons on his pants open showing a little peak of his red hairs down there. There’s a look of neediness written all over his face and while he wants to continue he listens thinking this is a teasing punishment you’re doing to him right now.
“Y-Y/n.. come on, please~ I want you so much..~” and while any other time that would have been enough for you, this isn’t that time. At least not yet.
“Turn off the lights..” you spoke softly and he blinks owlishly almost at the request. The lights? Why? As you look away with a huff he calms down a bit allowing himself to think. After he gets it he hums. How can he say this without sounding silly?
Julian knows what it’s like to be self conscious and while he completely understands he doesn’t wish for you to feel that way. Then again he doesn’t know how to tell you that you don’t need to be that way without it somewhat sounding selfish.. he definitely doesn’t want to upset you..
“I want.. to see you gorgeous face though..” he says suddenly and you almost seemed shocked by the boldness as he rolls his hips against you again, leaning down to capture those lips in kisses.
Maybe he could show you how beautiful you are, show you want he sees on a daily basis with you so you knew there was no reason to feel such a way. Julian sometimes refused to let you heal him but he’d definitely take the time now to heal you the best he could.
Lucio
Lucio is kind of hard to explain to about your self consciousness.. for one he takes a lot of pride in how he himself looks and two, he just personally doesn’t understand what you’re so shy about..
He sounds a little mean when he lets out a nearly tired sigh as you press against his chest again to stop him and like the first four times he pulls away without an much of an issue.
“Y/n.. do you even want to do it?” He asked and there’s a bit of frustration in his tone but then again this is your fifth time of stopping him without giving him a clear reason as to why.. he’s starting to thank that you didn’t even want to do it in the first place but you know that’s not true.. you’re just nervous to tell him.
You cover your eyes with your hands. “I do.. it’s just.. I...” you struggle and with amazing carefulness he grabs your wrist and pulls them a bit so he can look you in your face again. The light shines behind him and you can’t help but feel ugly under him and with a squirm you manage to make his eyebrows furrow as he grows closer.
“Then what is it? I’m lost here..” he huffs. Of course he is.. what does he know about being self conscious?
Now, while Lucio is rather confident about his looks he’s had a couple rare moments where he hasn’t. You have to actually tell him what wrong for him to actually get it and even after you do tell him he really doesn’t have anything to say at first.
He may be a little surprised to hear you, his lover, be so insecure. He doesn’t see what’s wrong. Turn out the lights for what? He rather wants to be able to see you. He takes the second to actually think about turning them out but soon chuckles and shakes his head.
“Nope.” Is his answer and when you huff at him he attacks you with hungry kisses and touches.
“No lover of mine is going to be shy in front of me! Hurry up and strip to I can kiss you more..”
Portia
(Now I don’t really write for the main six.. mainly Portia and Muriel... so I rather not fill out requests for them. The top four are fine but eh, y’all know I love the courtiers more.)
When you ask Portia to turn out the lights she pauses altogether. Much like Lucio she’s confused but after seeing your shyness and how you blush but avoid her gaze she gets it because she’s a smart one after all.
“You’re shy?” She asks and you almost find yourself to embarrassed to answer but soon you nod. You let out a sigh.
“Sorry... I really want to do it I’m just..” and Portia shushes you with a loving smile. She may know what you’re feeling and she definitely doesn’t judge you for it, it’s normal! This is your boths first time together, had she been the one under you and having you kiss all over her she’d probably get a little shy as well.
But aye momma ain’t raise no bitch so she’d be fine with it as well.
She doesn’t want to push you and while she wants to continue she’ll take the time to lie down next to you and hold you until you are comfortable enough to want to continue.
Might tease you a little bit but always ends it with a playful kiss.
Muriel
He understands what it’s like to be self conscious so even though he’s a little surprised to hear you want the lights off he inst one to ask why.
He may actually turn them off if you insist but if he does he’ll just try to show you more in bed how much he wants you.
He’s never wanted someone as bad as you and he might take the time to give you a lot of aftercare so that next time you’re comfortable enough to let him leave the lights on so he can watch you come for him. ;3
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Valdemar
(Finally, the real reason I did this request lolololol)
First off the first time you have ‘smexy’ time with them might be in the dungeons and while there’s light even they don’t like it to be too lit down there. Much less if they have you at their manor depending on how close the two of you are. Either way turning out the lights isn’t enough. They can see in the dark babe.
Their lips are moving against your collar bone and you let out a soft moan. If it wasn’t for you getting more and more conscious they would have effectively managed to get you to forget how insecure you were.
When you push on their chest with a little whimper they pull back but already with a knowing look.
In a way Valdemar doesn’t know how to reply and you should expect that considering you are the first they want to lie down with after thousands and thousands of years. It’s either they’ll ask you why you want to stop, why are feeling that way, or if you want to try again another time.
They’ll turn out the lights but as I said earlier, they can see in the dark. They’ll either take advantage of that or will inform you in order to let you know that turning out the lights won’t help..
At least they won’t judge you.. at this point they care about you wants you to know that they don’t judge but explaining that out loud is harder than saying it in their head.
They might pull away all together without doing much to help because what else are they supposed to do. Unless you both have a deep enough relationship to where they understand these emotions they just won’t. They’ll atleast sit there with you until you feel better and can calm down enough.
As much as I love Valdemar y’all gotta know these emotion things gotta be taught to them! 😫
#arcana game#the arcane game#the arcana asra#julian devorak#nadia satrivana#count lucio#the arcana muriel#the arcana game portia#quaestor valdemar#x reader#thanks for the ask!#request are open
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The Fall of Hawks and Twice.
Hawks choosing to sacrifice Twice is not purely for the greater good. In effect it’s Twice repeating what he always does, choosing to sacrifice himself. Twice essentially is twice, they’re both two-faced, they both experienced a fall, they both long for an easy life.
Hawks choice to attack his foil, his shadow in Twice, says a lot about his own character. Hawks and Twice are so close it’s essentially an act of self harm. He’s beating up, and threatening to stab a person who looks like himself. Hawks is a character defined by his self destruction. Icarus is a famous story and metaphor for self-destruction, Icarus chooses to fly too close to the sun. Hawks is an icarus who wants to let himself fall, and because of that he deliberately chooses to push people like Twice who are so much like himself over the edge. Hawks and Twice are two characters who fall into conflict not because of their differences, but because of how similiar they are. More on their foiling underneath the cut:
1. Hawks Destroys Himself.
When Hawks said “You’re a very kind-hearted person” what he meant was “This is what makes you an easy target.” There’s an expression of remorse with those words as well, but you have to remember the lessons that Hawks’ learned through life. His first major action was saving a bus-load of children from an accdient as a child, and his reward for that “kind-hearted” action was to immediately get taken advantage of by every adult in his life.
Hawks has been taught over and over again by life that his good nature, the part of him that wants to save other people is something that makes him usable. To the point where saving people is no longer something he consciously chooses to do, it’s a function of who he is. The same way a robot programmed to save someone from a burning building would carry that job out without fail.
The one image we see of Hawks’ childhood with the public safety bureau he’s blindfolded. This is an important symbol for a character whose name is literally “Taka” Hawk and “Mi” See, visible, idea. Raptors in particular are known for their eyesight. Being able to see everything is important to Hawks, because seeing everything, knowing everything, visibility, and knowledge are both things that give him agency.
But as a child Hawks’ agency is completely stripped from him. He is literally blindfolded. He treasures it so much now because there was a time in the past where it was completely taken from him.
As a person Hawks is very self aware. He knows on some level that his dedication to saving others is what allows other people to use him so much. His way of regaining control of that has always been to just let himself be used, and say it was for a good cause.
Hawks’ tendency is towards self destruction. It’s the same as All Might saving people until all of his internal organs are irrepariably damaged and he is going to barely live past forty. Hawks was never treated as an individual in his life, and therefore he has almost no individual self-worth. He will always view himself as expendable, and always choose the option that damages him the most. However, this is a learned behavior. This is literally what Hawks’ was taught to do by the hero commission. Sacrifice yourself to save people, they’ve put this idea in his head since he was a literal child. The hero commission views him as someone without agency, without someone who has a choice in his own actions. Hawks as a person does not really exist outside of what the hero commission tells him to do. His value and worth as a person is entirely determined by how useful he is to others.
Hawks knows that he doesn’t really have a choice. That they’re taking advantage of the little boy inside of him that still genuinely does want to save people. However, he deludes himself and pretends that he is going along with this, that he does have a choice in order to reclaim what little agency he has left. Hawks chooses to self destruct. He flies towards the sun deliberately.
2. Hawks and Dissociation Disorders
So earlier I made the claim that both Twice and Hawks suffer from dissociation, it’s just that Hawks doesn’t really show his symptoms on the surface, and Twice is very obvious about it.
Now I don’t think there’s a like textbook diagnosis for Twice, but he displays a lot of symptoms for dissociation in his writing. Let’s do a quick review for Dissocation Disorders in general, I’m not talking about DID so much as the general category grouped together.
Dissociative disorders (DD) are conditions that involve disruptions or breakdowns of memory, awareness, identity, or perception. People with dissociative disorders use dissociation as a defense mechanism, pathologically and involuntarily.
Under this branch term there are four general types:
Dissocative Amnesia:
The Sudden inability to recall information of a personal nature due to forgetfulness or other organic conditions (We see Shigaraki do this).
Dissociative Fugue
Inability to recall personal identity and past with confusion about personal identity or assumption of new identity. (We see Shigaraki and Dabi both do this. Twice too doesn’t know if he’s the original or the real Twice or just a copy)
Depersonalization
Persistent symptoms involving changing in perception, and being detached from one’s own thoughts and body. May feel things are unreal or have a sense of being in a dreamlike state.
Dissociative Identity
Existence of two or more distinct alters, each with its own memories, attitudes, and perceptions. (Twice suffers from some form of this he at least hears two distinct voices in his head that argue with each other, but diagnosis is a very messy thing and he could overlap with a few other categories. IDK if Hori intended to show he has two distinct alters or just that he hears voices).
Hawks mostly shows signs of depersonalization, but I would argue just like Dabi, Shigaraki and Twice he also has his moments of clear dissociative fuge from his own thoughts, and intentions. Remember Hawks is incredibly high functioning a lot of the signs he shows of his mental illness are very subtle but let’s go over them quickly.
Its mentioned several times that the expression on Hawks’ face almost never matches what he’s feeling inside. He’s completely inscrutable to other people.
Even if they want to, literally no one in his social circle can understand him. How much of this is really Hawks being the best spy ever, and how much is Hawks literally not being able to show it or communicate properly. A severely depersonalized Hawks would be so detached from his own emotions he would essentially be unaware what he is feeling as well.
I can imagine Hawks smiling in a mirror for hours so he knows when to smile at the right time, and knows when to make the right faces to react to things so he doesn’t intentionally set everybody off. If Hawks has to make all of those reactions intentionally as part of an act, if he doesn’t intuit those things naturally there’s a serious disconnect betweehn what he is feeling and how he’s able to display and communicate those feelings. It’s kind of like how autistic people don’t always react “appropriately” or at least what everybody else considers to be appropraite. (There’s a lot of overlap in these mental illness symptoms).
If Hawks has to continually at all times act like he’s reading off of a script when he’s interacting with other people, even just having normal conversations than that means there’s serious unreality he’s experiencing.
Hawks also expresses guilt in relatively the same way that Dabi does. The scene itself is even paralelled. Hawks says I’m sorry in his internal narration, but does not show it in his face, or even communicate those feelings.
Dabi then literally in the next panel when asked if he feels guilt for the people he’s killed, says that he spent so much time thinking about it he went crazy. Dabi and Hawks are foiling here to show that they suffer from the same symptoms. Both of them have to continually dissociate themselves from their own emotions in order to deal with the guilt that piiles up. Dissocation, above everything else is a way to relieve stress by separating you from yourself, your own body, the pain you feel, etc. Hawks just like Dabi thinks about these things to the point where he goes crazy.
The connetion betwen Dabi and Hawks is just like that of Twice and Hawks, what Dabi expresses, Hawks conceals. Hawks interanlizes all of his damage and destroys himself, Dabi externalizes all of his damage and lashes out at the world around him but the result is the same, internalizing, externalizing, its still exteremly unhealthy behavior.
Tumblr user @katsubf made a post about this here.
If you compare Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks and the way they’re drawn Hawks almost always is covering his mouth, whereas Dabi and Shigaraki have their mouth open.
In the same post katsubf points out one of the few times that Hawks has his mouth open is right before he’s made the decision to kill Jeanist.
Once again in a narrative of dissociation this is once again used to illustrate the disconnect between Hawks and his own emotions. Despite the fact that Hawks is doing this for what he considers to be good reasons, we also see him smile inappropriately like a villain right before deciding to stab Jeanist. Hawks can’t make his face match his true emotions. He smiles at this time because his long repressed emotions are coming to the surface.
That’s why Dabi and Shigaraki are maniacally laughing, and Hawks has to cover his mouth. That’s the difference between the repressed and the expressed. Shigaraki and Dabi make the decision to show how damaged they are and wear their scars on the surface. Shigaraki has his wrinkled up and scarred face, Dabi proudly wears his burn scars. When Dabi and Shigaraki feel something, everybody else knows about it. They’re way of dealing with their emotions has always been to express them. Whereas Hawks is such a considerably repressed individual that he’s never once expressed his true emotions in front of others. Shigaraki and Dabi have to express themselves, they find their identity in rebelling against everything that tells them to suppress themselves.
For Dabi and Shigaraki the bad feelings must always be expressed on the surface, even if it becomes someone else’s problem. Hawks response has always been the opposite, he always pushes the bad feelings deep inside himself and lies about them in hopes that if he represses himself perfectly the bad feelings will go away.
Hawks literally represses himself to such an extreme extent that literally nobody around him understands what his true feelings are, and Hawks is so dissociated from himself he probably does not have that good of an idea either. And this is what Hawks wants. This is what Hawks thinks he has to be in order to help others. Hawks has to distance himself from his own emotions, enver let his feelings get in the way, and do as he���s told.
However, the thing about repression is it doesn’t work. It doesn’t hold. His true feelings are going to come to the surface eventually, hence why we see Hawks smiling when he’s about to cut apart Jeanist, not because he feels happy about it in the moment but because Hawks is so insanely disconnected from his own emotions that he doesn’t know what he feels.
In summary, Hawks is mentally ill. He doesn’t cope with those feelings of mental illness in a good way either. There’s something very sinister about the people who Hawks chooses to target. This shouldn’t be a surprise there’s always been a dark edge to his character.
3. Hawks and Twice
If I were to characterize Hawks in a word I would say he’s avoidant. Hawks can’t let his emotions conflict with what he has to do, he doesn’t really know who he is, he can’t know who he is, so rather than dealing with those emotions he avoids them.
So, why target Twice? It’s because of all the people that Hawks has interacted with, Twice is the person who got the closest to Hawks’ true self.
It’s important to remember that concealment isn’t just something that Hawks does for the sake of his hero work, it’s also literally a survival mechanism to him. Hawks has to know everything and see everything, but nobody is allowed to get close to him, or know anything about him because just like the hero commission if they have that information they will use it against him.
Hawks has literally never even been taught to communicate in a healthy and open manner, he’s been taught “negotiation skills.” Hawks just isn’t a person, and Hawks just doesn’t allow himself to be a person either.
Twice is someone who shares several parallels with Hawks. Both of them didn’t really have any agency in their situations. They both lost their agency due to poverty, Hawks lived in a terrible home before the heroes took him in, Twice had no relatives to take him in, lost his job, and became homeless.
However, unlike Hawks, Twice is someone very honest about himself and his desires. Hawks does not trust a single person, whereas what Twice desires the most is people he can trust and be trusted by.
Hawks and Twice both experienced a fall through no fault of their own, to the point where they lost agency and control over their own lives. They were both isolated from the rest of the world and only had themselves to count on, they were also both minors at the time.
However, they were taken in by different people. This is what the police and hero society as a whole say to people who’s fallen.
This is what Giran says to Twice who had taken a similiar fall. Even though by the time Twice lost his mind it was his fault a little bit, for deciding to rob, and try to live the easy life of crime.
The response of hero society is “Let them fall” whereas Twice was told that there are people in the world who are like him and suffering the same way, and he can trust them.
So in these opposite environments Hawks and Twice have internalized very different ideas. Those Hawks and Twice are people who have fallen, they came to the opposite conclusion. Hawks believes I should fall. Twice believes no one like me should fall.
When Twice encounters someone like him, he tries to reach out and accept them because he was saved by that same acceptance.
If you compare both characters the idea of self destruction runs rampant in them. Twice evens says several times, his greatest enemy is himself, he can’t trust himself anymore, he is symbolically beaten up by mulitple versions of himself. He has let himself fall again and again.
Twice also says as much, the choice to fall is also the choice to run away. Hawks avoids, Twice has already directly confronted who he is. He’s felt his pain while Hawks literally spends every second of his day not feeling his pain.
So you have Twice who believes the exact opposite of what Hawks does. Hawks wants to disappear and to make all of his personal feelings vanish underneath being a hero, whereas Twice is someone who states outright that the most important thing is understanding who you are.
What we see in Hawks and Twice’s confrontration is the culmination of an idea set up by Twice ever since chapter 115. Heroes only exist to save virtuous people and no one else. They exist to maintain a status quo that will always intentionally let people like Twice fall because dealing with them would be an inconvenience on everybody else.
Twice is Hawks’ literal opposite. He’s very aware of what Hawks is in denial about over himself. Hawks believes that he is on the side of heroes, on the side of saving people, but Hawks himself is someone who is not going to be saved by the current hero society, he’ll be used up and thrown out. Hawks is someone known for cheekily expressing his true feelings, but he actually always wears a mask at all times. Whereas Twice is someone who becomes his real self, when he puts a mask on, and Twice having no filter at all means he’s always expressing what he clearly thinks.
So what does Hawks do when he’s confronted with such a person?
When he’s confronted with someone who wants what he wants, but is honest about it rather than lying to himself like Hawks always does.
Remember Hawks copes poorly. If I were to say his coping mechanism, I would say it’s “Do everything you can to maintain the lie.” Hawks is in spy mode 24/7 to the point where he not only has to convince everybody else around him, he must also take steps to convince himself.
Look at the way Hawks interacts with Endeavor. Endeavor is almost always threatening him, being angry and irritable, and he always suspects something. Even though Hawks deeply respects Endeavor and does things to help him, he’s treated poorly by the other, and it mirrors the way the hero system treats him as well. Even though Hawks is essentially a good person always sacrificing himself for others, he’s treated with suspicion, derision and forced to do thankless dirty work.
Twice from the start always treated Hawks the exact opposite. He treated Hawks as a person. He immediately saw who Hawks was as a person, and every time Hawks helped him out he thanked him for it. Twice is an unbelievably honest person in front of Hawks, and not only that unlike Edneavor and the commission he actually cares about what Hawks’ true feelings are and asks him about them.
We see as Hawks gets closer to Twice, in his mind Endeavor starts to turn away from him. Twice wants Hawks to meet Shigaraki because he knows Shigaraki would accept him and give him a place for belong. When Hawks is around Twice, there is someone who would accept his true self, and try to support him.
And Hawks hates that.
Hawks entire world view is built around always repressing himself, concealing himself, he can’t have his true face ever show. If you analyze the two people who Hawks has targeted so far there’s a common thread between them.
Jeanist, physically missing a lung and injured.
Twice, a dropout from society, quite literally insane and violent.
Hawks considers himself expendable. Damaged Goods. Someone who is eventually going to take a fall. Hawks ackonwledges that he’s going to be thrown out one day, but propels himself forward telling himself he needs to accomplish saving all the people he needs to save before that point.
It’s because Hawks has internalized the idea that he’s expendable, that he willingly sacrifices people like Jeanist and Hawks who are also expendable in the same way he is. He goes out of his way to target them and kill them to achieve his goals.
Hawks isn’t doing this for strictly good or evil reasons. There’s a deeply personal element to this for Hawks, and he’s essentially proving his own world view. This is a world where damaged people like Hawks have to get sacrificed for the sake of everybdyo else’s peace and well being.
Because Twice is so much like Hawks, it’s an act of self destruction.
What Hawks really wants is to destroy the part of himself that Twice represents, the part that wants to trust others, to be accepted for who he is. Hawks believes if he permanently kills this part of himself he’ll finally be able to do what he needs to do.
It’s not really some great act of heroism, it’s incredibly unhealthy. Hawks is stabbing himself over and over because that’s what the hero commission has taught him to do.
However, there is still hope for Hawks. Twice has said he wants Hawks to meet Shigaraki.
Hawks has been set up to meet Shigaraki for a long time in the story. I doubt either of them will die before this meeting gets to take place just because it’s been brought up so many times. When Shigaraki finally does meet Hawks maybe there will be hope for him yet, because unlike Twice who was told that there are people like him in the world, and that damaged people can have friends too Hawks has still not been told these things. Hawks needs someone to tell him that he can’t let others trample on his feelings even for the greater good.
#mha meta#my hero academia meta#lov meta#twice#hawks#jin bubaigawara#takami keigo#dissociation#hawks meta#league of villains meta
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feel like a monster | a.i
notes: told y’all i was writing again. i got inspired by ‘monster’ by skillet and it’s not the typical demon!ash we have seen previously. enjoy. Also I picture Lucifer being Tom Ellis’ from the tv series ‘Lucifer’.
pairing: demon!ashton x witch!reader (genderless self-insert!)
warnings: violence, swearing
word count: 3.2k
donate to my ko-fi?
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The first time you had met Ashton, he was fully unaware of your presence.
Eyes as black as night had roamed the small haunt that the local supernaturals frequented, free of any kind of glamour to appeal to the human prey. Most of the locals knew better than to step out without the glamour on, especially demons, but Ashton had kept his on when he stepped through the door, even with the wash of protective magic you had placed on the building.
“What’ll it be, sugar?” You finally asked him, his eyes unseeing as he muttered the word ‘whiskey’. You never took offence, because sometimes the creatures you encountered needed the time to come to terms with something that happened.
“On the house, don’t drown.” You commented, not even inciting a verbal response as you returned your attention back to one of your regular vampires, a charming smile on your lips as you carried on, the despondent demon lurking in the back of your mind.
The night had been a steady one for the bar, and the demon hardly moved. He wasn't interested when a fight broke out, he ignored the other demons that seemed to sidle up to him and then abandon him once they realised he wasn’t going to pander to their whims.
It hit three am when you finally sat in front of him having a stool behind the bar for this exact reason.
“How about you give me a name, and I’ll go knock on Hades’ door to see if he’s got your soul locked up.” This pulled him from the funk he’d fallen into, his eyes finally focusing and finding yours.
“No need. How long has it been?”
“You’ve been sittin’ there for at least seven hours, sugar. You sure you’re alright?” And it seemed to flip a switch in him, dark tousled hair finally coming to life as he groaned and let his head rest on the bar.
Like with all of your other creature patrons, you didn’t hesitate, ruffling his hair gently which had him pulling back in shock, making you smirk as his own fingers ran through the jet black locks before sighing.
“I really need to stop falling out of my skin.” He muttered and you laughed.
“It’s been a long time since I had a skinwalking demon inside of these walls.” You commented casually, feeling his eyes study you as you moved to clean part of the bar.
“There are others?” The curiosity in his tone seemed desperate, which surprised you.
“There were, then good old Lucifer decided that the creation was an abomination. How’d you escape the culling?”
“I didn’t know there was one? How long ago was it?” This had you confused. You’d heard through the grapevines before Lucifer himself had walked into your establishment. You’d been lucky to escape with your life that night.
“Merde, honey we’re talkin’ about five centuries ago. I’ve had this bar running for the last eight.” His face fell at your words, dismay crossing his features before his eyes closed and a sigh escaped him
“I’m barely four centuries old. How on earth did that freak mutation happen?” His words were all snark but you saw the way his shoulders slumped, how he seemed resigned to the defeat. But you frowned, chucking the rag at him, making him look up.
“None of that in this bar. If good ‘ole Lucy is up to his tricks again, then you’re around for a reason honey. Now, what’s your name, my lovely skinwalker?” And for the first time that night, he smiled.
“Ashton. My name’s Ashton.”
He became a regular from that day on. Unlike other demons who had assignments to take souls and cash in on debts, he never really did much.
The only thing you gleaned from Ashton was that he was only ever called for when there seemed to be something that was too good to be true. And more often than not, they were, which left him to do the dispatching.
On those days, he was sullen and silent, unwilling to even share the possible horrors he may have witnessed, even with your experienced eyes, the way his were haunted, part of you wished to never see it.
He became steady at your bar, a fixture that kept your own morale up when things were rough. He was always there to kick someone too rowdy out, and eventually he started staying til you’d locked up and apparated home.
“Hey Ash. New suit?” You’d called out in greeting as he arrived. You’d noticed that he’d started to experiment with his wardrobe more now that he started to gain confidence in his own skills.
“You ask me every time I’m wearing something different.” He grumbled, making you laugh as he took his spot at the bar, tugging off the suit jacket and resting it over the back of the stool.
“Because you’re finally showing an artistic flair with your clothes, sue me for noticing and pointing out they make you look good.” You fired back easily, continuing to set up for the rest of the day.
“Are we still swapping stories today then?” He asked, ignoring your previous comment as you slid his usual glass in front of him. You smiled in return.
“I love how you consider swapping stories of my relatively normal life something exciting.” He laughed at that.
“Hearing stories of domesticity is much more preferable to the ones of death. Let me have this one thing.” His plea with wide eyes was met with unimpressed ones, only for you to give way and crack a smile.
“It’s a good job that I like you then, not many people can get stories outta me. At least, not the ones of where I’m making a new spell in my own home surrounded by the green ferns and my familiar.” This brought a grin to his face.
“Like I said, hearing something so normal and simple, it makes me hopeful that there’s gonna be a day when I don’t get called in to death and destruction.” You felt your heart break for him a little bit.
Most of the demons who crossed your safe haven had long since settled into the death and destruction that surrounded them. A lot of them even welcomed it with open arms and gleeful smiles.
But not Ashton.
He’d practically rejected that side of him. It was only when he’d met you that he worked ways to accept it but not sink into it. He hung onto you like a lifeline and you gave him those stories of normality, if only to keep him grounded, especially on the worst days.
“I heard old Lucy has put out rumours of a skinwalker. What’s up with that?” You queried once you’d finished setting up the bar. His face took on a pinched look before sighing.
“I’m a skinwalker with control. I’ve seen the other demons, read the transcripts of the old skinwalkers. They, they lost their sanity towards the end. They sunk into themselves and had nothing to pull them back, nothing to keep them in the world we roam. It’s why I can’t lose control. So far I’ve kept it under lock and key, and yes it’s there, but as long as I don’t lose myself like they did, he won’t have a reason to wipe me out.”
“Good old Lucifer doesn’t need a reason, sugar. But I’m proud of you.” His posture changed ever so slightly, but the smile he gave you in return was one of the more honest smiles you’d ever seen on his face.
“I guess it’s gonna be me keeping my head down?” He finally muttered and you laughed, patting his cheek gently.
“That and some luck, but you got me on your side, so you’ve got enough to see you through my favourite skinwalking demon.”
But like many things, the luck had run out for both of you.
Lucifer was sat on the lounge sofa you’d had moved into the VIP section, his casual demeanour betraying the crackling energy that you could feel.
“Most demons give me the time to open the damn bar, your highness.” Even though your age had nothing on Lucifer, you were one of the braver souls who knocked him down, reminding him that you were never one to bend over backwards.
“Unfortunately for you, witch, the bar won’t be opening today. See, there’s been a rumour. A rumour that you’ve been harbouring a skinwalker.” Ice ran through your veins as your stomach dropped.
But you kept yourself as calm as you could, a game you’d played far too many times before.
“Tell me, Lucifer. Why would you be interested in a skinwalker when you destroyed them over five centuries ago. I don’t need to remind you that you came to gloat that day.” The anger was easy to display, the bitterness in your voice telling him exactly what you thought of his choice.
“Ah, but this skinwalker is going rogue.”
“And so I’m harbouring them? Tell me, Lucy, do demons get to die like humans do, or do you just turn into ash?” You felt the burning of the chains before you even had time to react, your breath being stolen as the burning metal wrapped around your body.
Chains draped across your face, and apart from the low hiss of pain, you did nothing more.
“You’re lucky I don’t do what would be considered normal, witch.”
“Trust me, your demons will turn on you quicker when they find out exactly who is threatening their safe haven. How will you cope when every demon is on my side?” You could see the way he twitched at the possible threat, the chains getting tighter in response.
“Then if I kill you and blame it on the skinwalker, they’ll go after them.” The taunt was enough as you felt the wards shift and you realised it was Ashton.
Part of you wanted to scream, to warn him. But your voice was trapped, barely able to take in a breath as Lucifer stood from his spot, curling his finger so that the chains yanked forward, bringing you to your knees.
“I must confess that I feel like a monster doing this. But let it be a lesson for generations who try to meddle in affairs that aren’t theirs to touch.” You could only close your eyes as he raised his hand, the shift having already started as the fingers elongated and the nails grew into claws.
“Your confession will never erase what you’ll do. May the creatures of the darkness know who tried this day, to strip my life and make me pay. May they rebel and cast out, those souls so sure and cast out this monster forever more.” It wasn’t a full spell, but the intent behind the words were enough as a raging roar ripped through the building.
But it wasn’t in front of you like you’d anticipated.
Your eyes snapped open to see something hit Lucifer and throw him across the room.
“Unbind them now.” To your shock, it was Ashton, his skin practically glowing as he towered over you, his stance in a crouch.
“For what, skinwalker? You’re only going to die before them.”
You watched in awe as Ashton seemed to shift, almost like his mind had sunk into base instincts and for the first time in your life, you felt a sliver of fear. But surprisingly enough, it wasn’t towards Ashton. No, it was towards Lucifer who had shifted forms with a look of fury on his face.
“You won’t touch them.” There was a laugh that rooted him to the spot, and you couldn’t stop the yell of agony as you felt yourself hoisted up, desperately trying to cut the feeling of pain off, the agony searing and exhausting.
“Want a bet, skinwalker?” The deep cadence of Lucifer’s voice sent the thrill of fear, but Ashton didn’t hesitate as he launched at the self proclaimed king of hell, no words being spoken but guttural snarls instead.
You tried to watch, but you could see the black dots in your vision. But you struggled for each breath, watching as Lucifer seemed to toss him like a rag doll.
You were dimly aware of a sound that shook the walls as you blacked out, a silent prayer that if you were to be sent on to the afterlife, that Ashton would be granted one mercy to be with you at least.
-
“Fuck, why is it when I need a witch, the one I want isn’t available.” Your head was fuzzy, pain rocketing around your body as you heard chains clink together.
You couldn’t pull any energy to speak even a single word before the fuzziness swept you under, drowning you from the pain that you were in.
-
“I can sense you.” A different voice startled you and your head shot up from where you were lay, shock colouring your features. “Death looks good on you.”
You turned to the voice and felt your insides drop at the sight of Hades. Unlike Lucifer, those who knew, knew that Hades ruled the underworld.
“Are you playing as Hades or your alter?” You finally asked and he laughed, stepping from the shadow that had hidden his features.
Pale skin with vibrant green eyes. He gave you the kind of smile that he only gave Persephone.
“It’s my alter form today. Figured you’d seen enough already.” He countered with ease, holding his hand out to you. You took it willingly, allowing him to pull you up. In his alter form, he’d named himself Michael. He had soft features that looked welcoming ‘to not scare the children sent his way’, was his excuse. But it was nice to see familiarity.
“How dead am I?”
“Not as dead as you should be. Since Lucifer used the death chains on you, I have more leeway than he thought, the little upstart.” You blanched at his words.
“He used the death chains? But, that-”
“Should’ve sent you to my realm almost immediately, or at least indefinitely when you lost consciousness.. But your little spell blocked the chains from doing what they do best. Not to mention my skinwalker nearly taking his own life getting those things off you.” Michael explained as he guided you around the forested area. You realised this must have been his wife’s work.
“Wait, your skinwalker? Is that-” Michael cut you off.
“Is that why Lucifer wiped them to extinction? No. His first batch had never found their grounding. Never succeeded in tying their humanity down. But Ashton was different. So I created him.”
“What happens now?” His smirk bore the arrogance of a god and it took everything to stop yourself from punching him. You’d learned the hard way not to punch a god, they never bruised and never took well to being hit by what they considered a mortal.
“Take care of my skinwalker. And tell him that he holds the crown in title for now. I’ll be along to make it official in the next day or so. Gotta make sure his royal partner kick-starts their recovery.”
Before you could fully process the information, you felt the world spin around you once more, going black.
The blissful pain free state you had been in slowly morphed as the pain seemed to wrap you tightly until you couldn’t breathe, only for your lungs to pull in the much needed air.
“Oh thank fuck.” Was heard above you, but your eyes were too heavy to try and open, your body lethargic and almost lead like to try and reassure the person above you.
When you next came around, the pain was dulled. There was a slow and steady beep that had you turning your head and you stopped yourself from groaning.
“Please tell me I’m not in a standard hospital.” The mutter was scratchy and quiet.
“You forget what we’ve been building this hospital for a few years now. This is one for all kinds of creatures. No regular humans in sight.” The voice made you jump, turning to see Ashton sat next to you, his hair dishevelled and eyes tired as he took you in.
“You’re alive.” His lips curved into a small smile at your whispered words.
“More like we’re alive.” He corrected and you could feel a tear fall from the corner of your eye, lifting a hand up to his face. He was quick to scoot closer, your fingertips feeling his skin and you felt the dam burst.
You were both alive.
He didn’t hesitate to rest his hand over yours, keeping it against his face as you cried, but there was understanding in his eyes as you processed everything, Michael’s words finally ringing back to you as you slowly calmed down.
He was here with you, and even though you’d been toying with the idea, you’d never been so sure of telling him how you felt. Once you’d gathered your bearings, before he could start talking, you cut him off quickly.
“So, king of hell, fancy going on a date with me when I’m out of here?” As much as you wanted to be sentimental with Ashton, your emotions were frayed enough as it was. This was the last thing you needed to add to it. And watching Ashton’s face as he processed your words was certainly worth it.
“A date, with me?” He clarified, tone mystified and dumbfounded. You grinned.
“Of course. Give me a week before I get to the sentimentalities, but I’m almost certain I’ve been in love with you for the last year. Hades was nice enough to point that out, since you can’t lie to a god.”
“Hades? What?” You took pity on Ashton in that moment.
“Instead of dying immediately, I was trapped, but in Hades’ part of the underworld. He explained that you were his skinwalker, connected to your humanity. He could see my feelings for you as clear as daylight. I might as well try to-” Your words were cut off with his lips on yours, the feeling of them causing you to smile against his lips, breaking the kiss.
“I’m not about to get hexed, am I?” He breathed and you laughed, his lips moving to your forehead before he sat back.
“Not in a million years. So you think about actually coming with me now when I get out of here?” His smile spoke the thousands of words he wanted to say, but simply settled for squeezing your hand gently.
“I think it’s about time I moved in, huh?”
One of the healers seemed to come in for that moment and you allowed her to fuss over you as Ashton settled back in the chair, a peaceful silence sweeping over the two of you. Compared to your last memory of the loud beast-like roars, the peace was welcomed and enjoyed, Ashton’s slow breathing accompanying the steady beep of your monitor that you knew would be gone by the end of the day.
The peace was something you appreciated as you felt Ashton take your hand once the healer had left, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your skin. It was only when he jolted upright his face a picture of alarm as he stared at you before breathing,
“What do you mean ‘king of hell’?”
-
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Never make a mess when a total catastrophe will do - Chapter Eight
Pairings: Jimon, past Clace, background Clizzy, a bunch of other minor background pairings
Rating: Explicit
Art: @cor321
Beta: @all-thestories-aretrue
Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, fake dating, oh my god they were roommates, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, pining, miscommunication, holidays, drinking games, mistletoe, symbolically significant Oreos, domestic fluff, brief mention of past character death, Jace’s self-worth issues deserve their own tag
Summary: What do you do when you find out your sister is not only dating your ex and love-of-your-high-school-life but is also bringing her home for Christmas? Bring your annoying, hot, annoyingly-hot roommate as your fake boyfriend to show them you're totally fine with it, obviously! There's no possible way this could backfire.
Link: AO3 , Tumblr Master Post
Chapter Eight
“If you’re taking me to a strip club, I’m walking out and crashing Magnus’s bachelor party.”
“Dude, have a little faith.” Jace grabbed Alec’s elbow and helped him out of the car.
“And stop scrunching your nose to try to see through the blindfold,” Izzy said from Alec’s other side. “We can see you doing it. Besides, do you really think there aren’t going to be strippers at Magnus’s party? Have you met Catarina and Ragnor?”
“Yes, and I trust their taste in strippers more than I trust yours.”
“I think I’m supposed to be insulted,” Izzy said, opening a door so Jace could usher Alec through, “but honestly, I kind of just want to ask Cat if she knows any good strip clubs I can take Clary to for our next date night.”
Alec made a pained sound. “Can I request a moratorium on anything that involves strippers and any of my siblings?”
“You can request it,” Jace said, “but it doesn’t mean we’ll listen. Mind the gap; you’re about to step into an elevator.”
“Isn’t my bachelor party supposed to be about things I like?”
Izzy pushed the button for their floor. “No, it’s supposed to be about doing things with your friends and siblings before you get married and forget all about us.”
“Iz, I meet you for drinks literally every week. I’m not going to stop just because Magnus and I are married instead of engaged.” A slow smile spread across Alec’s face. “I’m marrying Magnus tomorrow.”
“Yeah, you are.” Jace patted Alec’s shoulder as the elevator doors slid open. “Almost there, buddy.”
They led Alec out of the elevator and down the hall.
“Okay stop,” Izzy said when they reached their destination. “You can take the blindfold off now.”
Alec made a show of keeping his eyes squeezed shut as he pulled off the blindfold, opening one eye slowly as though bracing for something horrible. Jace saw the moment Alec recognized where he was, his shoulders relaxing all at once.
Alec glanced between his siblings, unimpressed. “This is the door to our loft. I live here.”
“I told you I was going to plan you the perfect bachelor party,” Jace said. “Did you really want to spend your last night as a single man somewhere else?”
“Your party awaits, big brother,” Izzy said, swinging the door open.
“Alexander!” Magnus met them at the door, smiling broadly. “I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to show up.”
“We had to drive around enough that he wouldn’t know where we were going,” Jace explained. “You know what his crazy sense of direction is like.”
Alec gave his fiancé a questioning look. “What happened to separate bachelor parties being an important part of the tradition?”
“Ragnor and Catarina reminded me that some traditions really aren’t that important,” Magnus said airily. “Especially when breaking them would make you happy.”
“He means he sulked and whined about having to spend all night away from you until we suggested a joint party,” Catarina said, handing Alec a martini and Izzy something dark and fruity with far too many cherries. “And then he pretended like it was all our idea.”
“It was pitiful, really,” Ragnor added. “At one point, he actually languished on my couch to moan about it like some discount gothic heroine.”
“And on that note,” Magnus said, taking Alec’s arm, “my fiancé and I will be going to join our friends who don’t intend to spend all evening mocking me.”
“That’s really sweet, you know,” Alec said as he let Magnus lead him away.
“Well,” Ragnor said, “it’s my duty as Magnus’s co-best-man to make sure he is sufficiently mocked this evening, so I suppose I must follow.” He looked at Jace and Izzy. “I believe Clary and Simon are in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the cupcakes.”
Jace threw Izzy a questioning look. “Cupcakes?”
Izzy shook her head. “Must have been something Ragnor and Catarina planned. Let’s go see.”
The cupcakes, it turned out, were dick-shaped. And because it was Clary decorating them, they were very accurately dick-shaped.
“Oh yeah,” Izzy laughed, “this was definitely Cat’s doing.”
“Cat was in charge of baking, I’m in charge of decorating,” Clary confirmed, eyeing the cupcake she was working on critically. “Devil’s food cake with a chocolate-and-whiskey ganache filling and a variety of different icings. We’re calling them cock-cakes. Simon, pass me the lemon buttercream?”
“You got it, boss,” Simon said, grabbing one of the many pastry bags lined out on the counter and handing it to Clary before stepping over to Jace and greeting him with a warm smile that made Jace’s insides melt. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself.” Jace couldn’t help his answering smile, couldn’t help drawing Simon into a soft kiss that felt easier than it probably should. “If I knew you were going to be creating culinary dick art without me, I would have made Iz drive Alec around on her own.”
“I’m mostly just assisting.” Simon leaned into him, stealing another quick kiss. “Clary’s the real artistic genius behind this masterpiece.”
“It’s true, my girlfriend is a genius,” Izzy agreed happily, walking over to wrap her arms around Clary’s waist from behind.
“Right now, this artistic genius is being distracted from finishing her cupcakes by too many people in the kitchen. You two,” she gestured at Simon and Jace, “take that finished tray out to the table.”
“Wait, how come we have to be the ones to leave?” Simon wondered. “Izzy’s being way more distracting than we are.”
“Because she’s cuter than you are,” Clary said without looking up from her cupcakes. “Go.”
Jace looked at Simon. “The lady has spoken, I guess. Come on, let’s go watch Alec pretend he doesn’t think these cupcakes are hilarious.”
~~~
Jace couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy. He wasn’t sure he ever had been this happy. The joint bachelor party had been a rousing success—cock-cakes, a stripper who was definitely not better than he would have hired, and all—and Jace was so glad he and Izzy had been able to help do this for Alec. And it had been amazing to see Alec so joyful and so obviously in love, to see Izzy and Clary and how happy they made each other. To feel the possibility of a love like that for himself every time Simon took his hand, to see it every time Simon smiled at him, to hear it every time Simon said his name.
It was enough to make him want to be a little reckless. Maybe even reckless enough to tell Simon that he was more to Jace than a fake-boyfriend-with-benefits, that Jace wanted them to be more. It was hardly a new thought, but Jace thought that maybe he was finally ready to say the words out loud.
“Hey, there’s something I want to talk to you about,” Simon said, as if reading his thoughts. “When we get back to the hotel,” he added, throwing a pointed glance at their Uber driver.
Jace smiled at him. “Sure. I actually wanted to talk to you, too.”
“Cool.” Simon sounded nervous. Jace could relate. Now that this was actually happening, he felt like he had an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies in his chest.
Jace’s butterflies hadn’t calmed down any by the time they made it back to their room, and he could practically feel the nervous energy radiating off Simon as he kicked his shoes off and started pulling out his clothes for morning.
“So,” Jace said, leaning against the wall with an affected casualness, “what did you want to talk about?”
Simon squared his shoulders, turned to face him. “I can’t do this anymore.”
Jace’s whole world rocked sideways. “What?”
This was not how this conversation was supposed to go.
“This whole fake dating thing. It was a mistake. I probably shouldn’t even have suggested it in the first place, but I thought—” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I was wrong, and I can’t keep pretending with you, so.” He took a deep breath, obviously steeling himself. “So, this is has to be it. After the wedding tomorrow, no more pretending.”
“Oh.” It was all Jace could find it in himself to say. He reached for the bravado he would normally wrap around himself in a situation like this, but it had deserted him entirely. “I can’t keep pretending with you.” It had all been pretend for Simon. And Jace didn’t even have any right to be hurt by it, because it was what he’d agreed to.
“It’s just,” Simon continued, “seeing Alec and Magnus so happy tonight, and seeing the way Clary and Izzy are together, and even the dumb text Becky sent me earlier about how excited she is to see Maia tomorrow, it all made me realize just how much I want that. I want it with someone I love who loves me back, and you—”
“And I’m not a relationship kind of guy,” Jace finished for him. He didn’t actually need to hear all the reasons that would never be him. He was aware of his own failings.
“Right.” Simon’s voice was barely above a whisper, all his nervous energy having drained away.
“I get it.” Jace forced a smile. Maybe he couldn’t be someone Simon wanted to really be with, but he could at least pretend he wasn’t devastated by that fact. “You deserve that kind of happiness, maybe more than anyone I know. I hope—” He drew in a sharp breath. He would not let his voice tremble. “I hope you find someone who can give it to you.”
He turned away, unable to maintain the facade any longer. “I’m going to hit the shower before bed.” He wasn’t proud of having to hide the bathroom with his feelings, but he couldn’t stay here with Simon, not now.
Jace spent a long time under the shower’s spray. Until he was sure Simon must have fallen asleep. Until he was sure all his tears had washed away.
~~~
Best man duties were almost enough to distract Jace from his own problems for most of the next morning, and he threw himself into making sure everyone in the wedding party was where they were supposed to be when they were supposed to be, keeping Max away from anything flammable, and keeping Maryse and Robert away from each other. In the thankfully rare moments of downtime, he forced himself to put on a lighthearted demeanor. He wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of Alec having a perfect wedding, especially not his own stupid feelings.
He should have known that Alec would see right through him.
“You okay?”
Jace glanced up from the mirror he was using to fix his bowtie. Everything was set, everyone was in their proper places, and Jace had nothing left to do but keep Alec company and wait for the ceremony to start.
“I’m fine. I’m not the one getting married in,” Jace checked his watch, “twenty-three minutes.”
“Don’t deflect. You’re doing that thing you do with your eyebrows when something’s really bothering you, and I’m not doing anything for the next twenty-three minutes if you want to talk about it.”
“What I want,” Jace told him, “is for you to stop worrying about other people and get your ass married.”
“Fair enough,” Alec agreed. “But I’m here when you do want to talk about it. I know I’ve been completely wrapped up in wedding stuff for a while, but you’re still my brother and my best friend, and I don’t want you to think you’re any less important to me now than you always have been.”
Jace walked over and put a hand on Alec’s shoulder. “The only complaint I have about you being wrapped up in wedding stuff is how sappy it’s apparently made you.”
Alec chuckled. “Oh god, that was really sappy, wasn’t it? Shit.” He wiped at his eyes. “I think I might actually cry out there. You’re not allowed to make fun of me if I do.”
“Buddy,” Jace said gravely, “as your brother and best man, it is my solemn duty to make fun of you for it for the rest of our lives. But I’ll wait until you’re back from your honeymoon.”
Alec didn’t cry during the ceremony. Jace noticed a few moments when he had distinctly watery eyes, though, and filed those away for future teasing. Then Alec and Magnus were kissing and the ceremony was over and Jace had absolutely nothing left to distract him from his thoughts.
Especially when the subject of those thoughts was waiting for him in the reception hall, looking as hot as Jace had ever seen him in a perfectly tailored black suit. Jace had managed to avoid looking for Simon during the wedding, and seeing him now hit like a punch to the gut. His emotions were still too raw to deal with what had happened the night before, and there was only one way he was going to make it through this. Luckily, it was the thing he was supposed to be doing. Namely, pretending his ass off.
So he greeted Simon with a warm smile and a kiss to the cheek before settling into his seat. They were at a table with the rest of the wedding party, along with Clary, and it was all so familiar that Jace had no trouble falling back into his role, teasing the hell out of Alec and congratulating the happy couple. Simon made it easy, not acting any different than he had before their conversation, never hesitating to offer small touches and gestures of physical affection, even moving his chair closer so they could lean into each other once they were done eating. It would have made Jace a little sick if he let himself think about it, which he pointedly did not.
Jace let himself get lost in it. It was stupid, and probably a little selfish, but if this was the last time he would ever get to be with Simon like this, he was going to enjoy it.
“Dance with me.” He didn’t mean to say it, but apparently he’d had enough champagne that he wasn’t quite thinking before speaking anymore. He knew as soon as he said it that he’d overstepped. After all, look what had happened the last time they’d danced together.
“Oh.” Simon looked genuinely shocked by the suggestion. “I, uh...”
“I mean,” Jace backpedaled, “if you want to.”
“I believe I might fancy a dance, myself,” Ragnor said. He extended his hand to Madzie, the flower girl and Catarina’s daughter. “Might I have this dance, young lady?”
“Can we do the twirls?” Madzie asked, jumping up from her chair and spinning around to demonstrate.
“Obviously,” Ragnor told her seriously. “After all, what’s the point of dancing without twirls?”
Madzie didn’t bother to give a verbal answer, just grabbed Ragnor’s hand and skipped off toward the dance floor.
“With any luck, that will help her work off some of the sugar buzz from all that cake.” Catarina gave Magnus a long look. “I can’t believe you gave her a second slice.”
“My dearest Catarina, it’s my wedding day, and I will spoil my goddaughter if I want to.”
Catarina scoffed. “You say that like you don’t spoil her every day.”
“It’s true,” Alec agreed. “We might need to give her a third slice if we want to spoil her extra today.” He managed to keep a straight face right up until Cat’s napkin hit him in the face.
“I think I might need to dance off my own sugar buzz,” Izzy announced, grabbing Clary’s hand. “Come on, hot stuff. Let’s go shake our booties.”
Clary laughed. “I can’t exactly say no when you’re offering to shake your booty for me.”
“You know what?” Simon said suddenly. The look he gave Jace was challenging. “I do want to dance.”
It was Jace’s turn to be shocked, but he recovered quickly. “Okay.” He met Simon’s challenge with a smirk. “Let’s dance.”
Jace’s bravado was shaken slightly when the music transitioned to a slow love song right as they made it to the dance floor. But Simon didn’t hesitate, stepping onto the dance floor and drawing him close.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke, rocking gently to the music. They danced close enough that Jace could hear Simon’s breaths, feel them against his cheek. It was too much and not enough all at once, and Jace had to say something or he was going to go crazy.
“Thanks, by the way. For, you know, all of this. I don’t think I ever said that.”
“There’s nothing to thank me for.” Simon’s voice was low and intimate. “This was as much for me as it was for you.”
Jace wanted to say that it couldn’t possibly be, that if any of this meant half what it did to him for Simon, then he wouldn’t be able to give it up so easily. But that would have been deeply unfair, no matter how true, so instead he just said, “Well, thank you, anyway.”
Simon pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, and Jace didn’t understand why he looked so sad. “Thank you.”
And then they were kissing, slow and gentle, and Jace didn’t even remember moving, but he must have or how else could they have gotten here? All the longing and heartbreak he’d been pushing down all day rose up, threatening to break him open and spill out all over the dance floor. The only things holding him together were Simon’s arms around him, Simon’s body pressed against his as they swayed to near-forgotten music, Simon’s mouth on his.
When the song ended and Simon pulled away from him, Jace stumbled and had to force himself upright.
“Come back to the hotel with me,” he said urgently. He couldn’t just let Simon go, he realized, not without at least trying. They could go back to their room, and they could talk, and Jace would somehow find the words to convince Simon to stay. “Please.”
Simon closed his eyes and visibly steeled himself. When he opened them again, Jace knew he’d lost before he even had the chance to put up a fight.
“I already made plans to hang out with Becky and Maia tonight. You know, sibling and sibling’s-maybe-girlfriend bonding. Maia’s going to give me a ride back to Boston in the morning.” He took Jace’s hand and lifted it to his mouth to place a gentle kiss on his knuckles, then pressed something small and metal into his palm before letting go.
Jace couldn’t do anything but watch him walk away, the weight of his father’s ring heavier than it had any right to be in his hand.
~~~
The apartment was quiet when Jace got home, and he was both relieved that he wouldn’t have to face Simon yet and disappointed because, as much as he hated that he would have to box his feelings away, he missed Simon, even though it had only been two days since they’d last seen each other.
He found the note pinned to the refrigerator, held in place by the Spider-Man magnet that he’d gotten Simon as a “congrats on surviving a horrible lab partner and not failing chemistry” gift last year.
Staying at Bat’s for a while. -S
That was all. Nothing about why Simon had left or when he was coming back. If he was coming back. Jace’s fingers almost itched with the need to text Simon to find out exactly what the hell was going on, but the fact that Simon had left a note instead of texting suggested he didn’t mean for this to be a discussion.
Not that Jace actually needed a discussion. Simon had made it very clear that things were over between the two of them, that he didn’t feel the same way about Jace that Jace did about him, and instead of accepting it and moving on like a good friend would have, he’d kissed Simon at the wedding. He’d been on the verge of begging Simon to give him a chance. Of course Simon didn’t want to see him right now. He wouldn’t want to see him, either.
For half a second, Jace considered taking Alec up on his offer to call if he needed to talk, but Alec was on his honeymoon, and Jace might on occasion be a self-centered asshole, but he didn’t want to be that much of a self-centered asshole. Instead, he grabbed his half-empty package of Double Stuf Oreos and took them to the couch, where he turned on Return of the Jedi and bundled himself up in the fleece blanket Simon always used when his feet got too cold in winter.
When the movie was over and the Oreos were long gone, he dragged the blanket into Simon’s room and curled up on his bed, on top of the covers. Sleeping on top of Simon’s bed wasn’t as pathetic as sleeping in Simon’s bed, he reasoned. Especially if no one was there to see it. And if the fleece blanket kept any tears from getting on Simon’s comforter, then he wasn’t really crying.
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Dude I just saw the stupidest take of my life, someone waa like ' if you can forgive catra then you should be able to forgive shadow weaver because they are basically the same and catra never really apologized for anything and shadow weaver was also abused' It's like adam apologists all over again shitting on ilia even though she actually had remorse for her actions and tried to make good choices i am a f salt mine today literally fuming :(
Yeah that's some bullshit. See, here's the thing. It's fine if personally you weren't invested in Catra and her story, or if you never cared about her and Adora's relationship. We all have personal preferences and some stuff just won't be to your taste! But you can acknowledge that something is good without liking it yourself, and without trying to twist the facts to prove that your opinion is correct.
So for interest's sake let's break this down point by point.
“[Catra and Shadow Weaver] are basically the same.”
Catra is a highly traumatised teenager who was raised without a single positive role model or example of healthy behaviour, while being put through constant verbal and physical abuse from her guardian/parental figure which made her feel completely worthless and inferior to everyone, and as a result developed self-destructive tendencies and damaging defence mechanisms which caused her to lash out at people to avoid being hurt again.
Shadow Weaver is a fully grown adult who knowingly and insidiously abused and manipulated both Catra and Adora throughout their entire lives up until they were approaching adulthood and previously risked the life of a literal child performing a dangerous spell because of her desire for power clouding her reason. She was never shown to grow up in a horrifically negative environment and the trauma she suffered during the Spell of Obtainment was primarily her own doing.
There's a parallel to Catra in that Shadow Weaver also felt neglected and taken for granted by her mentor figures, but they are not remotely the same.
“Catra never really apologised for anything.”
During Season 5 Catra apologises on no less than three separate occasions (to Adora in S5E3, to Entrapta in S5E6, and again to Adora in S5E8) and she also tries to apologise to Scorpia on two separate occasions but can't because the first time Scorpia is brainwashed and the second time Scorpia hugs her before she can finish. And not a single one of those times does she attempt to justify anything she did, or attempt to put any of the responsibility on other people.
Catra has repeatedly acknowledged her mistakes and sincerely expressed regret for them without any blame shifting or dismissing the pain she caused, and to say otherwise is flat out not true.
“Shadow Weaver was also abused.”
I sort of already covered this, but yeah, this point also doesn't hold up at all. We're shown that Shadow Weaver felt ignored and sidelined by the other sorcerors, but never that she was deliberately stripped of her self esteem and repeatedly mistreated to the point of torture.
Comparing Shadow Weaver's frustration at her colleague's unwillingness to take extreme risks which could have equally severe consequences to Catra being constantly treated like literal garbage and ““punished”” with magic from when she was still just a child is ridiculous.
“Catra's toxicity towards Scorpia was the same as Shadow Weaver's abuse of Adora and Catra.”
They're the same in that neither situation was remotely okay. But again, equating a traumatised victim of child abuse projecting that cycle of abuse onto someone else to the perpetrator of said child abuse who began that cycle in the first place is, uh... Not a Good Take.
This isn't to excuse anything about the way Catra treated Scorpia or anyone else she hurt—those actions were entirely her own and she had to take responsibility for them and face the consequences—but to say those two examples are identical is wrong.
“Shadow Weaver deserved a redemption arc.”
No, she didn't. Because as you say, she never took any of the necessary steps to redeem herself.
Noelle has said that Shadow Weaver's death wasn't a redemption, and I also remember her saying that as far as Shadow Weaver was concerned, once she was working with the Rebellion she considered herself redeemed and one of the good guys. Which is exactly why Shadow Weaver never deserved redemption, because she didn't even understand that she needed to redeem herself.
Shadow Weaver never once hesitated over her decisions or showed any remorse for what she did to Catra and Adora. She never apologised to anyone, and the only truly good thing she ever did was to die so that her victims would be free of her forever. But even then, her “you're welcome” to Catra shows that she still wasn't being truly selfless and felt like she was obligated to some measure of forgiveness for doing the absolute bare minimum.
On the other hand, let's look at some of the main things Catra does in Season 5 as part of her redemption arc.
She saves Glimmer, risking her life and allowing herself to be tortured similarly to how Shadow Weaver used to ““punish”” her with her magic, I might add and brainwashed in an attempt to keep Adora safe.
She chooses to try and discover Horde Prime's plans by looking into his mind using her chip, even though it means reliving a hugely traumatic experience, in an attempt to help Adora and the Rebellion against Horde Prime.
She literally throws herself headfirst into fire with zero hesitation to try and rescue Adora.
She stays behind to fight what is essentially a giant potentially deadly monster alone, once again to protect Adora and hopefully allow her to save Etheria.
She lets herself be physically attacked by members of the Rebellion on multiple occasions without fighting back or holding onto any bitterness over it because she knows it's warranted.
She offers or at least tries to offer genuine apologies to the people she hurt the most (Adora, Entrapta, and Scorpia) without attempting to excuse any of her wrongdoing and without any expectation of forgiveness.
Catra achieves zero personal gain through any of these actions. They are wholly selfless acts, and that's how she proves that she's actually changing for the better. Not with one single instance of doing a decent thing which comes with a “you're welcome” as a final guilt trip, but with repeated good choices which she makes without demanding any sort of reward for them.
To give more examples:
In Episode 3, Catra starts to learn how to apologise for the things she did and express the regret she feels over her actions.
In Episode 6, Catra starts to learn how to let herself be vulnerable, and how to openly and honestly ask for the things she wants instead of assuming other people already know and then lashing out when they don't understand. She also lets Adora set clear boundaries without reacting badly, and manages to share her feelings knowing that Adora might choose to reject her or walk away.
In Episode 8, Catra starts to learn that feeling exposed and embarrassed isn't always a bad thing, and that when the rest of the group tease her it's a sign of them beginning to accept her rather than them mocking her— that they're laughing with her, rather than at her. She also shows that she's making progress towards working through her issues by finding ways to manage her anger rather than lashing out.
In Episode 9, Catra tries to reassure Netossa that Spinnerella will be okay, demonstrating that she's starting to learn how to empathise with other people more and express sympathy for their struggles.
In Episode 10, Catra is willing to go back to the Fright Zone with Adora and the others, a.k.a. return to the place which is the source of most of her trauma, because she knows it's what has to be done.
In Episode 11, Catra decides to go to Mystacor with Adora and the others even though it's Shadow Weaver's idea, a.k.a. follow a plan thought up by the woman who's the source of most of her trauma, because she knows it's what has to be done. She also willingly lets Adora go to the Heart and potentially sacrifice herself which has literally been Catra's greatest fear throughout this entire season, because she accepts that it's Adora's choice to make and finally understands that Adora's priority will always be the greater good and she can't and shouldn't change that.
In Episode 13, Catra chooses to stay by Adora's side no matter what, regardless of whether Adora feels the same way about her, because she's reached a place where she's able to accept that her feelings might not be reciprocated and she still wants to be there for Adora in any way necessary even so— even if it means watching the love of her life die in front of her.
Catra spends the entire season going through the personal growth necessary to become a better person and learn how to have healthy connections with people. She makes the effort to improve time after time and dedicates herself to the ongoing job of breaking her toxic tendencies and making up for everything she did. If you still don't believe that she deserved to find peace and love after all of that then I can't make you, but you can't just ignore everything that happened in the show.
tl;dr - you don't have to like Catra or her arc, but she more than earned her happy ending.
#she ra#spop#catra#she ra catra#spop catra#shadow weaver#she ra shadow weaver#spop shadow weaver#she ra spoilers#spop spoilers#she ra analysis#spop analysis#she ra meta#spop meta#asks#anon asks#raven answers y'all
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Jate'kara
Rating: 18+ (minors take a hike)
Warnings: lots of bad space language, talk of Bo-Katan and Death Watch, sleazy g-pa Greef
Word count: ~2K
Pairing: (eventually!!!) Din Djarin x F!reader
Summary: A Mandalorian is searching for Mando.
A/N: Hey babes! This is number four of the #mandomay2021 prompt list. I promise they'll keep being longer! Enjoy 💕
Masterlist | Aru'e | Cyare’se
Piloting in hyperspace didn’t require you to interact with the controls. For longer flights, this allowed you to sleep and recharge. But on this flight, you longed for something to do with your hands. You were jittery. You couldn’t sleep. You could only pace. Zek’s words crashed around in your mind. You had left Echi there, with a stale promise on your lips to return. He had slowly shaken his head in disagreement and muttered that it wasn’t your jate’kara. You had only scoffed, your destiny was what you made it.
Except in the deafening silence of hyperspace, the crushing truth was suffocating. You had long decided that your jate’kara was to die fighting the Empire. You had mused and waited, hunted and paced, you were tired of plotting. You would give your life, gladly, to see even one Imp fall.
Why did it have you reeling now?
It was the covert. You told yourself. Placating and smoothing the crinkles that so much life had created. Beyond Echi, you hadn’t talked to another soul in ages. You were well and alone. However, now, you had a place. Zek had offered, insisted, and almost begged, you to stay. They needed more hands for foundlings, they needed more income to sponsor them. The group had moved from Zanbar after a deadly battle had broken out, and there had been no shortage of orphans in the wake.
You had turned the offer over more than you wanted to admit. You had stayed the night. You shared their meals, their home. They were far from the reaches of Mandalore, and they seemed free to live without the stifling rules you had known on Krownest. You had felt seen and accepted there. They didn’t even notice your armor. Their kindness reminded you of your own covert.
You wouldn’t have fit in. Your darkness would have been their destruction, your inner voice reprimanded. You shuddered the thought down. The images of prone children, faceless for their helmets with pools of blood gathering underfoot, were too quick. You fisted your eyes, rubbing your knuckles in harshly.
Before you knew it, the children were your own. The destruction of your own covert. Your buir crawling to his blaster, stopped with a crack from another faceless stormtrooper. You gasped and tried to think of anything else. There was nothing else. Only death, and the lull of deep space. You tried to calm your breathing. It only worked marginally, the panic attack at bay, but the paralyzing fear still lingering.
A shrill ping brought you back to life. You made your way over to the panel, and dropped from hyper. The ping was a message, a holo sent from an informant, and the message was simple: go to Nevarro. You wondered what good the volcanic planet would be to you. You drummed your fingers against the datapad, before punching in the coordinates to the port on Nevarro. All you knew was that there had been a Guild on the planet, but you didn’t know much else.
With no other leads, you hoped that the Guild might have a puck or a location on some of the men you sought. It was close to Mandalore, too close to not have ties, so the locals might not immediately view you as a danger.
The T Visor of your helmet stared back at you, your reflection searching the inky wells and finding nothing. The helmet was the most important piece of armor, it protected you the most, but you couldn’t help but feel separate from it. You felt stripped every time you took it off, and you wondered how much of your humanity was retained when you slid the metal in place. You hoped most of it, but you knew it was likely none.
~
You maneuvered your ship down, a ring of dust blurring your windshield. Volcanic planet, indeed. You made your way through the streets quickly. The main street appeared to be under construction, and you wondered why they would bother. The whole city seemed on the brink of falling in on itself. You found the market easily, and veered opposite it. You had expected the town’s leader would be across from the most populous spot, and right you were. You crossed the open threshold, and looked around.
“Ah, here for Mando?” The human woman was leaning over some paperwork, but sat up straight when she saw you. You tilted your head slightly, but remained silent.
“Sheriff Dune, at your service. Who’re you?” The woman’s short hair curled into her eyes, but she swept them back with a broad hand. You noticed her bulging arms under her long sleeves. She was far from just a sheriff. You had no idea why you were sent here, or who you were actually looking for. You decided to take the chance. Mando, short for Mandalorian?
“Yes, Sheriff Dune. I’m looking for Mando.” She stretched her lips in a thin line and nodded.
“Your business with him?” You swore her eyes narrowed as she spoke. She was friendly with this one. You worked fast to think through a sufficient lie. A mandalorian not sharing his name would likely be a bounty hunter, and of course, the guild was on Nevarro, not too far from Mandalore. You needed more information, but you could work with what you had so far.
“Heard he was the best, and I need some help tracking someone down.” You released the stance you held, to look more at ease, and tried to lighten your voice to a self-deprecating tone. You hoped she would buy it. It was plausible enough.
You didn’t worry long. She visibly relaxed.
“He’s off world at the moment. Want me to send him a holo?” You tensed back up, and paused. You had no message for him. Dank farrick, you didn’t know if he was even who you were searching for. Cara seemed to pick up on that.
“I’ll just ping him, tell him Greef needs him back.” She waved it off, and disappeared behind a door. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to think. What if he was Death Watch? What if he was with...you swallowed it. You couldn’t afford to think about that. If he was against you, you’d deal with it when the time came. You had handled yourself against mandalorians before, and not that you were itching for that fight, you could do it again.
“You always wear that bucket?” Cara asked as she walked back in. Your mind raced again. The lies piling on, the hole you were digging seemingly too far to return from.
“Only if I want to put it on again.” You told her, terse. She nodded, and chuckled.
“Yeah, you and Mando will get along fine. He’s only a few hours out. You caught him on a return trip.” You swallowed hard, knowing that the metal would hide your nervousness.
“Good. Guild?” You asked, not knowing anything else to add. She nodded.
“Karga, got a guild member up front. Another bucket head.” She flashed a grin at you, and slumped down heavily into her chair.
“Welcome to Nevarro! What can I do for you?” A darker human entered, holding his arms far apart. You knew the tactic, he was afraid of mandalorians.
“I’m looking for someone.” You started slowly, hoping to gain more information than you lost.
“Not really my expertise.” He raised his hands in a shrug.
“No, I’m wondering if you have any Imp pucks?” You asked, hoping to cut through the game.
“You guild?” Crik. You hadn’t thought about the guild requiring status. No sense in lying here.
“No.”
“Doesn’t work like that, I’m afraid.” You bite your cheek. Hard. Hard enough to draw blood. Anything to keep from grinding your teeth more.
“You can keep the bounty.” You reasoned, hoping he was greedy.
“Like I said,” he glanced at Cara who was doing a bad job at hiding her interest. “Doesn’t work like that.” Greedier. Great, you thought.
“I’ll pay you for the puck, and you keep the bounty. I’m assuming you do have a puck.” You had struck a chord.
“It’s an Imperial job, and I can give you the chain code.” You nodded at him, and brought your vambrace up, ready for input. He was silent. You raised your helmet to him, and he shook his head.
“I can’t. It feels...wrong now.” You ground your teeth down hard enough to make your jaw click. The sooner this Mando was here, the sooner you could blast a hole through this Karga.
“Who is it on?” You asked, trying to keep your voice steady.
“Bo-Katan. She helped Mando, and well, seems wrong sending another one of you after her.” You dropped your arm, not caring if your hand was played. It couldn’t be true.
“Bo-Katan? The mandalorian?” You asked, the modulator picking up your shock with ease.
“Yes, she is not an enemy here.” Dank farrick.
“She fought with us. I can’t believe you even thought about it, Greef.” Cara reprimanded, but you barely registered it. You were spinning out.
“I...I have no quarrels with Bo-Katan.” You told them, hoping they heard the sincerity. “I...I’m sorry, is there a covert here?” They looked at each other before looking at you.
“It was destroyed.” Cara told you gently. It felt like too much. “I can show you.” You nodded numbly, and followed behind her through the dusty streets. She took you to a tattered curtain, and you slipped in.
“I’ll send Mando here when he arrives.” Cara told you, her tone more concerned than anything. You nodded tightly and disappeared down the concrete steps. When you were away from the landing you tugged your helmet off and threw it against the wall. The beskar clanged loudly against it, but it tumbled to the ground unharmed. You cursed under your breath at yourself, and grabbed it to inspect the paint. As expected, there was a gash under the eye, where the black had chipped away. The silver shining through broke what was left of your resolve.
“Bo-criking-Katan? Who is this guy?” You grumbled and collapsed to the floor. Dust swirled up and around you, and you couldn’t help but think of Jeculan. The swirling snow had been beautiful. Echi had bounded through it easily, hunting for some unsuspecting prey. You laughed, you had released a menace on that planet. You wondered what Zek was doing, and how the foundlings were liking playing with their new pet. Your lie wasn’t unsustainable. You could keep the helmet on, that wasn’t a problem. But you didn’t know enough about the Death Watch to play pretend with a member. If Mando was in bed with Bo-Katan, they’d kill you before you made it off this crikking dusty planet. You laid your head back, and rolled your neck. You hadn’t even got any leads from the guild guy, what was his name, Karga?
You groaned and looked around. You hadn’t noticed at first, but the covert was wrecked. The clan living here had left in a hurry. Cara had said it was destroyed. You wondered if they had lived in secret, like some. You wondered about the foundlings who would have made their way here. You wondered about this Mando.
Not the most original, you scoffed. Mando the Mandalorian? You supposed it would be helpful in bounty hunting to be nameless, but a fake name would have inspired more fear.
You were so entranced in your own thoughts that you hadn’t heard the footsteps ringing down the steps. You barely registered a man clearing his throat. You whipped your head around to face him before you thought about it; before you remembered to put on your helmet. He turned his head quickly, and you realized your mistake. You slid your helmet down into place, and you mumbled an apology.
“You’re Mando?” He nodded tightly, turning to face you again. Your heart was seizing with fear. You had seen other mandalorians, you knew that they could be broad, even massive. The armor helped. But Mando seemed giant, looming over you, no paint, glinting in the dusty sunlight.
“Cara said you needed me?” He sounded tired. You felt, even amidst your fear, guilty for this.
“I’m looking for someone, but I didn’t realize that…” You fell off, not sure how to continue. He waited, his head tilting slightly when you hadn’t continued after a moment. “You were with Bo-Katan.” His helmet seemed to tilt further over.
“What does this have to do with her?” He asked, a hand landing on his hip.
“Nothing, actually. I just don't want her attention.” He snorted, and held his hand out. You took it, and he helped you to your feet.
“I’m not with her. I’m actually trying to stay as far from her as possible. Who are you after?” He asked softly. You breathed a sigh of relief.
“Imps.”
**Translations
Jate'kara: destiny, luck
Crik: expletive
Dank farrick: expletive
#the mandalorian#mandomay2021#jate'kara#not to be confused with @krissology jate'kara which is superb#mando#cara dune#bo-katan#greef karga#mandalorians
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Dance of the Spheres Chapter Six: Meteoric Mambo
Chapters: 6/?
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: kidnapping, forced marriage, death mention, mild body horror
Characters: Loki(Marvel), Heimdall(Marvel)
Additional Tags: Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue
Summary:
Gave my love to a shooting star
But she moves so fast that I can't keep up, I'm chasing
I'm in love with a shooting star
But she moves so fast, when she falls then I'll be waiting
Shooting Star-Bag Raiders
Loki leapt for the door, bellowing for somebody to fetch someone named Eir. Then he was at your side, lifting you effortlessly in his arms and carrying you through your beautiful rooms, to lay you down on your warm, comfortable bed, where you writhed uncontrollably in terrible pain.
Loki unbelted your dress, and drew the blanket up to your chest, then seated himself next to you, holding your hand, stroking your face, and murmuring things you could barely understand through the pain. Eventually a graceful, middle-aged woman appeared with several handheld devices, and a sound scolding for Loki for being so irresponsible with the Apple.
You couldn't even take pleasure in the dressing-down he was receiving, as the woman attached one of the devices to your arm, and set the other one above your bed. A projection of your body appeared above you, hovering in midair. It showed all kinds of information that you didn't understand, like the graphics in a science fiction film.
“It's started in her spine.” Eir said. “That's why the pain is so severe to begin with. It's effecting her nerves first.”
“What does that mean?” you cried, your voice twisted into squeals of agony. “What is it doing to me?”
Eir began to launch into another scolding, but Loki drowned her out with speedy explanations.
“The Apples of Immortality contain enzymes that act as catalizers on the genetic codes of certain species. So far, we know for certain that they effect Vanir, Asgardians, Jotun, and Humans. They effect us in slightly different ways, but in humans, the change is most drastic.
The Apples give humans greater strength and durability, energy efficiency, speedier healing of wounds and resistance to disease, and a greatly extended lifespan. However, it does this by stimulating the cells of your body to divide en masse, and changing the DNA as it is replicating, resulting in one cell that it original, and one cell that is enhanced. The enhanced cell then devours the original cell, eventually eradicating all traces of original DNA in the body, and leaving a fully enhanced individual behind.”
“My body is making a new me, and cannibalizing the old me at the same time?” you shrieked.
“That's a remarkably lurid way of putting it, but yes, it's accurate. Don't worry, you will still be you at the end of it. Only stronger, and with greater longevity.”
He was so desperately trying to reassure you of the good that would come of this, but all you could do was scream curses at him for the pain, and the lack of permission, and the recklessness. You didn't care if you destroyed the illusion of complacency you had planned to weave-the agony stripped you of any guile you'd thought to employ. But he stayed by your side anyway, gently kissing your hand and wiping your face with a dry cloth as you writhed and screamed.
It didn't matter that you couldn't tell the time; time was meaningless. There was only moment after moment of suffering, an endless, enduring, torturous present. Each minute brought fresh distress, and greater disorientation, as your senses altered under the effects of the Apple, and the agony spread throughout your body as if carried in your blood.
Perhaps it was the trauma of pain effecting your compromised mind, but you were sure that your sense of touch had been so enhanced that your could feel your body devouring and replacing its most sensitive and delicate parts. Your eyes, your tongue, your throat and lungs-you were certain that you felt them rapidly dying and changing. You saw sparks as you writhed helplessly, the colors so bright that you had to squeeze your eyes shut.
And still he babbled on, and still Eir monitored the illusion body, and still you suffered without end. You expected to fall unconscious into exhaustion, begged for it to come, but remained trapped firmly in the grip of the eternal Now.
It reached into your heart, slowed it so much you could hardly move or breathe, It reached into your brain, dampened everything, sound, sight, and finally, even the pain. As your brain ate and replaced itself, your screams faded, and you found yourself unable to feel, think, or do anything. It was a form of death, and you welcomed it with gratitude, though remained conscious throughout.
You vaguely registered that Loki was panicking, believing the Apple might have somehow killed you, blathering about love and apologies, snapping at Eir, who coldly shut him down.
He was insane, this whole ordeal really proved it. Mad royals weren't uncommon, mad, immortal, super-powered rulers were a much rarer problem, but a problem you now had.
Maybe not for long. Maybe you really were dying. Maybe your brain didn't replace itself fast enough. Maybe other parts of your body were failing. Maybe you would be free of this nightmare soon.
But the replacement must have gone well, because pain began to fade back in, from the parts of you that weren't finished with their self-cannibalization. Loki threw his arms around you when he noticed you beginning to writhe and gasp again, holding you firmly, yet tenderly. Some small and guilty part of you took comfort in it, even as you hissed hatred into his ear.
Time did pass, even if you couldn't perceive it, and you only had so much body to devour and rebuild. The pain finally dissipated, but ache and shock remained. If what Loki said was true, if it wasn't just a lie that Eir was going along with, then you had been changed; irrevocably changed without him even asking or letting you know what was happening until it was already happening. No choice, no consent. And he dared babble about love.
The shock dampened the resentment, and the exhaustion kept you from struggling; Loki kept holding you like it was okay, like he hadn't just subjected you to a trauma nearly equal to the one you had already endured. You could feel your leg. It had been years since you'd felt those phantoms, but this brought it all back.
All you could really do was cry in the arms of the monster that now held you, tenderly as a beast cradling a chick.
You could feel his horrible strength, his cloying warmth, his humid breath on your hair was hot in the dry air. You hadn't yet thought about him having a scent, but he did, the kind of scent that any living animal had, similar to another human being, and poorly covered with soap or cologne, also like a human being. He smelled alive; alive, and breathing, and warm, and you were cold with sweat, ravenous and sore with exertion, weary with exhaustion.
“Don't...want to be here.” you breathed piteously.
“Shh.” he soothed, dabbing your tears with his cloth. “It will be alright, my dear. I will make it so.”
He said it with such firm confidence, as if nothing in the universe could stand in his way. But then, he was perfectly capable of just killing inconveniences, wasn't he? All authority was; from the small-town cop with their false drug or gun allegations, to entire governments who politely asked their people not to call the internment camps at the border 'concentration camps' please.
All your life you had been under the thumb of that authority, and all your life all authority had done was try to take more and more control from you-from your mind, with constant propaganda and psyops, and from your body, with never-ending financial drains and restrictions. But it had never been as direct as this. It was exhausting and soul breaking, but it wasn't like this.
This man held you like a lover while he destroyed you.
“Let yourself rest. Rest.” he murmured “Nothing else will hurt you. You'll be safe from now on, I'll see to it. My precious bride, just wait. After this, we can look to the future. After this, I can make you deliriously happy. Just let me.”
You were already drifting off, but you didn't miss the command behind that. What would he do if you were unable to comply? Would he find some way to 'make' you, like he had 'made' those people follow him when he first came to Earth? Or would he just remove you somehow? It was clear now that he wasn't planning to replace you with some other woman, not after this. This 'mistake' was permanent now.
You didn't fight the slumber as it came over you. It seemed like the only thin that would free you, if only for a little while.
******
Loki didn't want to leave your side, not even while you slept, but Eir all but dragged him away by the ear, to scold him for his recklessness.
“This is not one of your magical experiments, your highness, this is your wife! She is human! She is delicate, and distressed, and you have dropped a great deal on her in a very short time. Humans are not that strong, my prince. You must treat her gently, moreso than her own people apparently have.”
Loki took the tongue-lashing as he deserved, guilt gnawing at him. He had been reckless. He'd rushed things that hadn't needed to be rushed. Things that, in fact, should have been taken much more slowly, so that this case of mistaken identity could have been revealed and safely resolved.
It was far too late for that now. Loki was tied to you, and you were immortalized, and there would never be another for him, and your life would never be the same. More than his overflowing love for you, he now owed you quite a bit, for the tremendous disruption he had caused you.
He needed to find out what happened. Why had this all gone so wrong? It was tempting to attribute it to a curse upon his life; like every great plan he had ever made, it had come crashing down disastrously. But no, there was something else at work here, something outside of his knowledge or control. Someone was working against him.
Only a handful of humans knew he still lived, and was here. Several key U.N. leaders, those Thor had deemed either the most powerful, or the most trustworthy. It was a knife's edge of political power balance: if Loki stepped too far out of line, those leaders could reveal to the world that he still lived, and all of humanity might turn against Asgard for it. But likewise, Asgard could turn it back on them; after all, those leaders knew he lived, and ignored it for their own gain. Human lives were so brief, and human leaders were so terribly aware of their own mortality, so terribly obsessed with holding their power until they died. To lose that was the greatest fear of each and every one of them, and he was entirely willing to use that against them as viciously as necessary.
Showing mercy, while making it clear what unmercifulness would look like was one of Asgards oldest and most powerful negotiating tools.
Had someone in power in your homeland interfered with the selection process? Had an enemy of your homeland done it? He had expected a relative of your country's leader, a daughter, niece, or cousin. Perhaps an even more distant relation. Had a third cousin objected to their daughter being sent to him, and replaced her with you at the last moment? Treachery.
Why had they deemed you a suitable replacement then? Was it the leg? Was it that you were poor? They must have known that you would become rich beyond measure as his wife.
What had happened?
He couldn't shake free of the memory of your face, contorted with agony, begging for death, cursing his name for hours. It had taken nearly a day for the transformation to be complete, but it had been so long since a human had been blessed with an Apple, that Loki didn't know if that was normal or not. Maybe that was why they were given to humans so rarely. Few would go through that kind of torment willingly.
You hadn't even done it willingly.
His heart squeezed tight in his chest. He had to find out what had happened.
******
“Ah. If it isn't my favorite face, before me once again.” Heimdall said, voice as flat as always.
“How is it possible that you've gotten even more insufferable since the last time we met?” Loki shot back. “All this extra sunlight must be overheating your brain.”
“And yet, it was your highness who decreed this be my new lookout point. Do you complain now?”
“No, no, look. When I picked up my wife, did you see anything unusual? Anything surrounding the event at all?”
“I saw two men, dressed identically, in a vehicle that lacked some of the marks that they usually have. They threw her walking aid into the grass a few miles away from your pick up site. A dog dragged it away. I did not see them escort her, as I did not know who I was looking for at that time.”
“Could you find them again?”
Heimdall gave him a stoic look. Loki sighed and nodded.
“Find them again. I wish to know what they are doing right now.”
Heimdall gazed out, ignoring the beating sun, and sought his targets.
“One is eating a sandwich at an outdoor cafe. He has an iced coffee. The waitress is flirting with him, but he does not respond to it.” he said in the hollow voice he got when he was far away like that. “The other...rots under the desert, naked.”
“He's dead?” Loki exclaimed. It had only been a day since he had received you. What could the man have done that warranted his death? He had delivered you, as promised.
Unless the men weren't supposed to deliver you. Unless they had been part of a plot, and perhaps one man had sacrificed his partner in order to escape. Unless...any number of possible intrigues.
“Extremely.” Heimdall confirmed.
Loki sighed and shook his head. There was too much missing information.
“I will need to speak to him.”
“The dead man?”
“No, of course not! The one having lunch. But not right now. When he is alone. Keep an eye on him.”
Heimdall said nothing, but merely settled into his long distance gaze. Loki approached a nearby worker. He was dressed in the heavy duty working clothes of a miner, and looking over a stack of reports. Loki joined him under his sun shelter.
“Find anything new?”
The miner started at his sudden appearance.
“Your majesty!” he exclaimed. “I didn't know you were coming.”
“I just happened to be in the area. How are your findings?”
“Uh, well,” the miner shuffled his reports nervously. “the iron has turned out to be substantially more that the traces we initially assumed, and we have discovered more water to be extracted. Several locations, in fact. We've also discovered titanium, however...”
“Is there some kind of problem with it?” Loki asked.
“It's pretty far to the south...on land that technically hasn't been ceded to us.”
“A complication, to be certain. Well. Let's look at it as Midgardians would.” Loki began ticking points off on his fingers. “One: does anybody else live there? No, this entire rock is uninhabited, save for us. Two: Has anyone else laid claim to that land? Doubtful. I believe there have been treaties regarding that. Treaties which, incidentally, we have not signed. Three: is there any indigenous wildlife in the area that needs to be protected?”
The miner laughed.
“So the problem we are faced with here is largely non-binding. And if we keep our operation mostly underground, they might never notice in the first place. And even if they do, wasn't this land-gift meant to be a way for them to observe how we transform difficult terrain into livable space? They cannot observe us if we do not do it.”
“As you say, my liege.” The miner said.
Loki left him to his business, and made his rounds to each of the workers who were out plying their trades under the bright sun; water gatherers, stonecutters, road builders, brick makers, and maintenance workers, listening to their worries and spreading encouragement.
This was something he felt Odin must have forgotten; that kingdoms were not built on secrets, but by the hands of every member of society. Addressing their concerns was important, and often not all that difficult. The commoner was most often interested in simple things, such as food and safety for their family. The worker was usually concerned for their project, and their concerns were worth hearing, as they knew what they were doing. Loki did not know what stone was good and sturdy, or what stone was flawed or too weak for building with. A stonemason did.
Also, it was worth the time to be known by the people he was meant to lead and rule. Who could proclaim allegiance to a mystery?
He heard Heimdall softly call for him, as if the watcher was right next to him. He wished the man he was talking to well, and made his way back along the sun-drenched road.
“Well?” he asked.
“The man has retired to an inn. He is alone in his room.”
Loki smiled thinly. “Perfect.”
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