#I feel lied to why did NONE OF YOU inform me of how magnificent this show was and how empty I would feel after finishing it

[succyobsessions]

Just finished binge watching all of She-Ra for the first time,,,,think I’m gonna kill myself now because nothing will ever bring me this much amount of joy and warmth and giddiness ever,,,,,EVER

[hlizr50]

Update: Revelations

Chapter 3: Midnight Conversations

Finally an update for Revelations, where Hawke finally finds out about Poppy's experiences with Lord Mazeen and gets big ragey mad about it (because that's what we live for).

Read on AO3

Hawke stalked down the hall mentally checking off the list of things he needed to address with the fire-haired woman he had just caught on the Rise. Gods, where to even begin?

How did you learn to fight?

Why did you learn to fight?

Why were you on the Rise?

Are you absolutely mad?

Do you have no sense of self-preservation?

Do you own no proper clothing so you aren’t fighting Craven in a nightdress and satin slippers?

He’d taken a few minutes to rinse the blood from his armor and his face and out of his hair. The guard had begun his trek back to the Maiden’s chambers as soon as he’d stowed his broadsword.

Yes, they still had so much to discuss. Those questions – and others – swam through his mind as he reached the heavy oak doors. Using a surprising amount of restraint he raised a fist and rapped on the wood. After a few moments the door cracked open, revealing the lady’s maid – Tawny.

“The Maiden is sleeping –“

“Doubtful,” Hawke interrupted, amused at the untruth. He lowered his chin and gave the lady a pointed look, but she didn’t open the door wider. So he pushed through the opening, mouth quirking as Tawny stood agape. He kicked the door closed and fixed his gaze on Poppy, who’s jaw had also dropped in apparent astonishment. As if she should be surprised to see him there. “It’s time for that talk, Princess.”

The guard cast a glance toward Tawny, jerking his chin in the direction of the door. “Your services are no longer needed this evening.”

“You don’t have the authority to dismiss her!”

Hawke turned is gaze back to the Maiden whose pale cheeks and emerald eyes were alight with ire. He raised a brow. “I don’t? As your personal Royal Guard, I have the authority to remove any threats.” He barely suppressed a dark chuckle at the notion that Poppy’s lady’s maid could pose any real danger.

“Threats?” Tawny’s lips curled down. “I’m not a threat.”

“You pose the threat of making up excuses or lying on behalf of Penellaphe. Just like you said she was asleep when I know for a fact that she was on the Rise,” Hawke retorted. The maid inhaled sharply and whipped toward the Maiden.

“I have a feeling I’m missing an important piece of information,” she accused. An amused grin lifted the corner of Hawke’s lips.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you. And it wasn’t that important,” Poppy argued. Not that important? Oh how she wounded him.

He snorted. “I’m sure it was one of the most important things to have happened to you in a long time.”

“You have an over-inflated sense of involvement in my life if you really think that.”

“I think I have a good grasp on just how much of a role I play in your life,” Hawke deadpanned. Indeed. Her first kiss, the first time she’d even been touched by a man. But it was more than just the carnal urges that had brought them together that first night. He was, as far as he could tell, the only person who was willing to address what the Duke had been doing to her. He felt… drawn to her, felt a nearly overwhelming need to protect her inside this structure of stone and cruelty – one place where she was not able to protect herself.

“Doubtful.” She turned the word back on him and he could barely keep from rolling his eyes.

“I do wonder if you actually believe half the lies you tell.”

“I am not lying, thank you very much.” Gods, she was so stubborn.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Princess,” he breathed with a grin.

Poppy scowled. “Don’t call me that!” she exclaimed with a stomp of her foot. The guard lifted a brow at her, pouting his lips.

“Did that make you feel good?”

“Yes!” she cried. “Because the only other option is to kick you.”

There it was again, the need to fight roiling beneath her skin. That did something to him, sparking a flame deep in his belly. He chuckled. “So violent.”

“You shouldn’t be in here.”

“I’m your personal guard. I can be wherever I feel I am needed to keep you safe,” he stated. Hawke wished she weren’t so argumentative. He just wanted to talk to her, to understand her – dig deeper into her strength.

“And what do you think you need to protect me from in here?” She flung her arms out, gesturing to the empty room. “An unruly bedpost I might stub my toe on? Oh, wait, are you worried I might faint? I know how good you are at handling such emergencies.”

The Atlantian smirked. He knew she had been irritated that afternoon in the atrium, as the ladies in wait resorted to ever escalating heights of ridiculousness to garner his attention. He was like a shiny new toy, a handsome new Rise guard from the capital. If only Poppy knew that his attention was ever only centered on her.

“You do look a little pale. My ability to catch frail, delicate females may come in handy,” he countered, earning an enraged inhale. “But as far as I can determine, other than a random abduction attempt, you, Princess, are the greatest threat to yourself.”

“Well…” her lady’s maid drew out contemplatively. At least one of them was reasonable. “He kind of has a point there.”

“You’re absolutely no help,” Poppy spat.

Hawke softened his voice slightly, keeping his eyes fixed on her gaze that was green like Atlantian spring. “Penellaphe and I do need to speak. I can assure you that she is safe with me, and I’m sure that whatever I’m about to discuss with her, she’ll tell you all about it later.”

“Yes, she will, but that’s not nearly as entertaining as witnessing it.”

She was quite the spitfire, as well. The Maiden sighed.

“It’s okay, Tawny. I’ll see you in the morning.” She almost groaned.

Tawny was incredulous. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. I have a feeling that if you don’t leave he’s just going to stand there and drain precious air from my room –“

“While looking exceptionally handsome,” Hawke interjected. “You forgot to add that.” Poppy rolled her eyes, but her lady’s maid giggled.

“And I would like to get some rest before the sun rises,” she finished. Likely story that was, coming from the woman who had just left her bed to fight monsters on the city walls.

Tawny heaved an exasperated sigh. “Fine,” she muttered. Hawke glanced at her as she moved to leave. “Princess.”

His lips curled up in a devilish smile. Spitfire, indeed.

“Oh, my gods,” Poppy groaned. He waited for the lady’s maid to exit through the adjoining door before showing his delight.

“I like her.” Hawke grinned.

“Good to know. What is it you wish to talk about that couldn’t wait until the morning?”

As he looked back to her his breath caught. He’d always known that she was a lovely specimen, but seeing her before him in that thin nightgown and red hair unconfined and falling wildly above her shoulders. She truly was magnificent.

“You have beautiful hair,” he murmured. She just blinked, and he could see that she hadn’t been expecting that. He was glad to have been able to take her by surprise.

“Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“Not exactly,” he shrugged and then allowed his eyes to very obviously roam over her barely-clothed body. The skin of her shoulders looked so soft, the dip at the base of her neck between her collar bones so inviting. The swells of her ample breasts were barely hidden, and the soft fabric clung loosely over her stomach and hips. And of course those pretty thighs and sculpted calves. She looked absolutely delectable, and the way the flush exploded over her flesh as she felt his gaze feel every curve caused his pants to tighten. She moved to grab the robe that was strewn across the bed and the corner of Hawke’s mouth curved devilishly.

And then she stopped, a challenge settling into those emerald pools as they met his. Ah, yes, she knew he’d already seen most of what her sleeping gown revealed, and a tremor of admiration rippled through him when she straightened, choosing not to hide herself from him.

“Was that all you were wearing under the cloak?” Hawke asked, balking at how utterly insane she must be. Truly.

“That’s none of your concern,” Poppy answered hotly.

“Feels like it should be.” His voice was raspier than he’d intended, throat tight from the vision before him. “I meant what I said that day. The Duke and the Lord told you that it was a lie, but it wasn’t. You are absolutely beautiful.” He noticed the widening of her eyes, the pace of her breathing increase. Again he had caught her off guard, although rage boiled through him with the knowledge that no one had allowed her to even consider the truth of her devastating beauty.

Poppy’s body seemed to sag all at once as she sighed and turned away from him, padding to one of the chairs by the fire. Hawke followed her with a burning gaze, unable to avoid how the slit in her nightgown revealed nearly her entire leg when she walked. Gods, she was going to be the end of him. He fucking knew it.

He followed and stood next to the chair across from her, watching as the reflection of the fire made her eyes appear to glow silver, how her body seemed to now bow into itself. She had fought so well – had knocked him on his ass – but it had only been two days since her punishment at the hands of Duke Teerman.

And Lord Mazeen.

The guard was determined that he would get answers this night. He would find out what the lord was doing in that room, what his interest in Poppy truly was. The oily, heavy feeling deep in his stomach told him that he wouldn’t like the answer.

But he knew he couldn’t just come out and ask, not considering how she’d try to deny the obvious torment even when he could see it with his own eyes and scent it on her skin. He would have to weave his way expertly through their conversation, through her defenses and over her walls.

“I’ve been thinking. About what you said.” Poppy turned her chin to him, the emeralds in her gaze finding him as he remained standing. Hawke was stunned that she had initiated the conversation, and even more taken aback by her quiet, steady tone. It was so unlike her.

“What I said?” he urged before gesturing to the chair. “May I?”

“You told me to think about the things they did. The Duke, the Ascended. To trust my instincts. And I,” she paused, turning her stare back into the fire, “I think Lord Mazeen had something to do with Malessa’s death.”

Hawke had settled into the chair, forearms resting on his knees, when his eyes snapped up. “Why do you think that?”

“He had… he had just come into the hall from that direction. Before she was discovered. He smelled of jasmine, and there was a petal left there. And he seemed… enthralled. He wouldn’t stop staring at her, with her skirts hiked up and her corset pulled down.” Poppy continued boring her eyes into the flames, as if the fire might give her the answers. He observed her with narrowing eyes, absorbing every word, every implication. “It felt so wrong, the way he stared at her. Nobody did anything to shield her, to give her even the smallest shred of dignity in death. But Lord Mazeen… he couldn’t seem to look away.” She looked down at her hands, then, alabaster fingers fidgeting in her lap. Hawke looked down at them, too, carefully considering her words. And only one thing continued to echo in his mind as the silence around them seemed to swallow him whole. One thought that needed only a spark to ignite a killing rage, one question that needed to be answered even though he knew it might boil him alive to hear it.

“How do you know what he smelled like?” Ice laced the words, a quiet promise of torment and death.

Hawke’s voice was usually warm, mirthful. He enjoyed their arguing, liked getting a rise out of her. But this question… the answer that could confirm that the lord – with his reputation for lust and degradation – was close enough to Poppy so she could smell him…

His shrewd eyes noticed everything, like the predator he had trained himself to be since his return to Solis. Her fingers stilled, jaw clenched, shoulders tensed. The redhead was immediately on guard, and Hawke understood with disturbing clarity that the lord would be a difficult subject.

“Poppy.” He whispered a warning. He could see the noiseless tells as she was trying to work through an explanation to feed him, to placate him. With a snarl he rose and strode the short distance between them. Grasping her chin between his thumb and finger he jerked her head to face him. “Don’t you dare lie to me.” Those green eyes flashed in promising defiance, then guttered to a dull, fathomless dark. And for a moment the Maiden before him was just a girl – lost, confused, alone, abused.

Gods, that look broke his heart.

Hawke released her chin and lowered to his knees in front of her, their eyes still locked on the other’s. He hesitated for a breath before reaching to cover her hands with his.

“I swore to protect you, Poppy. But if I am to do that, I need you to be completely honest with me. I can’t protect you if I don’t know what or who is causing you harm.”

She laughed bitterly, turning her gaze back to the flames. “Nobody can protect me from the Duke. From Lord Mazeen. The power they wield, the way they manipulate. I told you before – there’s nothing to be done.”

“Just because nobody has protected you doesn’t mean that I cannot,” he urged, nearly growling with her unwitting admission that the lord was yet another danger. His heart pounded in his chest as he murmured desperately, “What has he done to you?”

He could feel her racing heartbeat in her fingers, could hear it echoing through the hanging silence. His grip tightened, and Poppy’s spring green eyes slid to him.

“Please, Poppy. Let me help you.”

He was in too deep with her, he knew. But there was something about her, something he couldn’t understand. Sure, he could write it off as a decent man seeing a woman who needed help, who wouldn’t stand by while someone innocent was mistreated.

But it was more than that.

And after he’d seen her cutting down Craven on the Rise? A goddess of violence and beauty. He was irrevocably tangled in her web.

“The night Malessa died, Lord Mazeen stopped me in the hall coming from that direction. I had been on my way to the garden with Rylan, but he said he wanted to speak to me. Privately.” Poppy walked through her story with firm determination, nary a tremble detectable in her voice. “He pulled me into an alcove to the side of the hall and began his games. He knew that I knew that I didn’t have a choice. As the Maiden I am not supposed to linger or speak with anyone, but it would also be disrespectful not to participate in the conversation. One word to the Duke for either offense and…”

“And you get called to his study to satisfy his sadistic whims,” he finished the sentence after she trailed off, earning a terse nod. He hated it, hated them. He would kill the Duke for what he’d done, as slowly and painfully as he could.

“Lord Mazeen was taking the opportunity to… remind me… that his position was such that he was above reproach. He… he lifted his hand to my face, touched my cheek, my lips, down over my jaw and neck and… lower.”

Hawke breathed a curse, rage coiling tightly into a spring poised to snap. He squeezed her hands tighter but then let go, fearful that his grip may become painful as his ire grew. Instead he gripped the cushion on either side of her knees, trying to reign in his immortal strength as he kept his gaze fixed on eyes of shimmering green. Her throat bobbed.

“I tried to excuse myself and leave, but he pulled me back to him. His hand was still at my chest, my back against his front. I could… feel him.” Poppy took a deep breath, as if to steady herself. “I always knew he delighted in making me uncomfortable, but I don’t think I realized…”

She shook her head, finally breaking the link between their eyes as her lashes lowered. “That’s how I know he smelled of jasmine. I was able to run away when someone screamed – when they found Malessa.”

Hawke looked down at his hands, knuckles white has his fingers dug into the plush forest green upholstery. Would Lord Mazeen have dared to go further? It wasn’t much of a leap from his slimy touch to further violation. His vision blurred, his chest a chasm of disturbing realizations and maddening what-ifs. He only knew that he was still breathing because he could hear it – labored, sawing breaths. He grounded himself by focusing on her face – the raised pink skin of the Craven scars, the full luscious lips, the smooth porcelain of her flesh that he reached out to touch. Fingers traced over her cheek and jaw before pushing gently under her chin, her eyes raising to look back at him.

“And what about when you are summoned by the Duke. Is he always there, too?”

Poppy’s breathing stuttered, eyes widening as they lined with silver.

“I told you I heard everything, Poppy,” he murmured as his thumb drifted over her skin. “What was he doing there?”

When a tear escaped over her lashes, it was like the world shifted under his feet. When had everything become so fucked up and twisted? He’d always known the Ascended were monsters, but knowing that those two beasts took such great pains to back the Maiden into a corner, with no possible way to escape their sadistic attention… It made his stomach roil.

Slowly, so she would not be caught off guard, he lifted his fingers from her chin to wipe away the droplet that slowly fell over her cheek. Taking a calming breath, he encouraged, “You can trust me, Princess. I know it’s hard to do, and I know that I have only been at your side for a few days. But it is abhorrent that nobody in this Godsdamned castle has tried to shield you from these predators and I will not let it stand a moment longer. I swear it to you, Penellaphe. With my sword and my life, I vow to protect you. Not the Maiden,” he spat, “not the Duke or the Duchess or any of the lords and ladies, not this Godsforsaken castle or anyone else in it. I said your name. I promised you.”

She stared at him, expression calculating, weighing his declaration. Hawke pulled his hand away, resting it against her knee. He braced himself as she swallowed, preparing to speak.

“Lord Mazeen began taking a special interest in Duke Teerman’s lessons a few years ago. He likes to watch.” The redhead paused, gaze returning to her hands. She had started wringing her fingers again when she continued, “The Duke requires me to disrobe to my waist. He prefers to strike bare skin.”

Holy fucking gods. Hawke forced himself to breathe, keeping his eyes trained on her reddening cheeks and dreading that she had more still to tell.

“I lean against his desk to support myself, and in my state of undress I will hold myself up with one arm and try to cover myself with the other as much as I can,” her voice cracked. He could feel the heat wafting from her skin, face flushing with shame. He never could have prepared himself for how complete her degradation had been at the Duke’s cruel hands. “The last time,” she whispered, “it wasn’t enough for Lord Mazeen to just sit there. He… stood in front of me. Leered at me. He pulled my arm away from my chest and held my hands to the desk… so he could look his fill as the Duke took the cane to my back.”

Hawke was frozen, staring at Poppy’s bowed head. He could smell the salt of her tears as they silently coursed down her cheeks, glowing gold in the firelight. Gritting his teeth, nostrils flaring, a snarl rose from his throat. His head was empty of all thoughts, save for the need to massacre the monster. But the shimmering of her crimson locks grounded him, and he lowered his forehead to her knees as he struggled to calm his racing, raging heart. Air hissed from between his teeth, the sound of his ragged breaths roaring in his ears, and he could feel his fingernails clawing through the fabric that covered her cushioned seat.

“Poppy,” he groaned desperately. “I need you to talk. About anything else. I need – I need to find a way to calm down.” The guard’s shoulders tremored with coiled rage.

“Hawke?” Her soft voice pierced through the night. “I don’t understand.”

“The only thing keeping me from finding that worthless pile of refuse and tearing him limb from limb is knowing that I can’t protect you if I’m swinging from the gallows,” he seethed through clenched teeth. “Please, Poppy. I need–“

Any remaining air whooshed out of his lungs when he felt timid, trembling fingers combing through the ends of his hair. Immediately his muscles relaxed, shoulders bowing in. When he lifted his gaze she snatched her hand back, cradling it to her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. The corner of his mouth tipped up.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?”

Poppy’s breath caught, but her eyes stuck on his. Green, like an Atlantian spring. They were beautiful and clear and shining. Hawke felt like he couldn’t look away, and he wondered for a moment – maybe even hoped – if she felt just as entranced as he did.

“What is?”

“How it feels like I’ve known you longer. You feel that, too,” he answered. That gentle tickle of her fingers in his hair, a caress of care and a promise of… whatever this was. It was as if they had always shared such familiarity. But then her hands dropped into her lap, eyes following. “Why were you on the Rise?”

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

Hawke’s grin grew. “Your motivation wasn’t. At least, tell me that. Tell me what drove you to go up there to fight them.” She paused, casting her stare into the fire as she contemplated.

“The scar on my face. Do you know how I got it?” she asked.

Of course he did. It had been one of the many, many things Vikter had seen fit for him to know. “Your family was attacked by some Craven when you were a child.”

“Vikter filled you in?” Poppy smiled slightly, but it didn’t crawl into her eyes. “It’s not the only scar.”

Hawke didn’t respond to that, but he mentally scowled. More scars meant even less perfection, more opportunities for the Duke and the rest of the Ascended to remind her that she was somehow less. It grated at him.

The Maiden told the story of her family. How the town only had a short wall to protect them, but that it hadn’t seen Craven in decades. That seemed odd. And then how someone had somehow saved her and her brother.

“I woke up days later, back in the capital. Queen Ileana was by my side. She told me what had happened. That our parents were gone.”

He’d had to carefully school his features at the mention of the Blood Queen. To Poppy she had been a guardian, someone she could trust. To Hawke she had been a nightmare. He hoped to the gods that Poppy would understand one day. Regardless, he understood what it was to lose people that he loved. And for her to have been so young. It was truly tragic.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I truly am. It’s a miracle you survived.”

“The gods protected me. That’s what the Queen told me. That I was Chosen. I came to learn later that it was one of the reasons the Queen had begged my mother and father not to leave the safety of the capital. That… that if the Dark One became aware of the Maiden being unprotected, he’d send the Craven after me. He wanted me dead then, but apparently, he wants me alive now.” She laughed bitterly as Hawke quietly analyzed what she’d said. The implication of the Dark One in her family’s attack stood out to him, as he had never been able to control the Craven, much less send them to kill an innocent red-haired girl.

“What happened to your family is not your fault, and there could be any number of reasons for why they attacked that village,” he urged softly as he reached up to tuck a loose tendril of fire behind her ear. “What else do you remember?”

“No one… no one in that inn knew how to fight. Not my parents, none of the women, or even the men. They all relied on the handful of guards,” she explained. It wasn’t necessarily surprising – yet another way the Ascended were able to keep the mortals under their heel. “If my parents knew how to defend themselves, they could’ve survived. It might’ve been just a small chance, but one nonetheless.”

It made so much sense. So much so that Hawke scolded himself for not understanding sooner. “And you want that chance.”

“I won’t… I refuse to be helpless.”

“No one should be.”

And it struck him, then, the double meaning behind his reply. She had taken the steps to ensure that she could defend herself. She was highly skilled, enough to have knocked him on his ass. And brave to the point of recklessness. And yet, inside that hellish study, she may as well have been any lady in wait – with no skill or training or hope of escaping whatever the Duke planned for her. It was so, so wrong.

“You saw what happened tonight. They reached the top of the Rise. If one makes it over, more will follow. No Rise is impenetrable and even if it were, mortals come back from outside the Rise cursed. It happens more than people realize,” Poppy rambled. The guard tamed his expression, careful not to react to yet another unintended confession. He had heard rumors that the child of the gods would assist in providing a dignified passing to those who had been bitten. A day or two ago he never would have believed that it was the Maiden, that the chosen one would commit treason to ease the suffering of those cursed. But now… he truly wasn’t surprised. “At any moment, that curse could spread in this city. If I’m going down-“

“You’ll go down fighting,” he finished for her. When she nodded he mirrored it. “Like I said, you’re very brave.”

“I don’t think it’s bravery,” she muttered. “I think it’s… fear.”

“Fear and bravery are often one and the same. It either makes you a warrior or a coward. The only difference is the person it resides inside.” And he knew which one she was, without question. Hawke leaned back, settling himself to sit before her on the ornate rug. It took her longer than usual to respond.

“You sound so many years older than what you appear,” she answered quietly. Gods, if only she knew.

“Only half the time. You saved lives tonight, Princess.” He leaned his forearms upon his knees and peered up at her.

“But many died.”

“Too many,” he agreed. “The Craven are a never-ending plague.” Poppy sighed.

“As long as an Atlantian lives, there will be Craven.” It was all he could do not to roll his eyes. He would have to be as patient as he could for her to see the truth. But that didn’t mean he had to listen to the slander.

“That is what they say,” he answered dryly, turning golden eyes to the fireplace. “You said that more come back from outside the Rise cursed than people realize. How do you know that?”

“I’ve heard rumors,” she offered, voice slightly higher than normal. He could hardly suppress a grin. She really was a terrible liar.

“It’s not spoken about a lot, and when it is, it’s only whispered.” Hawke’s eyes drifted back to find blazing, defiant green.

“You’re going to need to be more detailed.”

He lifted a brow. He already had her backed into a corner, but if she insisted… “I’ve heard that the child of the gods has helped those who are cursed. That she has aided them, given them death with dignity.” The guard studied the Maiden, mussed hair waterfalling over her shoulders and burning against her ivory skin. Her body was rigid with tension, an easy indication that she had been caught. And yet all he could really think about was how her flesh would feel beneath his fingers, against his lips.

“Who has said such things?”

Hawke shrugged. “A few of the guards. I didn’t believe them at first, to be honest.” And that was the gods-honest truth.

“Well, you should’ve stuck with your initial reaction They’re mistaken if they think I would commit outright treason against the Crown,” Poppy huffed, earning a snort from her guard. She lifted a defiant eyebrow in question.

“You’re a terrible liar, Princess.” Indeed, it was any wonder she was ever able to placate the Duke and Duchess. He continued before she could argue, “And I understand why you would. Those men speak of you with such awe that before I even met you, I half expected you to be a child of the gods. They would never report you.” He wondered for a moment if there truly was more to her, somehow. That she could be beautiful and courageous and strong and also… more.

“That may be the case,” she retorted, “but you heard them talking about it. Others could hear them, as well.”

“Perhaps I should be clearer in what I said about hearing rumors. They were actually speaking to me,” Hawke explained, fixing her with a pointed golden stare. “Since I too have helped those who are cursed die with dignity. I did so in the capital and do so here, as well.” Her plump lips parted in surprise, and he desired so badly to touch them with his own.

“Those who come back cursed have already given all for the kingdom. Being treated as anything other than the heroes they are, and being dragged in front of the public to be murdered is the last thing they or their families should have to go through.” Hawke lifted himself from his seat on the floor, brushing invisible lint from his breeches as he basked in the light of the surprise shining in her emerald eyes. Rendered speechless. How unusual. “I’ve kept you up long enough.” With a dip of his chin he started toward the heavy wooden door. He had made it a few paces before her voice called to him.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He paused and turned back to her, but she was still facing the fire. All he could see was the fiery mane above the back of her chair.

“Of course.”

“I know that what Duke Teerman and Lord Mazeen do to me is wrong. I know that. And I know that I am trained, and that I could fight back – but I don’t, because it would be catastrophic for Vikter. But…” Her voice trailed off a moment as she seemed to search for words. “I… I could have stopped Lord Mazeen. I could have cut off his most precious, private possession when he tried to touch me. But I didn’t.” Another long, heavy pause. She turned her head so he could see her profile, a silhouette before the flames.

“Does that… what does that say about me?”

Hawke’s shoulders sagged, heart cracking yet again. “The only thing it says, Poppy, is that you are in an impossible situation. That you are locked so tightly in a cage that they have given you no hope for escape. And yet you still stretch your limbs to protest it, in your way, and with great and grave potential consequence. And that is extremely brave.” The guard ran a hand through his unruly dark hair. “And the fact that you bear those consequences – not willingly, but to protect someone you care about – is perhaps even more courageous. You should feel no shame for that.”

With a nod she turned back to the fire. He was hopeful that he had convinced her that it meant nothing beyond the notion that the Ascended were monsters, and that they did nothing but abuse her and use her as a symbol to keep the citizenry in their thrall.

“Get some rest, Princess.” His paces carried him to the door, and as it creaked open under his had he paused again. “And wear better shoes the next time you go out onto the Rise. And thicker clothing. Those slippers are likely to be the death of you, and that dress… the death of me.”

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Buxom beauty

Oneshot summary; You struggle, as an overweight and taller than average woman, to find the beauty in yourself. However, Loki there to make you understood just how worthy and magnificent you truly are.

Pairing: Loki x reader  

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Oneshot

Word; 2.900

Warnings; will say triggering themes ( e.x serious self-doubt) even if it may not be the case, maybe som angst

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: So a little mid-week surprise everyone! This fic is per request from a user on my AO3 account following their lines of: “Could you possibly do one where reader is tall for a woman but also overweight? She struggles with seeing herself as worthy or beautiful but Loki is tryna make her see herself the way he sees her in his own special way?? Please can you do this?” It started out as a drabble and an hour later it was all of a sudden a whole ass fic. Tbh I’m not even gonna apologise this time.

Your eyes were levelled with the upper edge of the mirror. Although you didn't concentrate on how the top of your head didn't really fit into the reflected image unless you took a few steps back. Instead, your eyes followed the soft curves running along the sharp edges of the mirror.

It was soft. No, you were soft in places which the majority of women perhaps not were. Rather than resemble the figure of the mirror before you, which was slim and narrow. Your body was an even curve all the way from your busts to thighs. Though depending on how you shifted your weight, it could also become uneven. Despite how it looked, some places were more generous than others in exceeding the public image of how you should look.

When you turned to the side, your head stayed twisted towards your figure. Your outline wasn't straight. Nor descending into a slender point of which your feet was the tip. It was like a wave, rising in places and lowering in others. And much like that movement of water, your body didn't have any sharp edges. It was simply soft and natural-looking.

You closed your eyes, turning back to fully face the mirror. However, as you started to walk backwards, you didn't re-open them. Purely because you didn't need to look to know there was no gap between your thighs. Neither how no trained illusion of abs existed as an outline under the shirt you wore. Nor how the fabric covering you followed the curve of your chest rather than fell in drapes.

Not until you had shuffled about a foot and a half backwards, enough so that you knew all of you fit in the length of the mirror, did you open your eyes.

You saw the tiredness in the eyes staring back at you. It was a tiredness of trying to make yourself look another way, tiredness to view yourself as enough. Only if you realised and found yourself in the fact that you wouldn't look any other way and that you didn't always need to be enough, maybe that exhaustion would disappear.

A sigh left you while you closed the dresser door to hide the cursed mirror. It was with the same force as you'd done earlier today when you had shut the locker door in the gym without even putting anything in there, choosing to just head back home instead.

You'd wanted to be there at first. But, discouraged by the little mirror in the changing room and the glances received from the already remarkably trained people working out, you suddenly didn't.

You still contemplated the choice. Because you shouldn't have chickened out so quickly. However, home meant that you only were aware of your own intrusive thought, rather than everyone else's judgement too.

Since this morning, your head had felt heavy with thoughts. Throughout the day, though, it had only gotten worse.

It felt like even though you rested, the little voice telling you you should do something was there. Yet, every time you did something, the other voice, the one telling you to stop trying, also whispered in your ear. This was a day you listened to the second, exemplified by your action of fleeing the gym.

So, ever since returning from the short trip outside, you hadn't done much more than lounge around in the apartment you shared with Loki.

The raven god was, for the moment, on yet another mission with the team. Though he'd told you that he wouldn't be gone for more than three days, you hadn't gotten to know much else of the mission. And despite you felt worried every now or then about the lack of information, it was fine. Because early on in your relationship, Loki said he never would hide anything from you if you asked, but he preferred to keep his work and private life as separate as possible.

You respected and understood that. So most times, you settled with the little pieces of information he willingly gave you. Primarily because you could sense his nerves anyway and know how serious the mission was from that. This time around, however, Loki hadn't been worried about the mission, so neither did you feel like you had a reason you should.

Although now, worried or not, you wished he wasn't away on a mission at all. Instead, at home with you.

You would've made the most out of the day, despite how you felt, if Loki was here. Maybe you would've watched some movies, gone out on a walk, or perhaps cook together. It was mundane activities but still things both of you enjoyed. Now though, the only representation of your mischievous partner was his shirt.

You'd nabbed it from Loki's side of the closet in an attempt to calm yourself down from the scent still lingering in the fabric. Only that it resulted in a critical try.

Because not only did it remind you too much of the warmth and presence of him, which made you miss him even more. It had also become the cause of you suddenly staring in the dresser mirror and becoming ever more conscious about yourself.

You hadn't only thought back on the day while standing there, but also the way his shirt fits you. It didn't hang down to your knees, not even the middle of your thighs. It ended halfway over your bottom, like your own shirt with an inch or two added. Thus, if you hadn't worn any tights, you would've walked around just as exposed as if you had worn one of your own shirts.

Even now, when heading from the living room to the kitchen, you looked down at where the shirt ended. The edge brushed along the very top of your thighs. You tried pulling it down a bit, but the fabric simply inched upwards again, making your brows furrow and lips purse.

That was until you heard something.

Your expression changed so that your eyebrows raised and eyes sought out the front-door from which the sound of a lock opening came from. You hadn't made plans with any friends today. Even if you had, they should've knocked, seeing how none of them had a key to your place.

The second you started to worry that it was a break-in, you saw a silhouette you recognised all too well. It was clad in green and gold. The raven hair that touched the tops of his shoulders, nearly blended in with the darker details of the clothing. You started to move before even registering anything more of Loki.

It was with mere moments to spare you noticed the emerald shimmer surround him and remove the armoured parts of his attire before you crashed into his chest.

A little ouf left the god, as he didn't expect the welcoming he got. But that didn't matter, as your arms encircled his neck instinctively. Unable to do anything else than simply stay put a few steps into the foyer, Loki encircled your waist with his arms, face boring into your neck as yours already had done in his.

"You said you wouldn't be home until tomorrow", you mumbled. Knowing he'd heard what you said from the little kiss he gave the side of your neck.

"Well, you know how my brother is, ever as impatient. Sometimes for the better and other times worse, thankfully this time was not the latter", Loki pulled his head out of the crook in your neck to look at you, consequently making you do the same. "Hopefully, you do not mind?"

"Definitely not", you thought you'd said it casually, but the way the raven-haired god tipped his head inclined you hadn't.

"Something wrong, darling?" You gave him a smile and shook your head as you said 'no' while stepping out of his arms. If you would've guessed, you supposed it was the way you retracted from Loki's touch that gave him more than a feeling that you'd lied.

"If there's something wrong, you can tell me", that he even said this made you understand he was aware that you weren't ok. Nevertheless, you saw the exhaustion in his eyes by being away on a mission with the team. He may have been recruited to the Avengers by his brother, rather unwillingly one may add, on the basis that the god of thunder could keep a watchful eye over his brother that way, though he by now had accepted the fact he wouldn't leave. 

Yet simply because of this, or that he was a god, didn't mean Loki didn't get tired from the countless missions he was assigned. And it was because of this, you didn't want to burden him with what had weighed you down this whole day.

"I know, Loki", you turned then, starting to head towards your shared bedroom and the bathroom that connected to it to run a bath. However, you weren't even able to suggest that before a hand shot out and wrapped itself around your wrist.

It was enough to make you glance over your shoulder with a raised brow, but not enough to hurt.

"I can see something isn't right and that you feel like you can't tell me", your lip caught between your teeth at the pleading way the raven-haired god looked at you. Still, you didn't say anything, now concerned he would find your worry silly. "Darling, please".

"I-I... why do you want to know? You must be exhausted, go take a shower, or I can tap up a bath for us", you tried smiling to convince him he should think about himself before considering you. Yet, it seemed Loki was as persistent as you at the moment.

"Not until you tell me what's on your mind", he took a step closer, now tugging lightly at where he held your arm so you would turn to him.

"It's n...".

"Do not tell me it is nothing. If not because I am the god of lies, then because I am your lover", he cut off the half-ass excuse you'd tried to use and continued to look at you with the intent of not letting you escape with anything but the truth said. Despite he didn't know you knew you wouldn't have tried anything again, the last part of his sentence striking a nerve that made you sigh.

"This day has just been bad", you finally said. "I-I... it feels like I just need a break from my thoughts. And I know you probably need one too, regarding how messy those missions can get", the god of mischief's lip tugged upwards slightly at this.

"You, my dear, are a break from everything that ever could weigh me down".

"How can I be that", you snapped, hand tearing away from Loki's grip. You didn't know why you reacted like that all of a sudden, probably because what he said rubbed so wrong against everything you thought about yourself today. But it got even worse when you saw the slightly shocked look painting Loki's features. "There's so many more that could fulfil that", you mumbled under your breath, feeling the burn of embarrassment in your chest as you turned to head down the hall and not face him after your little outburst.

Yet you were stopped, once again, by the god when he spun you around to face him. The previous shock had now turned into a furrow between his brows.

"But I do not want more, darling, I simply want you", on good days, you may have smiled and kissed him for those words. Now you just cringed at them while trying to escape the grasp he still had on your hips.

"How could you?" You finally said when realising he wouldn't let go of you, head falling forwards to look down on the floor. "Just...just look at me compared to every other woman you meet. What do I have that they don't?"

There was a silence then, one that made you shut your eyes. You prepared to feel Loki's hands leave you where they still rested on your body, hot and anchoring, though that was not what happened. He did move, but not to take his hands off of you, nor away from you. Instead, his finger hooked under your chin.

Even though you followed his gentle encouragement to tip your head upwards, you didn't open your eyes despite feeling his gaze on you.

"Please darling, open your eyes", he didn't need to coax you any further. "There those pretty gems are", you hadn't even opened them entirely before Loki said this, instantly making you smile. Nevertheless, as if your thoughts today really didn't want you to feel happy, worthy, of his love, the corners of your mouth tipped downwards when remembering he still hadn't answered your question.

As if sensing, if not plainly seeing, the change, Loki's brows furrowed. You tried holding his gaze but felt you were unable to do so, which in the end, made you avert your eyes.

What you couldn't know was that your display had made Loki realise something did really bother you today and that the topic of the conversation held moments earlier, maybe a reflection of that.

Suddenly you felt how the touch at your left hip disappeared, to be sensed once more when it rested against your cheek. You were unable not turn towards the god of mischief with wide eyes at his gesture. However, as you once more looked at him, you saw nothing of the playfulness that often accompanied him, just a seriousness as he looked at you.

"You asked what you have compared to what others don't", he began, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek. "You have the ability to calm me like no other. You have a beauty incomparable to anyone else. You have my hearth", you felt a flutter in your chest as Loki's hand trailed from your face down to your waist, only to there pull you close to him, simply waiting for your answer.

Yet, for the moment, you were at a loss of words. Not only by what the god of mischief said. But what you realised and was constantly reminded of when being pressed against him. You'd never needed to crane your neck, nor did Loki need to bend down for the matter, to look each other in the eye.

"B-but how can I have all that?" Your voice was small as the question nearly trembled from your lips.

"Midgard is so harsh and stale that it does not care about anything more than looks. One needs to find softness and in order to do that, one needs to look further than the surface. If people simply choose to do that, they would find so many more like you", the flutter travelled further and further from your chest. Slowly like molasses, the doubt dripped off of your bones for butterflies to instead settle on them. But the dark and sticky liquid stubbornly didn't want to withdraw completely.

"Earth may be like that, Loki, but you aren't from here", you began, fingers twitching against the Asgardian attire, his signum, that he still wore. "You've told me how beautiful the eternal world is, so I know your standard of beauty, like so many other things, are so much higher than mine and everyone else's".

"Asgard is filled with beauty", the raven-haired god nodded, a smirk tugging the side of his mouth. For some reason, it made those butterflies feel like they drowned in the molasses. Because what else than far greater memories than what he's created with you could accompany such a gesture? Apparently, something entirely else, you realised as he continued. "Yet you, my darling, wouldn't fit there because your beauty out-shines all of what already exists. And do you know why none can see this? Because no-one can watch the sun for too long before getting burned".

"But you still do you", you stated incredulously. Thus why, if using Loki's own words, would he do something that hurt him. However, being ever the observant person he was, he caught your doubt. Which made him shake his head and chuckle.

"You seem to forget I am a god, no mere human or simple Asgardian", directly after he stated thus, Loki did something that made you squeal, in both surprise and worry.

His arms tightened around your waist and lifted you, high enough your feet dangled off the floor and your face was a few inches above his. You almost panicked, imagining you were too heavy for him, but you didn't find anything that displayed such strain in his face. And then any caution disappeared as he twirled you around.

A giggle fell from your lips as you felt the air around you shift with Loki's action. You felt light when nearly all thoughts from earlier seemingly were flung out of your mind and even stayed away when he gently set you down again. His firm chest still pressed into your soft one.

"Just think about it, darling, you need a god to love you for someone to find your true beauty. Does not that show how worthy of love you are if no other person can stand beside you and call you theirs", your smile didn't die down this time as you gazed at him.

"I suppose I must agree with said god", you didn't get more time to witness his smirk turn into a smile before his head tilted forward and his forehead came to rest against yours.

"You never must, but oh how honoured I would be if you did".

[memoriesoflastwords]

Seacrow

for the amazing adventure @grishaversebigbang has been 👀

before going ahead, please do check out the amazing art made by @chaosvvolf (Inej and her crew, here) and @artzy-lia-art (Inej on her way to Ketterdam, here). working with them truly has been a bliss!

I also wanted to thank @sopsopart, @niecity and @tricewithaz, despite not having had the chance to get to the end of the event with them. the sharing of ideas opinions has been more than enough, and I look forward to the day our roads meet again.

and a thanks to @sheitha, too, for being by my side during the Mini BB, and helping me come out with the plot!

summary: Nastya has only recently joined the Wraith after escaping, thanks to Inej, from a slaver ship. She's cautious, as she can sense something's wrong, and the meeting with one of her slavers can't but scare her even more. Someone's looking for Inej. To take her down. To take everything she's ever built down with the myth the Wraith is. That's why Inej moves to Ketterdam, to look for help, answers, unknowing of the growing fear amongst her people...

Ao3 link (it's a multi chapter fic, so do remember to swipe and go on with the reading if you don't wanna miss anything!): click here

Nastya still didn’t feel quite at ease on the Wraith. She realized, of course, her current situation was better than the one she had found herself into on the slavers’ ships just hours before, but Nastya’s movements were still stiff under Orghana’s caring watch.

Since she had set foot on the ship, she had done nothing but spark flames, although not in a literal way. She had bit Orghana’s finger, caused to ship to almost wreck, yet Inej – that was the Captain’s name – hadn’t hesitated. She had welcomed her. What mattered most, she had realized how unsafe she felt when someone made contact with her skin.

Nastya knew she was supposed to be grateful.

Orghana, the Shu girl, had brought her into one of the cabins, showing her a free place she could sleep in, smiling and seemingly happy about her presence despite still having her finger covered in blood. Despite what Inej had told her, she had decided not to go see their Heartrender. After all, she was no Healer, and to tire her for a bitten finger was not needed.

“Come.” Orghana had let her look around before moving towards the back of the cabin. “I’m guessing we can find you something else to wear. Your clothes smell of fish.”

Nastya had decided not to let her know the cabin was what smelled of fish, not her clothing. There was no reason to be obnoxious, after all, when Orghana had done nothing but try and be of help. Nastya still was decided to be cautious, of course, but not obnoxious.

That’s how she had found herself back out, under the night sky, breathing in cold air and looking at how little clouds came out of her lips and nose. That alone fascinated her way more than any aspect of the small science. Grisha had to concentrate for things to happen. Some of them more, some of them less. Nature? Nature simply had to exist in order to be magnificent under every point of view.

She felt cold in the tunic Orghana had found for her, with the promise of finding a pair of pants and a blouse as soon as possible, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, after all. It almost felt like home, in Chernast, not that far from the Permafrost.

She breathed in and out once more, the little cloud remembering her of when she was little, playing in the snow with her mother, pretending her breath was an ice dragon’s fire. How long had passed since those carefree days, how far was she from home now?

“The Captain threw a party.” she hadn’t realized Orghana had never left her side. Inej’s orders, probably. Not to risk another problem on board. “She called it a party, but it’s nothing more than dinner. However, there are some waffle lookalike.”

Nastya found herself studying the Shu girl, her short brown hair, her unperfectly cut bangs and gentle eyes, before nodding. Orghana had asked her nothing, but she wanted to know whether or not she was joining the crew for dinner. At least, that’s what Nastya imagined.

“I’m starving.” she added, as to avoid any possible misunderstanding.

Orghana smiled, her bangs covering her left eye, and sticked her hand out towards Nastya.

The Grisha stiffened, unsure whether or not she trusted her new comrade enough to let their skin touch. No. No, she didn’t. She looked for pockets to hide her hands in, finding none, standing still, a slight amount of panic running through her veins.

And Orghana noticed, or remembered Inej’s words, or both, because she stood back. “Sorry. An habit of mine.” she pointed out to a winding staircase bringing below deck. “Let’s go. I’m starving as well, and my fine nose tells me there’s some fish cooking.”

Nastya frowned before walking on the slippery wood, making her way towards the staircase. Hadn’t there been fish cooking while at sea, there probably would’ve been a problem.

Needless to say, Orghana had been right. As soon as they had reached the big room used as a dining hall, Nastya’s nostrils were filled with the familiar smell of fried fish, and the comfortable one of the dough used to make waffles. Would anyone have found it disgusting, had she mixed up the two? She hadn’t lied, when she had told Orghana she was starving.

“Sit with Mbali there!” Orghana was about to touch her elbow to catch her attention, but moved back as soon as her fingers touched the tunic. “I’ll get food for us both.”

Nastya nodded, looking at how quickly Orghana moved towards the makeshift buffet before finding Mbali among the crowd.

She wasn’t the only dark skinned girl, but she towered the others, and seemed to be a focal point for the girls living on the Wraith.

Nastya sat by her side in silence, wishing for Mbali to remember, as Orghana initially hadn’t, she would rather not be touched, or hugged in greeting.

Mbali smiled, white teeth in contrast with her night-coloured skin. “So Orghana did manage to find you something to wear!” she looked at the tunic. “The laundry girls are giving us our clothes back tomorrow. We’ll find something more appropriate for a pirate as soon as they do. Can you imagine fighting against slavers in a tunic?”

Nastya actually could. After all, most of her capabilities were in her hands, in her teeth. Biting and using the small science were all she could do during a battle, attack, or even play-fight. She had spent too little time in Os Alta to really learn how to use weapons, or her body as if it was made of steel.

“Here I am!”

Nastya’s eyes traced Orghana immediately, on the other side of the table. She was playing the tightrope walker with three full plates, two in her hands, one barely standing on her head. Nastya could already imagine all that food falling when one of the plates was placed in front of her, nostrils once back full of what she was ready to swear was the best smell of the world. How long had it been since her last real meal? She couldn’t remember eating anything but sardine scraps and dry bread on the slavers’ ship. She tucked her fingers into the fried fish, little caring about what Mbali and Orghana would’ve thought of her, willing to be called a savage, an uncivilized beast, as long it meant having her belly full of real, warm food.

“It’s horrible.”

Nastya froze as soon as she heard that word. Was it really happening, then? She had thought so, but hadn’t really believed for her new comrades to judge her for the way she was eating. She bit her lower lip, covered in the fish’s oil, looked at Mbali. “What’s horrible?” she said, unable to pretend she didn’t care.

“How those slavers treated you.” Mbali shook her shoulders, using a waffle’s edge to accompany a piece of fish. “When we got word of a Grisha girl trapped in some slavers’ hands, we didn’t get many details. Not at first. We had to puzzle together the informations we managed to get from other slavers, and some merchants.”

Nastya suddenly felt comfortable enough to start eating again, caring little about the way her fingers were now covered in little scraps of her food. She kept her eyes on Mbali, wanting to know how, why Inej had been so interested in finding her, saving her. She was an Eterealki, of course, capable of making the ship move despite there being little to no wind, but was that all?

“We had just left Bhez Ju. We were supposed to go to Ketterdam, it felt like time for a little vacation away from the sea.” noticing how deep in the story Nastya was, Mbali went on. “We were not far from the land, were we?”

Orghana shook her hand. “We’d been at sea for less than two hours. We were still adjusting the sails.”

“A small ship crossed the Wraith. Someone having to talk with the Wraith. Inej didn’t want our plans to change, at the beginning, we’d already been moving around for months, it was just time for a little bit of rest.” Mbali sucked the oil off her fingers, and Nastya found her plate to be almost empty, already. Her stomach growled. “Inej didn’t tell us much, at first. Only that we’d have to go a little off route, moving towards the Bone Road before turning back to Kerch.”

“The Bone Road?” Nastya blinked. Rusalye’s home. She knew the legends. “Is that where we are now?”

Mbali shook her head, getting up and taking both her plate and Nastya’s. “No. We were lucky enough to find your ship first.” she said, before moving back towards the buffet.

Nastya looked at Orghana, trying to understand properly what had happened, under what circumstances she had been saved. “Lucky? Why? Rusalye’s not there anymore, it’s cold, but it’s not dangerous, for what I…”

“We aren’t really fully-equipped for cold temperatures, right now. That’s one of the reasons we had to stop in Ketterdam, to buy some warmer clothing, some dried food.” Orghana explained, her plate still full. She handed Nastya half a waffle. “Inej wanted to find you. No one’s ever left behind, that’s our philosophy, no matter how hard it is to fight. We fight, knives and pistols, and always come back to each other.”

That felt like family.

And that blocked Nastya from eating even just another bite of food. That felt like what she had promised her family before going to Os Alta, to come back, as soon as she could, to stay by her parents’ side, to work on the vegetable garden when they were too old to break ice and turn the soil.

“Now that we found you, we can go to Ketterdam. Or maybe we won’t, and we’ll stop in Novyi Zem. I have to admit it’s not really clear to me whether we are closer to Weddle or Gjela, right now, but I guess we’ll know soon enough.” Orghana tilted her head, noticing how Nastya had stopped eating. “Are you all right?”

Nastya wanted to nod. After all, she was. She was alive, and she had just eaten the best food in months, and she had clean clothes on, a bed, comrades that could be friends. But was that enough? Was safety enough for her, or did she want to go home, set foot off the ship forever and go home in Chernast making of the sea a distant nightmare? She wanted her mother’s quick fingers braiding her hair, her father’s soup cooking on the low fire, her siblings’ laughter stopping her from getting a good night’s sleep. Nastya wanted to nod, wanted to be grateful, but being alive and safe was not enough. She wanted to be home, as well. And that still looked unreachable.

“Nastya?”

How had that happened? How had she found herself at sea? She had no memory of it, and although the long, jagged wound on her head’s back was enough to justify a memory leak, she was not ready to admit it to herself just yet. She had been in Os Alta, training, and then she had been on a ship, fighting with chipped nails and week knees against too many men, and with too little Grisha by her side. She had been the last one standing. She had been the first surrendering. She found no pride in any of the actions.

“Nastya, are you listening to me?”

She blinked, noticing how Mbali was once more in her visual range, a light in her eyes she couldn’t but call joy. “No.” she admitted, frowning. “What’s going on?”

“One of the slavers is in the Captain’s quarters.” Mbali didn’t seem bothered by how she had to say things twice in order for Nastya to listen to her. “She wants to question him, process him for what he’s done in these years. But she wants you to be present when she does.”

To see one of the men who had took her freedom from her, who had took her possibility to go back home from her. To make questions, to claim answers, to fill the gaps her memory loss had gifted her. The light in Nastya’s eyes didn’t mirror Mbali’s joy. That was desire for vengeance.

“Tell the Captain I’ll be there as soon as she needs me to.”

[thinkingoutlouddblog]

stay with me

Pairing: Eggsy Unwin x Reader

Prompts: 1. “Stay with me.” 31. “I can’t do this without you.” 33. “Let’s give these fuckers a show.” 39. “It hurts so fucking bad.”

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: language, blood, violence, fluff and angst

PLEASE READ: I haven’t mentioned anything in the fic but the idea is that instead of getting married Tilde and Eggsy broke things off after the events of the Golden Circle. The reader is the new Merlin who has been dating Eggsy for a couple of years

A/N: actually super proud of this one, so I hope you guys enjoy!

What the fuck were you thinking? You scolded yourself as you gazed up at the monstrous mansion from your seat in the limousine, its size dwarfing you, making you feel even smaller than you already did. How on earth were you going to pull this one off? 

The mission was supposed to be simple. Eggsy went undercover to gather intel, you hacked the location’s mainframe remotely from the Kingsman HQ, and together you would stop the bad guy from executing whatever diabolical plan they had dreamt up. Same as usual. You had hoped Eggsy would even be home in time to salvage your date night which had so rudely been delayed by William Bates, Kingsman’s latest Bad Guy To Beat. 

Unluckily for you, however, Bates was also a tech genius, that being how he made his fortune which he was now using to fund his evil masterminding. Which is why, instead of being able to hack his system remotely, as you normally did as Kingsman’s new Merlin, you were having to go undercover with your boyfriend to access his mainframe manually. With the power of coercion on your side, you should be able to get the biometric scans you need while Eggsy gathers the intel you need to shut down Bate’s boy’s club that are supposedly going to take control of the UK government. How exactly they thought they were going to do that, you didn’t know. All you knew was that your complete lack of field experience and minimal hours of training had not prepared you for this scenario at all. 

“You ready, love?” Eggsy asked you from his seat opposite you in the limo. His strong, unfaltering gaze grounded you, taking your brain away from the enormity of the mission at hand. 

You were two very capable agents. Eggsy especially. You had complete faith in him. But you knew, right now, you needed to be someone he could put his faith in. The mission comes first, you reminded yourself. So you exhaled slowly, putting your anxieties aside. “Let’s give these fuckers a show,” you smirked at him, referring to your cover.

His smirk in return was immediate. “That’s my girl.”

As soon as he opened the limo door, the Eggsy Unwin you knew was gone, replaced in the blink of an eye by billionaire, Robert Hudson, looking to buy into this boy’s club of Bates’. He helped you out of the limo and then you walked, arm in arm, up to the security guards posted at the grand double doors of Bates’ home, where he tonight was hosting his charity’s annual gala. A front for inducting rich, like-minded extremists into his little group. 

“Hudson, party of two,” Eggsy smiled politely at the guards, exuding confidence from his every pore. 

The security guard, a large bald man with an expressionless face, looked down at his tablet for all of two seconds before he looked up again, surveying the area. “Welcome, sir,” he said as he and the other guard moved in unison, opening a door each to grant you entrance to one of the most lavish scenes you had ever witnessed in person. 

You worked hard to keep the awe from your face, knowing Arabella Hudson should be well used to the kind of scene before her. Gorgeous gowns and bespoke suits littering the grand ballroom, framed by stunning floristry and lit by glittering chandeliers. Normally, you would grab the first flute of champagne you could find and make Eggsy twirl you around the dance floor to the sound of the live orchestra posted in the back corner of the room. But today, the two of you walked towards the sea of drab billionaires calmly and cooly, finding hands to shake, needing to identify the people who had the information and connections you required to get this mission rolling. 

It was over an hour of talking to various celebrities, politicians and the wealthiest members of society before your host, William Bates made an appearance. He made his way down the grand staircase carefully, extremely aware of the attention that his entrance had grabbed. He walked hand in hand with his husband, Thomas Bates, whose elegance and grace was so severe one might think he was actually floating down the marble steps. 

Inwardly, you rolled your eyes. What kind of a self-important prick thought he had to be fashionably late to his own event? Nevertheless, you plastered what you hoped was a bright smile on your face and joined the other guests in applauding the hosts as they made their entrance. 

“So,” Eggsy continued the conversation he was having with the middle aged Irish gentlemen beside him, who positively reeked of old money, “I assume he’s the man to talk to about this…” he paused, for effect, “gentlemen's club I’ve heard whisperings of.” 

The Irishman smiled slowly, understanding the meaning between the lines of his words. Eggsy had been working his usual magic to charm this oblivious pawn in Bates’ scheme, and he had very easily created the impression that he would be the kind of person to buy into whatever it was they were planning.

To your surprise, you seemed to be a natural at acting the part and aiding Eggsy in gaining the trust of the corrupt wealthy you were rubbing elbows with. Even Eggsy with his years of experience struggled to keep the admiration and pride out of his eyes as he watched you, nailing the undercover operation. 

“He sure is,” the Irishman confirmed, accent thick. “I’ll take you to see him myself. We could use more members like yourself,” he commented cryptically. 

That was how you found yourself, another hour later, approaching William Bates, the Irishman leading the way. “William, I’d like you to meet my new friend, Robert Hudson, and his gorgeous wife, Arabella.” 

“How do you do?” Bates greeted as he shook Eggsy’s hand. 

The two of you fawned over the magnificence of the gala, paying your respects to the host before the Irishman couldn’t help but interject in your small talk. “Will, I think Rob here is a prime candidate for your little side project.” 

“Well, if you keep bringing me great candidates it won’t be so little,” Bates jested cheesily, clearly trying to maintain a cover. 

“From what little I’ve heard of this project I developed a great interest. I’d love to be able to discuss it with you further and hopefully get involved,” Eggsy lied.

“That is just excellent,” a grin crept over Bates’ face, clearly eager to induct more extremists. “I’m not going to lie to you, I did a bit of reading up on you and I think you would be perfect.” You bit back a smile, the idiot had found the digital trail you had left for him to find Eggsy and contemplate him as a new recruit. “I’d actually love to discuss it now, if you don’t mind?” 

Eggsy cast his eyes down at you, feigning a questioning glance for permission. You gave him a reassuring smile and the smallest of nods. “That sounds great.” 

“Phenomenal! You two, follow me,” he began to turn, leading you out before Eggsy interjected. 

“I prefer not to involve my wife in business actually.”

My wife. For a split second, you forgot the extreme stakes of the situation you were in, so taken aback by what Eggsy had called you. Obviously, it was just for his cover. Nevertheless, there was a deep longing in your chest. You were quite sure you wanted nothing more from this life than to be Eggsy’s wife. To be with him for life. 

As quickly as the thought entered your mind, it went away, realising you were going to be on your own from here on out. Panic seeped through your chest, burning up within you. Despite your emotions, you maintained a neutral expression.

“Go enjoy the party, darling,” Eggsy spoke directly to you now. “I’m sure I won’t be long gone.” 

With that, he sent you one of his dazzling winks only you could see, and he followed Bates away from the party and down a heavily-guarded corridor. You were officially on your own. 

As discussed, you mingled for a while longer before you excuse yourself from the conversation you were in to go to the ladies. Your precaution in avoiding arising any form of suspicion by making your exit at the same time as Eggsy was largely unnecessary, seeing as the majority of the guests were far too intoxicated at this point to even take note of you. 

“Excuse me?” You approached one of the guards barricading the corridor Eggsy had just disappeared down. “I was wondering if you could show me the way to the bathroom?” As you spoke, you placed the faintest of touches to his arm, as though to grab his attention. In actual fact, you were placing a small clear patch on his bare skin, imperceptibly using concentrated, fast-acting toxins to make him extremely susceptible to charm. In less than twenty seconds, he would be doing whatever you asked of him. It was of your own design, and you were extremely proud of it, to say the least.

Within ten minutes, your big dopey security guard was placing his hand on the biometric scanner to open the control room, with two bodies at your feet. Not exactly ideal, but you didn’t have the time or the patience to patch up every guard you came across so the two guarding the door had to go. 

You didn’t even get a ruffle your skirt until the door to the control room opened, to reveal three men, two in charge of surveillance and two in charge of firing the many weapons Bates had hidden throughout the mansion to eliminate any threats. Clearly, this little team weren’t two quick on the uptake since none of them had managed to take up arms to defend your little raid of their workplace. 

“Shoot them, Ben!” You instructed your brand new personal bodyguard, as you fired your own weapon, concealed as your bedazzled clutch just as Eggsy’s gun was often concealed in a briefcase. 

Seeing you as the weaker link, the third of the men who was yet to be shot charged you, knocking you to the ground. “Oof!” You exclaimed, the wind completely knocked out of you. Without a single word from you, Ben had shot the man straight in the head, the toxin working it’s magic of instilling a sense of loyalty toward whoever was instructing them. 

You sucked in a deep breath from your place on the floor, the pain it brought already informing you that you may have a cracked rib or two. Ben offered his hand, which you took appreciatively. God you missed your office at HQ.

‘U ALRIGHT?’ Flashed across the display of your glasses, Eggsy having subtly typed the message out with his eyes from wherever he was, clearly having been watching your camera’s streaming.

“I’m fine, Galahad, just focus on your end of things,” you adopted your usual objective tone which Eggsy was so used to hearing from you on missions. 

You didn’t have to see him to know Eggsy was fighting off a scowl, hating when you referred to him by his code name. He liked to say he hated how professional you were when it came to your work life, but truly, he loved your unwavering passion and commitment to Kingsman. Even if that translated to you insisting on keeping your private and professional lives separate.

Eggsy, as he followed Bates through a series of secret doors, let out a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding as he heard you through the comms. He had faith in you and your abilities as a Kingsman, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried out of his mind with you in the field with him for the first time. 

“Alright, I’m in,” your voice rang out through the comms once more. “I’ve got your back, Galahad.” 

Your words filled him with a sense of ease as he walked closer and closer to what was possibly an extremely dangerous situation. He knew you would always be there to get him out of hot water when he needed it. 

“I know all this secrecy and security measures might seem a bit excessive, Robert, but what I’m about to tell you is highly sensitive information,” Bates began his spiel, completely oblivious to the fact that Eggsy’s glasses were recording everything he said. “As you probably know, up until a few years ago I was working on a political career of my own, using the influence I ascertained from my business’s success to try and make a difference in this country. I quickly learned that I was going to be able to change shit all. Too many right wing conservatives in my way voting down everything we tried to put forward,” he shook his head, Eggsy through his research identifying that he was clearly a man scorned by the oppression he had suffered as a gay man his whole life, absolutely desparate to make changes. “But then, just as I was about to give up, I was hit with the greatest inspiration there ever was,” a smile crept onto his face as he paused dramatically. “Valentine.” 

Eggsy sighed internally, wishing for the love of God that the influence of that man would just die out already. 

“To see someone come so close to changing the world for the better. That was… life changing,” there was a glimmer in Bates’ eye, which quickly disappeared as he continued on. “Obviously there were flaws in that plan, however. Leaving so many like minded people to die who would so clearly follow in his leadership. But the way he took action to make change. That was groundbreaking,” he smiled wide, looking to Eggsy now for some kind of input. 

“I agree completely,” Eggsy gave Bates what he was looking for. “But what action could we possibly take?” 

Somehow, the smile on Bates’ face grew even wider, mania spelt out all over his face. “I’m glad you asked,” he said, placing his hand upon the biometric scanner on the wall behind him. 

At first, Eggsy thought he was just looking at an empty room, but quickly realised he was entering an observation room as the wall made completely of glass around the corner came into view. On the other side of the two way mirror, was rows upon rows of beds in a warehouse sized room a flight of stairs below where they stood. Each bed was occupied, each occupant appearing to be deceased as they laid face up, completely still with their arms by their sides. The only indication that they were alive came from the machines hooked up to their brains, displaying their brain waves as they slept.

“It may not look like it, but you are looking at the greatest army in history,” Bates explained. “Each soldier you see here is dormant, their minds made, by my scientists, to be extremely pliant. Each one of them is awaiting programming, which will be sent directly to their brains through those computers,” he pointed to the brain monitors. “My programming will make them the most obedient, most highly trained soldiers alive within seconds. Ready to overthrow the government of the United Kingdom at a moment’s notice.”

“Already working on a reversal program,” you notified Eggsy through your comms, having discovered the information Bates was divulging through a quick skim of his files. 

“Who are they?” Eggsy questioned. 

“The homeless, the poor, the isolated. People that won’t be missed when they disappear. All right wing conservatives,” smugness oozed from Bates’ reply. “All the people who agree with those standing in the way of making the changes this world needs. LGBT rights. Climate change prevention. Free healthcare. And with more help from people like you, Robert, we won’t just be making these changes here, we can make them on a global scale. All you have to do is enter your money into the pool of funding and you too can be a part of our little, gentlemen’s club, as we like to call it.”

“A gentlemen’s club that rules the world, eh?” Eggsy joked.

“Precisely.” 

From your position in the control room, you snorted. “Great thanks for the complete confession, dickhead, that’s going to playback well in court,” you laughed quietly as you typed away, working at lightning speed to finish the program which would set Bates’ victims free of any control he had over them. 

The rest of the conversation became white noise to you as you worked furiously, knowing the time Eggsy was buying you by chatting with Bates and inquiring further into the logistics was limited. 

“Okay Galahad,” you spoke once more, ten minutes later, “the program is complete. I just need you to get Bates back to the party before I send the program to the computers so he doesn’t notice that anything has gone awry before the feds arrive.” 

“Why don’t we go back to the party and celebrate over a bottle of champagne? I’m sure your other guests are missing you,” you heard Eggsy follow you direction over the comms. 

For a moment, you couldn’t believe your luck. Your first field mission.  A taped confession. All of the offenders all piled into one gala, drunk out of their minds completely oblivious to the fact that they were ten minutes away from arrest. Enough evidence to prosecute them all ten times over already sent. 

Luck, of course, was not actually on your side. Little did you know, as you were patting yourself on the back prematurely, a guard was approaching the control room door to swap positions with one of the guards who now laid on the floor dead. In your haste to get to where you were needed most, behind the keyboard, you had forgotten to instruct Ben to clean up his mess. 

The lights throughout the entirety of the mansion flashed red as the guard raised the alarm. Through the surveillance screen to your right, you could see the people around Eggsy go on the offensive immediately. “Ben guard the door!” you screamed, needing to protect both yourself and Eggsy simultaneously.

As soon as you yelled out, the door to the control room was open and Eggsy was into action as he started to fight off the guards he was surrounded by in the most heavily guarded area of the entire building. Ben was scuffling with the guard who had called the code red behind you as you worked furiously to lock the door to the control room and bar anymore guards from interfering with you. At the same moment the door slammed shut, a gunshot rang out. 

Without thinking twice you grabbed your clutch-pistol, as Ben’s dead body fell to the floor with a thud. You were quick to turn and fire a shot straight between the man’s eyes. Just about as quick as he had been in shooting you straight through your abdomen. 

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, body curling inwards as you clutched the wound. 

“Merlin?” Eggsy questioned across the line, even as he fought off the guards from every side. 

You stared down at the crimson seeping through your dress, ears ringing with shock. 

“Merlin, I could really do with some back up right now!” Eggsy yelled across the comms, not having registered the meaning of the commotion on your end of the line. You said nothing in return, writing in pain in the chair which was quickly becoming soaked in your blood. “Y/N I can’t do this without you!” He spoke your true name, desperation evident in his voice.

His words struck something deep within you. Eggsy Unwin, the love of your life, needed you. No gunshot wound was going to stop you from saving him. You barely felt the pain as the adrenaline began to pump through your veins once more. Within seconds you have access to the guns hidden within the walls of the corridor Eggsy was in, and you were firing away at anyone who dared try and harm him. 

As soon as all immediate threats to Eggsy were eliminated, you moved onto the next largest threat. William Bates running for the hills to find the nearest computer so he could launch his program and have an army at his disposal. 

As he ran, you found the nearest gun in a corridor nearby and locked sights on your target. Bates crumpled to the ground with a tremendous scream as a bullet shattered his right knee cap. You smirked, despite yourself. 

You glanced back to the surveillance displaying the party where all the guests were convening. The alarm and red lights had ceased, and while some were sober enough to realise that they should be on their way before trouble arrived, the majority were so drunk they just continued as they were. Despite your slip up, most of the criminals would still be brought to justice immediately. 

So with what little energy was left in you, you hit send on the program you had just designed. Within thirty minutes they should regain consciousness, with their free will and identities still in tact. 

You slumped in your chair, breathing out a sigh of relief. The mission was complete.The world was safe. Most importantly to you Eggsy was safe. You watched as he approached Bates, propping him up against the wall, finishing the mission the way he loved most, rubbing salt in the wound with witty remarks. 

You smiled to yourself, forgetting everything but your love for Eggsy in that moment. That is, until you glanced down at your abdomen once more, remembering yourself and what exactly might be happening to you. 

“Eggsy,” your use of his first name grabbing his attention immediately as you spoke softly across the line. “Eggsy I’ve been hit.” 

With your words, Eggsy’s blood ran cold. No, he thought to himself, body kicking into gear before his brain did, turning and bolting back down the way he came. No no no no no.

A notification flashes across his glasses display that Kingsman’s personal medical team has been alerted and are on their way to the scene.

It doesn’t take him long to find you, remembering the route exactly from when he had been watching you to ensure you got to the control room safely. When he arrived, the door, to his dismay, was locked. 

“Babe!” He yells, voice so much more desperate than it was not ten minutes earlier when he had begged for your help. “Babe open the door!” 

The moment of silence between his plea and when the door opens seemed to stretch on for an age. Eggsy needing to get to you in this moment more than he thinks he’s needed anything in his entire life. The sight he’s met with seems to fill his lungs with ice. You, slumped in a chair, covered in your own blood. 

“Eggsy,” you cry, your fear finally catching up with you, allowing tears to leak from your eyes. 

He’s at your side in a second, ripping his jacket off and scrunching it into a ball to use to place pressure on the wound.

“Eggsy, it hurts so fucking bad,” you sob, overcome with the pain. 

Eggsy swears he feels his heart physically splitting in two, watching you in absolute agony with no power to stop it. The only power he had, was to hopefully take away some of your fear. “It’s all going to be okay, babe. The paramedics are on their way and they’re going to fix you up. They’ll make the pain stop, I promise.” 

As he consoles you he takes hold of your body and lowers you to the ground, allowing you to lie down and providing himself with better ability to slow the bleeding of your wound. The movement causes stars to dance before your eyes, and black dots start to cloud your vision. You shut your eyes, hoping to make it stop. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Stay with me now darling. You have to stay awake,” he tries to maintain a calm tone, knowing the last thing you needed from him right now was panic, no matter how strongly he felt it. 

“Why?” You ask, tears ceasing, head so groggy from blood loss you begin to lose sight of sense.

“Because,” Eggsy fights back tears, “I have a really important question to ask you. And if you go to sleep you won’t be able to give me an answer.” 

Neither of you take any note of the sound of the feds arriving, raiding the charity gala and arresting everyone on the list of names you had sent them. 

“Oh Eggsy…” you smile dreamily, blood loss officially making you delirious. “I think we both know my answer is a yes.” 

Eggsy allows a single tear to fall, the bitter-sweetness of the moment becoming too much for him. “Agent Galahad?” He hears one of Kingsman’s personal paramedics call from down the hall. 

“Hurry up!” He turns and screams in reply. 

When he turns back to you, your eyes are closed and your face is completely void of expression. 

“Y/N?” he asks, hoping for you to reopen your eyes. “Y/N!” he shouts, as you fail to do so. Your complete lack of response breaks down his walls, and he begins to sob over your body as the paramedics burst into the room. 

In a matter of seconds he is pushed away from you, a medic taking his place in putting pressure on the wound. Another medic, takes your pulse, checking to see if there was any life left in you. 

The world slows. An hour seems to pass before the medic says a word. Eggsy is sure that he’s lost you right up until the medic says, “She’s still with us,” giving everyone the go ahead to start work on you to make sure it stays that way. 

Naturally, the Kingsman paramedics were some of the best, so as quickly as they had arrived, they were taking you away, already starting work on a blood transfusion to make up for your severe blood loss. Anytime a Kingsman went on a mission, the medical team had plenty of the agents’ blood on standby, for situations exactly like these. Eggsy had lost too many agents in his time as a Kingsman, so when he and Harry worked to rebuild following the wrath of the Golden Circle, he ensured there were as many safety nets available possible. 

Even as they moved through the chaos that the gala had become, guests being arrested everywhere, the medical team continued their work on you. Eggsy was pushing the stretcher himself, ensuring you were getting as much attention as humanly possible. Sadly, there was only so much they could do until they got you into surgery. 

Before he knew it, Eggsy was loading you into a medical truck and being instructed to sit in the front seat. Away from you. 

“Bullshit-” he began, before he was quickly interrupted. 

“We need the room, Galahad. Do you want to waste precious moments arguing or let us save your girl?” One of the lead medics snapped.

Without a word, Eggsy jogged up to the front seat of the truck and got in. He sat for a moment, fist quickly finding its way into his mouth to stop himself from crying again. Swiftly, he chose to channel his emotion into anger instead. 

“Fuck!” he yelled, removing his fist from his mouth and smashing it onto the dash. 

He should have never left you in the field alone. He should have asked another agent to come to protect you. To ensure nothing like this happened to you. He made the wrong call and he knew it. 

Now, he had no idea what was going on with you. He couldn’t hear a sound coming from behind him over the sound of the siren wailing, ensuring they had the fastest path possible. Your heart could have stopped mere inches behind him and he would have no idea until he stepped out of the truck. 

This thought stuck in his mind, ricocheting around through his brain up until the moment he stepped out of the truck again, scared to death of what might have happened to you in the mere minutes since he last saw you. When he did see you, it was like coming up for air after being underwater for too long. Immense relief. You were still alive. You were still with him. 

But then, all too soon, you were gone again. Swept away to a private room for surgery, leaving Eggsy alone in an empty corridor. The second you disappeared behind the doorway, Eggsy fell to his knees, drained. He had asked to go into the room with you, but one of the medics had quickly replied, “Yeah because having your patient’s boyfriend doesn’t add any pressure when you’re performing surgery.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m her fiance actually,” he mumbled to the closed door.

It was the longest night of Eggsy Unwin’s life, as he sat there in the hall, awaiting either the best news of his life or the worst. It was an hour before Harry arrived, offering him a hug, which, for the first time in Eggsy’s life brought him no comfort whatsoever. Harry brought with him a couple of chairs, and a glass of water, Eggsy not realising how much he needed it until he had downed it in two gulps. 

There were few words spoken between the two men. Harry knowing nothing he could say would be of any help to Eggsy in this moment. Nothing would save him from the dark thoughts he was drowning in, picturing a life without you in it. All he could do for him, and for you, was be there. 

By the time the head surgeon stepped out three hours later, Eggsy felt as if he had aged a decade. Nevertheless, he was quick to jump to his feet, eager for information. 

“Merlin’s surgery has gone well,” he said, removing the weight of the world from Eggsy’s shoulders. He lifted his hand to his mouth, tears of joy springing to his eyes immediately. “There was a bit of internal damage, but luckily nothing to her major organs. We’ve managed to stop all internal bleeding. From here on out, it’s just about avoiding infection and ensuring she heals properly.” 

“Can I see her?” Eggsy asked, eyes glistening with hope in addition to the tears. 

“Of course,” the surgeon stepped aside, allowing Eggsy through. “She should wake up in the next thirty minutes.”

Eggsy stepped forward, towards the door before stopping in his tracks. He turned and wrapped his arms around the surgeon,whom he had met all of three times, hugging him tight. “Thank you so much,” he spoke, patting him on the back before pulling back. 

Much to the surprise of all men present, Eggsy started to jog down the hall, away from the girl he had been dying to see for hours. 

“Eggsy where are you going?” Harry called after him. 

“I have to grab something before I see her, I’ll explain later!” Eggsy called back, joy finally making its way back into his voice. 

The first thing you became aware of, as the effects of the anaesthesia wore off, was the feeling of two warm hands holding your left one. Before you were even fully conscious, the first thought to enter your head was that Eggsy was here. The knowledge filled you with a sense of ease as your eyes fluttered open, as though you were awaking from a pleasant nap and not a major surgery. 

Your eyes met Eggsy’s instantly, as though a magnetic force made it so. “There’s my girl,” his smile reached his tired eyes. 

“Hey handsome,” you croaked, taking in his appearance. Hair disheveled, still wearing his blood splattered suit (minus the jacket, of course), glasses tucked away in his pocket. Although he looked like an absolute mess, he still looked happy, riding on the high that the good news about your health had brought. 

“Oh my days. You gave me quite the scare there babe,” he forced a laugh, trying to conceal the trauma he had suffered through in not knowing whether or not you were going to make it. 

“I’m sorry,” you spoke softly, not buying into his attempt at a cover up and feeling the guilt more sharply than the wound. 

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he reached forward with his left hand, stroking your hair, knowing all too well just how much comfort it brought you. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I’m not sure, did anything happen after I said I would marry you?” You feigned genuity in your line of questioning. 

His mouth dropped open in shock at your words. “I don’t quite remember asking!” He struggled to hold back laughter at your antics. 

“Then ask,” you challenge. 

“Well,” he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a little red velvet box, “good thing I grabbed this before you woke up.” He opened the box, revealing the gold ring you would recognise anywhere. 

“Oh Eggsy…” you breathed out, gobsmacked at the magnitude of the gesture, “is that…?”

“The ring my dad proposed to my mum with? Yeah, yeah it is,” he smiled, “I asked her for it a couple weeks ago. Last night’s cancelled date night had been when I was planning on proposing.”

You placed your hand over your mouth, trying to contain the smile threatening to take over your entire face.

“But here we are instead. So, Y/N Y/L/N, my best friend and the love of my life, will you marry me?” He grinned, clearly already knowing your answer.

You removed your hand from your mouth to give him your answer for the second time that evening. “Eggsy Unwin of course I will marry you,” a tear slipped from your eye.

Somehow, he grinned even wider, taking your answer as permission to slip the ring onto your finger. Kissing your hand as the ring slid perfectly into place. 

“Well, darling, let my first act as your fiance be telling you that you are never going on a field mission again,” Eggsy joked.

“I really wish you would just kiss me instead,” you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I can do that too.”

[wackapedia]

Hello, My Alien! || Part 4: We Have A Problem

Taehyung X Reader

Y/n is traveling to Terran-03 to find her soulmate, Taehyung who is also from her home planet. Two aliens in one roof, what could go wrong?

Fluff, a dash of angst, crack, and alien things

Hello My Alien Masterlist

You wake up in your little folding bed tucked in the space under the stairs of the shared dormitory. The large edifice did not happen to have a spare bedroom, which prompted some of the dorm inhabitants to offer their rooms for you. You, of course did not want to impose and chose this makeshift quarters instead. Lying still on the bunk, you note that none of them are up at this hour. The nearest star has broken the horizon and your digestive pouch grumbles. Before you could sit up, a string of heavy footsteps rattle the ceiling of your makeshift quarters. Soon, the divider is ripped open and reveals Jimin, holding his communicator device. "Hey, Harry potter, wake up." "Good morning, Jimin. I have been awake for 36 minutes." You answer him from your folding bunk. "Management is coming over and you're not supposed to be here." He yells, running back up the stairs, possibly to wake everyone up. You take a moment to understand this recent information. Management? Deciding to start your day, you fold the single-sized bunk and stow it away between a shelf under the stairs. A small pile of male-sized sweaters and sweatpants are stored in one of the shelf holes. Taehyung decided that the clothing you brought are not earth-appropriate and had promised to take you shopping for your own. Stepping out of the spandrel closet, you hear all 7 inhabitants scrambling down the stairs and then spreading to the common room and the kitchen to sort their mess out. "Hey so we have a problem.." Taehyung slides in next to you. "3 minutes!" Seokjin yells from the kitchen. "What's going on?" You ask. "People from the company are coming over, and we aren't allowed to have guests in the house." "...I see. Do you want me to dematerialize?" You ask. "I don't know a safe place for you and we don't have time to look for one." "Should I use my computer's cloaking feature, then?" "Y-you have a cloaking feature?!“ The look on Taehyung's face is both of surprise and relief. "Yes, but its only for one time use." You tell him. "Great, how long does it last?" "One Terran hour, at most." "THEYRE HERE!!!" Seokjin's voice rattles the whole house. "Go, go! I'll sort out the spandrel closet. You can stand there..." Taehyung points at a wall beside where the entertainment plate was mounted. He quickly tosses the stack of clothes in the washing equipment. The main door opens, revealing a whole team of people, dressed similarly, and are carrying all sorts of tools. You press your invisible figure against the wall when one of them passes directly in front of you. "Hey boys. Routine inspection. You know the drill." A bossy man sits on the couch, prompting the rest of the dorm inhabitants to sit down as well. "Come on, Jun-ho, don't you trust us?" Seokjin pipes in laughing a little too loud, causing suspicion to arise on the authoritarian's eyes. Yoongi and Namjoon shuts him up. "There's something in the tabloids for you..." Jun-ho comments, passing a digital pad to Taehyung. You wish you could go over and see what it is, but the cloaking system can only be reliable when you stand very still. "This looks photoshopped, come on." Taehyung whines. The rest of them gather around the digital pad squinting at whatever the display is. "That's not the point. The point is that, were you or were you not out with someone last night?" You swear under your breath. "No! I was here the whole time!" Taehyung lies. He's a great liar, you note. Lying in your home planet was rare as it is considered illogical. "Well, you better make sure of that." Jun-ho pushes. "Manager-nim, Taehyung is telling the truth. The picture is obviously photoshopped. This photo belongs in a supernatural website than in a gossip column." Namjoon passes the digital pad back to Jun-ho who was still eyeing them suspiciously, and continues to do so for a whole Terran minute. It was almost unnerving how Jun-ho's eyes stare holes into their seven skulls. He almost looks non-Terran. "Aren't you gonna offer me a drink?" Jun-ho makes himself comfortable, leaning back and crossing his legs. "Sure. Banana milk...?" Jungkook offers. "You actually drink that shit?" Jun-ho cusses unnecessarily. Throughout your three day stay, these six locals have been nothing but nice to you. Some of them may be standoffish, like Yoongi and Jimin, but they would never be rude to you. Which is why Jun-ho's behavior makes all of them uncomfortable. Taehyung occasionally checks his watch while bouncing his leg against the floor. If his timer was accurate, your cloaking will only last for the next 12 minutes. The maintenance team are packing up their tools on the foot of the stairs. Jun-ho decides to take a walk, to inspect the compartment under the stairs. He takes a peek around the shelves, tapping here and there. If he noticed something, he didn't show it at all. "Thanks for your patience boys. We're only doing this for your welfare." He stands in front of the tv, a little to the right and he'd be directly behind you. Your wrist computer counts down to the cloaking's last minute as the maintenance team filters out of the room. The door shuts and everyone exhales, including you. The cloaking expires, making your figure gradually fade into visibility. "We can not go through that ever again. I will literally die." Hoseok collapses on the couch. "We wont. Because she's leaving. Tonight. Right, Taehyung?" Jimin sharply calls Taehyung's attention. "Wait, really? Did your beacon respond?" Taehyung asks, a little crestfallen at the notion of you leaving. It was rich of you to note Taehyung's lie to Jun-ho when he was protecting you when your own lie about the beacon had no logical reasoning wharsoever. You didn't realize you were a burden to these six Terrans, and to Taehyung, who has become more Terran than your own species. "No.. It hasn't responded." You lie. Again. "Oh, that's fine.." Taehyung answers, looking relieved. "Fine? Nothing is fine! Management is literally breathing down our necks and you all couldn't be more obvious that you're hiding some alien in the house! What if the next inspection wont be announced, then what?! As if that's not enough, we have a dating scandal looming around!" Jimin bursts. For a minute, all eyes were moving from you to Taehyung and Jimin. Taehyung finally spoke. "Is this what you all think? Do you agree with Jimin?" The silence extends. And then, a muffled noise of your knees dropping, bowing deeply. Keunjeol. "My sincerest apologies for causing discomfort to you all. You have shown me nothing but kindness." You speak, voice muffled under your weight. Taehyung pulls you up by the arm to pull you upstairs to his room. "Tae, we need to be at the office by 8." Namjoon reminds him, standing at the foot of the stairs. Taehyung offers no answer. "Give me your transporter." Taehyung demands. "Are you sending me away?" You ask. Tears threatening to fall. "What? No. We're moving. You're staying with me. Give me the transporter." You pass him the cylindrical device, letting him input coordinates to a location not far from here. "Ready?" He holds your hand and presses the launch button as soon as you nod. You realize that the photo Jun-ho was showing them earlier was the photo taken in the middle of you and Taehyung dematerializing in the dark alley. The flashing in the corner of your eye was probably the photographic device going off. You materialize in a large room, more furnished than the ones in the dormitory. "This is my apartment. You'll be staying here for now, until your beacon responds." Do not leave this place alone. I have to go to work right now but I'll be back soon. I'll bring you some stuff. Shame we cant go shopping together anymore." He sighs. After he gets dressed, Taehyung leaves you in his apartment. You distract yourself with the books on his shelf, and the magnificent view of the metro from so high above the ground. Soon, you feel yourself getting drowsy. You let yourself lie down on the foamy flooring. Its so much fluffier than your folding bunk back at the dormitory. You sleep a dreamless sleep for an unknown set of time. Converting Terran time sure is exhausting. ------ "Why are you sleeping on the carpet?" A familiar deep voice wakes you from your slumber. "Who the hell is she?!" Another voice, an unfamiliar one, shrieks at you.

[hellzyeahwebwielingessays]

The Not-So-Amazing Mary Jane Part 26: AMJ #2.2

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It’s a little pointless giving you context for this post. We are picking up where we left off last time so simply read the prior instalment.

On the next page we get into yet more problems. MJ states to ‘Cage’ (whom she refers to as ‘Quentin’) that the potential investors see them as a major risk.  She comments that it’s better for them to find the right  investor who believes in the project, as opposed to what ‘Cage’ did before. Namely, lying about the project in order to attain funding.

MJ is then taken aback when Beck proceeds to drop the Cage McKnight façade and reveal himself as Mysterio on the street. As Mysterio he unleashes some of his trademark smoke upon which he projects huge images of MJ and Spidey villains (presumably from the film) on the attack. This sends people scattering in fear believing the villains are on a rampage. People abandon their cars, run in the streets and on the roads, car horns honk away.

Mysterio rants that he couldn’t stand selling his film to ‘philistines’. However, he hoped that they would understand/appreciate it once they saw it. Once they saw what they’d accomplished, the success it’d be, the awards it’d win, etc.

MJ approaches a sad looking Beck and tries to empathise with him. Specifically she deduces that Beck (at least on some level) hoped that in seeing his life on screen that they’d forgive him. This acknowledgement prompts Beck to reveal his real face.

These pages are a double-edged sword.

For starters, they contradict issue #1. There Beck’s given reasons for making the movie had nothing to do with earning forgiveness. He wanted to do right by a woman he felt he wronged, and to make something good for the world at large.

However, they once again demonstrates MJ’s people skills and their ability to reign Beck in. She’s talked him around to obtaining money less dishonestly than before (but still not actually honestly). She’s able to make him halt his tantrum and avoid scaring or harming people. And she’s established more trust between them, which in theory will make keeping him in check easier.

It also is wonderfully on point characterization for Beck himself. It displays a vulnerability and sadness within him. It plays him as what he’s always been, an artist craving attention and to be understood. The duality of this is played well in the scene. His words play him up as sad and sympathetic (from a certain point of view). But his actions make him less sympathetic, much like a child he’s throwing a tantrum because he can’t appropriately deal with his feelings and wants attention.

It’s genuinely magnificent Mysterio writing, a beautiful microcosm of his character.

So again, Williams proves she can deliver great characterization. But she’s also once more doing it within a crappy context.

The whole scene is confusing and incredibly damning MJ’s character and motivations.

In addition to pretending to be McKnight, Beck also  pitched a different movie from the one he was actually making..

This is baffling. Neither Nick Spencer’s issues setting up this mini-series and AMJ #1 absolutely didn’t put forward that idea. Those issues made it clear that this was always a Mysterio biopic and was always going to be sympathetic towards him. The only contradiction to that idea was at the end of AMJ #1 when MJ spoke to Peter (see part 6).

Is Williams implying that the later is what Beck also pitched to the investors? It’s really not clear. None of this is clear in fact.

Are we to presume Beck is now pitching the movie as he actually intends to make it?

If so why not just lie again?

Maybe it’s because MJ is encouraging him to be honest but she  might’ve been lying about it to Peter last issue. And even if she wasn’t, she was complicit in the deceit of the original investors. It wasn’t as though she was telling them what the actual movie was like.

If MJ was encouraging Beck to be more honest about the movie, isn’t that aggressively hypocritical considering she’s not encouraging him to stop using Cage McKnight’s identity!

It’s all a big mess!

Playing Devil’s Advocate, let’s say the intention was something more simple. Maybe the lies Williams was referring to was simply about Beck pretending to be McKnight. But that doesn’t quite make sense. Even if the movie was got more funding that deception would remain the same.

No matter what interpretation you pick it doesn’t add up. And either way, it further proves MJ is complicit in Beck’s crimes and is being a royal hypocrite. She’s even trying to help him commit more of the same crimes, just to a lesser degree  than he had before.

On top of the damage already wrought to McKnight’s reputation, he’s now someone who’s actively sold studios on one movie and delivered another one. An extremely controversial and difficult to sell one at that. Imagine if a director promised investors ‘The Dark Knight’ but delivered 2019’s ‘Joker’ instead. They’d lose their goddam minds!

And for this, this extremely risky artistic vision by a terrible person, Mary Jane is risking the lives and livelihoods of herself and other civilians.*

Unless they’ve explicitly consented to it, no film is worth someone being seriously injured.

More importantly the scene should be a deal breaker for Mary Jane’s trust of Beck.

So far he’s assaulted one of his staff. He’s flipped over a table. He’s been arguably verbally abusive to someone. And now caused a serious public disturbance.

He’s just terrorised people right in front of her for no reason other than he was sad and angry.

He’s potentially caused people to be injured as they run away.

He’s potentially caused vulnerable people to have anxiety, panic or even heart attacks.**

He’s potentially caused people to abandon their vehicles or other property. This leaves them vulnerable to any carjacker, any one who might run into a building and steal from it.

And all because he having a tantrum.

Does this convince Mary Jane that Beck is too dangerous to be left unchecked? That there is no reason to believe he couldn’t have another, maybe even worse, tantrum later?

Does it convince her that at best she can hope to minimize any harm he might cause? That she should contact the authorities to hopefully mitigate or at least further  minimize any more damage he might cause?

No.

It causes her to connect with him even more.

What the fuck is this characterization?

To make matters worse Beck’s dialogue clearly reveals how the project wasn’t altruistic. It’s a total vanity project. He’s doing this in the hopes that his movie will be so award winning that people will forgive him for his crimes. Call me nuts but wouldn’t apologising to/ helping his victims or their loved ones be a more useful or sincere effort to attain forgiveness?

Wouldn’t MJ feel that way too? She began to forgive herself for her past sins when she helped her sister in ASM #292

And her lover has (at least arguably) spent his life helping others to balance the scales for his indirect  role in his uncle’s death.

Yet here, MJ feels sympathy for a man trying to earn forgiveness by making others see how sympathetic he  is? A man who ha unapologetically victimized people, including herself, her friends and family. A man who is actively victimizing an innocent man right now by wearing his face. A man who is terrifying people right in front of MJ because he’s throwing a tantrum.

Shit like this is why all the good work Williams does ultimately doesn’t matter. This is character assassinating stuff.

On a side note by the way, I like the acknowledgment of Doc Ock’s return. It’s the first time it was acknowledged since the end of Superior Spider-Man volume 2.

Moving on, MJ gently informs Beck that he’s scaring people. He reveals no one can see him (addressing why dropping his guise was no big deal). MJ snorts and prompts him to dial it back a bit. She argues that they’d want to avoid spoilers. Beck agrees and claims that the disturbance will be rationalized as a flash mob once the smoke clears.

MJ confirms that the reason the investors pulled the money was specifically because ‘McKnight’ was delivering a different product to the one pitched. See above for my comments on that mess. As they get into their car MJ also speculates that ‘Cage’s’ abrupt personality change scared them away too.

For the most part this page is just more of the same. We do get a hint though that MJ is knowingly playing Beck, as her comments about ‘spoilers’ can be read as an attempt to slyly protect people.

Nevertheless, it makes matters worse in several ways.

For starters we see a woman practically falling out of her chair in response to Beck’s illusions. Even if she wasn’t physically hurt there is no guarantee there aren’t similar or worse instances of that going on. It’s a tiny concern next to more serious injuries, but it exemplifies how more serious injuries are a very real possibility where Beck is concerned.

But MJ doesn’t seem to care too much. She’s even snorting in the scene implying she finds something funny.

Weirdly Williams’ dialogue tries to addresses why outside observers of the incident wouldn’t get suspicious. This is stupid because what about the eye-witnesses? What about security cameras?

There is no reason at all the incident would just be hand waved as an ambitious street performance. Even if it were it misses the more essential point that Beck potentially caused physical or mental harm to civilians!

Also, we get explicit acknowledgment that Beck’s disguise is negatively impacting the real McKnight’s reputation. Beck is such a douchebag he doesn’t even consider this possibility.

But that’s nothing next to what happens on the following pages.

MJ shows Beck a news video depicting his assault of the crewmember from issue #1. The title even acknowledges this is abuse. She follows up by mentioning that the real Cage used to have a reputation for being calm and quiet. They arrive at an auto and body and MJ proceeds to give ‘Cage’ a makeover.

Giving him her sunglasses she ‘rebrands’ Cage to be more in line with his ‘new personality’. Rather than a meek cinephile nerd, MJ declares him a Hollywood bad boy. An eccentric genius who runs hot. An auteur who won’t compromise his artistic vision.

Beck gets into the spirit of things causing MJ to giggle smile with delight.

This is yet another double-edged sword situation.

On a conceptual level, MJ and Beck ‘playing’ together through their mutual knowledge/love of acting is an interesting, even organic, idea. Or it would be if MJ had little idea of who Beck was or what he’d done.

Furthermore, MJ using her acting, social and fashion skills in this way is a stroke of genius. She is in a sense creating a façade for Beck, much the same way she formed one for herself for so many years.

It’s exemplary of Williams’ ability to accentuate realistic strengths of a normal person who lacks fantastical abilities. In other words it’s a brilliant way of framing MJ kind of like a super hero without her actually being one.

Stuff like this is a proof of concept for how an ongoing MJ solo-title absolutely could work creatively.

For that Williams should be commended.

But alas, she should be condemned because of that oh so pesky context again.

It was bad enough that MJ was simply allowing Beck to joyride McKnight’s life. It was bad enough that has resulted in him being depicted as abusive in the news, of being emotionally unstable.

But now MJ  is actively  interfering herself.

Does Mary Jane simply doesn’t care much about Cage McKnight’s reputation? Or does she/Leah Williams have some kind of long-game plan to ensure all damage done to Cage’s reputation? If so, then you know a little hint of that  would be nice. You know, just to make sure MJ doesn’t come off as selfish or stupidly out of character.

I mean honestly. Mary Jane has all this sympathy for a goddam murderous criminal, but none for an innocent man’s career and reputation?

Who the FUCK is Mary Jane to play with another person’s identity, their reputation, their career, like this?

The real McKnight hasn’t given her his consent to do that. He doesn’t even know her! 

It is especially damning when we consider MJ’s own acting career. For years she struggled against unfair labels and assumptions born from her looks and modelling career.

Mary Jane isn’t even rebranding McKnight for the greater good. This doesn’t protect innocent people or their property or herself or Peter.

In fact it does the opposite as it makes it easier  for Beck to impersonate McKnight. To those who knew him only by reputation or merely as an acquaintance, MJ has just helped make his abrupt personality change more believable. She’s just made it harder for anyone to become suspicious of McKnight and therefore to bring Beck to justice.

This is immensely illegal to say the least. But at least MJ is having some fun  whilst she uses someone’s identity as a dress up doll.

It also doesn’t really make sense given Beck’s skills as an actor. In ASM v5 #25 Kindred himself accuses Beck of going ‘method’.

I’m not suggesting Beck had to go method for McKnight. But is he really so incompetent as to have not considered that his behaviour would raise suspicions? Would he really have not accounted for those inevitable suspicions? Would it really take someone else  to think of that?

I will remind you, this guy figured out how to fool Daredevil, the guy who has an in-built lie-detector as a super power!

Alright, maybe he didn’t have all that much time to prepare to become McKnight. But there is no indication of that in the story. And even if there was it doesn’t address why he wouldn’t realise his behaviour would arouse suspicion.

Finally, I should also mention that Gomez is on fire on this page. He utterly nails  MJ’s personality.

Anyway, MJ takes Mysterio to their last shot at getting cash for the movie. The investor isn’t all that wealthy but he is a film buff. Once again MJ and ‘McKnight’ are juxtaposed as she is open and social, whilst he’s once again aggressive.

The investor is sceptical because he sees the project as lacking ‘art’. This prompts ‘Cage’ to go into a passionate speech about the nature of art. This convinces the investor who gives them a quarter of what they had before. ‘McKnight’ begins to argue but MJ grips his neck to keep him under control.

Once more MJ’s strengths are on display here.

Once more Gomez’s art makes her shine.

Once more Williams displays some of the greatest Mysterio writing of all time!

And once more this is toxic to MJ’s characterization because she just helped con this man out of his money and possibly endanger both his business and his life.

She can’t be sure Beck’s ‘passion’ won’t somehow turn dangerous (as it did mere pages ago) and be directed at this man. She can’t be sure that the reputation of Cage McKnight wasn’t a factor in this man’s investment. She can’t be sure she can keep Beck under control. Notice how she just used physical contact to reign him in, an escalation from her words and charm.

She can’t be sure of a lot of things, but I guess the risk is worth it because Beck would just be that  sad if he didn’t make his movie.

Later, Noah returns the equipment to the film set whilst MJ and Beck chat about being an indie film. MJ says she feels good about the project. It’s nice that she feels happy about conning an innocent person. It’s nice she feels good about continuing to be complicit in several crimes. It’s nice she’s buddying around with the man who nearly killed her lover less than a few months ago.

They are so chummy in fact that Mary Jane sings ‘McKnight’s praises to Mallorie.

Whilst trying to find Ken (the actor cat as Mysterio), they discover he’s leaving the movie. With less funding he’s breaking contract, but is nice enough to offer ‘McKnight’ a place at a rehab centre. This is yet more proof of how Beck has damaged McKnight’s reputation, now he’s considered to be on drugs.

‘McKnight’ is distraught over losing their lead but MJ suggests he simply play Mysterio.

Do I even need to explain this one?

Mary Jane is actively interfering with McKnight’s reputation and career again! There is no evidence that McKnight was ever an actor. Even if Mysterio pulls it off it will be an expectation the real McKnight might have to deal with later in his career. And that’s if the audience accepts his performance at all.

Once again, she has no right to do any of this with someone else’s identity.

On the next page MJ refers to Cage as a megastar. This again muddies the waters from the last issue as Cage’s indie status shouldn’t make him a megastar of anything.

Mallorie encourages ‘Cage’. She comments that since since he isn’t really Quentin Beck this is hardly a vanity reel. With MJ’s help Beck agrees and thanks MJ for believing in him.

They then hear a crash and scream and discover it’s Vulture’s Savage Six. They’ve attacked the set and crew, prompting Kangaroo  to retaliate. Vulture threatens to kill the actor playing him before spotting McKnight.

Mallorie’s dialogue is rather ambiguous. It’s not clear if she (or anyone other than MJ) are aware that ‘McKnight’ is really Beck. That is certainly not the impression I got. Accepting that interpretation, Williams’ attempt at irony here is too blunt to work and further hurts her narrative.

It further confirms that  the movies is  a vanity project. This would mean that Williams is aware  Beck is actually being selfish, and thus that MJ is aware of that too. So why  is she writing MJ as so sympathetic towards Beck? Why is she pretending a vanity project like this is at all an opportunity for Beck to make amends?

Can Williams honestly not recognize that a criminal (a murderer no less) making a vanity project is not a legitimate means of making amends?

It’s a legitimate question because she’s further deepening MJ’s friendship with a guy who has tried to murder her lover multiple times!

And as for the Savage Six…I actually don’t have much to say about them.

Unless issue #3 makes a big reveal, they don’t seem to know Beck is McKnight. If that is the case, then they’d have attacked regardless so MJ can’t be blamed for that at all.

Really all I have to say is Kangaroo is way out of his league, especially since he’s going head-to-head with Rhino of all people.

With that we’ve completed issue #2 and the results are not good.

Williams continued and further exacerbated the problems she created in the first issue. That leaves me with little confidence that she has a master plan to sow everything up neatly in the future.

*And she was doing that in the hope the studios would accept getting a different movie from the one they asked for.

**You know, people similar to Aunt May!

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[gwen-of-myth]

A Molded Man, A Better Lover

I am flesh and I am bone

Rise up, ting ting, like glitter and gold

I've got fire in my soul

Rise up, ting ting, like glitter

Like glitter and gold

Like glitter

“Where is he,” Peter rumbles, ready to kill but more than that he is antsy. He is the boss, he should have complete control of everything, and everyone. It’s unsettling to everyone, especially him.

The lackey quivers and stutters but when Peter hears no answer he throws his cigarette on the floor, grinds it with his foot, and picks him up by the shirt.

“Where?!”

His roar echoes, and finally, he gets his answer. Peter throws the human down on the floor and rolls his eyes at the whimpers. What a weak excuse of a human.

With the information he retrieved, him and the rest of the mob are able to find the place pretty easy. Normally he’d send a small group and stay behind, but. It’s personal.

They break down the door and are in an immediate standoff with a rival mob, and in front is none other than the infamous Demon Wolf and next to him, a tied up Stiles.

“You’re dead,” he says, and Deucalion smiles mockingly.

His screams satisfy Peter almost as much as pulling Stiles into his arms does when he is free of the rope.

Despite everything, Stiles appears to be unharmed. It’s probable that Peter got there right before the torture begun, and of that he is grateful. His magnificent Stiles only was subjected to this much because of him and his mob’s rivalry. Peter never wanted to get him involved to begin with, but Stiles is extraordinary.

“I knew you’d come,” Stiles whispers against his throat, and Peter swears in that instant that he will never let anything bad happen to his sweet boy ever again. He swears it on his life.

“Of course I did. You’re mine; I protect my things.”

Stiles rolls his eyes but smiles.

“What, no sappy make out session and love confession? I’m disappointed,” he teases.

Peter’s smile suddenly turns solemn, and he says, “My dear, I could have lost you. You’re my whole world, and I’d do anything for you. From the bottom of my terrible, rotten heart, I truly love you.”

They share a tender kiss and Stiles, being him, starts crying.

“Stop laughing! That was beautiful you asshole!”

Peter brings him back to his penthouse, kisses the rope burn, and cooks Stiles pasta with Parks and Recreation on in the background.

“How’s school?”

Stiles shrugs, biting on a pen. He’s an art major, and his work is gorgeous, but his confidence, like with most creators, is lacking.

“How’s work?”

Peter shrugs, stirring the pot. Stiles has seen glimpses of work before today, men with guns and the hard look in Peter’s eyes after a hard kill. The man isn’t invulnerable, and today showed that Stiles is one of his weak spots, which is...worrying for Stiles.

Dinner is ready after a few moments, and Stiles moans at the taste. The sauce is just the right consistency, and the spices are not too little or too much.

“Y’know, if you ever left your life of crime and stuff you could open a kickass restaurant.”

Peter gives him a soft look,

Do you walk in the valley of kings?

Do you walk in the shadow of men

Who sold their lives to a dream?

Do you ponder the manner of things

In the dark

The dark, the dark, the dark

Sheriff Stilinski, like his son, is no fool. The first thing he did when he met with Peter and Stiles for dinner—who he knew; for many reasons, the man is infamous—is threaten to riddle him with so many bullet holes no one would ever know who the body belonged to if he so much as made his son cry.

But John also knows Stiles is his own person, so, awkwardly, he tries to make peace with Peter.

They show up to John’s house on a Harley, Stiles on the back with a sleek looking helmet and what is probably one of Peter’s jackets.

They have dinner, and tells John about his latest project.

“It’s a mural, like—a big one. Like an entire wall big oh my god Peter where is my phone I need to show him!”

Peter takes his own phone out and in a couple of taps, shows John. There’s pride in Peter’s eyes, and he sees why.

It’s nowhere near finished, some of the brush marks are streaky and paint got on the floor, but even so…

“Peter is gonna invite the guys over when it’s done, so everyone can see it. That’s why it’s in the living room,” Stiles rambles, then steals Peter’s phone and proceeds to describe what he’s planning and where and what colors he’s using.

John notices how Peter watches Stiles, like he’s the most important person on earth. It’s the same way he used to look at Claudia, and then at Stiles when he was born. For the first time since meeting Stiles’s mob boss boyfriend, John knows Peter will take good care of his boy.

(But he still has his shotgun just in case.)

I am flesh and I am bone

Arise, ting ting, like glitter and gold

I've got fire in my soul

Rise up, ting ting, like glitter

Like glitter and gold

Like glitter

“Peter!”

“Yes, darling?”

“It’s done!”

When Peter walks into the room, he’s taken aback. The painting is gorgeous, golden and sparkling in the light. But even more so is Stiles. He’s covered in paint nearly head to toe, which is sexier than it has any right to be.

There’s glitter on that tempting smile, and it awakens something primal and powerful inside Peter.

He crashes into Stiles like a tide, destructive and strong and enveloping. He washes over him softly, too, gently pulling off clothes and kissing the skin bared. Paint is rubbing onto him too, a mixture of metallic and matte and vibrant hues that don’t even compare to Stiles in his eyes.

“Do you like it,” Stiles whispers, after they share a tender kiss.

“I love it. I love you.”

Do you walk in the meadow of spring?

Do you talk to the animals?

Do you hold their lives from a string?

Do you ponder the manner of things

In the dark

The dark, the dark, the dark

“Do you trust me?”

It’s a ridiculous question. Of course Peter does—since he got in the family, he’s trusted no other. With his heart, his life, his entire being.

So Peter simply says, “Of course,” and kisses Stiles’s shoulder.

They’re in bed, the windows letting in the moon. Stiles’s eyes sparkle mischievously as he turns over and straddles Peter.

“How much?”

It makes Peter squint at his boy. Questions from him are not new, but…

“I would give you the world, if you asked. I trust you with my life, my men, me—“

Stiles gets off the bed, and Peter sits up.

Stiles is getting on one knee. Peter’s breath hitches when Stiles pulls out a box and opens it, revealing a glittery band.

“Peter, this time with you has been the happiest of my life. No one has ever supported me or my art, or protected me, or cooked for me. No one has ever met my dad like you have, and I want this every day with you. Forever. So...will you marry me?”

Peter pulls Stiles into his lap for a tender kiss.

“Of course I’ll marry you sweetheart. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”

I am flesh and I am bone

Arise, ting ting, like glitter and gold

I've got fire in my soul

Rise up, ting ting, like glitter

Peter’s cornered. His men are down, bleeding on the cold earth. There’s a gun to his head, and his lies to far to reach.

He doesn’t accept the death he knows comes, but. He accepts he cannot escape it now.

Then there’s a flash and his would be murderer is down, a bullet striking them dead.

“Peter!”

It’s his Stiles, at his side, holding a gun in one hand and pulling Peter up with the other. His leg was injured during the fight, so he relies on Stiles to help him to the Jeep.

“How,” he has to ask. His voice is raspy from yelling.

“I made Boyd tell me. Y’know, for the scariest man in west America, you sure are dumb.”

Peter huffs a laugh, then erupts into a coughing fit.

“Don’t worry,” Stiles murmurs into his ear. “You’re safe.

And for the first time, possibly ever, Peter feels it.

I am flesh and I am bone

Arise, ting ting, like glitter and gold

I've got fire in my soul

Rise up, ting ting, like glitter

Peter arrives to the charity event all charm, with Stiles at his side. In the public eye, Peter is a philanthropist businessman, always giving back to the community. As such, he is frequently invited to events.

He usually hates the atmosphere—but something beckons to him one night. The auction is about to start when he arrives.

He ends up purchasing a painting for Stiles to take to his apartment, because he can’t move in until after he finishes school.

Stiles drinks a lot of champagne flutes, and becomes more than a little tipsy as the night progresses.

“You’re hot,” Stiles yells more than once in his ear, “Wanna date?”

Peter pretends to think about it, then shows Stiles the ring. He bursts into tears until Peter explains that, truly, they’ve been together for a long time and are very happy.

When they arrive to his penthouse Peter thanks the driver and picks Stiles up (slowly, so he doesn’t get puked on).

He helps Stiles shed his clothes and crawl into bed. I’m the morning, Peter will make him chocolate chip pancakes and let him complain all about his headache. He hopes he has a lifetime to cherish Stiles even more.

'Cause everybody's in the backroom's

Spinning up

Don't know what you're asking for

And everybody's in the front room's

Tripping out

You left your bottle at the door

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” Peter says.

“How’d you become the big honcho anyways? Doesn’t seem like something that just happens overnight, y’know?”

Peter hums in agreement.

“Well, you see...you know about the fire, about losing my family, about the facial reconstruction surgery. After losing everything and everyone and even more to hospital bills, I was desperate. Desperate enough to look for help where I shouldn’t have.”

“Sounds sketchy.”

“It was. They’d have me do things that scared me, but eventually I became used to it. The family became my life, but then the cops found us.”

“Before dad?”

“Before your dad, yes. They threw everyone into jail, but I was new enough they didn’t have anything to hold me with. They let me go and a handful of others. Our leader, however, was murdered in jail.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, everyone was thirsty for blood. But it was anarchy, brother fighting brother, so I stepped in and came up with a plan. My first one was to win over the cops. The second one was killing our old boss’s murderer.”

“Then what?”

“With my leadership, we did both. We donated to charities, even to the cops directly, and managed to bribe one of them to kill one of their own. We dealt among ourselves quietly for years then, but well, new police force got hired.”

Peter looks at Stiles, really looks at him.

“I’m not leaving them. Not for a long while, because, like I needed them, they need me.”

“I know.”

“But I will. For you, I’d do anything.”

Stiles closes his eyes and buries his face into Peter’s neck.

“I know.”

'Cause everybody's in the backroom's

Spinning up

Don't know what you're asking for

And everybody's in the front room's

Tripping out

You left your bong at the door

Peter and some of his men (some of Stiles’s closest friends, by now) are front row during his graduation ceremony. They made little signs with his name on them and everything. Peter is wearing a golden suit, looking smug as hell, and Stiles is so happy.

When his name is finally called he almost trips over his gown from running. He did it! It’s like he’s dreaming. He punches himself just to make sure he isn’t.

After the ceremony is done, Peter drives them to Stiles’s little apartment. They usually stay at Peter’s, because it’s nicer, but Peter wants to spoil Stiles there.

“I ordered your favorite food, it’ll be here any minute.”

A hungry look passed over Peter’s face, and Stiles shivers.

“But until then…”

I am flesh and I am bone

Arise, ting ting, like glitter and gold

I've got fire in my soul

Rise up, ting ting, like glitter

Like glitter and gold

Like glitter

Like glitter and gold

Like glitter

[veliseraptor]

Got anything with Loki doing anything touristy? Gawking at a chocolate fountain? Going to another country to try food he heard was good there? Not realising when he'd crossed a border? Finding mortal magic users/teachers learning from them and hoarding their knowledge? sampling libraries? anything?

These Vagabond Shoes, 3.4k, post-ragnarok au entirely ignoring infinity war cause I can do that if I wanna

-----

Loki stays long enough to see that what remains of Asgard is settled more or less safely, confirms that Thor has things well in hand, and leaves. He writes a brief note - don’t follow me - sets the Tesseract down on top of it, changes his clothes to something less conspicuous, and hitches a ride with one of the curious mortals who has come to gawk.

She squints at him. “You look familiar,” she says.

“I have one of those faces,” Loki says. “Shall we?”

Maren - for so is her name - takes him as far as Drammen. From there he catches a train to Oslo, and books a flight at random. He could walk the shadow paths instead, but for some reason he cannot explain to himself chooses not to.

Thor will have noticed by now that he is gone. What does he think? Is he disappointed, or does he just sigh and accept that this is how Loki is: unchanging, ever himself, fickle and untrustworthy.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” asks the man sitting next to him on the plane.

“No,” Loki says flatly. “You don’t.”

When he lands in Bruges, the first thing he does cut his hair. The second is to buy a postcard with a photo of the palace - it looks rather pathetic to Loki, but he supposes it must be impressive. Hello from Belgium, he writes. I hope you haven’t already burned the village down.

He drops it in the mail, unsigned.

**

Loki purchased a phone, not because he had anyone he wanted to call (he didn’t) but because they apparently store vast amounts of information, and given all the things Loki doesn’t know about it is useful to have a means of looking them up quickly.

Perusing the options available in the store he visits, he barks an abrupt laugh when he realizes why the StarkPhones are so named. He interrupts the salesperson’s rambling to indicate them. “I’ll take one of those.”

Stark himself will have no idea, but it amuses Loki.

Armed with his new device, Loki spends a couple hours figuring out how to navigate it. It isn’t bad, as far as Midgardian technology goes. Almost respectable. A few modifications and it would almost approach Asgardian children’s toys.

Loki pauses. Those toys are probably gone. He doubts anyone brought one. All of Asgard’s technology, all of its knowledge...that’s gone, now. Perhaps forever. The library of texts stretching back millennia, the scholars and scientists and healers…

Loki hears a crack and looks down at the broken screen of his new phone. He mends it with a touch, his thoughts far away, the loss hitting him all over again. Humans move around him and for a moment he hates them, for going on with such indifference as though an entire civilization has not been swallowed by the Void.

For a moment, the itch to go back to Thor. To have some company in grief.

For a moment.

Loki brushes it aside and moves on. He searches things to do on Earth and finds a list of ‘50 Things to Do Before You Die.’

It’s a starting place.

Before leaving Belgium, though, Loki decides that easily the best thing humans have invented in the past 300,000 years or so is the chocolate fountain. Absolutely genius.

**

They call it the ‘Grand Canyon,’ but it isn’t half as grand as the one on Alfheim. Do you remember the name? I don’t. Too hot here, and crowded. Give Heimdall my love.

Loki isn’t sure why he didn’t leave the moment he realized that the first destination on his list was a desert. His shirt is sticking to his back with sweat, sunglasses threatening to slide down the bridge of his nose. It is brutally hot, and he feels a bit light-headed.

Retreating into the shade, he frowns at the milling crowd of tourists readying to ride a pack of animals down into the canyon itself. He might be tempted, but for that he is given to understand that the heat down there is actually worse.

“Are you all right? You look a bit flushed.”

Loki turns his head to look at the middle-aged woman who has sidled up next to him. She is wearing a wide-brimmed hat with a strap under the chin, and looks quite fresh and untroubled by the heat. Loki gives her a tight smile.

“I’m fine,” he says. “Just not used to it, I suppose.”

“Just be careful,” she says. “It can really sneak up on you out here!” She pats him on the arm and moves off, leaving Loki to wonder what, exactly, it is.

The tourists mount and begin their trek. When Loki is sure none of them are watching, he shifts into a vulture and launches himself into the air, riding one of the thermals up, looking down at the winding snake of the river below.

**

To His Majesty King Thor: Humans certainly like to describe things as ‘great,’ don’t they? My guidebook calls this ‘the Great Wall of China.’ The local name seems to translate similarly, though perhaps more specific - 10,000-li long wall. I am sure the linguistic ins and outs of Midgardians are of great interest to you.

It has its own sort of beauty, I suppose. The food here is interesting. Different. I am enjoying it.

In Huaibeizhen, Loki dreams of Thanos.

It is not, needless to say, a pleasant dream.

He is on Sanctuary, wedged into a corner, shaking and crying silently. He has been punished, but cannot remember why; he only knows that he is afraid, and in pain, and desperately lonely. He yearns for safety, for comfort, for home.

You don’t have a home, sneers a voice in his mind. Ebony Maw’s says this is your home.

Childishly, he wants Thor. But he knows, in his bones, that Thor doesn’t want him.

He wakes with tears streaming down his face, sobs catching in his throat. For a moment, he hovers on the edge of taking the shadow-paths, fleeing to Norway, to Thor. He smothers the urge brutally, digging his nails into his palms and breathing shallowly until he calms.

He won’t go back. He doesn’t know if he ever will; hasn’t decided yet. He hasn’t decided much of anything, only that he cannot, or will not, stay still.

And yet he misses Thor. No, that is wrong: saying he misses Thor is as inadequate as it would be to say that he misses breathing. He is that central, that vital, that involuntary.

If anyone asked, Loki thinks he would tell them that was why he was running. To prove that he can.

**

What sort of a name is ‘Whitsunday’ for a group of islands? Not one that conveys anything about them, certainly. I went sailing today. Rather disappointed by the lack of whales, but I did see a saltwater crocodile. Magnificent creatures. They would not be out of place on Asgard.

Would not have been. It is strange to miss a place I spent so much time hating. It is strange to miss a person I spent so much time hating.

I hope you are well.

The weather is turning on the southern half of Midgard. Loki looks up how it works: the tilting of the planet as it spins, each hemisphere tipping toward or away from the sun, a top spinning through space. He watches a diagram of it, mesmerized by the movement. It isn’t full winter, but no one else is swimming in the clear water. It is cold, but the cold doesn’t bother Loki.

There are reefs, but many of the inhabitants seem to have retreated. He does see a creature moving gracefully through the water, almost like a bird. A manta ray, he learns later.

He borrows a sailboat, just a touch of persuasion convincing the owner to let him take it out alone. It is similar enough to vehicles Loki has experience using that he can fly across the water, the wind in his face.

It feels like freedom.

**

Why do they come here? A city buried in ash, frozen in the moment of its destruction.

Do you see it in your dreams? Asgard, burning. And I set the flame.

Loki does not stay long in Pompeii. It makes his skin crawl. It makes him think of Hela, and Surtur rising from the Eternal Flame, and Asgard, Golden Asgard, Eternal Asgard, annihilated. Asgard is not a place, but a people, Thor said, more than once, as though it was a talisman. Maybe he is right. But it was a place, for many long years. And now it is not.

Funny, isn’t it, that he tried to destroy a hated Realm and failed, and succeeded in destroying the one that, despite himself, he loved.

**

I am staying in a cave. Apparently that is the done thing here, along with hot air balloon rides and what they call ‘fairy rock chimneys.’ They bear no resemblance to anything one of the fae would build, I must say, though they have their own beauty.

A cave, though! Really.

Tomorrow I think I will try one of the hot air balloons, though it seems to me a fairly absurd and inefficient form of transportation. I do not think that is actually the point, but it is distracting when one might simply fly. But it is, as the humans around me keep saying, the experience.

You should travel sometime, Thor. See this world it seems we now must live upon. Of course, I suppose the King of Asgard has little time for such frivolities.

I think that you might like it here.

Cappadocia is an interesting place, different again from anywhere else he has gone. Loki goes into the underground churches, as suggested by the friendly concierge at his lodgings, but the moment he steps into the close, dark rooms he begins to sweat, fear wrapping tight around his throat, and he has to retreat quickly.

Ashamed, he stands outside, shivers running down his spine.

“Claustrophobic?” Asks a woman standing nearby. She sounds sympathetic, but Loki still looks sharply in her direction.

“Beg pardon?”

She gestured at the opening. “That’s why I’m not going in. Small spaces give me the creeping horrors.”

Claustrophobic. He never used to be that. Or, well - he didn’t particularly like it, but it didn’t give him...the creeping horrors. Things change, he supposes. Another thing to thank Thanos for.

He forces a thin smile. “A bit,” he says. “Excuse me.”

All in all, he prefers the fairy rock chimneys. There is something fanciful about them, for all they cannot compare to the true architecture of the fae. Too solid and heavy, where their work is light, almost ethereal, and yet full of sharp edges that cut the unwary.

Loki’s always been fond of the fae, though most of the time they did not return the feeling.

He was right about the hot air balloon, though. It is stifling and slow, and he itches to launch himself from the basket and spring into the air, wheeling in spirals, higher and higher until the air is too thin to breathe and he turns and plummets downward.

He does not. But he closes his eyes and imagines it, almost feeling the wind ruffling his feathers as the world dwindles below.

**

Look! Something older than we are. And still standing. Remarkably durable. They call them ‘the Pyramids of Giza.’ It seems they buried their kings within them.

The sand here gets everywhere, and I’ve burned my nose. It’s bright red. Hideous. I also rode a camel today - they are, quite possibly, the most peculiar creature I’ve encountered so far on Midgard, and remarkably poor tempered.

I don’t think I like deserts.

Egypt is new, and different again from anywhere else he has been. This is one of the fascinating things about Midgard: the variety. One Realm, and yet a myriad of differences. So many ways in which they separate themselves. It is absolutely fascinating.

Loki has been reading about the history of this place. It is old, and looking at the ruins of its history he can feel the weight of its age. Stretching into a distant past that no one here can remember. They were here before Odin was born, when Bor still reigned. If his reckoning is right, they were here before Svartalfheim was made desolate. Built to reach toward a sky they couldn’t touch.

“Did you know that these were built by aliens?” A young man standing next to him says. Loki snorts involuntarily, and he turns toward him.

“Skeptic, are you?” he says. “The research-”

“Don’t be absurd,” Loki says. “Nobody was even visiting this Realm for tourism until very recently. You overestimate your relevance.”

Perhaps it was not the best idea to say that. The man and both of his friends are now staring at him with strange expressions. One of them squints a bit.

“Your relevance?” he says cautiously. Ah, damn.

Loki flashes his teeth. “That’s what I said,” he says, and moves off, veiling himself from sight after a few strides. He can’t help but turn around to look; the gaping expressions are undeniably satisfying.

It lifts his mood for the rest of the day.

**

Dear Thor: I am sending you two postcards together, this time, to show you both the inside and outside of this church. They have been building it for 137 years. There are a great many churches on Midgard, it seems. Many in this city alone, but this one seems to be unique.

It is certainly very large. The designer has been dead for nearly a century, and yet they labor on. It isn’t for him, though. This is what I have come to realize about humans, I think: they are always looking for something larger than themselves.

Then again, I suppose we are, too. We look to the Norns. I wonder if the Norns look to something else again? If they have their own stories that guide them, that drive them.

Have I bored you yet?

The food here is very good. One thing that can certainly be said for Midgardians: they do very imaginative things with their cuisine.

The pillars inside the Sagrada Familia make Loki think of trees made of stone. He stands, staring upward, listening to the sound of echoing voices.

It reminds him, a little, of Asgard. Starker, sparer, stone-not-gold, but there is something in it nonetheless of glory and splendor, designed to overawe and overwhelm. It is meant to make one feel small.

Loki filters out the decorations, replaces the altar with a throne. On a whim, he spreads an illusion of gold sweeping up the columns, over the ceiling. There is gasping, pointing, shouts - a moment later he lets it fade and slips out, feeling oddly bereft.

He goes to a restaurant down by the water and orders paella. There is an ache in his chest. For some reason, he is thinking of his mother.

That grief still feels unfinished. A piece carved away from him he will never get back. A resolution he will never have. A goodbye he never had the chance to give. When he thought he was dying, Loki reached for her, stretching out his arms, lo, there do I see my mother; lo, she does call to me.

But the circle didn’t close. He rose again, to live on.

Loki feels, suddenly, very far from home. He pays for his food, and leaves it mostly untouched.

**

Your Majesty,

I couldn’t send this directly from Antarctica. Limited post, apparently.

It is very cold here. Jotunheim cold. There is a challenge to go swimming in the water, and when I dove in I changed. It was a disconcerting feeling.

Do you understand why I tried to destroy them? It was because I believed it would destroy that part of myself.

It is easier to say these things in writing than aloud. I am sending this before I can unwrite it. I wonder, sometimes, if you read these at all; if they reach you only to be tossed into the fire. Or if you do read them, scowling, shaking your head.

I miss you. There, I have said it. Make of it what you will.

It is not easy to jump in. Even knowing that the cold won’t hurt him, not really, his body still rebels against him. Still, Loki braces himself, breathes deeply, and dives.

It takes his breath away. For a moment, there is fear - I am going to freeze, I am going to die - and then it washes over him, like shedding his skin. It feels good, it feels suddenly like this is where he belongs, like this cold is a part of him and he is a part of this cold.

He surfaces. He has gone far enough away from the others that his strangeness would not be noticed, leaving an illusion in his place, and he is glad he did it. If his resistance to the cold would cause comment, surely this shape would as well.

For he knows without looking what skin he wears. His stomach turns, nausea rising in his throat. He fights it down.

It doesn’t matter, he thinks. It is just another shape you can wear. It does not determine your destiny.

But he crawls out of the water, back onto the ice, and changes back. It feels strange, suddenly, like his skin is too tight and he doesn’t quite fit inside it. The feeling passes, but it leaves him unsettled and in a sour mood.

The postcard he writes to Thor, back in Rio Grande, is longer than usual, and afterwards he feels raw, exposed, and full of nervous energy. He lies awake most of the night, and when he sleeps dreams fitfully of falling, of Thor prying his fingers loose from Gungnir one at a time.

**

Thor,

I don’t know how to come home.

I need you to meet me halfway.

He boards the boat at Alesund. It has been six months, half a year, and the seasons are turning toward the winter now, but the last gasps of summer still linger. He could still run. There are more places to go, more things to see. But there will always be a tether that pulls him back. Binding him, but holding him back from madness, too.

For a millennium, he and Thor have circled each other, trapped in orbit like Midgard and its sun. Loki tips away, and then back, but never breaking free. But if the sun keeps this planet bound, it also keeps it alive.

Geirangerfjord is as splendid as promised. The mountains tower on either side, breathtaking and beautiful, and the sky is clear and bright. He sees a few seals off the side of the boat, poking their heads up and then vanishing with barely a ripple. Loki’s fear grows steadily, a living thing in his chest. He does not know how Thor will greet him. He does not know if Thor will greet him at all.

Maybe it would be best if we never see each other again.

The ship pulls in at Geiranger. Loki holds back, waiting for everyone else to disembark first. He leaves slowly, like a man walking to his doom, and scans the dock.

Thor is not there, and it is only in that moment that Loki fully realizes how much he needed him to be.

He takes a deep breath and descends anyway, pulling out his phone and idly checking off another destination. He’ll stay the night, he thinks. Just in case.

“Loki,” he hears, and looks up sharply.

There he is, striding down the street. Heads turn around him, looking from him to Thor and back again, and at least some of them will put together the pieces soon, but Loki can barely think of that. His thoughts are swallowed up, utterly blank, and he can only stand frozen, eyes wide as Thor bears down on him with large, energetic strides.

He cannot breathe.

“Loki,” Thor says again, and lunges, dragging him into a hug, crushingly tight. Loki’s nose is pressed against Thor’s shoulder. His lungs constrict and release. He hears Thor take a deep breath and sigh.

How easy it is. How natural, this.

“Come home,” Thor says. His voice is muffled, but it vibrates in his chest, and he does not let go.

Here and now, Loki doesn’t want him to.

“Yes,” Loki says.

[yellowcanna]

Two Sides, Same Coin

Summary: Since the beginning of Quirks, Yokohama has announced independence from Japan and closed itself from the rest of the world.

To this day and age, no one knows what lies within the city of Yokohama—or that was what the public was made to believe. In reality, Yokohama has long fallen into the control of the world’s largest criminal organization known as the Port Mafia.

Follow Class 1-A as their principal organized a field trip to Yokohama! In their short trip there, they must change their perspectives and learn exactly what it means to be justice and what it means to be villains.

Rating: T

Genre: Crossover, hint of shounen-ai (boy love)

Pairing: Contains mild Soukoku (Dazai x Chuuya) and Shin Soukoku (Akutagawa x Atsushi) if you squint

Author: Canna / Yellow Canna

Status: Ongoing

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CHAPTER 6

LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY (DAY 1: SUNDAY)

None of the U.A students knew exactly how it had happened.

After the teachers left, they all went back into their rooms to get ready.

Midoriya, Uraraka, Todoroki, Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari, Yaoyorozu, Asui, Sato, and Aoyama were the fastest ones to finish, as their appearances fit the normal criteria. As for Shouji, all he needed to do was to retract his extra limbs. Iida, Mineta, and Jirou took a bit more time, but their unique characteristics were simple enough to cover.

The rest had to look through the boxes of clothes Kunikida left them, seeing what they could use to mask themselves. The ones who had it worst were undoubtedly Ashido and Hagakure, for the two girls needed to smear foundations on their faces. They didn't know what to feel when they found that the blond-haired man had even prepared make-up in the box of clothes…

After they finished dressing up, the group headed off to begin their first exploration of Yokohama.

However, the moment they stepped out into the busy street, all of them froze. The first thing their eyes laid on wasn’t the people or the shops around them. It was five, sleek buildings dyed in black towering over the city.

“Woah! What’s that?” Kirishima said in awe as he stared at the building that looked completely out of place in contrast to the retro feel this city was giving off.

“Where did those popped out from?!” Sero gapped.

“We must have been driving away from those buildings, that’s why we didn't see it," Yaoyorozu explained, remembering back to the path they were talking. They had been going straight after all, so those buildings had been behind them the entire time?

“Ah!” Uraraka clapped her hands as a thought came to her. “Could those be the government buildings?”

“Gero, it’s possible!” Asui nodded, agreeing with her friend.

“Truly magnificent, they are overseeing the city itself! Look at how each of those buildings faced each part of the city!” Iida praised with stars in his eyes.

“Government buildings?” Midoriya looked over those towers. There was an odd feeling in his heart as he looked at those dark silhouettes. A call of his name snapped him out of thought as he looked down to see his classmates walking off.

Being surrounded by Old Humans was another very interesting experience. It was completely different from just observing from the bus. Just standing there within a crowd of people all having the same characteristic was very…strange.

It was a weird feeling none of them could describe, and it would be a lie to say that they felt comfortable. 

When the girls saw some beautiful kimonos being put on the display window, they wanted to go in and check it out, only to remember how none of them had Yokohama currency. So they continued on their journey, deciding to leave shopping for another day after they got the money.

That was when they came across a library.

The library wouldn't require any money and there won't be any clerks trying to introduce their products to them.  Thinking that perhaps they could find more information on Yokohama—especially Ability—everyone agreed to go in there.

And then it happened…

“…Mineta-kun?”

None of them could react in time. They didn’t know how it even happened.

“Hey, bitch! What did you do?!” Bakugou was the first to jump out as he screamed at the girl.

“Wait, Kacchan!” Midoriya quickly stopped his childhood friend by jumping between him and the girl. That girl…she definitely did something, but what?

What exactly happened that could make a person disappear within a blink of an eye without alarming any of them? Midoriya could only think of one—no, there was only this one possibility, but to think they’ll meet one so soon?

“Ah?! That disgusting pervert was looking up my dress and you got the nerve to question me?!” The girl said through gritted teeth.

“You’re an Ability user.” Todoroki calmly spoke out the thought that was going through everyone’s head.

“So what if I am?” The girl’s eyes narrowed as she slowly looked through each of them.

“We’re very sorry!” Midoriya hurriedly apologized with a bow. After all, they can’t make a scene, especially after Kunikida specifically told them not to use their Quirks. Without Quirks, how could they stand up to the girl whose power was still unknown to them? And for all they know, she could be an ordinary civilian!

“Hey, Deku! What are you doing apologizing to that bitch?!” Bakugou roared behind him.

Iida also thought of the same thing as Midoriya and stepped up as well. “Mineta-kun didn’t mean it! He was just—”

“Didn’t mean it?!” That was apparently the wrong thing to say.

The girl whipped around and pointed at the old ladder leaning against the bookshelf. “I was standing on that ladder trying to reach that book and he was standing right under me looking up and drooling!”

“Stupid Mineta!” Hagakure crushed her scream into a hush whine like many others. Though as much as they all wanted to shout at Mineta right now, they have to get him back first.

“Uh…I could get that book for you?” Sero tried helpfully.

“Who asked you?!” The girl exploded as Sero instantly raised his hands and backed away. Jesus, this girl’s temper was as bad as Bakugou!

“Then what can we do to have you give him back to us?” Jirou hastily cut in before the situation could worsen.

“You want him back so much?” The girl smirked as the air around her suddenly changed. The anger she was displaying on her face was gone in a blink of an eye, replaced by abnormal calmness. The sudden change in her was unnerving and had all the students unconsciously raised their guards against this one girl who couldn’t be that much older than them.

“How about you tell me who the hell are you and what do you want from me?” The girl spoke in an icy tone.

“W-what do you mean?” Yaoyorozu swallowed as her heart pounded. It can’t be that they’ve been found out already?

“Do you think I’m stupid? You’ve been following me for the past half an hour and into this book shop.”

“Hah?!” Ashido exclaimed, nearly exposing her face as she clumsily grabbed her scarf and pulled it up. Unfortunately, her gesture only made the girl’s eyes narrow.

“Why would we follow you?!” Kaminari shouted. “We don’t even know you!”

“Hold up! This is all a misunderstanding!” Kirishima tried to convince her.

“We just came in here because we wanted to look at some books!” Uraraka added. “We weren’t following you! Really!”

“Yeah, we’re not anyone suspicious!” Hagakure frantically said.

“No matter how I look at it you’re the most suspicious one.” The girl deadpanned as she glared at Hagakure who was currently the very definition of suspicious. “You’re Ability users, aren’t you?”

“Huh?!”

Of all things the girl might accuse them of, they were not expecting this.

“Why would you think we’re Ability users?” Yaoyorozu carefully questioned. She needed to approach this carefully. The girl's temper was short and currently, none of them has any idea what happened to Mineta. Without knowing anything, they can’t protect themselves if the girl suddenly uses her power on them.

“Don’t try to avoid my question. I’m going to ask you one last time.” The girl’s face twisted into the perfect balance of annoyance and anger. “Who. Are. You?”

It was at this moment that the gravity of the situation finally hit them.

This girl was an Ability user—an Old Human with powers that they know nothing about. What’s more, the murder bleeding from her eyes was real. Having all experienced Villains first hand, all of them could tell that this girl wasn’t just a normal civilian. She was someone who could kill them without blinking an eye.

It was at this moment that they truly began fearing for Mineta’s safety.

“Yeah, we’re Ability users, what’s it to you?” Bakugou’s sudden declaration made his classmates looked to him in surprise.

Midoriya almost stumbled when Bakugou shoved him to the side. With his hands tucked in his pocket, his childhood friend began walking up to the girl.

“Bakugou-kun?!” Iida looked at the explosive boy as if he had lost it.

“Wait, Iida-kun!” Midoriya gasped, carefully standing behind Iida’s larger frame and gave a small tug on his shirt to stop him.

Iida paused in his step, but sensing that Midoriya didn’t want to draw the girl’s attention, he didn’t look back.

At the same time, Todoroki also discreetly positioned himself before his other classmates, using his body as a barrier to stop them from doing anything. The entire time, his eyes were on Bakugou who was getting closer and closer to the girl.

“You look so weak I wouldn’t even peg you for an Ability user!” Bakugou taunted as a vein on the girl’s head throbbed. “I don’t see why those bastards wanted us to bring you in!”

All of the students stared at Bakugou with a mixture of confusion and disbelieve. But even so, none of them stepped up to do anything, because they knew Bakugou must have something in mind—especially when he began talking nonsense.

“That’s right!” Kirishima joined in. Although he has no idea what’s going on, he was going to support Bakugou. “Let’s just hurry and just bring her in!”

“What did you say?” The girl glowered at Bakugou who now stopped right in front of her.

Midoriya swallowed. That’s right, this was the best chance they got right now.

From what he had analyzed, to be able to make Mineta disappear without even so much as moving could only mean that this girl’s power was something similar to teleportation. The girl must have moved Mineta to somewhere and confined him.

In other words, if they could also get the girl to use her Ability on them, then they will find Mineta.

“What a moron.” The girl snorted, the anger on her face lessened as she gave Bakugou a condescending look. This sudden change took them all off by surprise. "Whichever organization you're from, they must be desperate. I didn’t think armatures like you would exist in Yokohama.”

“What did you say?” Bagkuou gritted his teeth as he glared down the girl who didn’t even flinch.

“You want to taunt me into using my Ability and let you reunite with your friend, right?”

“Eh?! Was that right?!” Hagakure gasped as she looked at Bakugou. If they were capable of seeing her face, it must be one of pure shock right now.

…And then, their surroundings suddenly changed.

There was no warning at all. To Midoriya, it only felt like he had blinked and all of the sudden, the scene before him became foreign. He blinked a couple of times, staring at the magenta sky over his head before to the checkered floor he stood upon. It took a full five seconds before his brain reacted as chill crawled down his spine.

“…Eh?” Sero blinked as he did a double-take at the sudden change in their environment. 

“What the heck?!” Kirishima frantically looked around.

“What is this?” Uraraka whispered as she stared at the gigantic blocks, presents, ribbons, and balloons decorating the place. There was even a table and tea set. It was as if they arrived in a gigantic dollhouse or something.

“Hey bitch, where did you bring us?!” Bakugou snapped at the girl who was sitting on top of a stack of blocks, looking down upon them like tiny ants.

“This is my Kingdom.” The girl replied as she stood up with her hands laced behind her back. “Welcome to Anne’s chamber.”

“Could this be…Ability?!” Midoriya’s eyes dilated as he took in this space. Was this is an Ability? If so, then does that mean this girl’s power was to manifest an entire dimension and pull people in? Can something like that even exist?

“An Ability? But that’s…!” Yaoyorozu looked around in disbelieve.

“Impossible! There’s no way—” Iida couldn’t believe it as well.

"No, it's possible," Todoroki said as he carefully observed his surroundings, refusing to let go even the smallest bit of details. After all, Abilities aren’t Quirks. These are powers they’ve never heard of, it was only natural the effect would be something out of their knowledge as well.

Bakugou was putting on a confident smirk, but the droplet of sweat rolling down the side of his face betrayed what he was actually feeling.  

How could one person have the power to tear apart space and create a new one? Just who in the world was this girl?

“G-guys! Look at this!” Hearing Ashido’s shout, everyone turned to see Ashido standing by a white door. The door was designed elegantly, like those ancient western doors the kids remembered seeing in oversea movies. Despite its beauty, it was an odd place for a door to be, considering how there was nothing but the sky behind it.

“Come over here! Quick!”

“What is it?” Hagakure ran over, looking out the window on the door only to yelp in surprise.

One after another the students gathered by the doorway. When they peered out the window, they saw the library they were in just seconds ago. But that wasn’t what shocked them. The library has huge window panels, and through the glass, they were able to see the street and people beyond.

Everything—the car, the people, the birds in the sky—they were all frozen.

“Time…stopped?” Midoriya whispered in disbelieve.

“What is going on?! First, we're in a weird place that’s not even real and now the time stopped?!” Kaminari furiously scratched his head, unable to wrap his head around any of this nonsense.

“Hey! I thought this was the sky but it’s just a wall!” Sero’s scream had everyone looking over to see that their classmate got a hand against the eerie sky. To them, it looked like the boy was just hovering his palm in midair, but when they stretched out their hands, they were soon met with an obstacle. It was as if there was an invisible wall there, preventing them from going further.

Midoriya gasped as he looked around the rails surrounding this place, noticing how it was forming a square. This wasn’t a floating platform like he had originally thought.

This was a room, with the sky being the wallpaper!

They were trapped in a room.

Uraraka reached out, about to grab the door handle when the Ability user’s voice came from behind them.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

They all turned to see the girl standing up from on top of those blocks.

“That door will take you back to the real world.”

Real-world—Midoriya committed those keywords into memory. He needed to hurry and figure out just what this girl’s power was.

“But once you go through that door, you will lose all memories of what happened in this space, including your little friend there.” She smirked, left hand resting on her hip while the other jabbing a thumb over her shoulder to another door on the other side of the room.

That door was like the polar opposite of the white door. It was the same western-themed door, except it was black. Also, the wall around the door looked like normal walls made out of ordinary bricks instead of the reddish-pink sky.

“Mineta-kun?!”

They all rushed for the other door. When nearing the girl, they were all wary, but the redhead just watched them as they passed by. Once they arrived safely without meeting any obstacles, they peered through the window and saw their lost classmate Mineta.

“Gero! Mineta-chan!”

“It is Mineta!”

“Mineta-kun!”

“What’s up with that creepy room?!”

Shouts resonated through the space as everyone called out to Mineta who was separated from them by a metallic door. The room behind the door got no walls, no ceiling, it didn’t even have floors! It was just pitched darkness with wooden hands stretching out of the abyss, gripping onto Mineta and suspending him in midair.

The boy’s eyes were wide with his eyeballs completely rolled to the back of his head. White foams were slowly flowing down from his open mouth, disappearing into the shadows beneath. Mineta was out cold, and by the looks, he had fainted from some sort of shock.

“I can’t open! It’s locked!” Iida gritted as he pulled the door’s handle with all his might.

“Move!” Bagkuou snapped impatiently. Tiny sparks dancing on his palm were the only warning before a strong, but carefully controlled explosion blasted against the door.

“Hey, Bakugou!” Kirishima gasped.

“Bakugou-kun!” Iida shouted. “Have you forgotten—”

“Shut up and use your brains, moron! Right now we’re trapped in that woman’s fucking power, you know what it means, don’t you?” Bakugou smirked widely despite his fingers twitching at the irritation of how the girl had insulted him before doing exactly what they wanted.

The woman had brought them in here to taunt them, but she just dug her own grave.

This space isolated from the rest of the world meant no one else but them are in this space and knows what happened here.

In other words, they can activate their Quirks without the fear of being found out!

Fortunately, the smarter students caught on fairly fast, though the dumber ones still looked rather clueless.

“Try as much as you like, but it won’t work!” A snide remark reminded them that the girl was still there, enjoying their futile attempt to save their friend. “The only way to open that door is with the key.”

The students looked down and indeed saw a keyhole on the door.

"Give us the key," Bakugou demanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The girl didn’t look pleased by Bakugou’s attitude, but she snapped her finger as a golden key appeared, hovering in front of her.

“Here you go.” The girl waved her hand at the key. She smirked when no one made a move to take it. “What’s wrong? You wanted the key, didn’t you?”

Something was up. They all knew the girl wouldn’t give them the key so easily. Why would she pull them into this place otherwise?

“I’ll do it.” Iida stepped forward.

“Dude, this is obviously a trap!” Kirishima warned.

"Don't worry, if anything happens I can run," Iida muttered just low enough so the girl wouldn’t overhear as he began to approach her.

One step….two steps…three steps…

Twenty-seventh step.

Iida stood in front of the key and the girl. He watched the redhead carefully as he slowly reached out his hand before he felt Goosebumps crawling over his skin.

What was this feeling?

It was as if he was being watched, but it wasn’t the girl. He had kept his eyes on her the entire time! He didn’t see her do anything, so what—

“IIDA-KUN!”

Urgent cries of his name snapped him out as the engine in his legs roared. With breakneck speed, he darted to the right, aiming to get away from the girl.

However…

“Too slow.”

Iida only saw shadow covering his eyes before what felt like walls slammed into him from both sides, completely immobilizing him.

“IIDA-KUN!” Midoriya, as well as many others, rushed forward towards Iida the instant they saw that…that thing materialized out of nowhere.

BAM

The black door that wouldn’t open no matter how hard they tried now slammed open on its own.

“KYAAAA!” Koda’s high pitched scream was what made them risk glancing away from Iida, looking behind just in time to see Koda—engulfed by wooden hands—got dragged back into the darkness.

“Koda-kun!”

“Gero!” Asui croaked as she—who was second last in the group and closest to the doorway—got caught by those hands as well.

“Tsuyu-chan!” Uraraka shouted as she jumped back and grabbed her friend’s ankle just as Asui was being pulled back. Like snakes swarming into prey, wooden hands snaked around her boy, gripping onto her limbs to immobilize her with another hand grabbing her by the throat, causing her to choke.

“Uraraka-chan! Tsuyu-chan!” Midoriya shouted, digging his heel into the floor as he sharply changed direction—only to be met face to face with Iida.

The green-haired boy's face twisted between horror and shock as he stared at the class president who was being tightly squeezed between a pair of giant wooden hands. And right there, hovering in front of him was an ugly doll with hair similar to the Ability user girl.

“Midoriya!” Seeing how their target had disappeared, Todoroki spun around to find Midoriya coming face to face with that weird floating doll. However, his attention was soon grabbed by the screams coming from the far back.

Stomping his left foot down, a pillar of ice shot across the room and towards the endless hands coming out from behind the door. To his shock, his ice barely held those hands stilled for three seconds before it shattered, leaving behind no damages to those wooden hands as they reeled in Asui and Uraraka.

At the same time, Midoriya had leaped up, first thrusting towards the doll’s face as he screamed, “Let him go!”

The loud sound of impact practically shook the room.

But…that was all. Just the sound that indicated the amount of strength he had used.

Midoriya stared in horror at that doll whose face didn’t even have the slightest bit of scratch.

How?

Even if he held back in fear of Iida getting caught up, he still used quite a bit of his strength. So how?

“Get away! Don’t worry about me, Midoriya!" Iida managed to choke out before smaller wooden hands grabbed onto him. The doll let go and instantly Iida was pulled towards the door. Being pulled along were Ashido, who was screaming as she kept releasing acid over the hands, but her acid only rolled off them like harmless water.

“I got you!” Sero shot out his tape, wrapping it around Iida’s ankle as Sato grabbed Sero’s tape and pulled with everything he got.

From another, Kirishima and Kaminari were grabbing onto Ashido’s hands as they tried to pull her free.

Tokoyami was using his dark shadow, desperately fending off the hands while protecting Hagakure who was hastily peeling off the layers of clothing on her body.

Shouji had grabbed onto Jirou, running from the hands with Jirou constantly trying to counter the hands with high-frequency sound, but that too was useless.

Forgetting that he had a trench coat on, Ojiro tried to flick out his tail only to be restricted by the large coat. This moment of delay led to his swift capture along with Aoyama who was screaming at the creepy hands grabbing him.

“Think, there must be some way!” Yaoyorozu told herself repeatedly.

With her Quirk, she could easily conjure a metal cuff over where the area where the hand grabbed her. By enlarging the cuff, she could easily slip out of those hands’ grasps, but if this continues she will reach her limitation very soon. She has to think of something before that happens. There must be a way for them to escape this place!

“Everyone!” Midoriya gasped, deciding to ignore the doll for now as he ran to save them. That was the biggest mistake. Midoriya had been way too confident with his speed. With Full Cowl enhancing all of his body’s physic, he hadn’t considered the fact that the doll would still be faster than him, given how when the doll went after Iida it was still at a speed he could follow with his bare eyes.

Midoriya was halfway across the room when the doll just appeared in front of him as if it had teleported. The green-haired youth tried to dodge, but he was too slow. He could only manage to free his right arms just before the doll’s hand came down on him, holding him within its iron grip.

“SMASH!” He roared, this time putting his all as his fist slam down into the hand gripping onto him. The sound of impact was deafening as the force of his punch created a blast of wind throughout the room.

The result was the same as before. Midoriya couldn’t believe his eyes as he looked down at the perfectly undamaged wooden hand. How was this possible?!

“BASTARD!” Bakugou roared, evading the hands trying to snatch him from midair and with a blast of explosions, he shot down like a rocket. He was aware of Midoriya’s predicament. Pretty much everyone was after the boy made a ruckus like that. But Bakugou’s priority at the moment was the save the others first, as they were the ones in danger of being locked away. 

It was fortunate that whatever that disgusting doll was, it was preoccupied with Midoriya. He held out his hands, about to blast those wooden creeps into charcoals when a strong force slammed into him from behind.

“Kacchan!”

“Bakugou!”

Midoriya’s and Todoroki’s shout sounded distant as Bakugou’s eyes spun from the impact. His head felt faint, there was even a weird ringing in his ears as the air was forcefully knocked out of his lungs. When Bakugou looked up, he came face to face with that disturbing doll. Its large hands were holding him so tightly that he couldn’t even budge an inch.

“The fuck?!” Bakugou painfully twisted his neck, managing to get a glimpse behind him to see that Midoriya was still being held by the same doll.

“Two dolls?!” Midoriya was equally as shocked as he stared at an identical doll gripping onto Bakugou.

“Damn it!” Bakugou growled as explosions began to go off from beneath the doll’s hands. At first, Bakugou had assumed with these explosions, even if the doll refused to let go he would still be able to blast its fingers off. It was wood, after all, and wood’s weak against fire. However, as time passed and explosions were repeatedly fired, the doll’s hand was perfectly fine without any hint of damages.

That was when realization dawned on Bakugou.

That this monster was immune to his attacks! No, no just his…perhaps this thing is immune to all of their attacks. But how the fuck was that possible? It didn’t make any sense!

On the ground, Todoroki was captured as well. He had been skidding across the rooms, sending blasts after blasts of ice at the hands coming at him to stop them momentarily. He had already found out how fire does nothing to these wooden hands. As he ran, he also used his ice in an attempt to slow down all the other hands, to buy his classmates some time.

In the end, he too was captured. He froze his left his foot firmly against the floor, stopping the pull of his hands as he let his continuously flow at the hands, doing whatever he could to stop them.

On the sideline watching the ruthless battle, the red-haired girl who was seemingly forgotten by the entire class watched the battle unfold. Instead of looking pleased or happy that she was winning, the girl had a really deep frown on her face. Her brows were furrowed as green eyes scanned over these kids.

A boy had…tapes for arms…

Fire and ice…

Explosions…

Sound…

Enhanced physic…

Aside from the elemental and explosion that are somewhat mediocre, what kind of useless Abilities were the rest of those?! Actually, were those even Abilities? She has never seen anything so pathetic in all of her life, and that was a lot considering how useless her own Ability was.

“…!”

Sensing something approaching her, the red-haired girl speedily jumped to the side, just as she felt something flew right past her, creating light wind brushing against her cheeks. And then…that invisible attack came with a weird sound effect…

“Hiyaaa!”

The girl took half a second to get over her surprise before instantly reacting. With a spin, she thrust her leg out and felt her foot sinking into something that weirdly felt like the flesh of a human.

“Geeeh!” The thing was only able to grunt out this much before wooden hands wrapped around it and immobilized it.

The red-haired girl stared at the wooden hands gripping onto her invisible attacker. The wheels were slowly turning in her head as she noticed a pile of clothes discarded in the corner of the room.

The girl’s turquoise eyes widened as something she neglected to consider hit her.

“Quirk?!”

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

“Seriously,” The red-haired girl—whose names was Lucy—slammed down a mug of matcha latte in front of Midoriya. “If you just told me right off the beginning I wouldn’t have to go through all that trouble!”

“S-sorry…” Midoriya muttered meekly. He wrapped his hands around the warm mug and took a shy sip.

Lucy crossed her arm, letting out a huff as she looked over the quiet group of kids filling the small pastry shop. All the tables in the shop had to be pushed together just to fit all of them in. There was a dejected atmosphere around them—so much that Lucy didn’t feel like lecturing them anymore.

“Well…I suppose I’m at fault as well, so let’s just called it even.” She sighed before her eyes sharpened and glared daggers towards a particular boy with balls as head huddled in the corner. “Be grateful I didn’t lock that thing with Anne for the rest of the week!”

Ever since getting out, Mineta hadn’t spoken at all. He just curled up in the corner, hugging his knees close to his chest with his eyes practically budging out as he mumbled a string of incoherent words. No one dared to ask the boy just what in the world happened during their short time of separation, so they all just let him be.

"We're very sorry about his behaviour!” Iida—the ever so responsible class president—immediately shot out of the chair and bowed a perfect ninety-degree to the girl. "We’ll be sure to give him a stern talking after!”

“We’re sorry!” Yaoyorozu—the vice-president, followed as well.

With the two representatives setting an example, the rest of the students hurriedly followed—all but Bakugou who was fuming as he stabbed at his pancakes.

“L-Lucy-san!” Midoriya spoke up hesitantly. “About what happened back there…about our Quirks…”

“Ah?” Lucy looked over to the timid boy—who hadn’t looked so timid before when facing Anne. It wasn’t hard for her to understand what he’s asking.

“Don’t worry,” She said flatly. “I don’t make it a habit to blabber. What goes on here isn’t any of my business.”

“Thank you so much!” Uraraka let out a breath of relieve.

“Thank you, gero!”

“Yes! Thank you!”

“Thank you, Lucy-san!”

“Enough with the thanks.” Lucy snapped impatiently. The girl didn’t seem like she was used to having so many people thanking her. She walked behind the counter and began piling different kinds of cookies onto a plate.

“So uh…Lucy-san, is this café yours?” Uraraka asked as she looked around the cute décor of the store.

"No, I just work part-time here," Lucy stated flatly.

"Then is it okay for us to be here?" Hagakure wondered worriedly. After all, the moment Lucy brought them in, she had locked the door and closed all the blinds, making it impossible for anyone to see what’s going on inside the shop.

“The shop was closed for the day anyways.” Lucy set the plate in the middle of the table, earning a round of thanks. “And you’re all paying, so why would I have a problem with it?”

The redhead then went back to the counter, returning with a cup of steaming tea and a large Daifuku, cleanly cut in half to reveal the red bean and the deliciously ripe strawberry inside. She set it in front of Todoroki, taking the boy by surprise.

“I didn’t order this.” He told her.

“It’s on the house.” Lucy gave Todoroki a look before she grabbed a rag and began wiping the counter.

“What?!” Kaminari’s jaw dropped at the unfair treatment. “Is it the face?! Is that it?!”

“Yo! The pretty boy got charms!" Sero teased, though the person being teased had no idea what that meant.

To the corner of the room, Mineta’s mumbling got a tad louder, though no one but Jirou notice as she gave him a weird look.

Bakugou grumbled from the end of the table as he shoved another piece of pancake into his mouth.

The other students may not have seen it, but Todoroki did.

Although the girl’s eyes were seemingly meeting his, the half-fire half-ice Quirk holder felt her gaze lingering on his burnt scar. He almost touched his scar out of reflex but caught himself in time as his hand paused halfway. Changing the direction of his hand, he reached out, gently picking up the wooden fork and stabbing it into the soft Daifuku.

“Thank you.” Although he wasn’t sure what the girl's action meant, she gave him free food, so he must thank her. Lucy just kept on cleaning, showing no acknowledgment that she had heard him.

"Lucy-san," Yaoyorozu called. When Lucy just continued with her work without even lifting her head, the raven-haired girl realized that she was listening and waiting for her to continue. “Your Ability is really amazing. I’m wondering if all Ability users are as strong as yourself?”

“My Ability’s amazing?” That made Lucy paused. With her back turned to them, none of them could see what expression she was making.

“Yeah, it was super awesome!” Kirishima shouted in excitement. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“To make a whole new dimension like that is unreal!” Kirishima added.

“And you can even stop time!” Hagakure added.

“Your dolls were really strong as well! None of us could even damage it and there were two of them! Does that mean you got more of them?!" Midoriya greedily asked, wanting as much information as he could get with stars in his eyes.

The redhead straightened, dropping the rag before she turned around to face them. All of their praises died on their tongue when they saw the deathly stoic look on the girl’s face.

"There's nothing amazing about my Ability." She finally said, turquoise eyes tainted by a mixture of anger, sadness, and jealousy. “I envy you kids. I bet your Quirks are considered top-notched in your world.”

“How can that be?!” Iida looked offended that Lucy was selling herself out so short. "I've never even imagined a power like yours could exist in this world! With a power like that amazing, you could—!”

“Abilities aren’t the same as Quirks!” Lucy cut him off angrily.

Silence filled the room as everyone stared, shocked by her outburst.

“For you to be able to say something like that must mean I’m the first Ability user you’ve come across, huh?”

The students nodded mutely, not daring to speak, fearing it might anger the girl even more. Lucy almost wanted to laugh at how carefully they were behaving. She stared at those naïve and clean gazes—something that doesn’t exist in her world.

This was why she hated those outsiders.

“How did you guys even get to Yokohama?” She finally asked the question that’s been bothering her the entire time. At first, she thought these kids might have secretly snuck into Yokohama, but now that she thought about it, with their weak powers and low brain cells, they wouldn’t even be able to get in let alone survive a second within Yokohama.

"We're here on a field trip," Jirou answered.

“Field trip?” Lucy blinked. That was not what she had expected. 

“We’re from U.A High School. Er…it’s a school for Heroes.” Ojiro explained.

“I know what U.A High School is.” Lucy retorted. She looked around the kids before her eyes landed on a certain explosive boy. “…I thought you looked familiar! Weren’t you that brat that got kidnapped by those Villains?”

“AH?!” Bakugou hollered, the fork in his hand bending from the force he was applying.

The rest of the class tensed up, ready to jump on Bakugou the moment the boy loses control and jumps out to scream in the girl's face. After all, this topic was a sore spot for Bakugou, and for people to constantly bring it up to his face like this…they wouldn't be surprised if Bakugou literally explodes in rage.

To their surprise and relief, Bakugou just gritted his teeth and kept his bottom glued to the chair. His body was body shaking in rage but he just continued to stab his pancakes with his mutilated fork.

“W-we’ll pay for that!” Midoriya hurriedly said to Lucy whose brow had twitched when the boy had ruined the fork.

“Wait, how did you know about that?” Iida gasped once he reacted to what the girl had said. “With Bakugou and…”

“TV of course.” Lucy arched a brow as she pointed to the flat-screen television hung on the wall.

“TV?!” The group shouted.

“So? You’re telling me the Port Mafia let you in because of a field trip?” Lucy asked, having no interest in explaining to these kids how television works.

“Uh…yes.” Uraraka nodded, still trying to get over the fact that there are televisions in Yokohama possibly broadcasting news from the outside world.

Lucy almost wanted to retort and tell them how it’s impossible, but when she saw those honest gazes staring at her, she felt every single hair in her body standing up unpleasantly.

“You’re kidding me.” She muttered.

These kids were serious.

These Quirk holders—Heroes-in-training—came to the city of Ability users—a city filled with criminals—with zero knowledge of what they’re in for?! Are they stupid?! 

“Is something wrong?” Midoriya looked at the girl in concern, feeling that something wasn’t right.

“Is something wrong? Are you idiots?!” Lucy looked at them in disbelief. “You should consider yourselves lucky you’re still alive!”

“W-what do you mean?” Hagakure asked.

“Since you outsiders just arrived, you wouldn’t know, but the underground is a mess right now!”

“By underground do you mean the Port Mafia?” Tokoyami asked.

“Did you really think the only criminal organization in this place is Port Mafia?” Lucy huffed. “Seriously, you guys don’t’ know anything and you still dared to come in here?”

The students couldn’t say anything back to that. They knew coming in here was dangerous, but after everything they saw, they sort of just brushed the danger aside despite knowing that this place was controlled by the Port Mafia.

“There are two worlds in Yokohama.” She stretched out a hand, gesturing to the blinds protecting them from the views of the outside.

“Ordinary people,” She then brought her outstretched hand and gestured to herself. “And Ability users. Ordinary people know the existence of Ability users, but that's it. Unless it’s those who have ties with the underworld, Ability users never interfere with them.”

"What do you mean they don't interfere?" Iida frowned, not understanding what she meant. After all, they lived in the same city, how could they not interact with one another? “Wouldn’t there be Ability users using their powers for evil?”

“There’s no good or evil in battles with Ability users.” Lucy scoffed. “Don’t put us on the same level as those Villains of yours.”

“But evil is evil and good is good.” Asui pointed out. “There’s always a difference, gero.”

“Oh?” Lucy looked down on them like looking at some five years old. “Then what’s evil?”

“Like robbing a bank!” Ashido shouted, eager to bring up the first example. After all, bank robberies were extremely common in their world. It was one of the most frequent crimes. "If you have so many Quirkless—I mean, ordinary people, wouldn’t it be easy to rob a bank?”

“And?” Lucy didn’t look impressed as she put her hands on her hips. “Why would anyone rob a bank?”

"Uh…because they want money," Kirishima replied as if it’s the most obvious thing.

“Why?”

“Get rich of course.” The lightning boy gave the girl a weird look. Why she was asking such obvious things?

“Ability users have no interest in such materialistic things as only getting rich," Lucy replied. “If they do want money, they get it through their own powers, not something as petty as robbing a bank. Do you really think robbing a bank would give you that much money? There’s no Ability user anywhere in the world that would do something so stupid. You brats live in an easy world. You’re all pampered the moment you’re born, that’s why you have Villains going after something so pointless.”

Midoriya’s eyes widened at Lucy’s use of words.

Ability user anywhere in the world—he was certain that was what she had said.

“Lucy-san.” Midoriya didn’t know why it never occurred to him before. Her name and looks were obviously not Japanese. Yokohama has been sealed for centuries—even if there were foreigners at that time, it was unthinkable that there would still be any left after so many years. “Where did you come from?”

That grabbed the rest of the class's attention as they looked at Lucy with a mixture of confusion and shock.

"America," Lucy replied easily, not even going to hide the fact that she was not from Yokohama.

“Wait, you’re American?!” Kirishima gasped.

“There are Old Humans and Ability users in America?!” Uraraka shouted in surprise.

“…Who knows?” Lucy wondered as well. “As far as I know, we’re the last ones in America.”

“Did something happen?” Yaoyorozu was hesitant to ask, fearing she might have asked something improper.

“No, our populations declined, that’s all.” Lucy sighed. “There are still some organizations surviving in other countries with strong Ability users holding the organizations together, but sooner or later they’ll be wiped out through time. Not all of us were able to preserve an entire city like Yokohama, it’s only natural we’ll slowly die out.”

“If population is a problem…why not just live in the open?” Yaoyorozu asked. “I’m sure the governments of any country will be glad to have you!”

"…Are you serious?" Lucy's eyes were dilated as she stared intensely at the ponytailed girl. "Do you even know what you people will do to us when we reveal ourselves in the outside world?!”

Lucy didn’t give Yaoyorozu the chance to respond. She just continued on.

“I’ll tell you what! We’ll be captured, experimented on and those with Ability will be used by your governments as tools!”

“We wouldn’t do that!” Iida immediately argued.

Lucy laughed. “Are you stupid or are you just ignorant of how the world works? You’re all what, sixteen? Are you seriously telling me that you don’t think your government will try to capture an alien species if they suddenly appeared within their arm’s reach?

“Alien?” Ashido looked at Lucy weirdly. “What alien?”

“It’s a metaphor.” Lucy deadpanned. “I’m saying that to your people, we might as well be aliens—although it’s you people who are the aliens.”

“What are you talking about?” Kirishima asked, unable to follow her words at all.

“You kids kept calling us Old Humans. Did you seriously think after so many years, we're still the same species?"

"Lucy-san…could it be that you know how Quirk came to be?" At Uraraka’s question, everyone looked at Lucy with surprise in their eyes. After all, this was humanity's biggest mystery of all time. Through years, there were only speculations, but no scientists have ever confirmed the truth behind the appearance of Quirks.

"It's not some secret," Lucy replied.

“Then can you tell us?!” Uraraka pleaded.

“Yes, we want to know too!” Yaoyorzu nodded frantically. 

It was a virus brought into earth by a meteor," Lucy explained. “A meteor entered the earth’s atmosphere, but it dissolved into pieces from the force so the people at the times didn’t think much about it. In truth, that meteor was carrying a weird type of virus from outer space. When the meteor dissolved, the virus quickly spread throughout the earth’s atmosphere and became the air people breathed. I’m sure you can imagine what happened after breathing in these viruses for five continuous years. In those five years’ time, the virus spread through the body and that was what sparked the first change in humans and caused them to develop mutations.”

The students listened with their jaws hitting the floor. Outer world virus?! That was where Quirk came from?

"Wait, so we've been breathing in these viruses our entire life?!" Kaminari shouted in horror.

"They don't exist anymore," Lucy told him. "The viruses disappeared eighty-six after its appearance—presumably absorbed by your ancestors. The outside air right now isn't much different than in here...save for some pollution issues.”

“So…what happened?” Uraraka couldn’t help but wanted to know. What exactly had happened in the past that separated people like Lucy from the rest of the world?

“You can’t count on the governments to do much," Lucy said mockingly. It was clear she harboured no love for the governments. “The only ones that acted were different Organizations scattered around the world in the underground. Whatever those viruses were, they got no effect on Ability users. Being the only ones still able to maintain order and with Ability users that have immunity, each organization separated themselves from the rest of the world. Some created a literal underground world while others sealed themselves within a barrier like Yokohama.”

“But wouldn’t you still breathe in the air, gero? You said it took five years before the mutation fully started, correct?” Asui asked.

“They developed a vaccine," Lucy replied. "I don't know which country's organization developed it first, but one of them created a vaccine to counter the virus within a year after Quirk began to appear. In early stages, while the virus still hasn't taken root, it was still possible to kill it and revert humans back to normal. For a price, that organization sold the formula to other organizations. That’s why we’re still able to keep our genes clean from the invasion of viruses.”

“Wait, but if those people had the cure, why didn’t they give it to the government?” Iida furrowed his brows in disapproval. “Wouldn’t that save the world from falling apart?”

“Hah?” Lucy looked at the glassed boy as if he was stupid. “Why would they do that?”

“What do you mean why?” Iida whispered. “For the sake of the world, of course!”

Lucy almost laughed at that dumb remark. No, actually, she did laugh. It was a sarcastic laugh as she looked at Iida as if looking at a moron.

“For the sake of the world.” She parroted. “Here’s something to keep in mind while you’re here. Whether it is Ability users of the past or now, we don’t care about the world.”

She leaned close to Iida, towering over him and making him shrink back as maniac rolled off her body.

“Before the appearance of Quirks, Ability users were dangerous and deemed by the public as threats. I just said the underground. Do you think organizations with Ability users were lawful ones? If I was in your world I’d be branded as criminal as well.”

“Did you do something bad, Lucy-san?” Hagakure swallowed hard as she looked at Lucy.

“When we came to Yokohama, we also tried to burn this entire city to the ground," Lucy said so casually that no one would think there was anything wrong with her sentences until the words registered into their brains.

“WHAT?!”

“To be precise, the one who wanted to burn down Yokohama was my old boss.” Lucy clarified. “Well, lots of things happened. Right now I’m just another resident in Yokohama.”

“Y-you tried to murder an entire city?!” Aoyama was hysterical. No one could blame him though, as they were all reeling from shock.

“W-wait! If you’re some sort of terrorist…shouldn’t you be arrested?” Kaminari gapped.

Lucy arched a brow at how the boy called her a terrorist. That was a new one. “I got their citizenship.”

“That’s not what I meant—they gave you citizenship after you tried to burn their city?!”

“That was in the past. Besides, it wasn’t like the plan succeeded. The Port Mafia shut us down before we can get there. So anyways, do you understand now?” Lucy dismissed the panicking kids, not interested in talking about the past.

“After so many years, the virus has merged with your DNA, creating completely new ones different from real humans. It’s only our appearance that looked similar, but we’re already two separate species. We had been since hundreds of years ago after the virus took root. Do you ever wonder why Abilities doesn’t exist in the outside world? Like Quirk that never manifest on Ability users, Ability will never manifest on Quirk holder. It doesn’t matter if they are Quirkless, because Ability only occurs in humans."

The kids fell silent after hearing the end of the story.

 Sure, they were shocked at the origin of Quirks, but they were listening with the mindset of hearing just an old story—a truth that no one in the outside world has discovered yet. The thought of being aliens never occurred to any of them or affected them in any way.

Perhaps it just hadn't fully sunk in yet, as the story sounded too surreal and distant for them to link it to themselves.

“Can we ask…uh…how did the Port Mafia…?” Yaoyorozu began hesitantly. The moment the girl mentioned the Port Mafia, that had become the center of their attention. After all, this was a valuable chance for them to know the enemy.   

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Lucy picked up her rag and began cleaning again. “We were completely crushed, that’s all. As far as I know, only me and three other people survived—the rest were all killed. Though the other girl that was close to my old boss believed he was still alive and went off looking for him.”

To say the kids were more shocked by how she so casually talked about her comrades’ deaths than knowing the origin of Quirk was an understatement. How could she act as if she was just talking about the weather? She didn’t even show the slightest bit of remorse, anger or sadness over their deaths.

“Do you hate the Port Mafia?” Uraraka whispered softly.

“No.” Lucy still had that not-my-problem tone. “It was our loss. That’s how things work in the world. There’s no point in resenting over anything. The loser dies and the winner lives.”

Her attitude and tone sent a chill down all the kids’ backs. How could she say this? What exactly did she go through to make her say something like that as if it was completely natural?

“Besides,” Lucy continued, “it wasn’t like we ever had a chance of winning. From the beginning to end, everything was in the palm of that person’s hand.”

“That person?” Tokoyami spoke for the first in a long time.

"The boss of Port Mafia," Lucy replied.

“Did you meet them? The boss of Port Mafia?” Midoriya wore a serious expression as he stared at Lucy. The shyness he had when he first sat down in the shop was all gone by now.

“Never mind the boss, we never even saw any of his executives.” Lucy snorted as if mocking herself from that time. “Not a single one of them appeared when we invaded Yokohama. He only sent out his successors and their underlings to deal with us. From the very beginning, we were used by the Port Mafia boss to train his successors.”

“Successors?”

The kids looked around one another.

“That’s why I said you guys got here at a bad time.” Lucy turned to them with a solemn look in those turquoise eyes. “The Port Mafia boss announced that he will choose the next boss of Port Mafia by the end of this week. There are two successors. The last to stand will become the next to lead Port Mafia. After that announcement, everyone in Port Mafia started choosing sides. The underground is also a mess right now with various organizations plotting to use this chance to overthrow the Port Mafia. A war is coming.”

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[risingduskanddawn]

Just a Nightmare

DuskDawnAU

Alternate Title: When the edgy, megalomaniac aunt comes to visit

Story below the cut.

Since ancient Equestria, mothers told tales of the evil Mare in the Moon; Nightmare Moon coming to haunt their childrens' dreams if they were ever disobedient over bedtimes. Most fillies and colts believed the tale, while the more daring ones attempted to tempt fate by staying up for as long as their young, tired bodies allowed them to.

Things were no different at Canterlot Castle, where two young princesses were told the same old tale by one of their nannies, if not by Empress Celestia herself, however reluctantly. For a first-time mother with little to none experience, the trick was helpful to get her children to bed, as much as it stings her lonely heart to do so. Princesses Sunset and Twilight would scramble to bed almost immediately at the mere mention of the name of the feared mare.

It worked, until the girls stopped believing that going to bed on time would grant them protection.

For nothing could protect them from the guardian of dreams herself.

While her embodiment was locked away, trapped on the moon - her spirit roams free, waiting for the right moment to make herself known. Princess Sunset Shimmer - heir to the sun and first-born daughter of Empress Celestia, dreamt of darkness during one fateful night.

On the longest day of the thousandth year, the stars will aid in her escape, and she will bring about nighttime eternal.

The prophecy echoed in her dreams. It continued to do so for several days - until she saw her; a dark coated mare with an ethereal mane so magical it flowed by itself, floating midair in a place scarce of wind. She emerged from the darkness, with a look so gentle in her eyes that the filly would have given her a warm greeting if it weren't for the spine-chilling surroundings. The strange mare loomed over her, so tall that she could almost surpass her own mother in height.

"Shh young one. I mean no harm." The mare cooed at the sight of the little princess's shaking figure. "For I could not cause harm in the dream realm."

This mare is an alicorn. Sunset had never met an alicorn other than Empress Celestia and Princess Cadance, and from that experience, they are plenty powerful. If she wanted to, this mare could burn her to ashes. Should she be afraid? Is this mare dangerous?

"I sense you have questions, young one." The mare spoke again, a slight edge to her voice as she silently struggled to maintain her form.

Her curiousity defeating her perception for caution, Sunset nodded. "..W-who-.." She gulped, taking note of the dark mare's muzzle lowering itself to match her height.

"Who am I, young one?" She questioned delicately. The little filly nodded again, trying her best to not appear too eager. A little information is always a golden opportunity in any circumstance.

"I am but a myth." She cooed again, folding and unfolding her wings as if proving to Sunset that she is real. "You may know me as Nightmare Moon, as I have been rumored to haunt dreams, and some have claimed for my sihouette to be visible on the surface of my prison; the moon."

"A-are you..? A rumor?"

A smile. For a split second, Sunset could see malice haunting the ancient mare's features before it immediately shifted to a far kinder look - a look one would see on an overbearing grandmother. "Tell me, young one. Do you believe I am such? Could your dainty, youthful mind possibly conjure such a magnificent being such as I?"

"I.. guess not. Usually I just dream of being on a walk with my mom, spending time with my sister or learning some ultra cool magic stuff... Oh, sometimes I dream about becoming the next Emp-" At the stranger's look of detest, Sunset ended her rambling and lowered her gaze, ashamed and fearful.

"Do you know why I chose to visit you tonight, young one?"

"Are you.. r-real? I thought you're just a dream."

"That I am not." The mare exhaled patiently, recognizing the amount of patience conversing with the filly is going to take.

"O-oh..." The little princess backed a few steps as she realized how close the mare had gotten to her. Unfortunately, it only took a small stretch of the neck for the older alicorn's muzzle to remain only a few inches away from her own. There is no escape. "Why are you here?" Sunset braved herself enough to ask.

"Why am I here? Better question is, my child; why are you here?"

"Huh?"

"I am Nightmare Moon, the figment of power I was denied. I was borne from desire; a desire to rule, to gain power, to be loved - the presence of whom deserving to be relished by many throughout the generations." Her eyes glowed white, so bright that it illuminated her dark face. She forced her facade into Sunset's vision, her pupils narrowing into slits as she did so - the light so hypnotizing that the filly was unable to look away. "I would not have been able to enter your dreams tonight, Sunset Shimmer - if you do not have that in your heart as well."

"I... no!" The filly screamed, pulling away from the contact. "My momma taught me to be good! To be a good princess, a good sister!"

"But your sister outshines you in so many ways, does she not?" Nightmare Moon pushed on, her voice now back to the soft coo she held upon her initial appearance. "You could be so much better, you could be loved so much more. You could be admired-"

"No! I'm happy where I am." Sunset contradicted. "I have so many things to be grateful for. I can't ask for more!"

"That is what your precious mommy told you, is it not?" However impatiently, the gentle, reassuring coo is not lost in her voice. Nightmare Moon attempted a strained smile despite the annoyance she felt. "My dear Sunset. There is so much more you could get out of life. So much more that you deserve."

"I... I..."

"Wouldn't you just love to sparkle much, much more than your sister? Wouldn't you love to just loathe her?"

"I love Twi-why. She's my sister! I could never hate her!"

"Not even for your fair share of love from a mother?" The mare's pupils had returned to its original shape, though the discomfort it created earlier remained.

"Momma loves us equally. She said so." Tears had started to form in the filly's eyes. Nightmare Moon smiled at the sight of the princess's misery.

"My dear," Nightmare Moon pressed, "A mother lies."

That is when Sunset stopped listening, stopped caring, stopped bothering to even try and understand the nightmare she is experiencing. Is her heart really that selfish? She is far too young to have such thoughts. Her mother raised her to be good. Her mother told her she is good. Could it all just be a false truth, all for her to be misled to a path her mother had so ambitiously carved for her, further away from her destiny?

"Alas child, you are about to return to the waking world. I shall not be able to remain here any longer." She heard Nightmare Moon's voice echo into the void. Her sight had become so blurred from the tears, all she could see is endless darkness.

"Please stop leaving sweets in my wake. It is a mockery to be offered such pleasant offerings, but not be able to satisfy my taste-buds with such luxury."

Then there is silence. All Sunset Shimmer could hear is her own thoughts; thoughts so intruding it plagued her mind and body; causing her to shiver non-stop, not allowing the river of tears to end. She didn't realize when her consciousness had returned to the mortal world, or if it even did. She didn't feel her sister shaking her quivering body, didn't react when she ran out of their bedroom in a panic. She isn't aware of anything, until a soft warm glow brought her back to full consciousness.

Her mother's face illuminated her view, and her cries of horror immediately dissipated into cries of relief. She clung to the Empress like a lifeboat, refusing to let go. This is reality, and she didn't want to lose it.

"M-mom- Momma... Th-there was t-this mare...-"

"Shh, my love. It was just a nightmare."

A nightmare. Nothing more.

[kashimos-hajime]

Rumour Has It (2)

A/N: Here we go! The long awaited part two of Rumour Has It! Thank you so much for the support!

Masterlist and Taglist are in my bio!

Summary: You didn’t come to university to get picked up by some lacrosse jock but when Peter Kavinsky offers a chance to prove unflattering rumours wrong… well, you never were someone to back down from a challenge.

Characters: Peter Kavinsky

Wordcount: 2.6k

Rating: T (swearing, as always)

“Yo! Medusa!” As you slide your laptop into your bag, you raise your head to see none other than Peter Kavinsky with his friends. Sighing, you zip up your laptop and grab your notebooks to slide into the second zipper space. As usual, he’s wearing his trademark smirk paired with jeans and a jacket. If he wants your attention, he’s gonna have to come and get it because from where you are, you can hear his friends snickering and that isn’t shit you want to deal with. Ever.

“Do you need me to beat him up?” a girl asks from behind. You don’t know her name (it starts with a C, you think) but you know that she’s always reliable for any missed notes and assignments. Turning around, you shake your head with a smile. “Because I can. My sister is a personal trainer for like navy seals and quarterbacks and shit. I could get something together.” Her disgusted scowl directed at Peter Kavinsky makes you glad that someone’s on your side just in case.

“No, but thanks.” Sparing a glance at the jock, you see him getting tousled by his friends and let out a snort. “You know Peter Kavinsky?”

“Know? He’s basically shoved down our throats in the dorms. I swear, some girls have fucking posters of his face.” The girl lets out a whisper-scream at the thought, making a face.

“Admittedly disgusting,” you agree with a chuckle. Packing the last of your things, you take out your phone and check the time. 5:17.

“What’s he even doing calling out to you? He’s never bothered someone who sits in a front row before,” she continues and you shrug.

“I allowed him to call me Medusa,” you inform, defeated, and C (which is what you call her whenever you think about her) raises an eyebrow.

“You and Peter Kavinsky talked?”

“It’s shameful, I know,” you snort sarcastically and she cracks a smile.

“Medusa!”

“What, Peter Kavinsky?” you bark at last and he falters for a moment. His friends nudge him in farewell and leave as you sling your backpack on. C rolls her eyes and you send her a smile.

“I’ll see you Thursday.”

“Yeah, see you.” Heading over to the jock, you flick a hand. “Come along, Peter Kavinsky. We have to get going.” Heading out the lecture hall, you exit the building with him in tow as you walk the path back towards your dorm. His friends are nowhere in site. “How’d you get your lackeys to leave?”

“They’re my friends and they left because I asked them to.” His offended tone has no effect as you see your dorm building. “Why’re you so rude, anyways?”

“Why be nice to people who don’t deserve it?” you shoot back, swiping your card to get in. Opening the door, you’re surprised when Peter Kavinsky takes the weight and holds it open. Sending him a narrowed look, you enter and head for the elevator.

“Have my friends offended you in some way?” asks the jock and you let out a disbelieving scoff. “Did they bully you?” You don’t answer as you jab the 4 on the columns of buttons. He takes your silence as a yes. What are you gonna say? That one of his friends happens to be some stupid twat from high school who you used to date? “What for?”

“You realize that everyone has a reason to be bullied, right?” Yours used to be how gullible you were. God, you were part of the cheer squad. You were one of those girls who were deemed popular and were snotty about it.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” he had said weeks after you two broken up. He had a new girlfriend then, the head of the cheer squad. What a dumbass. Clenching your jaw, you exit the elevator with Peter Kavinsky close on your tail.

“Yeah, but they’re my friends. I want us to get along.” Whipping around, you stop.

“Why? Because we’re friends?”

“Well, yeah.” A conflicted expression passes over his face and he frowns as you laugh. “We aren’t? Then, why am I here?”

“You invited yourself over. I’m not stopping you is all.” Grimly, you turn around and stop before your door. Unlocking it, you let him in first before closing the door and locking it. Unzipping your boots, you kick them off before walking in. Lucky for you, you have a single room to yourself but it’s still cramp as hell. Sitting down at your desk, you hear Peter mumble at what a mess it is.

“Have something to say?” you ask, turning on your swivel chair. He pauses mid step and smiles.

“Nope. It’s a perfect swamp.” Your arch an eyebrow at his reply. He collapses on the giant beanbag in the corner, grimacing when he reaches below his butt and pulls out a book. Setting it down by his feet, he glances up at you through his eyelashes and you shake your head when he catches you staring.

“I prefer lair.” Crossing one leg over the other, you tilt your head at him. Pressing your lips together, you survey what he’s doing. Currently surfing social media or something on his phone, he’s made himself perfectly at home. You had really expected him to leave already and have some alone time. “If you get hungry for dinner, you can leave.”

“Nah, don’t eat early.” Surprised, you turn to your notes and begin to pick up where you left off last night. Well, you suppose you don’t mind as long as he’s quiet.

“Me neither,” you say and you think you can feel his stare on your neck. Carefully, you turn your head to sneak a glance at him and you find your suspicions correct. When he’s caught, he simply smiles and resumes scrolling on his phone. Taking out your phone from your bag you had thrown onto your bed, you plug it into your charger. You take out your textbook as well and pull out your pencil case before beginning to scribble in notes.

“It was Pollock, wasn’t it?” asks Peter Kavinsky after a full hour of silence. You start. You’d forgotten he was here, so silent he was. “Jason Pollock?” Sucking in a breath, you debate on what to say.

“Who said it was?”

“I scrolled through your Instagram.” Raising your head slowly, you jerk your gaze towards him. He has one earbud in his ear, the other being rolled between his thumb and index finger. “I found a really old post, from like years back.”

“Oh, so you’re stalking me,” you snort sarcastically and he frowns deeply. You know you’re giving him more attitude than he deserves but you never wanted anyone to find that out about you. You’re better than that now.

“We follow each other. You - you followed me first,” he mumbles and you widen your eyes. Grabbing your phone, you whip out Instagram and click on your Following and search up his name.

ptkavinsky Peter Kavinsky

You really are following him. Clicking on his profile, you scroll through his pictures and realize you’ve even liked some of them as he continues to talk.

Peter Kavinsky UVC | #18 | Turned to stone 🗿

Your eyebrows knit together at his bio. You never noticed that before.

“Anyways, your first post…” He trails off and you turn around, leaning back into your chair. “In the comments. I didn’t mean to pry, I just wanted to know you better and I found it. I didn’t know you were a cheerleader.”

“Yeah, well, it isn’t something I’m proud of,” you growl, twisting to slam your textbook shut and getting up. You shove your backpack off your bed and lie down, head resting on your interlaced fingers as he stares at you, waiting for you to explain. “I dated Jason Pollock, so what?” He gets up and sits on the chair at your desk so he’s closer. His second earbud has fallen out and he unplugs the jack, stuffing them in his jacket’s pockets. His knee keeps jiggling and you can see it out of your peripheral as you continue to stare up at your ceiling.

“So, you were one of those popular cheerleader chicks.” 

You know exactly what post he got that information from. It’s the squad photo and you have the caption blazing in your head because it was so chic at the time.

yourinstagramname: SQUAD goals. Here we come provincials!

Groaning, you pinch the bridge of your nose. So stupid.

“I was,” you confirm, turning your head to look at him, and he has a soft smile on his face. It kinda puts you off because all you’ve ever seen is a huge smile that digs into his cheeks, that classic smirk, and even that half-smile he sometimes sends to girls you’ve worked with before.

You never thought Peter Kavinsky could look so… tender. Your heart squeezes at this new side of him.

But eventually, that soft smile paired with those chocolate curls and molten brown eyes has you questioning both your ethics and why he’s staring at you. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just I can’t imagine you as a cheerleader.”

“Oh, I’m full of surprises.”

“And you’re not the face I imagined when Jason told me the reason why he doesn’t date anymore.” Shock freezes your blood and you have your jaw hanging off your face, mouth unable to work. Trying to form words, you fail spectacularly. He chuckles. “He’s - he mentioned this girl he used to date in high school. He said she’s the reason why he doesn’t have a girlfriend anymore, and I thought that girl must’ve been a bitch to break his heart so badly.”

Jason Douchebag Pollock had no right to tell lies like that.

“Oh, I broke his heart,” you drawl sarcastically, sitting up and glaring at Peter Kavinsky. “Right, you tell him that his poor little broken heart--” You pretend to pout-- “that he got what he fucking deserved.” Trying to keep your voice level, you flop back down and find the anger you had stuffed so far down from years ago to resurface like a magnificent, snarling beast.

“You know what?” he starts, causing you to look at him again. He has an easy smile as he sits down beside you. Scooting over reluctantly, you push yourself up by your hands and lean back onto them as he shows you his screen.

He’s on the Following page of his own Insta profile and you furrow your brow when you see his thumb hovering over the Following button next to one name.

jzpol J A S O N P O L L O C K

“He’s cancelled.” With two taps, one to request, and one to confirm, Peter Kavinsky no longer follows Jason Pollock. Surprised, your mouth drops open as his eyes crinkle. He’s smiling that smile again and it unnerves you so much you look away.

“Why’d you do that?” you mutter, scooting forward and getting off the bed. He stares after you, absolutely bewildered. Instead of touched, you look vaguely offended. In reality, you don’t understand what you’re feeling. You hate the thought that he really did something so passive aggressive. By midnight, you’re sure you’ll hear gossip about some fight between Kavinsky and Pollock. Why else would Peter Kavinsky unfollow Jason Pollock?

“What do you mean? You don’t like him, so I unfollowed him.”

“He’s your friend.”

“He was an ass to you,” exclaims Peter. You open your small closet and grab the first jacket you see, the camo that’s too big for you, and shrug it on. Rolling up the sleeves, you search for your combat boots. “He’s always been an ass and I shoulda stopped him when he started calling you Medusa but I didn’t because I didn’t know you. But I knew him and I trusted his judgement. I didn’t know you guys were a thing.” Turning around, you frown at his words. “Now that I know you better, I feel like I have formed my own opinion--” You let out a sharp ‘hah’ at his choice of words. How funny of him to use your own words-- “and have therefore acted on it.”

Still, one piece of info burns and melts the ice in your veins. “He started the Medusa thing?” Disbelief clear on your face, you grab your boots and collapse on the beanbag, pulling the left one on. Like Pollock had any reason to make your life even worse. God, so you have him to thank for making you known on campus. Great. “You know name-calling isn’t exactly a good thing no matter the circumstances.”

“He was my first friend here,” he says. “Not that it excuses anything. I just thought it wasn’t my place.”

“It’s always your place to call out someone’s bullshit,” you comment bitterly, tying your boot tightly. Sitting up, you pin him down with a stone-inducing glare. “You know what? Why do you believe me, anyways? How do you know I’m not just making it up that Pollock screwed me over?”

“Because you’re honest.” Tossing him an unimpressed look, you allow him to continue. He seems to have the sense to realize you don’t want to talk about Pollock anymore and diverts the flow of conversation to the very reason why he’s even here. “You were right. We aren’t friends - we’re just two people who agreed to a challenge. So I get to be honest with you, and you get to be honest with me. Deal?”

“Deal.” Like you aren’t already honest with everyone you’ve ever met. You shove your foot into your right boot before starting to lace it up.

“To complete this challenge, I think we have to know what rumours we have to prove wrong. So, what are the rumours about me?”

“What, are we playing Truth?” you ask sardonically, finishing up your last boot and standing up. He gets up and shoves his feet into his sneakers before grabbing his bag.

“Yep. We each get a turn,” he says as you grab your keys and your card to get into the dorm building. Grabbing a small leather backpack, you stuff your wallet and a portable battery inside and sling it on while your other hand pockets your phone. He doesn’t even ask where you’re going and you don’t question why he follows as you two exit your room. “After I go, you go.”

“Okay, fine.” Searching your mind, you pull the threads of gossip you heard in passing and try to summarize it in a brief sentence. “They say you’re a tease, a flirt, that you can’t hold down a serious relationship with a woman for whatever reason and still for some inconceivable reason, girls still fling themselves at you.” He juts out his bottom lip, mulling your words over before nodding.

“Fair. Those are the rumours that we have to break, then,” he says with a glance at you. Your answer is a nod and a one-shouldered shrug.  Then, an idea pops in your head.

“If I asked if you wanted to eat dinner with me, would you? You know, if girls heard you ate a platonic dinner with a girl and that you have friends of the female gender, then maybe they’ll realize that you, A, don’t have commitment issues, and B, are an actual human being behind all that flirting and shit,” you explain slowly, trying not to get his hopes up that this is a date. It is not. So you clarify this to him. “This is not a date. I am putting boundaries down. I have drawn them with a extra-thick Sharpie, in bold black, between us and if you cross that boundary, I will immediately block you from my life.” He blinks and then that stupid soft smile appears again.

“Girl, you had me at ‘eat dinner with me’ and ‘platonic dinner’.” Rolling your eyes, you press the elevator button. “You basically said we were friends,” he added triumphantly. Again, you over-exaggeratedly roll your eyes. “I can drive us. Where’re we going?”

“Does Chipotle sound good to you?”

“Sounds perfect.”

TAGS: @teawithbucky @shadowsndaisies @jcc04220 @uhltrons @goldenariana @http-natiii @yourwonderbelle @poseidons-lil-bitch @beyond-the-ashes @fallen-imagine-angel @dontstopxx @always-fletcher

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Folklore Friday

Here it is! The conclusion of the Puss in Boots adaptation! It went longer than expected, I originally thought it was going to be a one-shot.

In the castle on the hill there lived the Filthy Great Ogre. (He did not, as the name might suggest, have any particular aversion to bathing, although his table habits were indeed atrocious. “Filthy Great” was merely a polite -- as ogres go -- combination of a title and an honorific to indicate that the ogre was of some noticeable status. The problem was that the Filthy Great Ogre had not come by his title through any sort of proper channels, and had rather bestowed it upon himself on a whim and then ceased paying taxes.)

“But wait,” one might interject, “Don’t ogres live in swamps?”

Some do, of course, but it would be silly to assume that all ogres live in swamps merely because of a few well-documented individuals. And in fact, an ogre might just as well ask “But wait, don’t humans live in villages?” if faced with a castle or a city or a cottage in the woods. Disregarding even that, it is a very foolish thing anyhow to tell an ogre where he may or may not live.

And yet the cat was intending to do exactly that.

Getting into the castle was no more difficult than infiltrating the king’s palace had been, and soon enough the cat was prowling the halls. He found the Filthy Great Ogre in his bedchamber, picking his teeth with an unpleasantly unidentifiable bone. Now, the cat was never one for going into a situation without the advantage, and he had gathered as much information on the ogre as he could from the peasants on his way up. As it happened, this particular ogre possessed some natural skill with magic. Instead of using it to prosper his lands or fix up his castle or give himself something to wear other than ill-fitting satin and taffeta, he used it to transform himself into animals. Which is a perfectly valid use of magic, and often very practical, especially if one wishes to do some spying. But the Filthy Great Ogre really only used it as a party trick, usually right before eating the party.

Upon noticing the cat, who had not been taking any great pains to hide himself, the ogre worked up a very unpleasant belch and sat up.

“You,” he said, “Are quite lucky you’re a cat, or I might eat you.”

“Don’t you eat cats, then?” asked the cat.

“Oh I never eat an animal I can turn into,” answered the Filthy Great Ogre, “It’s a professional courtesy.”

“Have you never turned into a human, then?” the cat pressed.

The Filthy Great Ogre squinted at the cat and frowned. “Now why would I want to do that?”

That cat supposed that was a fair answer and he shrugged. Then, with a sweeping bow and an elegant twirl of his hat, the cat began to spin some wild tale about having traveled from far away to see if the rumors of the Filthy Great Ogre’s immense powers were true. The ogre was flattered, and quickly revealed to the cat by his reactions that he was not the sort of castle-dwelling ogre that comes with any particular modicum of common sense. After all, if a traveler comes to one’s door and says they have come from far away to see whether rumors of one’s talents or looks are true, the proper thing to do is wonder just what sorts of stories are circulating and to be wary of the stranger. Particularly if their accents suggests that they have only come from one county over.

But evidently none of this occurred to the Filthy Great Ogre. He demurely agreed to demonstrate -- which, in its truest sense, would have meant that he was being meek and humble, but this is the Filthy Great Ogre, and he was nothing of the sort, thereby rendering “demurely” a somewhat facetious adverb in this case -- and left his chair with some difficulty. But that was his own fault for wearing starched taffeta pantaloons, wasn’t it?  

“For my first trick,” the ogre announced, and then he transformed himself into a lion and roared.

This would have been frightening enough on his own, but the lion was also wearing starched taffeta pantaloons. The cat, who -- despite not wearing pantaloons of any sort himself -- thought he was quite the expert on fashion, found this just as terrifying as the deafening roar.

“Truly,” he said, “The legends did not exaggerate your magnificence!”

And any time someone makes a remark of this nature, that is usually an indication that one is about to be tricked, or robbed, or set upon by vengeful dwarves. But as previously mentioned, the Filthy Great Ogre was not possessed of enough common sense to understand that there was more to the well-dressed feline than base flattery.

“I wonder,” said the cat, who now had an excellent idea that did not involve the tedious use of claws, “What is the largest thing that you can transform into? Can you become a dragon?”

“Someday, I’m certain,” answered the lion, “But I have not seen one in person yet, which does sort of make getting the proportions right a little tricky.”

“Oh!” The cat was now very interested, plots aside. “How fascinating! So then, what is the largest animal you’ve seen?”

“Observe,” said the Filthy Great Ogre, and he twisted and turned until he had become a bear in a silk vest and starched taffeta pantaloons. This time, the clothing sort of detracted from what ought to have been a very intimidating spectacle.

Cajoling and questioning by turns, the cat convinced the ogre to change several more times. When he asked for something stubborn, the ogre became a bull. When he asked for something beautiful, the ogre became a warthog. Which is perfectly fair, because beauty is fairly subjective. However, when the cat asked whether the ogre might change into a bird, he was presented with a large and somewhat aggressive goose. Though he lacked common sense, the ogre was not stupid: he wasn’t going to change into the kind of thing that he knew cats hunted.

“Oh I am in awe, simply in awe!” The cat applauded, which made hardly any noise at all with his soft little paws, but the gesture was nonetheless appreciated. “I wonder if- no, nevermind, that’s foolish.”

“What is?” asked the ogre, who was beginning to forget himself in his desire to show off.

“No, no, pay no attention to me,” the cat demurred, “I shouldn’t like to inconvenience you with something that may be too difficult.”

Feeling a little insulted, the ogre demanded to know just what, precisely, the cat was talking about. There was no animal that he could not turn into, provided he’d seen it at least once! When he said as much, rather sullenly, the cat bowed again and spoke in a soothing voice.

“I meant no offense, of course,” he lied through his whiskers, “I just thought perhaps changing into something very small might not be part of your powers.”

Of course, now his honor had to be upheld. At first, the Filthy Great Ogre considered changing into a mouse, Then he decided that this would not do at all. What if his fancy little flatterer should become hungry and forget himself in favor of his instincts? Better to avoid rodents entirely, he decided, and so he scoffed proudly and transformed into a little ant in badly-fitting clothes.

The ant promptly met a swift and brutal moral about the dangers of listening to flatterers in the shape of a boot heel.

The cat then made his way through the castle, warning every servant he could find that they would meet their master’s fate if they did not do precisely as he commanded. Which meant that the place underwent a very rapid cleaning in a very short amount of time while the cat coached the servants on the story they were to tell any guests.

No more than two hours later, the carriage of the king, Princess Elsie, and poor, confused Tobias arrived. Having heard from everyone they passed that these were the lands of the Marquis of Carabas, the king was very curious to see where his young guest lived. Tobias, meanwhile, found himself in the position of presenting a bland and pleasant face to the king and eldest princess while screaming very loudly on the inside of his head.

“It may be a bit out of sorts,” Tobias said hastily, trying to think of what the cat might say in this situation, “I’ve only just come into the area to stay. We haven’t even set up payment of taxes yet!”

“Oh!” said the king, “You know, I’d wondered. Well well, moving is always a hassle. I’d be happy to help you get things started.”

Tobias was only too quick to agree, if for no other reason than he hadn’t the slightest idea how a nobleman paid his taxes. Neither had he any idea what was going to be waiting in that castle, or where the cat was. This led to the formation of a backup plan in which he would wait until the king and princess were distracted should the castle be a trap, then leap out of the carriage and run for his life. He could probably join a traveling circus after that, if he needed to earn money.

As it turned out, there was no need to join the circus after all. The cat greeted them at the gates, now wearing a silk vest so large that he had belted it and was wearing it like a tunic.

“Ah, welcome, welcome!” he purred, “Do excuse my running ahead, I had to make sure the servants had unpacked enough tableware for guests.”

Princess Elsie stepped gracefully out of the carriage and turned to offer Tobias a hand down. “Careful,” she warned with a smile, “Papa’s shoes are a bit large for you. It wouldn’t do to trip.”

“No, I don’t suppose it would,” Tobias agreed.

Dinner was a slightly awkward, but fairly informal affair, and though the king did make an offhand remark about the castle smelling of troll, he seemed to think that the “Marquis” had made a good real estate decision. When he and Elsie were saying their farewells, he made a statement about the Marquis joining them at court some time to get to know the royal family better. Elsie seemed very approving of this idea, but Tobias looked mildly panicked.

“That would be delightful, your majesty,” the cat interjected, “I’m sure the Marquis will gladly join you all as soon as his affairs are in order.”

“Of course, of course,” said the king indulgently, “Must finish the moving-in, mustn’t we?”

Once the royalty had left, everyone save the cat let out a sigh of relief, grateful that they no longer had to pretend to have known this new tenant for years. The relief was short-lived, as they quickly realized that the cat intended the charade to continue.

“We live here now,” the cat announced grandly, “So do us a favor and help poor Toby here learn some royal manners? Anyway, you needn’t worry about being eaten, at least.”

And it did take some several months, but Tobias did eventually learn enough to fake his way through court manners. “Do as I do,” the cat had told him, “Pretend you know what you’re doing and be prepared to make a swift exit through the nearest window if you’re caught.”

“Humans don’t always land on their feet, cat,” said Tobias.

“That sounds like a “you” problem,” said the cat.

And, with taxes finally being paid to repair the roads, and tenants no longer having to worry about premature and gruesome ends courtesy of the landlord, life soon settled into something more routine. And even if it could not be realistically said that they were always happy, for there is always trouble somewhere in life, they all lived contentedly enough ever after.

The End

[ol-razzle-dazazzle]

Rattus Rattus- Chapter 2: Rats With Wings

Here we are again! Thank you all to my fellow Fyogol shippers, it’s nice getting awesome comments, and I really appreciate it- even if I haven’t had much time to respond to things! I’ve been a bit stressed, but here’s the next chapter. 

The next one I’m going to be honest might take a while- as I have two exams in 3-4 days. It might take a week, it might take two. Probably just a week, since I’ve already written half of the other chapter- in which we will be introduced to Pushkin (and hopefully you’ll actually enjoy his character and not feel cheated)! After these initial chapters, things will start to pick up and become more interesting, so keep a watch out ;3c As for those wondering where Ivan will come into the story, he’ll come much later- after school and we will all suffer

Trigger warnings aren’t really needed for this chapter: just more catholic shenanigaggles, also Fyodor has misophonia (I personally hc him as autistic like myself)

Class went rather well, barring Fyodor accidentally picking up Myskin by the tail because he thought it was a pencil. There was a somewhat looming sense of dread, when the teacher glanced at him- and whether it was because he had heard about the rat fiasco or because he was a new student, the attention and requests to recite English was frustrating.

He hadn't even ended up going to his dormitory, let alone pack or unpack his stuff or look around the place (despite that being his own fault). Granted, Fyodor didn't bring too much- just a heap of books, school supplies, and food for Myskin that was disguised to his family as taking a strange craving for seeds and fruit. Irregardless, his family gave him some money that he could spoil through the weeks- and he hopes the nurse is nice and manipulable enough to get potential free lollies like he promised Nikolai.

The class bell rang again and Fyodor then decides to swear to memorise the timetable because he flinches every time the wretched alarm rings. He has no clue where the chapel is let alone how to get there, so he stands outside the classroom Nikolai entered. 

"Ah! Fedya!" Nikolai calls, waving. "Lovely of you to join me." He looks around, peering into Fyodor's bag. "And the magnificent Myskin." He pats the rat. 

As the two walk, Nikolai filled in as much information of the place as he knew. Curfew is at 9:30, but extends 15 minutes each year- older students also have privilege of leaving to explore the town more frequently, but for their current year, visits are once every three weeks. Saturdays are free days, with the addition of any services or clubs students wish to partake in- and Sundays have an 8AM chapel service, which continues for an hour, as well as one at 8PM.

"And dorms?" 

"I'm not sure…I think they're mixed with years, two to four to a room." Nikolai thinks, "Well, generally speaking- I won't be in mine very often."

"How come?"

"Well, thing is…" Nikolai scrunches his face. "I'm here on a 'scholarship' of sorts. So, I'd mainly reside in my own room because 'asceticism'."

"That sounds rather stupid." Fyodor replies.

"…It is." Nikolai shrugs. "But I need to maintain the church as well."

"But we're going there to do just that." Fyodor frowns. "I'm not sure how I am supposed to sleep surrounded by people."

Nikolai sighs, "Well, we have to manage anyway. I'm as disgruntled about this as you are."

"Stop dragging your feet, you two." The teacher folds her arms, "For now you'll be cleaning the balcony with the bell tower." She hands them a broom, spray, mop and dustpan. "As for the rat, you're lucky it must've scuttled into the forest- as it hasn't been sighted."

Fyodor heaves a sigh. 

"Also, while I do not have the time to oversee your detention, I will check the job is satisfactory in two hours." 

Fyodor glances to the side, hoping for an incredulous 'Two hours?!'- but found none. 

"Thank you." A smile instead.

However, the moment the doors closed and they clamoured up the stairs, a loud groan came from the other boy as he shut the door. "Two hours?! Seriously?"

A little late on schedule, but lovely nonetheless. 

"It'll take us an hour to clean the thing!" Nikolai sighs, leaning against the wall, staring around him. While the tower was somewhat shabby and didn't have much room- due to the enormous bell and sets of pulleys, it was a nice view outside.

"Just…please don't ring it." Fyodor winces, finally he is face to face with his arch-nemesis- the bell that had tormented him thrice. 

"Oh yeah- you don't like the noise." Nikolai peers over at the bell, "It's going to ring twice, automated- but there's a clock on the wall so I'll let you know…are you sensitive to loud noises all the time?"

Fyodor scrunches his face a little, not wanting to admit it. "…Maybe." 

"Ah- I was just wondering because I know I can get a little loud."

"No!" Fyodor's surprised at his sudden response, "No, it's fine. I like your voice."

"Well, first time I've ever heard that!" Nikolai laughs, and it's a laugh that's far more superior to any bell. "Alright, let's get this done so we can spend the spare time lazing around."

"Hm, okay…" Fyodor examines the copious heavy tools. "I'll coat the bell with the spray, and you can sweep."

"Sure- but I wanna clean the balcony, and you can mop and polish." 

"How come? The balcony would be the hardest part- she probably wants you to scrape the bird-"

"Eh, just a part of being a bird lover. I mean, you probably deal with it regarding Myskin."

"Myskin is very sophisticated and I am, in fact, training him to use a litter box or a disposable container." Fyodor frowns, "Also, I'm a bit worried he'll get nervous and jump from this height…" He zips open his bag, and inside it the mouse sleeps. "Well, either that or get awoken with the bells." He zips it back, "Poor thing has had enough trouble as it is."

Speaking of which…this would be a good chance to talk to Nikolai about…that.

"We'll sneak a snack for him and us when we go to nurse after this, your treat, right?" Nikolai smiles, getting the broom and dustpan, sweeping. "But after we get dismissed, come on now. Also don't talk while your head is inside the bell, back when I was in Ukraine I've hit my head wayyy too many times."

"Ukraine?" Fyodor raises an eyebrow. 

"Also check the ropes to see if they're frayed or not." Nikolai interjects quickly, "Geez- there's so much dust here."

"Why did you come-"

"Come on Fedya! Ring ring ring! Sweep sweep sweep, clean clean clean!" He hums for a little while in this manner, and Fyodor resigns with a sigh, getting the spray and cloths.

The iron was surprisingly both hard and easy to clean- easy when there weren't blemishes or bird excrement, but difficult otherwise. Fyodor was not exactly known for 'elbow grease', and often resulted in 'ngh's and 'hah's and all matter of exerted effort. 

"Is it really that hard?" Nikolai whistles, collecting the corners. 

"Oh shush- you got the easy job." Fyodor rolls his eyes, moving to the corner to clean around the rim. "I'm sorry I'm not as tough as most people- but my strength lies in mental fortitu- AH!" 

He fall backwards onto the floor, flinching at air and invisible strands. "…It seems that churches are also a haven for spiders." 

"What were you saying?" Nikolai grins, "Also, I haven't swept that part yet- move over here."

"Oh shush. Besides, I'm working harder than you are- you've been humming along and I've already cleaned that part.

"Not really, there's a whole layer in the middle and top that needs to be done- as well as the underside." Nikolai points out.

"I know that- I'm working my way up." Fyodor looks away, and continues cleaning the other side, brushing away the cobwebs. 

"Hmm…you don't need to be so defensive." Nikolai shrugs, "Besides, you'll have a growth spurt soon enough."

"Kolya, if you do not shut up I will make sure you drink this whole spray bottle." 

And of course, as if the thunder of God himself decided to add more effect, the bell rang loudly.

Said effect was Fyodor once again fell as he was startled, bringing his hands to his ears and dropping the bottle. 

"…I was right on the nose." Nikolai shudders for comedic effect, "You're scary, Fedyaaa."

He picks the bottle up and helps Fyodor. "…Thanks." At least he can clean the inside now.

"Just, please, don't fall now. I won't be able to catch you."

"You didn't catch me the first time." Fyodor murmurs, trying to make short work of the job- and by the time he was finished Nikolai had cleared the place of most dust and insects. 

"Okay, now for the top part- you're going to need a ladder. I can hold it for you-"

"Nah, you can do it." Fyodor hands the spray and cloth over. "I'll hold the ladder." 

"You aren't going to let me fall because I teased you a bit, are you?"

Fyodor just smiles, as he brings the ladder.

"…That's horrifying."

"It's fine right- you have the weird relocation thingy."

"…" Nikolai silently climbs up the bell tower, glancing to see if Fyodor was supporting it before he cleaned around it. 

"You know I will have to inevitably ask or pry it out of you." Fyodor helps him down. "As I respect you, you will have the choice." 

He's pretty serious when he needs to be, huh. "Well…okay- fine. We'll take a short break. It's fair enough." Nikolai takes off his blazer. 

"So…?" Fyodor sits up on the wall, tapping next to him for Nikolai to sit. 

"Well, okay- this is pretty weird but…some people have gifts. Like supernatural powers. I don't really know why, but one day- I was sleeping, and I must've put my hand in my other sleeve, because when I woke up- BAM!" He flutters his arms, "It's gone!" 

"Because I had pretty bad vision in this eye-" He pokes the blurred one, "I didn't really know what was going on- because it was my left hand. And then I hear my family scream like nothing else before and…" He puts his hand in his jacket, as it materialised in front of them, waving. "There it was in the kitchen, shaking and wriggling around. You should've seen the face on my mom when she saw it- she almost had a heart attack!" 

With that, he gets up. "And that's that."

"No it's not."

"If we waste too much time, we won't get to go bird-watching." Nikolai puts his finger to his lips. "It's only fitting such dramatic things are revealed on top of dramatic places."

"Must you be so extra?" Fyodor groans- just when he's getting somewhere. 

"I must." He grabs the scraper and gets started on the balcony. The noise irks Fyodor, but nonetheless he grabs the mop and starts cleaning any leftover grime.

The bell rings again, and amidst the scraping he almost curses (he does, but in a Catholic school no one needs to know that.) "Alright, done. Balcony time." He chucks the supplies away. "We have half an hour."

Nikolai sighs, "Someone's eager. Fine, but you better tell some juicy backstory too."

"There's nothing juicy about it. I don't have magical tele-location abilities."

"Wow, Fedya- way to isolate me." He perches on the edge. "If you fall here, I'll catch you. Probably."

Fyodor perches next to Nikolai, holding the wall a little for support. Nikolai sighs longingly, "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Fyodor sneaks a glance at Nikolai, his eyes half lidded and a relaxed smile- no grandeur or theatrics. The way his messy ponytail flutters and his bangs getting even more messed up- it's a strange picture.

A beautiful one. Well, when Fyodor's hair isn't getting in the way.

"Yeah."

"You keep looking at me and the wall, trying not to look down." Nikolai stifles a laugh. "It's almost like a storybook, in the distance."

"…" Fyodor glances quickly for a moment, being encapsulated. A forest, lush and green. The clouds, surprisingly for Russian weather, not looming and gray. The town in the distance with colourful houses and stalls and buildings.

"It's what birds see. They can go anywhere they want- and they see the world like this- in constant motion and flight." 

"Yet they still return to the same places, still tied." 

"You think so?" Nikolai looks at Fyodor, "I find that even nicer. A being that can go anywhere in the world and yet still returns."

"Will you return to Ukraine?" 

"No- for that's no longer my home."

"It's where your family is."

"And will you return to your family?"

"…I don't have any particular attachment to them."

"Neither do I." Nikolai sighs, "They thought I was possessed or had some strange interference with 'things not of this mortal realm'. So they took me to the priest."

"Usually things like 'gifts' are blessings and curses." 

"For someone so quiet, you're rather perceptive, aren't you?” Nikolai glances at him, turning a little to see him with his better eye, “Yes, they are. And what happens when a human sees something they don't understand?"

"They purge it."

Nikolai exclaims, "My! That's morbid! Ah, so Fedya is a realist. Well, not quite- one can't exactly 'bless away' tele-location. But, I managed to find out that it's accessible via an outer garment. Maybe that's why magicians wear long sleeves." 

The words struck Fyodor as odd, 'bless away'- 'not quite'. But for now he pushed them out of his mind. 

"Nikolai? What if everyone has a special ability but they just never know it?" Fyodor hums in thought, "It could be something really stupid and bizarrely specific like being immune to bombs, but only when they're in a certain shape."

"Ahahaha! You come up with the most preposterous things, Fedya. But…I guess I probably wouldn't be the only one. Maybe it's like when you learn a word, and then you see it pop up everywhere… That would be interesting, to see what other people would have."

"Hm, I don't think people would use them very well- such things could spiral out of control."

"Well, that's mean."

"It certainly would give someone a predisposition to a strange fate."

"Fedya, did you really have nothing else better to do as a kid than flick through dictionaries?"

"You have your ability, I have mine." 

There's the laugh again, like bells. 

A sharp knock on the door interrupts them, as they open it. 

"Hmm…fine- it's a satisfactory job. Go on, then- and I expect the two of you to have learnt your lesson. Gogol, you can stay back for introduction into your room- and Dostoevesky, go to the nurse's office and then you will be taken to your dorm." 

Nikolai stretches, as they walk down the stairs. "Alright, see you soon- at dinner."

"You have an hour and a half- and I expect you two to be prompt."

And so Nikolai waves at Dostoevesky, and he manages to find the nurse's office- swiping some lemon drops- and gets given directions to his dorm.

The hallways are rather empty and wooden, everything echoes- and it makes him think of that saying 'the walls have ears, the doors have eyes'. Watchful eye of God, huh. He puts his ear to the door, and hears some chattering- thumps of pillows, and turns the door. 

[delos-mio]

Silver Screen - Part 1

Summary: When you first met Thor, he was just a customer at your side gig. But after opening up to one another, your connection becomes more than skin deep. Will a new calling bring you closer together or drive a wedge too far deep to overcome?

A/N: Hi! Part one of my new Thor fic. The idea came to me the other night and I just got in a groove with these characters. Let me know how you’re feeling about it after reading- I’m a little anxious!! No warnings for this chapter except teeth rotting fluff.

***

It was the only theater left in town that showed old movies. Most of the pictures were in black and white or early color, but that’s what kept your niche clientele coming. Your family had owned the old building for years and kept it alive as a passion project of sorts. They had made sure everything was restored impeccably- true to the time down to the tiles on the floors and color scheme. It still had the original ornate woodwork around trim, both intricate and delicate. It didn’t pay the bills, but you always found time to go help out a few nights a week. Seeing people out on dates where they share popcorn and see classic flicks, you found something very romantic about that. Maybe it was just that you were a hopeless romantic, but it reminded you of those simple, classic, sweet sentiments that came with being in love.  

The first time you saw him, he stuck out like a sore thumb. For one, he was gigantic. He was easily six and a half feet tall and all muscle. His broad shoulders were confined tightly in the plain olive tee he was wearing under his jacket. For another, he was breathtakingly handsome. His strong jaw adorned with a short beard and high cheekbones set the stage for a perfect face. He had eyes like a tide pool, a deep and intense blue that could draw anyone in. And finally, he was Thor. You recognized him the moment he walked in. It was hard to miss a literal god in your lobby, let alone one who had saved the city on more than one occasion. You could tell he was trying to keep a low profile and seemingly lead a normal life, and you were going to let him do exactly that.

He walked right up to you at the concession stand, full grin on his face. “How are you doing this evening?”

“I’m doing pretty good myself. How about you?” you asked, beaming back at him.

“I’m well. Although, a little apprehensive about this whole thing.”

“This whole thing?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I was told that people like to go to movies in their spare time.” He leaned in across the counter and spoke in a low voice. “If I’m being honest, it’s my first time.” You looked back at him in disbelief.

“Well then you came to the right place! Ok, so, you need popcorn for sure. Do you like chocolate or fruity chewy candy?” you asked over your shoulder. You noticed he was staring at you, not in a weird or uncomfortable way, more in curiosity and wonder.

“I…I guess I’m not that picky. Whatever you think is best.” He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and smiled. If you weren’t mistaken, you thought he was being bashful. You didn’t want to give yourself too much credit, but you kind of hoped he was. You picked out a few other concessions and handed them over with a little bit of shyness of your own.

“Thank you…I’m so sorry, how rude of me. I’m Thor,” he said, holding his hand out. You put your palm against his and his enormous hand wrapped around yours, placing a light kiss on your knuckles. You introduced yourself and tried your hardest not to melt on the spot.

“It’s nice to meet you, but you better get going. Show starts in 2 minutes.” You winked and nodded towards the theater doors. He gave you a small wave before gathering his snacks and heading into the darkened room.

It was hard to wait the hour and a half runtime of the film. You found yourself wondering what he thought of the movie and what he liked best of all the things you gave him. Once the doors opened again, you watched as the crowd filed out, keeping your eyes peeled for the god among them. To your delight, he came out and walked right back up to you.

“I understand why people enjoy movies. It’s nice to just have a moment without worries.” He was smiling, but you noticed a small sadness in his eyes. It reminded you that he most likely had the weight of the literal world on his shoulders.

“I’m glad you liked it.” You thought about the words forming on your tongue for a moment before more or less blurting it out. “Think you’ll come back?” He let out a small laugh and flashed that magnificent grin again.

“Oh, absolutely,” he smiled. “I hope you have a lovely night,” he said before turning on his heel and making his way out of the glass front doors. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you just flirted with Thor. And, to your surprise, he also seemed to flirt with you.

And so it became a weekly tradition that Thor would come on Thursdays and see whatever happened to be playing. He didn’t seem to care what he’d be viewing, but you noticed he always liked the ones packed with action best and most of the ones with a sweeping romance. Every week, you’d give him a new candy until he ate his way through the selection and informed you of his preferences.

In recent weeks, he came earlier and earlier for the showing, spending his wait time talking with you across the counter. He’d pause and let you serve the few other patrons coming in for matinee showings, always polite and chatty with his new friends, as he called them.

He would tell you stories about Asgard and his family. Sometimes, if it was late and you were cleaning, he’d sit and talk to you about the war and about loss. Hearing about Ragnarok and the destruction of his only home absolutely broke your heart. Those nights were hard for both of you, but they also made you feel closer to each other. He’d tell you about the adjustment to living on Midgard, as he called it, and trying to learn a new set of customs. You’d let him in on weird little idiosyncrasies and teach him useful phrases that would make him sound less like a 17th century King to strangers.

There was something about him that made you comfortable. He made you feel important and valued. When you told him about your shitty landlord or how you ripped your favorite skirt, whatever petty drama you had, he listened intently and offered a remedy for your every problem. Sometimes, you felt bad about venting to him; you were sure he had much bigger problems than tripping up a set of stairs in front of your new neighbor. But he never once dismissed you.

One night when he came in, you noticed that he looked a little unlike himself. Usually when he came in, he was chipper and reminded you of the human equivalent of a golden retriever. Tonight, he seemed downtrodden and tired. As he approached, he gave you a small smile.

“Hey,” you said. It was the only thing you could think of in that moment.

“Hi. How has your week been?” He always started off asking about you.

“It’s been good. Thor, what’s wrong?” You didn’t want to talk about you. It was obvious something was on his mind and you needed to know what.

“It’s…Everything’s ok. Nothing’s wrong. I’m good,” he lied. You could see it in his eyes.

“I thought we were good enough friends not to lie to each other,” you lightly scolded. He smiled at that and ran his fingers through his short hair. It had grown out since you first met, but it was still much shorter than he’d like as he liked to remind you.

“It’s my brother.  It’s his birthday today and I don’t know,” he started, looking down at his hands that he was idly wringing together, “I guess I miss him. God, if he heard me say that, I’d never hear the end of it.”

“I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?” you asked, running your hand gently on his arm. You knew you should be focusing on his response, but you couldn’t help appreciating the solid marble of his bicep under your fingertips.

“When the movie’s over, do you think,” he started and then looked at you again, “do you think we could ‘hang out’” he asked, trying out his newly learned term. Your heart grew three sizes and you nodded your head.

“Of course we can. Come get me when you’re done and we can pick up food and go to my place,” you offered. He finally smiled for real for the first time since he came in. He put his free hand on top of the one you had on his arm and gave it a soft squeeze before walking in to see his movie for the week.

You did everything you could to clean up quickly and be ready to close the moment the movie let out. It took a lot of sweat, but you made it happen come hell or high water. He walked out with a handful of people and came back to you, shrugging into his jacket. “Are you ready, dear?”

The winter wind outside was whipping around your faces. You pulled you hat down over your ears and pulled at the collar of the jacket, trying to use it as a shield for your face. Thor seemed to be fine; he was strolling along side you in nothing more than a canvas jacket and hoodie. How did he do it? Then you remembered he was a literal god and probably didn’t have to worry about things like being cold.

“Can’t you, y’know, do something about this snow?” you asked, gesturing broadly at the sky around you. He howled with laughter and shook his head.

“It doesn’t work like that, I’m afraid,” he grinned. “But, I could help a bit if you’d like,” he suggested and opened up an arm to you. For a moment, you stopped and looked at him, searching his face for any sign of a joke. Finding none, you quickly tucked yourself into his side and he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, doing his best to shield you from the elements and provide some warmth. It was working. Maybe it was feeling giddy about being so close to Thor, but you were already starting to feel better about the 10 block walk back to your apartment.

You stopped to grab a pizza, or two, along the way and finally made it to your 5th floor apartment. It was small, but big enough for just you. However, seeing Thor in your foyer made the place feel like a matchbox. He shrugged out of his jacket and stepped out of his sopping boots in the doorway before continuing to your living room, giving the place a once over. He looked content as he scanned over your photographs and small trinkets. Watching him analyze your things made you smile; it was nice to see someone appreciate your space besides you.

“I uh, I’m still in my work clothes,” you interrupted quietly. “Do you mind if I quick change out of them?” Thor turned to look at you with a soft look in his eyes.

“Take all the time you need,” he replied. You hurried into your bedroom and opened your closet. Shit. You didn’t even consider what you’d be changing in to. Was this a date? No. No, he asked you to hang out. If you went out looking too hot or fancy, you’d no doubt embarrass yourself. A big part of you wanted to just throw on your trusty house sweats and hoodie and call it a day. But you didn’t want him to think you weren’t interested in hanging out or him. You groaned quietly to yourself as you sifted through your pile of clean clothes, desperate for anything that would work. Finally, you settled on a pair of yoga leggings and a favorite zip up of yours. A compromise you could live with. When you walked back out, Thor was sitting comfortably on your couch, thumbing through the book you had left on your armrest.

“Can I get you a drink or anything? Sorry, I think I only have water and beer,” you laughed uncomfortably, walking to the fridge. You would have planned a little better if you knew you’d be having company.

“A beer is great,” he called back. You popped the cap of two bottles and brought the pizza over to your coffee table. You two clinked bottles as he spoke, “To Loki.” He finished the bottle in one drink and let out a sigh.

“There’s plenty more in the fridge, if you want,” you laughed. He took your invitation to grab another and twist the cap off easily without the aid of the bottle opener you left out. Watching his fingers effortlessly rip metal from glass lit a fire low in your stomach. It was going to be harder than you thought to be just friends outside of work.

You drank beer after beer together and ate way past the point of being full. Talking to him was effortless; it was easy to be yourself and feel like he wasn’t going to judge you for speaking freely. Truth be told, you were starting to feel the buzz off the IPAs you’d be throwing back. Every part of you wanted to be closer to him in every sense. The way he laughed and told stories and how his eyes squinted when he smiled was making you crazy. You were sitting in the corner of your couch, legs bent and resting on the cushion next to you. The beer started talking to you, telling you to open your mouth and ask him the question that had been on your mind since the second time he came into the theater.

“Can I ask you something,” you asked from behind your beer bottle, afraid you’d lose your nerve if you had to look him in those bright blue eyes.

“You know you can ask me anything,” he smiled, putting his large hand on your calf. Shit, here goes nothing.

“Why…Why do you come see me every week? I know for a fact you’ve seen every movie we show by this point,” you asked shyly. He turned his head to look at you, his features soft and a small smile forming on your lips.

“Does it bother you? Would you like me to stop?” he teased.

“No!” you answered a little too quickly. “No, it’s the best part of my week.” It felt good to tell the truth.

“Well, you’re my friend,” he said as a matter of fact. Fuck. You took your shot and tossed up an air ball. Your stomach started to hurt as what he was saying sank in. But then he started to speak again. “You’re also very beautiful. I’ve thought so since the first time I came in.” A warmth spread across your face as you bit down on your bottom lip. Did Thor just say he thought you’re pretty?

“I wouldn’t kick you out of bed either,” you said, giving him a small smile. He looked at you with his brows furrowed, trying to figure out what you meant. “Oh, god I’m sorry. It means I think you’re hot too,” you clarified. His brows relaxed and his eyes did that sweet little crinkle around the corner.

“Thank you for spending time with me tonight. It’s not often someone I trust is around to listen,” he said, his grip on your calf getting firmer as he dragged your legs over his lap, moving you closer to him on the couch. Your heart started to race as you leaned into his side, letting your head rest on his firm shoulder. “I appreciate you helping me. Now, can I ask you something?” he said, rubbing his palm up and down the side of your leg.

“Mhmm,” was all you could manage choke out.

“I’d rather not be alone tonight. Would it be ok if I stayed here?” he asked sweetly, his deep voice low in your ear. “I can sleep out here, if you’d be more comfortable…”

“Don’t be silly. Yeah, of course you can stay with me,” you interjected. You removed your legs from him and stood up, your hand stretched out to him. “It’s late.” He looked you over from head to toe and put his large hand around yours.

He followed behind you down the hallway, still hand in hand. The pounding in your chest hadn’t slowed at all. In fact, it had only gotten stronger by the time you were standing at the foot of your bed. You dropped his hand and moved over to your side, shedding your zip up along the way. When you turned back to look at Thor, his shirt was already off and piled on the floor. Whatever you had seen in your day dreams about him shirtless was nothing compared to how he looked bedroom. He looked like a god carved from marble; you already knew he was a god, but he really, really looked like one. You picked your jaw up off the floor and crawled underneath your duvet, waiting not so patiently for Thor.

“Do you mind?” he asked gently, reaching for his belt buckle and looking at you for permission. You nodded your head and he stepped out of his dark jeans, finally exposing his muscular legs. He climbed in next to you so you were facing each other and burrowed into his pillow. The action made you smile and laugh a little under your breath. He didn’t miss your reaction and moved a bit closer to you. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s not funny. It’s just…” oh, what the hell, you thought, “you’re so cute.” If you didn’t know any better, you would say he blushed.

“C’mere,” he said quietly and lifted his arm, creating a space for you to tuck yourself into. You wasted no time closing the distance between your bodies and pressed against his chest. He closed his arm around you and started to rub your back softly. You rested your forehead against his and moved your palm to run over his beard, scratching along the way. He let himself lean into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut. It was still outside and quiet in the dark of your room. The only sounds were the hum of the radiator and your breathing. You were totally at ease in Thor’s arms, and he gave every indication that he felt the same way.

“Thank you again,” he whispered, his lips only inches from yours. You just smiled and brushed the tip of your nose against his affectionately. The air felt like it was buzzing around your bodies; you didn’t know if it was just you feeling so giddy about finally being in his arms or if it was emitting from Thor himself. Either way, there seemed to be a pull bringing you even closer together. It felt like his lips were moving closer and your stomach was in knots. You boldly decided to close the gap and lightly pressed your mouth to his, your lips melting together perfectly. His beard scratched your chin gently as you kissed him again. It felt like the first time you were really, truly kissed. Every feeling of adoration and comfort and trust was being poured into one another. It left you breathless when you finally broke apart. He looked at you with his dazzling blue eyes that still seemed to sparkle in the dark of night, his expression soft and a wide smile on his face. “We should probably go to bed,” he grinned.

“Are you sure you don’t want to make out more?” you asked, biting down on your bottom lip.

“I do want to. And that’s why we have to go to sleep,” he laughed.

“Ugh, you’re right. Ok, you win,” you groaned flopping dramatically onto your back. But Thor followed you, carefully hovering over you and placed one more deep kiss on your lips.

“Sweet dreams,” he smiled. This time, you took him into your arms and let his head rest comfortably on your chest, his arm snaked around your waist. You gently ran your fingers through his short hair until you both drifted off to sleep.

[hiddlestoned4ever]

Drawn Between Worlds - Dr Strange/Loki x Reader

(Chapter 1) Chapter 2 (Chapter 3 coming soon) Plot: After you started working for SHIELD, you got drawn into the Avengers group and helped them stop Loki and his Chitauri army from destroying New York completely. That was two years ago. However, Loki’s dangerous behaviour didn’t stop you from keeping your interested in him. Or perhaps it is his mischievous self that’s the very reason for it. But as a long-lost associate turns up, you find yourself being drawn between worlds and feelings as old emotions come back while new ones develop. 

Words: 4158

Warnings: None

It's now two weeks since the party. The day after, the team divided up and it's now just Tony and you again. Because of that, you have some trouble filling all the time without the rest of your friends. The morning jog yesterday was dull, the training workouts are simple and boring. To get the time go faster, you tried to hang out with Tony when he's working, but that soon became sitting down on the chair and observe him.

Now you're outside on the streets, walking under the warm sunlight in your own thoughts. The headphone cord dangles from your ears to the left pocket where it's connected to your phone. Listening to music helps you to get distracted from the real world. You let it take over and steer your feet so you don't really notice where you're heading. The path is soon to lead you to someone who will make your life interesting yet again.

Walking out if the busy streets, the area becomes more abandoned. Big, old, empty buildings appear around you, but you keep on the pace. It's first when sirens suddenly overwhelm your music that you bring your focus up. Several police cars coming at high speed a bit ahead and disappears around a corner.

As curious as you are, you jog in the same direction and slow down when you enter an area where the cars have stopped and the police officers are on the outside, talking to a young woman and man. Some meters away, another woman approaches them and when the first woman sees her, she runs over and hugs her. From the distance you're standing, you can't hear what they're saying and it seems like everything is fine... but then it's suddenly starting to rain heavily out of nowhere.

"Great..." you mumble annoyed. From the nice weather you went out in, you didn't bring a jacket with a hood.

From the other end of the crowd, a man in a red cape has suddenly arrived. You instantly recognize him and so does the girls. One of them runs over to him and by the looks of it, slaps him in the face. Twice. The other woman follows and once she's with them, the raining stops so she must've commented on it. There must be a reason for him to return back to Earth so you start to run up to them.

"Thor!" you call and the God looks up.

"Y/N! What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same," you reply.

"Hi, I'm Darcy," one of the women says and reaches out her hand. You shake it with a smile, not really bothering who they are right now. You're more interested in what brought Thor here. "This is my friend, Jane, and this is my intern," she continues and points at a young man beside her.

"Eh... Ian, my name is Ian."

Turning back to the scene, you see the policemen come up to the two women.

"Oh, eh, Jane. I'm pretty sure we're getting arrested," Darcy says and Janes turns her head.

"Hang on," Jane replies and meets the officers.

One of the policemen lay a hand on her shoulder, but get abruptly thrown backwards like an explosion just occurred. Many other of the men also get caught by this and all of them land on their backs, startled by what just happened. The remaining officers raise their guns, pointing at the women, ready to fire. You and Thor rush over and he kneels down, barely touches her to see if she's alright.

"What just happened?" Jane asks gently as she pushes herself up on her feet. The police officer approaches you apprehensively.

"Place your hands on your head. Step back!"

"The woman is unwell," Thor answers.

"She's dangerous." 

Thor glances warningly up at them. "So am I."

The policeman grabs a hold of his radio. "Requesting armed response officers to the scene." The rest of the men start to circle you and the rest of the group when Thor pulls both you and Jane closer.

"Hold on to me," he says to both of you.

"Thor, what are you doing?" you ask as you feel your body sort of dissolve and then are sent in an enormous speed upwards. The experience is amazing but goes incredibly fast. Your head gets dizzy and you shut your eyes while holding tight to Thor's arm.

You must've fainted for a short second because the next thing you know is that your body falls down once Thor lets you go.

"Oops, sorry," he says and helps you back up.

"We have to do that again!" Jane excitedly says and her smile drops when she sees a large man with an armour of gold, holding the shaft of a huge sword. "Hi."

"Welcome to Asgard."

Your head snatches up at the man's voice. His eyes are the same colour as is the outfit. "Asgard?" you turn your eyes on Thor. "We're at your home?" 

"Well, the men on Midgard didn't seem like they had nice intentions so I brought you both with me. Besides, we need to figure out what's happened to you," he responds, now looking at Jane.

The sight before you blow your mind. It is magnificent. Like taken straight out of a fantasy movie, only a whole lot more beautiful. The big golden, triangle shaped building that stands out reminds you of some part of a musical instrument. Like some special kind of flute or something. And the Bifrost is stunning with its rainbow colour. Never did you think you would actually be able to experience this with your own eyes. Memories from when Thor talked about it comes to your mind and you realize why he spoke so passionately about it.

"Follow me," he says and leads the two of you out on the long walk across the bridge.  

* * *

"What's that?" Jane asks while she's lying on a table surrounded by women nurses and some information that appears by some kind of magic. Kinda looks like Tony's lab with all his, almost invisible screens where he can swipe information from one screen to the other.

"Be still," Eir tells her while you and Thor watch as they examine Jane.

"What do you think it is?" you ask him, both of you standing with your arms crossed.

"I do not know. It's not of Earth."

"I have never seen anything like this, but she will not survive the amount of energy surging within her," one of the nurses tells you. Before anyone gets to say anything else, the door to the room opens and an elder man with long white hair and a patch over his right eye enters.

It turns out to be no other than Odin, Thor's father, king of Asgard and protector of the nine realms. The father and son have a bit of an argument about mortals not belonging here, but that it's the only way Jane can be helped. Odin tells the guards to escort both Jane and you out, when the guard who grabs Jane's arm, get thrown back just as the policeman.

"Don't touch her," Thor says leaning down and tenderly lays his hands on her. "Jane, are you alright?" She nods her head while Odin inspects the energy force running through her body.

"That's impossible," he mumbles shocked.

"The infection, it's defending her," the nurse says.

"Or itself," you comment, taking a shot.

Next, Odin takes the three of you to another room. "There are relics that predate the universe itself. What lies within her appears to be one of them. The Nine Realms are not eternal. They had a dawn as they will have a dusk." Odin shows you, Thor and Jane an ancient book. "But before that dawn, the dark forces, the Dark Elves, reigned absolute and unchallenged." 

Thor leans over a book in front of them and reads out loud. "'Born of eternal night, the Dark Elves comes to steal away your light.' They were these stories mother told us as children."

"Their leader, Malekith made a weapon out of that darkness, it was called the Aether. While the other relics often appeared as stones, the Aether is fluid and ever-changing. It changes matter into dark matter and seeks out to host bodies, drawing strength from their life force. Malekith sought to use the Aether's power to return the universe to one of darkness. But after eternities of bloodshed, my father Bor, finally triumphed, ushering in the peace that lasted thousands of years."

"What happened?" you ask, getting really interested in these Asgardians stories.

"He killed them all," Odin responds.

"Are you certain? The Aether was said to have been destroyed with them and yet here it is," Thor says, clearly worried.

"The Dark Elves are dead."

Jane takes a glance down at the book. "Does your book happen to mention how to get it out of me?"

Odin's reply is not near reassuring. "No, it does not."

The king leaves and the rest of you stay silent for some seconds.

"Thor, can I speak to you for a moment?" you ask.

"Of course," he replies.

"I'll- eh, be out here," Jane says, pointing at the doors leading out to a porch. When she's out, you turn to your friend. Since you got here, everything has happened so fast but by the little 'break' you just got, you came to think of his brother.

"Maybe it's not the right time to ask this, but... where's that brother of yours?"

"What, Loki?"

"Do you have any other brothers hidden up somewhere?" you lift an eyebrow.

"You don't have to worry. Loki has spent his days in the prison down below since we got back from Earth and that's where he'll be. He can't harm you or anyone else."

For some reason, you feel a bit sorry for him that he's been in a cell for so long and will be for the rest of his life. Just the thought of Loki wakens something in you and you suddenly get the urge to visit him. On the other hand, Thor would possibly not accept that. But if he's safe from everyone, it can't hurt to go down there.

"Y/N?" 

Having been in your own thoughts, you drop out of them and see Thor's wondering look staring down at you.

"Great," you say as a comment to his answer about Loki. Moving your eyes to the double doors, you see Jane gazing out over the railing. "You should go out to her. Must be a shock finding out you have a powerful weapon of darkness floating inside of you."

Giving you a little smile, Thor tells you the direction to some food and bathroom if you'll be needing it, and that he and Jane will find you shortly.

Taking his advice, you leave the room and head down the hall. Everything is so well done decorated: sculptures, paintings, colours... Most of it in gold.

"Shit!" you quickly take out your phone to look at the time. It's been hours since you left this noon. Tony must be worried sick about where you are. However, your phone says "out of area". Sighing, you put it back into your pocket.

This is going well, what's next on the list? 

On the way, you meet Sif, the greatest of the warrior women and one of Thor's closest friends. She gladly escorts you to the food as you seem to have lost the way. You ask her about life here on Asgard and how the two prince brothers were as children.

"As any brothers. Fighting and playing. Loki is the master of tricks. Always has been. He used to play tricks on Thor, on all of us really. At first, it was fun, but after a while, it got repetitive and dangerous. Odin tried to have a strict talk with him but he wouldn't take words to wisdom."

"Sounds about right," you say and take a glass of water.

"You know him?" Sif asks surprised.

"Sort of. We stopped him when he brought his army to New York."

"Yes, of course! I must thank you for participating in that. Asgard is a better place without Loki. And Midgard must be too."

More boring if you ask me.

But you didn't say that out loud. You don't even know why you think that.

"You don't miss him at all? Surely, he must be somewhat good. I mean, according to your stories, before he found out he was adopted."

Continuing your walk, Sif shakes her head. "That side of him faded a long time ago."

You don't understand why you think about Loki so much but there's something about him that's caught your attention ever since he smiled at you for the first time. After that, you had visited him in the cage he was put in for a little chat where you figured out that his plan was to use the Hulk so he could escape. And his plan worked. Next time you got face to face again was on top of Stark's Tower in the middle of the battle.

Flashback 

Steve helped you with a push of his shield so you could jump higher and grab a hold of one of those flying space things that Loki's army used to bring death and destruction to the city. You climbed up and knocked over one of the Chitauries and jumped on the shoulders of the other while pushing two knives in both of his shoulders. This way, you could control the little flying float.

You turned left, making it take you towards Stark's tower where Loki had placed his special machine with the Tesseract in the centre. From it, a powerful jet going all the way up, holding up a big hole in the sky. That's where the army come from and you were gonna try to close it.

However, that turned out to be more tricky than you hoped for. Behind you, Loki came after you, trying to shoot you down.

"Oh, you," you sighed. "Clint, some help?" 

"I have my eyes on him," Clint replied. He was standing on a rooftop, bow and arrow lifted up to his face, aiming at the God. When he was sure that he'll hit his target, he fired.

But like a piece of cake, Loki snapped the arrow right before it would run right through his skull. He looked at it, then back up at Clint with a 'seriously?' look.

Right then, the arrow exploded and sent Loki flying in the air and landing hard on the roof of Stark's building. Shortly after, you jumped and rolled down some meters away from him.

Rising up slowly, you kept your eyes on him the whole time.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked as he groaned while standing up.

"Because I can. I have the power," he growled back.

"What exactly do you want? A throne?"

"I was born to be king!"

"Is this really the kind of king you want to be?" you asked with a high voice and arm stretched out to the disaster happening below us. "Everything in ruins, everyone trembling on their knees? What pleasure could that possibly give you?"  

For several seconds, Loki just looked at you. Staring you right in the eyes and then his expression changed slightly. Like he realized something, but his action to speak got interrupted when the Chitauri Leviathan crashed its side into the building right under you. The ground started to shake, and you stumbled as your balance got unsteady. Beneath you, the edge of the roof began to crack and fall, bringing you along with it. Luckily, you got a hold with your hands so you dangled with your body in the air.

"Tony! Tony, do you copy?!" 

"I'm a bit busy at the moment!" he called back.

"What's going on?" Steve asked.

"Oh, I'm just taking a break by hanging off the roof!" you shouted back, your voice raised as the railing you're holding onto, began to fall apart. "It's gonna break!"

"Thor!" Steve called.

"I'm on it!" he responded and started to swing the hammer.

Just then, the railing fully broke and you felt your body dropping but then, you suddenly hang still again. Looking up, you see Loki's hand around your wrist. Without hesitation, you managed to wrap your hand around his own wrist as he started to use his strength to lift you back up. And with a groan, he pulled you back over the edge so both of you landed on your backs.

"Y/N? What's happening?" the team asked from the ground. 

Breathing heavily, you stared up at the sky. "I'm okay," you assure them, but turned your head to your right, seeing Loki getting up. While you kept your eyes on him, you did the same.

"Why did you do that?" you asked.

His chest raised heavily as his blue mischief eyes looked at you. Parting his lips, he didn't get to say anything as the Hulk came jumping over the edge and grabbed him as they crashed through the windows and landed inside Stark's living room.

Present

Of course, you never told anyone that Loki had saved your life. And you never learned why he did it but perhaps now, you have a chance to find out. If you only get a chance to see him.

Sif and you continue the walk as she tells stories of how they won wars, how the parties works and the day Thor got worthy of the hammer, Mjolnir. You tell her about how you ended up here and about the Aether that's taken a hold inside Jane. On your way, you spot a staircase that goes down to another floor and two guards on each side to keep people from coming down, or perhaps the other way around. 

"Down there's the prison," Sif explains when she follows your look. "God forbid any of them getting out."

"And Loki?"

Stopping, Sif eyes you questionable. "You seem awfully interested in him. Are you worried he's gonna attack your world again?"

Shaking your head, you look away from the stairs. "No, I'm sure he's well kept down there."

About an hour later, Thor and Jane find you in good company with Sif and two other soldiers, Fandral and Volstagg.

"Thor! Come, join us!" Volstagg calls with his cup raised in the air. Smiling, he and Jane sit down with you.

The six of you actually have a good couple of hours before the whole place get attacked. Everyone gets to their feet to strike back and defend their home. Then. all goes downhill from there.

Something crashes straight into the palace, causing panic to appear among all the people. You all run towards the spectacle. When you arrive, there's a giant black ship that has parked right in the centre of the great hall. Asgardian guards approach it slowly with raised spears. Then, chaos is heard coming from the stairs that you spotted earlier.

"The prisoners," a woman to our left says. You quickly understood that she must be Odin's wife. Frigga.

"Loki," Thor comments.

"Go, I'll look after them," Frigga tells her son. Thor doesn't hesitate to take off with his hammer.

Next, Odin comes up to you. "Send a squadron to the weapons vault, defend it at all costs. Seal the dungeon," he tells a group of guards who immediately leave.

"Odin."

"Frigga. It's a skirmish, nothing to fear."

"You've never been a very good liar."

"Take them to your chambers, I'll come for you when it's safe."

"You take care."

"Despite all I have survived, my queen still worries over me." Odin puts a hand on Frigga's cheek that he quickly removes.

"It's only because I worry about you that you have survived."

Odin goes off and Frigga leads you and Jane away. She takes a sword from one of the guards. "Listen to me now, I need you to do everything I ask and no questions."

You and Jane look at each other, then back forward.

"Yes, ma'am."

By the Dark Elves' ship, it now opens and dozens of elves and Asgardians start to fight. The elves seem to have the advantage.

Frigga, Jane and you arrive inside a chamber. She hands you another sword.

"I can go back out there and fight," you tell her, but she seems to have her own opinions on that.

"I told Thor I would watch over you. These are not Midargians."

"It's not my first time, fighting species from space," you tell her and she turns to look at me.

"You were there when Loki attacked Earth?"

"Yes." 

"Can't have been easy. Coming here where he is after what he did. I apologize for his actions. I wish he was still the innocent little boy when we brought him in." She turns to Jane. "Now, I need you to come with me." She brings Jane around a corner in the room, and when they come back, Frigga explains to you that the Jane following is just a hologram as the real Jane is hiding.

"Ma'am. Let me go and help Thor," you practically beg her. When it seems like she's about to accept your wish, the doors burst open, revealing one of the dark elves. Frigga goes in front of you with a raised sword.

"Stand down creature. You may still survive this."

With strict steps, he comes into the room.

God, he's huge!

"I've survived worse, woman."

You're following his movements, not letting your eyes leave him.

"Who are you?" Frigga asks.

"I am Malekith, and I would have what it is mine." As he walks closer to Frigga she strikes him in the face with her sword. He takes out his blade and starts fighting with her and you try to find a chance to help her, but don't get one. Frigga puts up a good fight but another elf, Algrim, comes to his master's aid and subdues her. You rush forward and swing the sword. The sharp blade almost makes contact with Malekith but he foresees it and swings his own sword into a fight.

The two of you go on for a short moment until he uses his sword to block your hit while his other hand goes right in your face, sending you across the room so you land unconscious on the floor.

Malekith then walks towards Jane. "You have taken something, child. Give it back." He stands in front of Jane and as he goes to grab her, she disappears and he realizes that she's a hologram, he turns to Frigga. "Witch! Where is the Aether?"

"I'll never tell."

"I believe you."

You slowly begin to wake and open your eyes. But it's too late. Algrim stabs Frigga in the back. "No!" you scream, but she falls dead to the floor.

At the same time, Thor rushes in with a scream and shoots a lightning bolt at Malekith's face, severely scarring it. He and Algrim escape and jump onto their ship before Thor can catch them. After, Odin arrives to find Frigga dead. He holds her body in his arms as Thor, Jane and you stand silently around them.

* * * 

Right after all the elves are gone, everyone gets ready for Frigga's funeral. You and Jane were lent a pair of long dresses which some maids help you put on. Once you're done, you meet Thor outside the room. His eyes are sad so you give him a sympathetic smile. You had put out the thought of bringing Loki too, but Odin would not have it which stung in you because she was his mother too. But he still has to be inside the cell while all of you attend.

And it sure was a sight! It's the most beautiful memorial you've ever seen, including in movies. You could feel the strength of it and the sorrow everyone carried. Even though you didn't know Frigga, you started to cry on behalf of Thor and Odin's grief. And Loki, though you don't know if he knows about it yet. But she loved him, and you know he loved her too.

After the funeral is over, you, Thor, and Jane walk silently back inside.

"How're you holding up?" Jane asks him, holding onto his arm with both hands.

"Her death was not in vain. She protected you. She died honourably."

You walk silently on Thor's other side, your face down as you do. "I'm sorry, I tried to stop him-"

"Hey," Thor stops and puts his hand on your shoulder. "Do not blame yourself for this. It's Malekith. And I'm gonna find him and stop him." He takes his hand off you and continues to walk.

"Wait," you say after him and he turns. "Shouldn't Loki at least get to know about this?"

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Tags: @fire-in-her-veinz @markusstraya