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lokiskitten · 3 years

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Request for @brat-blog-2 !!

Loki Laufeyson | dark obsession

Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

plot : after Loki takes over Asgard and becomes king, he is now finally able to tear you away from his brother’s grip, before deciding to make you pay for it.

warnings : cursing, degrading, physical abuse, mental abuse, biting, none/co, smut, unprotected sex, physical manipulation, lack of after care.

PLEASE, this imagine contains NONE/CO. Do not read it if it’s a subject that you’re uninterested/sensitive with. All irrelevant comments will be deleted. Now, to all the people that are willing to read, enjoy! :D

Groans exit your lips as you were forcefully dragged all the way up to Odin’s throne, which had now unfortunately become Loki’s- and that against everyone’s will. Most of the Asgardians had decided to submit to their new savior, however you decided not to take part in this petty move and remain faithful to the people you believe deserved it, such as Thor or Odin. Unfortunately, this attitude easily led you to get in trouble with the king and his surroundings, remaining unaware that Loki had been obsessing over you for a while now which allowed you to avoid great moments of anxiety. But now, you had just gotten caught, and escaping felt absolutely impossible.

The guards’ grip tightened around your fragile arms as they forced you on your knees before Loki’s sat silhouette, wishing to avoid accidentally letting you go which would’ve risked to annoy their king. The raven haired man’s green eyes looked down at you, smirk appearing onto his devilish lips as you progressively started to feel more and more uncomfortable about his intense stare. Thankfully, hatred managed to drag you out of this shame hole, giving you strength to stand up face to this man who claimed to be your king though he truly was nowhere near reaching this rank. “Ah, at last. You almost made me wait.” He spoke, raspy voice echoing through the large room. And as you continued to physically and mentally struggle, Loki carried on talking.

“You gave me a really hard time, in fact.” He explained, causing you to cringe as you truly did not look forward to discovering the double meaning hiding behind this creepy sentence. Getting up from where he had been sitting, the man accepted to remove his horns before taking a couple of steps down the luxurious throne which once belonged to his adoptive father. Watching him near you stroke another shockwave of hatred through your body, head looking up as you were no longer fighting the guards grip- or at least not physically. “Tell me... Why keep fighting it? All you have to do is give in. Forget about the past, and become my queen.” He purred, though you felt nowhere near softened by his devilish words.

“You are not king.” The words escaped your lips like the purest yet sneakiest venom. Hearing this sentence, Loki groaned and turned around in order to refrain from allowing his anger to take over his calm yet frustrated mindset. “I’m a better king than you’ve ever known.” Loki spoke lowly, hand forming a fist in anticipation of your next, surely offensive, answer. “You are nothing compared to your brother!” You dared to affirm, head dangerously moving closer to his silhouette through the words’ hatred. This sentence crossed a line which probably should’ve been kept intact, easily leading Loki to unleash his anger out on your left cheek. The back of his hand collided with your face as he turned around in a fast manner, your head and upper body propelled backwards due to the imminent shock you had just received.

A small wince escape your lips, Loki’s silhouette now hovering above yours as the guards took a step back in order to leave some space for their king to outburst. “I am ten times the king he will ever be, you little quim! And you’re just a fool for believing otherwise.” Progressively, his tone lowered, entire being calming down as his hand travelled to your bruised cheek. “I could show you a good time... and that only if you agree to give in.” The young man proposed, though the physical contact was soon broken by your strong attitude. Shaking your head in an attempt to make his hand back away from your face, a sigh escaping Loki’s lips as he seemingly agreed to take a step back and watch your pathetic self struggle helplessly.

“Alright. Have it your own way then.” He affirmed, green eyes drifting up to his guards, a move which was accompanied by a simple nod of his head. Instantly, your arms were trapped by their palms, body dragged away towards god knew where whilst Loki frustratedly made his way back to the throne. Screams exited your lips as you had completely gave up on any form of dignity, though it wasn’t as if Loki hadn’t proceeded to completely steal it from you barely a couple of seconds ago.

[...]

After spending the rest of your day locked away in the dungeons, body sitting down against the wall whilst trying to contain it’s need of food and water, an unexpected visit occurred. Before you could even tell, Loki turned out to be standing before your quivering frame, refraining from making physical contact with you as he simply waited for the moment where you would finally notice his presence. Barely looking up, you decided to offer him no form of attention as you knew that it was something that made his blood boil. “It would be foolish to ignore my presence.” Loki explained, kneeling before your folded self. Your face looked away, jaw clenching in an upset and painful manner.

Seeing how you seemingly weren’t willing to properly cooperate, the demigod rose from the floor and made his way towards your bed which had graciously been gifted by the dungeons services. He sat down, legs remaining spread as his bulge pressed against the elastic fabric of his suit. Finally agreeing to look up, a blush spread over your cheeks when you made eye contact with the man who was now your king. Gasping uncomfortably, your hands immediately decided to push down the fabric of your dress in order to hide the leftovers of flesh which weren’t covered by the thin piece of fabric. Even with the attitude your carried, your instincts forced you to go humble face to the threat of male gaze.

“If I may, I think you look alluring alluring.” Loki confessed, green eyes moving up from your body to your face. It didn’t take long for you to understand the man’s intention- like a doe being preyed by a dangerous cheetah in the mountains. Noticing that the door had been left unlocked since the king remained in your cell, you decided to attempt the impossible by getting up to your feet and rushing towards the exit. Unfortunately, and quite unexpectedly, Loki’s silhouette summoned before you could reach the see through wall, stopping you in your track. Thankfully, this vision was nothing but a clone yet which still successfully managed to make you back away in fear as your eyes stared straight into his smirking features.

Your feet bumped against the edge of the bed, making you fall back as the real Loki got up right in time to avoid your silhouette. The demigod joined his clone with a chuckle, both of them looking down at you in amusement as your troubled mind couldn’t manage to figure out who the real Loki was. The only object which turned out to be in your reach was a book, and your hand didn’t waste any time before taking a firm hold of it in order to throw it at your abuser. Unfortunately, you couldn’t seem to tell which one of them was real- and seeing how you had one chance out of two to miss, your brain took a decision rather quickly... but unfortunately, it didn’t turn out to be efficient. The book passed straight through the projected figure of Loki, landing onto the floor shortly before the clone faded away from your sight.

A disappointed sigh escaped Loki’s lips as your eyes stared at his face in fear. “That was audacious. It’s a shame that your instincts decided to lead you towards the wrong path.” The king affirmed before taking ahold of your ankles, easily managing to get on top of your fragile self. You squirmed, head tilting back as you wrists were now trapped by his strong hold. “Can’t you see that I want you. I need you, my dear.” Loki confessed roughly, face buried against your neck as he kept on kissing and licking your warm flesh. You exhaled loudly, refraining from moaning as this unwanted gesture would’ve only encouraged the madman through his acts.

Soon enough, your mind and body both agreed that it was time for you to stop fighting it, arms helplessly laying beside your head as the demigod continued to do whatever he wished of your body. Thankfully, emptying the rest of the cells had been one of the first things that Loki did shortly after becoming king- which offered you both complete privacy. His hand roamed your clothed waist, the other one taking a rough hold of your breast he’s seemingly been wishing to touch for a long time now. You could feel his teeth biting at your jawline, probably creating bruises which you wouldn’t get to see until the moment you’d be free from his grip and facing your own reflection in the mirror.

Almost carefully, Loki sat you up before pulling your dress over your body, naked silhouette now exposed to his sight as you had never felt more vulnerable in your whole entire life. Soon enough, he decided that it was your turn to return the gesture, limbs falling back besides his own body as a smile appeared on his face. “Undress me.” Loki demanded calmly, green orbs looking at your scared self as he admired the way you still found the strength to fight the situation. Carefully, his hand traveled up to your chest, index and middle finger pressing against your sternum as his facial expressions were now stern. “Undress me.” Loki repeated, green mist swirling around his fingers and magically penetrating through your skin.

Nearly instantly, your brain was intoxicated with the painful grip which was Loki’s magic. Forced to obey, your hands moved up to his shoulders as you started to remove his first layers of clothing. Surprisingly enough, and as difficult to figure out as his suit could be, you managed to remove the layers of clothes as if you’ve been doing this for your entire life. Though, even if you obeyed his orders and successfully managed to undress the demigod, your soul remained empty from any forms of emotions- which was soon to become a dislike for the unamused god of mischief.

The man now sat shirtless face to your naked self, magic exiting your body as he forcefully laid you back down against the rough sheets. It felt as if you had just awoken from a dream, eyes blinking curiously as you barely managed to understand what was going on around yourself nor properly get back into reality. All you could feel were Loki’s hand on you as his clothed crotch pressed against your bare one, happy grunts and hungry moans escaping his lips as he let his lust out on the skin of your neck. His boner was undeniable, and your scent penetrating through his nostrils only managed to make it swell even harder as it prepared for the upcoming penetration.

On another hand, you turned out to have a hard time getting any wet, as the thought of having to submit to his demands made you feel sick in your stomach. However, nature was soon to take over as the feeling of his crotch against yours uncontrollably caused your genitals to throb and moisten- preparing for intercourse just like Loki’s. His head moved down to your chest, lips easily wrapping around your nipple which he religiously suckled on. Your eyelids shut close in order to avoid paying too much attention to the multiple sensations going through your body at the moment, though it was becoming harder and harder seeing how Loki truly didn’t help.

Climbing back to your face, both of your crotches aligned again as his hand moved down in order to lazily pull his own pants down, and that just enough for his member to be set free. A wince escaped his lips due to the friction the movement managed to create for his cock to enjoy, warm tip colliding with your clit as Loki took a couple of seconds to blindly align his length with your slightly moist entrance. His lips pressed against yours as his warm member slid inside of your core, a loud yet deep and creepy moan escaping his lips as his bare stomach collided with your skin.

Never once you believed ending up having to submit to such an act in your life, and yet here you were : laying down in the arms of a man you were meant to despise. However, the intercourse technically remained none consensual. As soon as he had reached balls deep, the demigod took a couple of seconds to catch his breath as this first sexual contact was visibly sending him head over heels. At least, one of you was having fun. You adjusted the position of your legs against the bed, leading Loki to do same as you could feel his stomach bulge every time he breathed in. “Fuck, my darling... you know how to make your king happy.” The man praised with a grin before starting to thrust in and out of your entrance.

A gentle hiss exited your closed mouth as Loki allowed multiple winces to escape his parted lips, his head tilting back in pleasure whilst your breasts bounced generously every time his balls collided with your ass. Once in a while, you noticed that the god of mischief would stop and enjoy some cosy time inside of your warm and soaked self as he caught his breath, hand always pressed against your cheek as he either kissed you or stared right into your eyes. Then, he would begin to thrust again and allow more frustrated groans to escape his lips as his body took care of slowly building up it’s owner’s climax.

His mouvements were soon to become sloppier, betraying the undeniable fact that your partner was soon going to release his semen against your cervix. Of course, from where you patiently laid, you couldn’t help but apprehend this moment as your worst fear was for him to cum inside of you and cause a pregnancy you did not want to occur. Finally, a moan escaped the man’s lips as he paused inside of you, the lower part of his shaft moving in waves as his scrotum throbbed and twitched. Your greatest fear had just come to reality as you could sense the thick and warm liquid stain your walls, grin appearing on Loki’s seemingly satisfied face.

“Oh my lord.. that felt so nice. I’m afraid I couldn’t thank you enough.” He confessed whilst looking down at you, shortly after managing to wash away his orgasm. Pulling out of you and causing a sudden emptiness to take over your stretched pussy, a couple of more droplets of white semen leaked out of his tip which he made sure to wipe off against your sensitive clit. Your jaw clenched as you tried your best to remain calm though your heart was rushing due to your ovaries receiving the needed ingredient to produce a living being. “I can’t wait for you to give birth to my heir.” He affirmed, sat down on the edge of the bed as he lazily pulled his pants back up.

This sentence was enough to pull you out of your daytime nightmares only to dip you into a worse one, eyes filled with fear and hatred staring up at him in a determined manner. A dark chuckle escaped Loki’s lips as he seemed to appreciate your reaction, feeling amused by behaving as if he didn’t know that was something you wouldn’t enjoy. Mental torture was in fact his favorite. “But don’t you worry my darling, I will make sure to find time through my many duties in order to visit you often.” The demigod added, confirming the fact that you probably wouldn’t get to leave this cell until your pregnancy was led to term.

Sorry for being so inactive! Here’s an imagine I hope y’all can enjoy. Unfortunately, I think I’ve been shadowbanned. ( @delightfulheartdream )

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson fluff #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #marvel #marvel imagine #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston fluff #Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston smut

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youryanderedaddy · 4 years

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Bewitched

I say fuck writing schedule m’rite hahaHa...

Dynamic: Yan!witch hunter x witch darling

Summary: You get captured by the village’s witch hunter but he might just let you live if you prove to be useful.

tw: nsfw, non-con, threats, mention of religous themes (God, Devil, etc), kindapping, obsessive/possessive behavior, slight violence, degradation, vulgar language

You could hear something. It was different from the sweet songs of the birds early in the morning or the restless howl of the wolves just before the clock hit midnight. And the smell was different too. There were no daisies, roses, magnolia or herbs to cleanse the air from the nasty smell of humans. Your clothes reeked of someone unknown, someone mortal and cruel, foolish down to their heart. Your hands were tightly bound, your shoulders pushed back in a way it was hard to feel the energy running in your own veins. There was a leather blindfold over your eyes, dulling your senses until you felt like nothing more than an animal trapped in a cage. As soon as despair managed to find its way into your lungs he entered the room and you knew instantly it had been him who had captured you.

"You are awake." The man noted quietly as his heavy yet careful steps got louder, closer. Soon his hand was resting on your thigh, drawing small pictures, initials, anything to throw you off balance and keep your mind closed and your inner vision too blurry to focus more on killing him and less on the shame his touch brought. "The village paid me to kill you. We know you are a filthy creature of the night." He spoke trough his teeth in a eery, off-putting way. You could feel the cold sharp end of his silver dagger poking at your exposed collarbone, near to your neck. One inch away from a fatal wound, one move away from taking your life forever.

"Go on then." You taunted the hunter while licking your scarlet lips, your heartbeat still violent with no sign of slowing down any time soon. "Kill me." You whispered despite the fear tearing at your insides like a wild beast. The blade suddenly pressed harder against your skin, enough to make you still frozen but lacking the actual strength to pierce. The human knelt down next to you, never dropping the deadly weapon from its sacred spot on your vulnerable neck. "You are a witch. The Devil's own spawn and blood. I just can't let you live among us." The man uttered quickly like a curse yet made no attempt to move the edge deeper. And you wanted to tell him everything about the sisterhood and the way all of you lived in peace and quiet until the villagers started killing off your friends for existing. The way you loved nature and harmony and despised violence, but of course the human would never listen to a dirty sorceress, a witch. So you just stayed there motionless on the ground, reconciled with your terrifying fate and its twisted ways.

Meanwhile the hunter let the dagger penetrate into the warm flesh, drawing a few drops of fresh blood, and it dripped onto the floor like a brook of suffering. But the man was hesitating - his palms were sweaty and his eyes were hazy, he was unsure. After a few painful moments of indecisiveness he finally pulled the blade away and threw it in the dark corner of the room. The following silence filled the space with tension so heavy it could suffocate until the villager opened his mouth. "You have seduced me with this unholy body of yours." Adam said sternly and clenched his fists. "That's why I can't kill you." His voice was low and dangerous yet desperate and defeated. "I saw you back then in the forest." He started off as his hand traveled to your cheek and stroked it gently. "You were dancing around and picking flowers. You looked so pure and beautiful - like an angel. I couldn't stop watching you." The hunter confessed quietly and you felt his cold lips on yours. The kiss was bitter, soaked with the humiliation of his advances and the knowledge he had you at his mercy. "Damn your evil magic for making me feel this way". The man dragged his teeth through your lower lip and bit down in anger, moaning into the forced act of fake intimacy.

He pushed you down aggressively, the ropes digging into your bruised flesh even more now. You couldn't move your limbs at all and you felt too tired to argue or yell at the man. It was clearer than a day that he was obsessed with you but it was far from your doing. If you had known just how easily humans became fascinated by beauty and youth you would have thought twice before using their forest as a home. And as much as you wanted to curse the cruel man forever your heart just couldn't let you harm someone with a beating heart. You were stuck and he was touching you everywhere with a palm so warm it felt like wax on your sensitive skin. Your long black dress was ripped to shreds and all the red beads from your necklace were rolling on the floor as a mockery to your title. You were stripped down to your bones and left with nowhere to hide from the monster trying to break you. The energy in your body was gray and filthy, too weak to do more than upset you even further.

"I am going to make you mine tonight. I will use you like the dirty pagan slut you are." Adam cupped your breasts together in a swift move and you shivered at the contact of flesh. His words were painful and didn't help ease the fact that it was the first time someone had touched you in such a private place. In no time your eyes had filled with tears you were too proud to spill but too scared to hold back. "Aww, are you crying, wench? Go on, cry some more for me. When I'm done with you no one will want you. You'll be ruined for anyone other than me." He cooed at you and took hold of your naked legs, spreading them apart which caused you to break down in a pitiful mess of tears, snot and hushed breathes. "You should be greatful I am letting you live. If you weren't so beautiful I would have killed you in an instance." The hunter kept going, his voice low and deprived, his hot fingers brushing against your belly, the disgusting feeling in your guts making your chest tighten, caging your bleeding heart inside. "You are lucky I like taming wild animals." He continued harshly, a crazy look in his enlarged pupils so blue and clear, yet so intimidating and suffocating to its victims.

You inhaled sharply in a desperate attempt to calm your nerves and begged the villager with any strength left in your trembling body. "Please stop, please, for the love of the universe, just don't do it, just let me go and you shall never see me again." In reply the man simply smirked maliciously and licked his lips as he positioned himself over your open, exposed folds. His hands were rough and grabby, roaming over your frame and groping, digging, pinching every little curve. You prayed to both nature and the Gods above someone would come and take you away from this nightmare but to no avail. "No one will save you, witch. If they find you, you're dead, so you better be nice and quiet like a corpse while I take you." Adam spat out with poison and without any warning thrust his massive manhood into your tight entrance. The pain was sharp and piercing, white and hot. This time you started crying out loud in despair finally having realized you were truly alone. The humans wanted nothing more than to see you burn and now you were getting punished for being different.

The man didn't spare you any moment of suffering. He would place wet kisses all over your body, bite at the soft flesh until red and scratch any time he felt the need to hear your miserable whines. "Look at the way I'm splitting you open on my cock, you are so damn tight. I wouldn't have guessed you were a virgin if you weren't bleeding like a little bitch." Adam chuckled darkly and hit your cervix over and over again until the pain turned into something else you were too ashamed to name. "If you ever try to tempt someone else with this sinful body of yours I'll fucking kill you." The man cursed under his breath and brought two finger over your clit, stroking it gently and drawing cicles. You threw your head back at the sudden jolt of pleasure and closed your eyes, trying to distance your mind from what was being forcefully done to your anatomy.

"You feel so good around my cock, so pretty with your tits bouncing every time I pound into you. I love you so much." The hunter suddenly uttered as he slowed down the pace, driving into you with careful thrusts before going back to roughly shoving his length into your sensitive hole. "Say it back." He ordered lowly and smashed his lips on yours pushing his wet tongue all the way in, his hands messaging your breasts and toying with the stiff little nipples on top. You gained the courage to shake your head no so the villager wrapped his fist around your slender neck, giving it a light squeeze as a warning. You had no choice but to mumble a soft "I love you." when your survival instincts took over your dignity. Your sweet broken voice was enough to send the man over the edge and he came violently in your tight channel while whsipering all sorts of terrible, filthy words into your ear.

You thought the torture was finally over but your hopes were quickly shattered when Adam pressed his fingers over your overestimulated bud and flicked it around, your mind finding it hard to copperhead the intense pleasure after the pain. "Cum for me, wench." He commanded you harshly and kept playing with your love button until your pussy clamped down and you experienced your first orgasm at the hands of a filthy, egotistical human.

The male stroked your hair gently but still didn't move to undo the ropes keeping you restrained on the hard floor. "I've always wanted you." The hunter admitted in the next moment. You wondered whether you wanted him to shut up or keep rambling to distract you from the shame and humiliation. Your eyes were red and puffy from the sobbing and your head pulsated with dull pain. "I'll never let them catch you." Adam reassured you quietly as he drew small circles on your arm with his knuckles. "I will keep you forever, my love. It doesn't matter that you have succumbed to the Devil because from now own you are only going to serve me." He kissed your neck softly.

"I'll become your God."

#yandere #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere smut #yandere oneshot #yancore #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #male yandere x you #yandere witch hunter #witch darling

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ashesandhalefire · 3 years

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progress report: i am missing you to death

alex, michael, and a lot of unsaid things.

inspired by an entirely out of context teaser shot of alex and a desperate need for interaction that has yet to be satisfied by season 3 canon.

Deep Sky provides the coordinates and the time, so Alex shows up and waits.

While he stands in the cool night air, he scans the flat terrain that stretches out to one side and the gully where the highway sits. Other than the whizzing traffic, oblivious to his insignificance, everything is quiet.

After about twenty minutes of the vibrating stillness, Michael slinks out of the shadows with his hat tucked low over his face and leans against the back of the car beside Alex’s SUV.

Blood rushing in his ears, Alex does a second quick sweep of the lot’s perimeter. Nothing obvious has changed in the shadows since he crept through the bushes to check potential sight lines, but Alex isn’t stupid. He was in over his head when Project Shepherd turned out to be just his father’s backroom hobby. Deep Sky outclasses his expertise in a way he isn’t ready to reckon with. They could be anywhere—somewhere in the lot, somewhere down the road, somewhere miles away—and Michael has sauntered directly into their crosshairs.

He left about five feet between them when he stopped to hook one ankle over the other and stare out at the traffic, and the distance is enough for deniability. Alex tightens his hands into anxious fists and forces a long, deep breath through his nose.

“Hey,” Michael says with a casual nod of his head. They stand listening to the roar of tires chewing their ways along the desert highway, and Alex waits for a sign. He checks Michael’s chest for the red point of a laser sight just in case. Nothing happens. They stand a little longer, and then Michael leans over and asks, “You got a light?”

“No. You got a cigarette?”

The corner of Michael’s mouth twitches. It stirs up a fondness that Alex has carefully and surgically distanced himself from for the last few months, and he glances around the parking lot again. Being in love with Michael is too easy. He falls into it without needing to think about it or to try, and the laziness of trusting things to fate is probably why they’ve never gotten it right. He should probably consider himself lucky. Sinking back into those feelings now, fruitlessly, after so much time has passed, will make him sloppy in a way he can’t afford.

“You shouldn’t be here. They could see you.”

Michael tucks his hands into his jacket pockets and shrugs, easy and unbothered. Or, almost unbothered. The muscles in his jaw are tight and tense. “You don’t even know what they do or if they’re looking for me. I haven’t exactly been hiding for the last year.”

“That doesn’t mean you should paint a bullseye on your chest.”

“But you should?”

Michael spits barbs like an old man working his way through seeded melon, careless and precise in equal measure. He always finds soft flesh.

“This isn’t a game,” Alex grits out, face growing hot with frustration. He watches a tractor trailer speed by on the road below and shoot a piece of trash out from beneath its tires.

“So tell me what it is, then,” Michael says, mouth turning down and voice suddenly going sharp as a knife’s edge, “because I didn’t really wait around to hear the rest of the story after Valenti said you were joining a cult.”

Alex looks over, and Michael’s brow is pinched to match the irritated wrinkle of his nose. Anger and tension leak off him like heat shimmers off the pavement at midday. He holds his casual posture, ankles crossed and hands tucked, but his eyes are furious.

“It’s complicated.”

Michael scoffs. “You know what, I shouldn’t bother. I should just drag your ass home, no questions.”

And now Alex’s temper flares: “Try it.”

“You think I wouldn’t? To save you?” He laughs meanly. “I’d have you over my shoulder so fucking fast—”

“I don’t need to be saved.”

“Obviously, you do.” Michael pushes off the car. The brim of his hat catches the light from the lamppost and casts half his face in shadows. “We have enough problems on our hands right now. We don’t need to poke the bear.”

“This bear poked first,” Alex says, equally furious. He checks behind Michael before hissing through his teeth, “They kidnapped Mimi. They drugged Jenna Cameron. Turnabout is fair play.”

“This isn’t turnabout! This isn’t even revenge. You’re joining their club. You are flinging yourself into a pit, Alex. A big, dark, deep pit, and when you get far enough in, none of us are going to be able to get you out. We’re gonna lose you. For good. And for no fucking reason.”

“Not for no reason,” Alex says. A tingle of shame trickles up the back of his neck. He knows he’s unprepared, going in without an exit strategy. But he can’t sit on his hands and do nothing. It makes him nervous and paranoid to be idle. “They know things.”

“Who gives a shit? Who gives one fucking iota of a shit about what they know?”

Alex frowns. “You have always wanted to know more—”

“Not like this! Not at the risk of—” Michael puts a fist to his forehead. Then he pulls off his hat and takes another step closer. His voice is softer when he speaks. “Why are you so hellbent on doing this, huh? This isn’t just your dad anymore. This is bigger than that.”

“I know.”

“They are gonna swallow you whole, and what’s the point if you’re just gone?”

Alex draws another long inhale through his nose. The weight of the thick, ugly ring on his finger feels like an anchor dragging him down. The memories of Caulfield crumbling to pieces in a cloud of fire are heavier. “If there’s even a chance that they know something, what choice do I have? I’m not getting caught off guard again. I owe you that much.”

“Bullshit,” Michael says with a jerk of his chin. “Doing it is one thing, but don’t pretend you’re doing it for me.” A pair of low-riding sports cars scream down the highway behind him, bobbing and weaving through the minimal traffic with their engines blaring. One falters behind a gas tanker and then chases its companion off towards the horizon with an roar. “If you had any interest in doing something for me, you would stay.”

Cold uncertainty creeps into Alex’s chest, and no number of layers can keep it out. He wants to ask: would I be welcome? Because he hasn’t felt like he would be in a long time. He had showed up, again and again. Sometimes, he had been wanted, and sometimes, he hadn’t been. The haze of open mic night had cleared for an instant, and the future had been visible, tangible, workable, and then, just as quickly, had vanished into the air. He had been left with Isobel’s obvious, humiliating pity, her mouth turned down as she stood to listen through the last note. That door had been closed. And yet, he wants to ask: would I be welcome? Dignity be damned.

“Are— are you asking me to stay?”

There must be something in his voice when he says it, no matter how hard he tries to control the pathetic wavering and the sunken surprise on his face, that means something to Michael. His whole body eases forward as if carried by an invisible current before he catches himself and says, “I’m done asking people for more than they’re willing to give me.”

“But you would ask? If you thought—?” Alex pushes. “You would want to ask?”

The corners of Michael’s mouth turn down and his gaze narrows almost imperceptibly, but Alex is watching for it. The more Michael closes off, the more Alex feels himself splitting open. Something bright and electric stirs in his chest.

“Because I thought you wouldn’t,” he says, waiting for the moment when Michael’s eyes widen, just slightly, just enough to understand. It comes, exactly as expected, and Michael sways closer.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d ask. I’m not about to beg, but I’d ask.”

He’s gotten Michael to beg before, but never for something as serious as love. On his back or on his knees or in the bed of his truck, Alex has heard him plead and bargain for things he wants in the neediest, most desperate whispers, but that had been all carnal, base pleasure, and he had known Alex wouldn’t tell him no. Here, he’s talking about a different type of submission, the kind that humiliates someone like Michael, someone who has never been given enough. Michael won’t beg, and Alex needs to be asked, and a lot of time has been wasted between them thinking that one is the same as the other.

He can’t say he’ll stay. He’s too far in to back out. And, even if he could do it, staying doesn’t mean riding off into the sunset. It means more of the same: the secrets, the conspiracies, the mysteries, the agonies, the scraping open of old wounds in last-ditch efforts to heal them. But it also means Michael, so everything else is white noise.

Michael sees it all play out on his face. He sets his hat on the roof of Alex’s car and then turns to lean against the hatchback. He sighs, and Alex can tell that more weight than usual is resting on his shoulders. It’s not just Max dragging him under. His whole body sags with it, and the sharp focus that’s been in his eyes begins to recede as he drifts away towards the call of whatever nightmare is lurking at the back of his mind.

“It’ll be okay,” Alex says because he lacks for anything else to say, and Michael stares at his boots with a sad smile. His throat bobs as he swallows down whatever it is that’s too hard to talk about with so little time left to say it, and then he turns to look at Alex.

“Your dad was a piece of shit,” he says, like this is some sort of revelation, “and you’re you.”

The words, said like an accusation, should probably turn his stomach, but they’re also said with a reverence that pushes Alex’s heart up into his throat. Whatever is happening has rocked Michael to his core far beyond how Alex knows to help.

“Less of a piece of shit, I hope.”

Michael stares at him, flexing his hand, and then says, with a nod, “Significantly, yeah.”

“I guess that’s the best I can hope for.” Alex laughs, and then he tips his head back to look at the starless sky. “I’ll take being afraid of being like him over being proud of being like him any day. At least it means I’m going in the right direction.”

Jesse haunts Alex differently than he haunts Michael. To Michael, Jesse is another human face that did something terrible to him, just more proof that looking for another planet to run to is a good idea. Jesse is a more specific phantom for Alex, much harder to let blur into the background of the general awfulness of life. There are reminders of his father all around town: placards, photographs, the sign for the street they lived on, a six-foot statue in town square. Those can be faced much more easily than the hints of his father that Alex finds in the mirror: the deep-set wrinkles in his brows, the cut of his mouth when he frowns, the tone of his voice when he yells, the shape of his thumb. To be a little less like him every day is an exhausting but necessary struggle.

Michael smiles, and Alex, mystified, thinks maybe he managed to help after all.

“Your plan wasn’t really to drag me home over your shoulder, was it?” he asks to distract from how Michael carefully swipes a finger at the corner of one eye.

Michael huffs, and the car jostles. “I don’t know. Maybe. I just wasn’t about to let you go without—” He licks his lips and says, “I wasn’t about to let you just go.”

Alex scuffs his shoe against the loose gravel. “Couldn’t get Kyle’s hubcaps off this time?”

Guilt settles over him after he says it. Guilt and something else, something like the relief of setting down a heavy burden that’s been carried too long.

“I thought you were making a mistake back then, too.” Michael takes the comment in stride, accepts it, and reaches out to touch the ring on Alex’s hand. He pinches it carefully, Alex’s fingers curled into the heat of his palm, and rolls his thumb until the ring twists to expose the thinner underside of the band. He strokes, skin then metal then skin, over and over. “Flinging yourself into some dark pit that you’d never come out of again.”

Alex wants to tell him that this is different. He can’t.

“Do me a favor, okay?”

Hand slipping up over Alex’s wrist and into the soft corner of his elbow, Michael crosses the final inches of space between them and pulls Alex close. In the dim light of the parking lot, they might be mistaken for the sort of strangers who meet in shadowy corners for quick exchanges of misery with rough words and rougher touch. But then Michael, trembling, touches the lapel of Alex’s jacket and presses a long kiss to his cheek.

He keeps his mouth there, breath hot and soft, and, before he gathers himself enough to continue, Alex says, “I’ll come back.”

Michael laughs, but it sounds like a gasp for air. “Not even gonna let me ask?”

Alex hums. “I’ll come back.”

“Yeah, you’ll come back,” Michael warns, “or I’ll come get you. And it won’t be fucking subtle.”

It sends a shiver down his spine to think of Michael storming a place as infinitely large as Deep Sky feels. If it comes to that, he’d be better off left behind. But as the thought comes, Michael’s grip shifts and the tentative press of their sides becomes a full-bodied hug that envelopes him like a warm breeze. His nose turns into the side of Michael’s neck: rain, crisp and fresh; gasoline, but faint; smoke, from his fire pit.

“I’m not really going anywhere. It’ll be fine.”

Michael squeezes, and Alex squeezes back. Everything else he wants to say is too big for this moment. And, selfishly, he wants to know that Michael will wait to hear it. He scolds himself for the thought, because they’ve each done their share of waiting miserably at the wayside, but then he lets it stand. Michael squeezes again, fingertips digging into separate points as he clings.

Alex cups a hand to the back of his head and touches his curls. He thinks about what it would mean to kiss Michael now, to kiss someone that he loves, who loves him, and imagines a tower of precariously stacked dominoes. Michael laughs wetly, and Alex lets go first, fingers lingering reluctantly.

#malex fic #malex #roswell new mexico #michael x alex #my fic #i read the jungle; the grapes of wrath; and another country in less than two weeks. idt my writing style even knows which way is up rn #but i had to Produce Something or i was going to go crazy so :/

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villainousshakespeare · 3 years

Text

Bobby’s Play Date Part 1

The pandemic is keeping Tom idling in London by himself. One positive is that wearing the mask helps him avoid recognition, allowing him to wander in the park with his dog, Bobby. On one of their walks, Bobby becomes smitten with a dog named Lulu and Tom is equally enchanted by her human. Can the Hiddleston men manage to find a way to see the lovely ladies again?

Tom Hiddleston/OFC

Rated M - Pandemic, Fluff, Quarantine, Masks, Adorable Puppies, Meet Cute, Second Part May (will) Contain Smut

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @gorgeous1974 @maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere, from-hel-i-with-love, @sweetsigyn, @fictiondoesitbetter, @ms-cellanies @evieplease @viviennes-tears @turniptitaness @cynic-spirit

It was months into the pandemic that had ground the world to a halt. Tom desperately hoped things would go back to normal soon, and that a vaccine would be found to help more people from getting sick and dying. There were, of course, many changes to the world at the moment that Tom was not pleased with. Being unable to work, for instance, or travel to visit his sisters was both frustrating and depressing. One change, however, he had to admit he was not completely adverse to.

Tom loved his fans. They were usually polite, often intelligent, and had donated millions in his name to charities. He often said that he couldn’t consider himself an actor without an audience, and he meant it. It was just that there were times when he wanted to enjoy a little anonymity. Particularly when health advisories suggested a six foot distance between people, Tom was relieved to be able to slip on a plain black mask along with his baseball cap and sunglasses and blend in with the other people wandering about on errands.

He was enjoying just such a stroll now despite the warmth, grateful for the ability to hide in plain sight. Bobby frisked happily on his lead, chasing after imaginary prey as they ambled aimlessly down the winding path. It was a lovely, sunny day, but fear was keeping many people at home and they had the park largely to themselves.

When they reached a bend, Bobby began barking excitedly and pulled Tom along, his human chuckling as he was dragged by his furry companion. The reason for Bobber’s excitement soon became apparent. Sitting on a bench placed beside a scenic little river was a woman in a flowered mask, holding the lead of a small, gold and white shih tzu dog in a ridiculous pink and white checked dress.

Tom had to take a firm hold as Bobby frantically tried to go over and meet the smaller dog, who had begun barking herself as they rounded the bend. Her fluffy head, complete with bow to keep the hair from her eyes, perked up, and she began jumping up and down in a little dance. Bobby calmed down a bit as he felt Tom’s pressure on his lead, but his tongue still lolled out of his mouth in a dopey smile.

“Steady,” Tom commanded, feeling embarrassed as Bobby continued to hover as close as allowed to the silly looking strange dog. “I’m sorry, I promise he is completely friendly.”

“It’s okay, so is she,” the woman replied, smiling with her eyes even though he could not see her mouth behind her mask. “You know, she’s usually quite shy, but she seems to like him! May I pet him?”

“Please, and thanks for asking.”

Letting the lead out a bit, Tom watched as the woman reached down to give Bobby a good pet, complimenting him on being a handsome boy. Her fluff of a pup had advanced timidly, and she and Bobby commenced sniffing and circling each other with obvious enjoyment.

“Wow, I have never seen her respond like that to a strange dog!” the woman laughed.

As she spoke, Bobby rolled onto his back and waved his paws in the air with a complete lack of dignity.

“Safe to say he is rather taken as well,” Tom chuckled. “Absolutely shameless! Mind if I have a seat? It seems a shame to deprive them.”

He gestured to the bench next to hers, wanting to keep a safe distance and indicate he respected her space, and the woman nodded. She was dressed much more simply than her dog, he noticed. Black leggings and long rose colored tee shirt, a pair of keds. Apparently, she got all of her whimsy out on her pup.

“What’s his name?” she asked, watching as the dogs frolicked with each other.

“Bobby,” he supplied. “I’m Tom.”

“I’m Leia, and that ridiculous creature is Lulu.”

“Like the princess?” he couldn’t help but ask with a chuckle.

“General,” she answered without missing a beat. “It’s what happens when you are born during the release of a cultural phenomenon. Pity all of the little girls out there now being named Daenerys or Gamora.”

Tom held his breath for a moment. If she was a Marvel fan, then did he have to worry about her recognizing him? Fortunately, she seemed more interested in the game of tag their companions were playing, and he let himself relax.

“There’s a dog run about half a mile from here,” he suggested after a few minutes of companionable silence. “It’s actually where we were headed.”

“I know, but Lulu is so skittish,” Leia sighed. “She just huddles in a little ball when the bigger dogs come near her.”

“She seems fine with Bobbers.”

“I know! Your adorable boy is some sort of sorcerer! It makes me so happy to see her playing with another dog!”

“I have to ask…”

“The dress?” she guessed; voice wry.

“Yeah.”

“She’s a rescue. When I got her, she was a pathetic, bedraggled little thing that had been there for ages. It was winter, and the first times I took her out I had to put a coat on her. After that, she started equating dressing with going out, and would get so excited every time I took a coat or sweater out for her. When the weather warmed up, I realized that I missed the way she would jump up and literally throw herself into whatever I had picked out for her to wear. It’s completely silly, I know, but it makes her happy, and she just looks so cute!”

Tom’s heart melted a little as he listened to her explain. Yes, the dog looked silly, but it was such a sweet reason that suddenly the little dress transformed into a symbol of kindness rather than an eccentricity.

“She does look adorable,” he said.

A beeping noise had him drawing his phone from his pocked, and he was surprised at the time. He had to get back home soon for a virtual session with his trainer. Oddly, he found himself reluctant to go. It had been so long since he had just spent time with another person, it had felt good just to sit in her presence and relax.

“I’m afraid I have to get going. But Bobby and I usually walk this way around lunch time,” he blurted out, lying through his teeth. “Hopefully we will run into you lovely ladies again. So that the dogs can play.”

He was more grateful for the mask than ever, as it hopefully hid the blush he could feel coloring his face. Once more her vivid eyes sparkled and she stood up too, twisting around with him as they attempted to untangle the leashes.

“I’m sure Lulu would love that!” she told him, picking up the golden dog as she whined and tried to follow after her new friend. “We’ll see you around, Tom. Bobby.”

With a jaunty step he let his long legs take him away, looking forward to tomorrow already.

It rained the next two days. Not just a soft drizzle but am early summer storm that made the idea of a pleasant walk a fantasy. Tom and Bobby both resented the weather, and it was a toss up which of them was more disagreeable as they were forced to stay indoors.

When the sun shone on the third day, Tom immediately cancelled all of his afternoon plans. He had waited patiently, he told himself, he was not going to let this day go to waste. It was for Bobby’s sake, after all. The pup deserved a nice day out after being shut up inside.

They left home mid-morning, Tom unable to sit still any longer. He couldn’t say why exactly he was so keen on meeting Leia and her silly dog again, but he had been able to think of nothing else during his enforced isolation. Perhaps it was simply the novelty of meeting someone new who didn’t instantly faun over him or act nervous and shy. She treated him as though he were just an ordinary guy walking his dog in the park; which of course was what he was!

He arrived at the benches where they had met earlier that week, but they were empty. It was still early, so they made a circuit of the nearby trails. His eyes always alert for their new friends. They passed a few other people walking their pets, but both Tom and Bobby were uninterested beyond a nod hello and brief sniff. The Hiddleston men were both to focused on finding particular companions.

It was, as it had been before, Bobby who first discovered their presence. As they were walking through a more secluded, twisting section of the park, the dog’s ears pricked up and he began barking in excitement. Tail wagging frantically, Bobby yanked on the lead and pulled Tom along behind him as he took off around a curve. A high pitched yip sounded from the direction he headed.

“Well hello there!” Leia greeted him, leaning down to scratch Bobby’s head as he and Lulu danced around each other. “We were hoping to run into you boys again!”

“Eh heh heh,” Tom laughed, dancing around to keep his leash from entangling too badly with hers. “Obviously Bobby here was looking forward to that as well! As was I.”

“Well then, I am so happy you found us.”

He felt absurdly pleased as they fell into step beside each other. The two dogs were happy to walk along, darting back and forth in play as they went.

“Were you going anywhere in particular?” Leia asked casually.

“Oh, just wandering about,” Tom answered, not wanting to admit that they had been on a mission to hunt down the ladies.

“Well then, we can wander together.”

As the dogs played, Tom and Leia chatted happily. He learned that she was an aspiring writer working on edits to her first novel, and a tour guide, specializing in guiding small groups around literary sights in London as a way to earn money.

“Of course, it’s hard to be a tour guide with no tourists,” she sighed. “You would think it would give me more time to write, but its hard to focus. Anyway, I talk too much. What about you?”

“Oh, I’m on furlough,” he shrugged, staying vague. “Just loafing about the house, annoying Bobby. So what is your novel about?”

He managed to direct the conversation back to her, even though she avoided the subject of her book. Instead, she brought up some of the more interesting places she had brought tourists. Tom, a proud Londoner, had been to many of them, and they happily discussed the more interesting locations. She seemed impressed that he had read books by most of the authors they discussed and was quite ready with a line or two from memory. In turn, Tom loved how expressive she became when describing the joy people experienced finding themselves walking in the footsteps of their favorite fictional characters.

By the time Leia announced that she and Lulu needed to head home, (Tom thought he detected regret in her voice) he was surprised to realize that they had been talking for almost two hours. It was the most pleasant afternoon he had passed in some time.

After that, Tom and Bobby spent every afternoon in the park. At first, they managed to “stumble” upon their companions most days. The days they did not were frustrating for both of them and usually ended with them barking at each other. After a few run-ins with Leia and Lulu however, Tom took the plunge and asked if they would like to make their daily meetups official. Leia seemed pleased, but with the caveat that some days she did need to stay home and write when she was struck by the rare inspiration. Tom deflated momentarily, thinking she was looking for an out, until she offered to text him an let him know if they would be absent. He happily gave her his cell phone number and took hers in return, letting her know that she should feel free to text anytime and then feeling like an idiot the minute the words left his mouth.

Over the next two weeks they met all but three days – two because of her writing and one when the skies once more conspired to thwart him. Their conversations ranged from literature to films to favorite places to travel. Leia sometimes teased him about his obvious upper class life style, jetting about to Viet Nam, Hawaii, Australia… but that was the closest his celebrity status ever came to being brought up. He would occasionally feel a stab of guilt over keeping that part of himself from her, it felt dishonest to lie by omission, but he was enjoying being just Tom, and didn’t want to spoil it.

Tom started taking more care in his appearance as the days went on. Gone were the torn running shorts and frayed t-shirts, and in their place were his slim fitting dark jeans and more presentable tops. If those tops also stretched a bit tight across his chest to better show off his muscles, well, he had worked hard enough to achieve them! He made some attempt to style his untamable locks as well, experimenting with different products until he found something that made the curls less crunchy. If he was remembering Leia’s off hand comment about how she liked his natural curls no one else needed to know that.

On the one month anniversary of meeting them in the park, Tom paced nervously back and forth near their favorite bench as he waited for them to arrive. He had a proposition for Leia and hoped desperately that she would say yes. When Bobby started frisking about he knew that he would see her walking Lulu, and spun around to see her come towards them.

“Sorry I’m late!” she smiled with her eyes. “This one managed to hide my house keys, and it took half an hour to track them down to her stash under the sofa.”

Lulu looked unrepentant as she pranced around Bobby, and Tom chuckled good naturedly. He gestured to the bench and sat after Leia, leaning back and stretching out his legs.

“No worries, honestly,” he assured her. “I am just delighted you are here now.”

“You are the perfect gentleman.”

“All lies, I assure you,” he waited for a moment, wanting to sound casual, and then launched into it unable to delay any longer. “I was wondering… The park is lovely, of course, but I thought it might be nice – for Lulu and Bobby – if they had a bit more freedom to run about. Lulu being afraid of the dog run, she has no opportunity to be off leash, and that can’t be too fun for our furry companions.”

“They seem to be having a good time to me,” Leia laughed, looking at where the dogs were investigating a small pile of leaves by the side of the trail. “But what did you have in mind?”

“Well, you see, our house has an enclosed back yard. Not huge, mind you, but large enough they would be able to chase to their hearts content without fearing larger beasts. I thought that perhaps you and Lulu might want to come over this Friday evening for dinner. There’s a testing sight not far from here. We could each get swabbed to make sure we are uncontagious. My bubble is only my Mum and Bobbers, and from what you’ve told me yours isn’t much bigger. It should be reasonably safe for you to come. I could make us dinner, and we could eat outside. If you would be comfortable with it, that is.”

He tried to look calm, but inside Tom was a riot of nerves as he waited for her answer. Leia’s brow crinkled in thought, and she glanced again to where the dogs were once more hopping back and forth across the path.

“I can’t do Friday,” she told him, and his heart fell.

“Oh, alright then. It was just an idea.”

“Friday is my virtual book club,” she went on, talking over him. “Would Saturday work?”

“Saturday would be perfect!” he beamed.

“Great! I’ll go to the clinic for a test tomorrow then. Would you like me to bring anything?”

“Just Lulu and a healthy appetite.”

“Excellent! Now what do you say we walk over to the little waterfall?”

Tom practically floated through the rest of their walk. He had enjoyed getting to know her so much, but he wanted to spend more than an hour or two at a time with her. Dinner would give them a chance to really relax. Plus, he was dying to see her mouth. After a month of imagining her smile he wanted to know if what he had in his mind was anywhere close to reality. She would see his full face too, but if she hadn’t recognized him by now it was doubtful she would from the lower half of his face.

His confidence dipped a bit when they returned home. Looking around, Tom began to panic. Between photos of him in his full Loki regalia to a group picture with the cast of Skull island, there were far too many give aways of his fame. She might not recognize him, but you would have to like on another planet not to know who Sam Jackson was!

Tom spent the next few days rearranging his home. His awards, normally discreetly placed in a cabinet in his living room on the insistence of his mother, were moved to a back shelf in his office closet. The set photos from a decade plus of filming were shoved under his bed and various pieces of memorabilia were secreted away in the spare bedroom. By the time he was done his guilt had increased but he was fairly confident that all trace of his career had been tucked away safely.

“Well, Bobbers, let’s hope we don’t blow this,” he sighed, adjusting the bandana he had bought to go around the dog’s neck. Bobby whined slightly and Tom grinned. “None of that, you want to look good for your date. She has a fondness for clothing, after all.”

Bobby gave him a look that said he clearly knew Lulu was not the one Tom was trying to impress with his new fashion statement, but Tom cheerfully ignored it. Tonight was going to be a wonderful night.

#Tom Hiddleston #Fan Fiction #Fic #Tom Hiddleston Fic #Tom Hiddleston/OFC #Bobby Hiddleston #Fluff #Flirting #quarantine #pandemic #puppy love #cuteness overload #smut in second part #meet cute

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purestxblood · 3 years

Text

𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖈𝖍 𝖒𝖆𝖉𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖑, 𝔪𝔦𝔤𝔲𝔢𝔩 𝔤𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔬

"𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞? 𝐈 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐫𝐮𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞. 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐦. 𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲? ▔ 𝘂𝗻𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄𝗻, 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀, 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, & 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘸/ 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳.

𝟭, 𝟱𝟵𝟲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀. 𝗘𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆! 𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻 𝗮 𝘁𝗮𝗴 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝗺𝗲 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄. 𝘅

The walls vibrated in a soothing union as music radiated through the nearly burnt out speakers spread amongst the shitty dive bar you found yourself in for not the second but third day in the row. You were never the type to throw yourself a pity party, always refusing to lower your head in shame and spread your tears until everyone knew you were in fact breaking and feeling ‘woe is me’. You were strong, level headed, and independent.

Granted, you weren’t as confident and strong minded as you feigned yourself to be. You had your moments where you drank way too much and allowed the shadows of negative thoughts to cloud your head and maybe you did often allow your demons to shine light and fight battles no one else could beat. You were undefeated in the ring and it was rare for any man to put up with your antics.

It wasn’t your fault. You honestly tried to keep the monsters at bay and for the most part you did well. With a heart feeling three times its size you had a lot of love to give, falling in love with the idea of love itself. Your only downfall had been mixing love and pleasure, failing to see the difference between love and lust, and falling head over heels for the men - shitty ass boys - who were equally as broken as you. What you believed to be love had only been temporary comfort and deep down feeling wanted was better than feeling nothing at all. So what if you happened to scare them away whenever you were in a rut and overwhelmed with negative emotions you struggled to vocalize. It wasn’t your fault they couldn’t handle you.

This last relationship of yours had hit you like a ton of bricks. You didn’t expect him to come into your life nor did you expect him to take half of your dignity and heart the second he left. It had been a game of tug-o-war in the beginning. He begged you to let him in and the second everything got rough… When your arguments sent you into fits of rage and screams before your release of cries sent you into attacks of anxiety and waves of depression, he decided it was too much.

‘You’re always here, you’re there… fuck sometimes I think you don’t even know who you are’ he yelled at you as he got into his truck. ‘You’re fucking crazy,’ he spat before he sped away.

Alas, here you were, holding a glass of whiskey straight on the rocks with your back pressed against the back of the bar wall away from the crowd drinking themselves away. You were trapped in a corner and while a woman should normally fear a stranger pinning them in hindsight, you were merely intrigued by the man before you.

You had noticed him from the moment he walked in. Granted, any sane person in Santo Padre knew Miguel Galindo. However, like you - he had retreated to the same ringy bar on the outskirts of town. The bar itself was a hole in the wall but still had a great jukebox, pool tables, and darts, filled with regulars who noticed any face, new and old. Your presence in the facility had been so frequent you noted his arrival every time and he too noticed you.

While everyone in the bar drank within groups, he always seemed to sit far off by his lonesome, drinking his wits and worries away. No one had approached him besides the cocktail waitress who moved on a trained autopilot clock, bringing him drink after drink.

This night had been different.

He was the first to arrive when you got there and once you placed yourself atop of your normal stool, your glass had been filled and waiting for you, the bartender motioning towards Miguel, who nodded his head and lifted his own glass in cheers. You hadn’t made any move to him, taking every drink the bartender gave you that was said to be on Galindo’s tab. It wasn’t until you were on your fifth glass and your head began to feel dizzy from a soft buzz that you stood with your glass to go to the restroom.

Just as you had excited, Miguel had blocked your line of path, taking steps forward as you moved back until you were against the wall. His darkened eyes roamed over your frame, taunting you with his gaze and crisp smirk. Your eyes followed his movements as he lifted his own glass to his lips and chugged the remainder before placing it atop of the table.

“Pretty bold to be drinking alone,” he cocked his head to the side, “don’t you think princesa?” His hand lifted, motioning for another round but not once had his eyes left you.

You brought your glass to your own lips, running your tongue along the edge. “You don’t look difficult to handle,” he hummed, taking a sip of your drink. You mimicked his actions, tilting your head as you eyed him up and down. Even he knew you were aware of who he was, and unlike the rest, you hadn’t shown any sign of insecurity or weakness. If anything, you were matching his stance.

“Miguel Galindo,” you said his name while lifting a finger to his chest, delicately trailing your nail along the collar of his shirt and down the buttons along his chest, stopping atop of his pants. Your soft touch made Miguel take another step towards you, his hand reaching out to touch your chin. “Running on the outskirts,” you observed, “or running from something,” you lifted a brow.

He breathed heavily through his nose, his face hardening as you called attention to his ploy, reminding him why he even stepped foot into the bar. At first, it had been a distraction for him… a way to forget his mother’s death, hide away from Emily’s nagging, Cristobal’s ear piercing cries.

When Dita Galindo died, not only had she taken her own soul, but she had clung to her son's entire being and dragged him down with her. He hadn’t been the same since and all he felt was a desperate need to relieve his pain and feel anything besides numbness.

Miguel Galindo was a skeleton with a punctured heart.

Any sane person wouldn’t want to come near Miguel at this time, hell even Emily avoided him when he wasn’t the one ensuring to not cross paths with her; yet you were here toying with him.

“Aren’t you afraid of my darkness?” he asked, mischief melting off his tongue with a hooded gaze. His hand cupped your left jaw, his fingers rubbing along the apple of your cheek in soothing motions. Puckering your lips, you tilted your head to the side in an innocent and teasing manner before pushing yourself off the wall and closing the gap between you both.

You were merely inches apart, Miguel’s hand creating a small space between your faces. You were about to play with fire and it only stirred your insides. You weren’t as innocent as he was assuming, you carried demons just as Miguel. Not once did your eyes break from the other, both of you battling each other for dominance, your own eyes gleaming as if to challenge him. Licking your lips, you smirked, “nope.”

Grabbing a hold of his hand that lingered upon your face, you maintained eye contact and bent slightly, wrapping your lips around his finger and sucking until his thumb was completely in your mouth. Miguel’s smile widened into a smirk and he closed the distance by tightly gripping your hip and pulling you against him.

So what, you were in a crowded bar on the outskirts of town. Any smart person here knew better than to betray a Galindo and vocalize what actions were to take place. He’d ensure that any night of yours wouldn’t be voiced and rumored.

Miguel always got what he wanted and right now he wanted to forget and lose himself in you.

You let out a soft moan as you felt the already growing bulge in his pants rub against you. While one hand wrapped around his neck, the other went to cup his member, rubbing your palm up and down along the cusp of his jeans. Miguel hissed through his teeth, disguising the moan that wanted to come about.

Miguel and you were nose to nose, your eyes toying with each other.

“You don’t know what you’re about to get into princesa,” he muttered, his lips ever so lightly hovering over yours. He was teasing you, willing you to make the next move and give in to the temptation of a Galindo, however, you were just as smooth as he was.

You batted your eyes, moving your head side to side as you observed his face. With every movement your lips nearly grazed his and you hummed, “that’s the thing Miguel...” you leaned forward, pausing with your lips millimetres apart from his. His eyes closed and he found himself leaning forward, his body silently begging you to give him the ounce of affection he lacked in his life yet instead you thrived off giving him what he wanted, you thrived off his desperation.

Instead of placing your lips upon his (even though you were too eager to taste the liquor on his tongue), you pulled back and brought your glass to your lips. Miguel’s eyes opened and you only smiled sweetly, taunting him with your eyes, “... you haven’t seen mine yet.”

#mayans #mayans mc #miguel galindo #purestxblood #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo one shot #purexblood #mayans mc one shot

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athenawasamerf · 4 years

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Feminism in Egypt, Part 2

FGM

FGM has a long, bloody history with African and Arab women. Some people say it originated in Ancient Egypt; others lean more towards it being a Bedouin Arab tradition. I’m not here to discuss the origin story of one of the most horrific human rights infarctions on earth. I’m here to talk about the current feminist struggle against it.

FGM was outlawed in Egypt in June of 2008, and a 2014 survey showed that a whopping 92% of married women and girls between 15 and 49 years old have been subjected to FGM (I will talk more about the inclusion of 15 year olds in official surveys of married women in a post about child brides), and that 72% of these crimes were carried out by doctors. In 2008, a DHS survey of women and girls in the same age range showed that 63% of them were in support of FGM as a practice. Of those 63%, 60% cited husband preference for ‘cleaned’ girls, and 39% cited religious reasons. All of these are easily googleable facts, but these things always sound so clinical when they’re presented like this. Cold, sterile, detached. So, let’s get a little deeper into it, shall we?

Girls in Egypt are mutilated anywhere between birth and marriage, but mostly before the age of 15. These are children. Every single year, we have cases of babies, toddlers, children, young women dying from botched mutilations and infections, especially after the 2016 criminalisation of FGM practitioners. Parents will take their daughters to backwater clinics, or have ‘doula’s who have no medical experience of any kind visit them at home, and cut into the flesh of their young daughters with non-sterile equipment, often without anaesthesia.

I’ve heard and read first-hand accounts of girls who got topical anaesthesia that wore out halfway through. I’ve heard and read first-hand accounts of girls who were dragged, kicking and screaming, and held down by family and neighbours forcefully as their bodies were torn into. Of girls who bled for days, of girls who had to have their legs bound to each other for weeks, of girls who couldn’t stop screaming in pain every time they went to the bathroom, to complete apathy and even disgust and anger from their families, of girls who were snarled at for making noise while their bodies were being torn away on their own beds, of girls who still have constant pain over a decade later, of girls who hate themselves and hate their vulvas, and hate their lives. Of girls who are suicidal, of girls who are terrified of marriage, who have trust issues, who can’t handle the thought of anyone touching them there again, after the first time being so traumatic and painful and horrifying. All of this is done while the family, and even friends and neighbours, celebrate in joy. It’s even tradition in some rural areas to take all the female children of the family to get ‘fixed’ together, dressed in pretty dresses and fancy shoes.

I’ve also heard of women who are asexual due to trauma, whose husbands rape them continuously, who are abused for refusing sex, whose families disown them for being such a disgrace, whose husbands divorce them and leave them for dead, whose husbands marry multiple women besides them, and they are left to fend for themselves, unable to get a divorce and move on, and completely abandoned by the people they trusted the most. They’re told the angels will curse them all night for refusing sex, but what about their trauma? What about their feelings? What about them, as people? Nobody cares.

So, how did we get here? There are 3 main reasons.

The ’’religious’’ folk will cite a (weak) hadith as their proof that FGM is a good, healthy practice. It goes that the prophet saw a woman going to get her daughter cut, and he told her to ‘not cut severely, as that is better for the woman and more preferable to the husband’. Apart from any implications of misogyny in this hadith, it has been disputed multiple times, along with a couple others in support of FGM. You can read more about that here.

Regardless of the truth of FGM having Islamic support, the reality of the matter is that a huge amount of actual, real life Muslim people cite these hadiths as their reasoning to mutilate their daughters, and everyone sees that as completely justified. The truth of the matter is this: Someone put these hadiths into the public conscience knowing full well they will be used to abuse, maim, hurt, kill women for centuries. Whether that someone was prophet Muhammed himself or later scholars, no one can actually ever know.

The second, more indirectly religious and directly misogynistic reason, is to ensure ‘purity’. You see, as I’ve talked about before and as many of you already know, women in Islam and in MENA in general are seen and treated as property. The family’s honour lies between a woman’s thighs. A young girl who speaks to boys her age in the most innocent context possible can be subjected to house arrest, beatings, forced stopping of her education, even death, for daring to put the family’s honour in jeopardy. A girl who has a boyfriend, well...

In a society that places so much value not only on women’s virginity, but also on their complete removal and separation from the male sex at any cost, it’s not very surprising that tips and tricks like using FGM to ‘cull a woman’s sexual desire’ spread like wildfire. Girls are mutilated to make sure they don’t become wh**es. This is said frankly, openly, it’s common knowledge. If you refuse to hurt your child in this way, you will be met with disdain and disgust, and even wails of despair, with shock, with animosity. “Do you want her to become like a prostitute and ruin your family name? Do you want her to walk around uncontrolled? Don’t you know what shame she will bring on you?” These statements are directed at girls as young as... in the womb, if you show your dissent early enough.

And the final reason is the least of them to hide under religious pretences, and the most misogynistic: Because this is how men prefer their wives to be.

You might think when I say preference here, I mean it in the way I mean, “Oh, I personally prefer brunette hair,” but you would be sorely mistaken. By prefer here, I mean demand. I mean a man could force his grown wife, through physical force or through abuse, to mutilate her body for his satisfaction. I mean that men will sneer at un-mutilated women. I mean that men will beat their wives on their wedding night to within an inch of her life for ‘cheating’ them if the wives are not mutilated. I mean men will suspect their wives of adultery and murder them, which carries a reduced sentence of ‘time served during investigation’, just for the simple act of having intact genitals. I mean men will divorce their wives on their wedding night for being unharmed, for being whole. I mean men will act so entitled to women’s bodies that they will always have the assumption that the ‘product’ they are ‘buying’ is cut to taste, and they will become violent and aggressive and murderous if they find out this is not the case.

I personally don’t know whether or not I’ve been mutilated. With such high numbers in Egypt, the likely answer is yes, but I genuinely have no clue. I am not allowed to ask about these things, or I’ll be seen as a loose wh**re. My parents would beat me up and they still wouldn’t allow me the dignity of knowing whether my own body has been altered against my will. I don’t know if I’ll ever find out.

The feminists fighting constantly for tighter regulations, for harsher punishments, for longer sentences; these women are seen as the spawn of the devil. Accusations of loose morals are thrown their way day in and day out. Death threats and rape threats (’that’s what you want anyway isn’t it?’) are hurled at them from every direction. They are silenced. They are ridiculed. But they are prevailing. This year, the Egyptian president has decided to alter the FGM laws to cover loopholes, and possibly to increase enforcement. He has also altered the charge set to doctors who perform FGM which results in death from manslaughter to first or second degree murder.

The problem, however, remains in lack of reporting. Ever since the criminalisation of performing FGM in 2008, and the setting of punishments in 2016 as a minimum of three months’ jail time, to a maximum of 2 years, or a minimum of 1000EGP to a maximum of 5000EGP fines (63.71 to 318.53 USD), and until 2018, and possibly until today, not a single mutilator had been convicted.

Imagine being fined as little as 60 dollars for the permanent mutilation of a little girl’s body. And even that is not happening.

People refuse to report the monsters who do perform this, despite a 2012 gynaecology convention condemning the practice, and calling it an inhumane act, and stating quite forcefully that it is not a medical procedure, and that it is an infringement on the human rights of women and girls, which medicine and medical ethics do not condone. And yet, the public opinion remains the same: this is their business, it is not our place to intervene. It is not our place to get this fine young man thrown in jail, or fined, for performing a ‘cleaning’ procedure, and besides, wouldn’t you rather they had a medical professional perform it, rather than an uneducated woman, or a barber, or a butcher? It is not our place to report this family and tear them apart - what did they ever do to us that we may hurt them like this?

No one ever asks what little girls have ever done for us to fail them like this.

#egyptian feminism #radical feminism #RadFem #fgm #female genital mutilation #tw: violence #tw: rape #tw: abuse #tw: mentions of death #tw: misogynistic slurs #tw: fgm #feminism #anti-fgm #islam critical

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arrarioxxx · 4 years

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How Many

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: Geralt is angry and suspicious that you may have been with other men since you last saw each other

Warning(s): SMUT (18+), language, punishment, mild praise kink??, unprotected sex, pain, name calling, choking.

Words: 3,273

Seriously just throwing this out here to see if anyone likes it. it’s actually a not OK amount of filth. please don’t hate me.

“Set up a bath in my room,” He flicks a coin at you and lumbers into the darkest corner. You don’t have to watch to know he’s getting drunk- or at least, as drunk as a Witcher can get. It’s a familiar dance between you and him.

You silently signal to one of the kitchen boys to begin heating water. He likes scalding baths, hot enough to scorch human flesh. He needed it too- you saw heady crimson staining the skin of his neck and desperately hoped it wasn’t his. The sticky black substance matting his hair was certainly not his.

“The large tub.” You instruct one of the older boys. “And fill it more than half.”

He’s going to need it.

Almost a half-hour after Gerald went up to his room, you finally clear out the last of your patrons. It’s much later than you expect, nearing midnight. You negotiate with yourself for a few moments- check on Geralt or no? He’s no child for you to worry about his well-being but some sick desire prompts you to conjure an excuse to go to him.

You didn’t see him eat earlier. He’s going to need food.

You silently heap a tray with meat, bread, and a large flagon of ale. You can’t help but reproach yourself for the desperate attention you’re paying this man yet you tamp down your self-disgust and ascend the stairs.

It suddenly occurs to you that he’s only said a handful of words to you this evening. For that matter, he’s barely even looked in your direction. You stop just outside his door and wonder what twisted hold he has over you. He has you asking like a schoolgirl with her first infatuation.

More like a dog begging after a negligent master.

A shameful idea creeps into the back of your mind, “you’re just his bitch."

You weakly push open the door, making sure to lock it behind you and tightly grip the tray.

The tub is in the far corner, near the roaring fireplace and he’s lounged back with massive arms draped over the edge.

“I brought you something to eat.” Your voice fades into the oppressive silence.

He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t even acknowledge your presence.

You hesitantly approach him and lay the tray on the closest table. But even then, you hover there, waiting for some approval like a kicked puppy.

Just as your rational mind begins to speak up, telling you to gather what's left of your dignity and leave him chamber, he sighs heavily.

“Bring it here.” He flicks two fingers in a lazy ‘come hither’ motion. You may as well be a serving boy for all the attention he’s paid you.

Still, you obey and bring the tray to him, placing it on the low stool by his bath. From where you stand, you have a clear view of him through the steaming water. The thick cording of his neck and arms, the slabs of flesh padding his chest, the heavy bulk of his calves, his thighs, his-.

His skin is deeply bronzed, nicked by old scars and freshly healing wounds. All of it shaded by whorls of dark silver hair, darker than the tangled mess around his shoulders, dripping water onto the stone floor.

The longer you stand, the more dazed you become. The fire and steaming water flush your skin until beads of sweat roll down your neck, dampening the collar of your gown. Even then, your leaden feet hold you in place. You can’t take your eyes off his body.

You stand there watching for longer than you know, only startled out of your trance when Geralt hauls himself to his feet and steps out of the tub.

Only when you meet his eyes for the first time in months do you realize how truly terrifying he is. Not just because of what he does or what he can do, but because he is eyes are filled with rage and focused on you.

You don’t even have time to admire his nakedness in motion as he covers the distance to you in one step, sloshing water out of the tub. The hem of your gown is soaked but it escapes your notice as your heart beats faster and faster.

He can certainly hear it, you think. He can smell your blood coursing and knows your knees are locked otherwise you would collapse at his feet.

This must be how his victims feel moments before they meet the sweet ice of his blade.

Geralt grasps the front of your gown, fingers hooking between the coarse fabric and your heated flesh, and drags you to him. The other hand grips your jaw and tilts your face up until your eyes meet his.

"Either get your mouth on my cock or get the fuck out.”

It sounds like he’s given you a choice but you understand it was an order.

You drop to your knees and coast shaking palms up his wet, hairy thighs.

You place soft kisses up his shaft, hoping your attentions would cool his temper but it’s not working. His muscles are coiled and tight, ready to spring at a moment’s notice. You’re afraid to look up and see soulless black eyes rather than the warm gold you’ve gotten used to. You circle your tongue around the head and lightly score the insides of his thighs with your fingernails

His fingers twitch, then burrow into your hair, jerking your lips off him. He tilts your head up and forces your gaze up- his eyes aren’t the dreaded empty black but still so, so frightening. Now, more than ever, he looks like a Witcher. He presses his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks, forcing your lips into an open pout.

“Pathetic.”

His eyes flick up to yours and suddenly you’re cold and alone, kneeling on the cold, wet stone. He’s already walking to the bed. He throws himself down, legs splayed wide. From where you’re kneeling, you have a clear view of his heavy cock and balls between his thighs.

You follow silently and drop to your knees between his feet. You don’t know what to do with your hands but he doesn’t give you time to figure it out.

“Open your mouth." You open. It doesn’t even occur to you to do anything but what he commands.

“Wider.” He presses two, then three fingers past your lips, and keeps going until you gag. He retreats for a moment then pushes deeper.

The other hand is busy tearing at the neckline of your dress. You hear the stitches pop as he yanks it to your waist, trapping your arms at your sides. There’s so much going on you can barely think. His fingers are still fucking your mouth, spit dripping down his wrist and onto your heavy breasts and he’s twisting your nipple, pinching hard. Your eyes are watering and blurring your vision until all you see is a white and bronze haze looming over you.

Then his fingers are gone and his cock is at your lips. You blink away the tears as he grips the sides of your face with both hands.

“If I feel your teeth a single time-“ the threat is lost to you as he starts fucking in earnest.

He’s twisting your face from side to side, getting deeper, breeching your throat with a loud groan. Your nose is pressed to the damp curls at the bast of his cock and your lips are stretched tight.

With one hand fisting your hair, he jerks your head back and forth. Now he’s just using your face for pleasure. Or punishment.

He hasn’t allowed you to take a breath since he started and your vision blackens around the edges.

He pulls out and slaps you once. “I’m not done with you, girl.” He slaps you again and it occurs to you that he hasn’t said your name at all.

You gasp out his name weakly, “Geralt, please.” Your ears are still ringing from the slap. You don’t even know what you’re pleading for. You hurriedly push your arms out of your sleeves and press your palms to his thighs.

He guides your lips back to his cock and starts again. The dizzying lack of oxygen coupled with the heat in the room dulls your senses until you give in to him. Your hands are uselessly draped over his knees but at least you don’t feel as helpless as you did when they were tangled in the sleeves of your gown.

He’s never been like this before. He’s always rough and a little mean, but this is violent and punishing. He’s angry with you and you don’t understand why.

He finally releases your head and watches, almost bored, as you gasp for air. After a few short moments to recover, you’re hauled to your feet.

“Geralt, I don’t understand-“

“Show me your cunt.”

“What?”

He doesn’t repeat himself.

You ruck your dress up to your waist and wait.

He kicks your feet further apart then palms your folds. You’re embarrassingly wet, especially after what he just did.

He pulls his fingers away- they’re shiny with your juices.

“I knew you were just a whore.”

You gasp at his cruel accusation but then take stock of the situation. There he is, sitting on the bed, sucking your arousal off his fingers. And there you are, tits out, legs spread, holding your dress at your waist showing off your glistening folds.

Was he wrong?

He slid his hand between your legs and thrusts two fingers up into you. Your eyes roll back in your head and your legs begin to shake. You grip his wrist with one hand and his shoulder with the other, hoping he won’t let you lose balance.

“How many people fucked my cunt?”

You barely hear his words over the steady buzz in your ears.”

He grips your chin and forces you to look at him.

“How many bastards have fucked this since I did?" His fingers stop massaging then cruelly twist your folds until your knees go weak.

“Please Geralt- I didn’t-"

His grip tightens at your throat, cutting off your desperate words. You want to tell him no, you could never let another man fuck you after he did. He’d ruined you for all other men. You want to say you dreamed of his cock every night since he left. But he won’t let you breathe, let alone speak.

"Don’t remember?”

He presses three fingers into you, stretching you open.

"Has it been that many?”

You’re desperately shaking your head and choking out broken words.

“No-“ you’re clawing at his arm as he lifts you to your toes. “No one-“

"Has my whore been spreading her legs for every man who looks twice?"

He slaps between your legs- hard enough to force a ragged scream from your lips. He does it again, enjoying the way your panicked eyes lose focus with the burning pain. The sound isn’t pleasant. It’s a sloppy, dull thwack. But he likes the way your feet kick when he does it.

You don’t know what to focus on, the hand tightening around your throat or the hand abusing your delicate womanhood.

It occurs to you that he’s killed monsters and demons, what’s a lonesome woman to him? He could break your neck now and no one would ever be the wiser.

Then wedges two thick fingers into you and skates his thumb over your clit.

“Your cunt’s still tight for me.” He lifts you higher up by the fingers hooked inside you, ignoring your feeble attempts to push his hand away. “What’s the problem? My fingers stretch you more than their cocks?”

He laughs harshly and without any warning, he releases his grip on your throat and pulls his hand away. You collapse to your knees and suck in much-needed air.

"Get up" he nudges your thigh with one large foot. As you stand, he drags the rest of your dress down your hips, tearing carelessly, and tosses it on the floor.

“I’m going to teach you who cunt belongs to."

“It’s yours.” You hastily whisper, hoping to appease him.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he smiles humorlessly and caresses your face. “I know that.”

The gentle hands tighten into a bruising grip on your arms, “I’m going to make sure you never forget.”

He spins you around and pulls you back onto his lap. He crosses your arms behind your back and lashes them tightly with a leather belt. Now you’re fully at his mercy.

This new position presents you with an obscene image in the mirror. You already look thoroughly debauched- lips swollen and red from his cock, chin and tits glistening where your spit soaked the skin, your inner thighs and cunt violently pink.

Your back is pressed to his chest and your thighs straddle his, hooked in place and opening up your most private places. If that wasn’t humiliating enough, you see the glistening purple head of his cock jutting out from between your legs. You gasp every time it brushes the tender skin of your folds.

He has complete control of your body and he immediately takes full advantage of it. He spreads his legs wider, inch by inch, taking your thighs along. You watch breathlessly as your swollen, pink folds come into view. He keeps going and then you see your lips part open, just a sliver.

Your hips feel tight, stretched to their limit when finally he stops moving. He forces your gaze back to the mirror where you see the emptiness in his eyes.

He catches your gaze in the mirror and rests his chin on your shoulder as he softly strokes your thighs. “Tell the truth, girl. How many men took this cunt?”

You furiously shake your head and stumble over your words, “none, no men, Geralt. I swear to you. No men.”

One palm glides over your thigh and his index finger dips into your juices, dragging them up to circle your clit.

“None? Really?”His voice is soft but it feels so wrong.

“None,” You gasp as he circles faster. Your head falls back onto his shoulder and you arch up to press into his finger.

“I don’t believe you,” he whispers kissing your neck as he rears his palm high and brings it down on your clit.

Your shriek is loud enough to wake the dead as you jerk forward in shock. You don’t feel the blinding pain for a few long moments then it hits you in one white-hot wave. If not for his iron-hard arm banded around your belly, you would have ended up slumped on the floor in a writhing mess. Instead, you’re in a forced upright position as he begins petting between your thighs again.

You desperately try to close your legs but he’s too strong.

“Now, why don’t you tell me the truth? 5 men? 10? More than that?” His voice is still deceptively soft and kind. The cruel accusations are whispered against your neck and punctuated by kisses.

You shake your head again, "I swear Geralt. No man I swear.” You don't realize your cheeks are wet or that your voice is shaking.

“Don’t cry, my sweet.” He presses his lips to your cheek as his fingers skillfully manipulate your clit. "You and I both know that's not true. If you just tell me the truth now your punishment won't be as bad.”

You hate how good he makes your feel and helplessly arch up to meet his hand again.

"Please don't hurt me," you whisper.

"I don't want to." He flicks his tongue against your ear. "But you know this cunt belongs to me. So if you don't want to be honest, you have to be punished more."

It takes you a moment to realize what he means but by then he's already lifting his palm.

"I want you to count”

“No, please-“

He lays another hard slap directly on your clit that sends you reeling. It’s only his tight grip around your waist holding you up.

“Count for me.” He sucks on your sweat-dampened skin, marking you over and over again.

“One,” you sob as you stiffen, anticipating the next strike.

It doesn’t come immediately but eventually lands slightly to the right this time.

“Two.”

“Good girl,” His praise still makes you glow with pride.

“Three.” You’re barely breathing now- everything is hot and cold and black and white. You can’t tell if it’s pain or pleasure anymore as he alternates between stroking and slapping.

“Four.”

“Look how pretty you are.” His palm comes down again and he kisses your cheek when you brokenly mumble ‘five’.

"I didn't let anyone touch me, I swear.” You whisper one last time hoping he’ll believe you.

"I know you didn’t,” he holds you painfully tight. “And now you know what I’ll do to you if you do.”

He tosses you back on the bed and spreads your legs wide.

You’re too dazed to do anything. He wedges his shoulders between your legs and presses your knees to the sheets.

He bites into the flesh of your inner thigh, almost drawing blood and when he pulls back, you see a clear imprint of his teeth in a vicious bruise. He does the same to the other side and then swipes his tongue through your folds.

“You’re so wet for me.” He presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss against your clit and sucks gently and you nonsensically beg for more. He keeps going, this time only pleasure. His tongue lashes back and forth, soft then harder, alternating every few moments to keep you on edge.

You’re helpless above him, arms still bound behind your back. He doesn’t stop after your first peak, or your second and holds your thighs open when they threaten to clamp down on his head.

Finally, after three, he pulls away and crawls up your body to wipe away tears of pain and release. He reaches behind you to loosen the belt and slide it off then massages your stiff shoulders. Amid the haze of satiation, you reach down to grip his cock and stroke the iron length.

“You want my cum, sweet girl?” He groans against your hair.

You nod and tighten your grip, momentarily forgetting about the burn between your legs and the ache in your arms. He must have some sort of enchantment over you to keep you so needy and wanting to please.

He groans again and hauls himself up, straddling your hips and hunching over you to take your breasts in his hands.

“Where do you want it? You want my cum on these tits? Or maybe-“ he reaches around to press one finger against the one place he’d never touched before. “Maybe you want it deep in here.”

Your eyes widen at the implication and you hesitantly shake your head. The thought has appeal but you’re afraid you can’t handle it tonight.

“Tell me,” He rises to his knees and slowly starts jerking his cock over you. He spits between your breasts and slaps his cock against your sternum.

“Hold your tits tight for me,” he guides your hands to the right place then begins sawing back and forth. “Tell me where you want it.”

“My face.” You can’t believe the words came out of your mouth but you refuse to take them back.

Geralt raises his eyebrows, silently impressed by your demand. He furiously picks up his pace fucking your tits until his cum starts leaking then hastily pulls away to jerk his release over your upturned face.

#geralt x reader #geralt smut #geralt of rivia #the witcher #henry cavill #henry cavill smut #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x ofc #the witcher fanfic #the witcher smut #witcher smut #how many geralt

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dear-yandere · 4 years

Text

[ kinktober day 2 — dying light. ]

yandere! ghostface (jed olsen) x f! reader. oneshot.

summary. they’ll get away. they’ll get away and leave you behind with him—but you want that, don’t you?

— word count: 2108. — prompts: predator/prey + choking + knife play. — warnings: n/sfw (dubcon, slut-shaming). — art credit: 765122.

kinktober masterlist.

“Ah ah ah, keep it down, sweetheart.”

It’s gruffer than you expected, his voice. Mischievous and malicious, airy and curious, the type of tone you’d take with a friend—lighthearted. As if he wasn’t holding you by knife point. His words almost have a musical ring to it, the hum of a killer seeking prey whose hiding spot he’s long been aware of.

He’s playing with you.

“Should I stuff your mouth instead? Wouldn’t want your little friends hearing you moan my name, would you?” His hand is still around your neck, squeezing it tightly between dried blood and old leather, and his other lazily waves a bloodied tactical knife through the air. “Or, would you like that? Your call, toots.” You can feel desire roll from his body, from his blade smeared with the stale blood of unlucky victims. The glint of steel begs to be coated by your blood, but he won’t have that. Not yet. Not until he’s had his fun.

“Cat got your tongue?” He tips your chin using knife’s edge, and you hurry to answer if you know what’s best for you.

“No…” You barely manage to breathe out. Your throat burns with the reminder that your life is literally in his hands, and if his mask had been off, you’re sure he’d be grinning.

“Mm, what’s that babe? Gotta speak up or I can’t hear ya.” He licks his lips and squeezes, a dull chuckle hollowed by his mask. “You said you want me to bring them here?”

“N-no! Please, no.” You sputter, the burning in your throat growing with each second. His grip is loose enough to keep you from passing out, but inklings of black begin to spot your vision. “Don’t… let them see me like this.” Your answer comes quick, quicker than you’ve been answering for the past few minutes. He knows what you were playing at—trying to buy time for your teammates. He should’ve left minutes ago to patrol the leftover gens, but you had the misfortune of piquing his interest after a long chase.

He tilts his head. He’s struck a nerve, it seems, and your tongue scrambles to make you appear less weak. “I—if they saw me with you, they’d never forgive me, they’ll—”

“They’ll think you’re a traitor.” He finishes, lips curling into an impish smirk. What little strength was left in your sore thighs slackened, the ugly feeling of desperation coiling against your tummy. The killer continues, his tone indifferent, nonchalant, as if the prospect of catching one of your trusted friends fucking the enemy is commonplace. “One of them could walk by right now, looking for me, looking for you, wondering why I’m not out and about, wondering why you haven’t been healed yet.” He laughs through his nose. Oh, could you be any more precious? The way fear flits across your face like a dance, the way your lips tremble and refuse to stay still—you’re so easy to read. “What d’ya think they’ll say when they see you like this, sweets?”

“No!” You choke and whine into his hands at the sheer thought. To lose your dignity and your fellow survivor’s trust like that… you’ll never survive another match.

He disregards your pained moans and hums inquisitively, grinding against the swell of your thigh with his hardened cock, shamelessly hidden beneath his robes while you lay exposed against the shack wall. You’re still uselessly trying to claw his hand from your neck, choking and sputtering for air as he tightens his grip, but your attempts hardly make a dent in the thick leather gloves. Precious, pretty little thing you are. He wonders how you’ll look with your mouth stuffed full with his cock and his knife lodged tight in your stomach.

You make it so hard to control himself.

He grins when your fingers abandon the hand around your neck and crawl along his arm, eager to push him off and buy enough time to find a teammate. You wouldn’t get far anyway, consider he’s been stalking you for quite some time. Every weakness and fear is completely exposed before him—did you think he wouldn’t notice that limp in your step from last chase? Poor thing, must’ve twisted your ankle when he chased after your tight ass moments ago. As if teasing you for being so needy—even if it isn’t yet for his cock—the edge of his boots smash into your weakened ankle.

You didn’t put up a fight—couldn’t put up a fight. Your crumpled body would’ve fallen to the splintered floorboards if he hadn’t caught you in time. He squeezes your thin neck harder— rougher—and you swear your esophagus will explode. Screams are robbed from the pleasure of leaving your mouth, all you can feel is dry burning, all you can do is wheeze and cry just how he likes it.

The dull edge of his knife violates your mouth, not quite filling you entirely, but you refuse to flinch.

“I’ve been watching you for a while, y’know, bating my time, fantasizing about all the dirty things I’d do when you’re helpless beneath me.” He holds you the way fire holds what it burns. “I want this to be extra special; the kind of nightmare you’ll never forget. I even made sure one’s gonna interrupt us, sweetheart.” He explains, dragging the blade across your bottom lip. “So, do you still think they’ll try to save you?”

He’s mocking you.

“O-of course!” You draw ragged breaths, the bitter taste of iron stained on your tongue like a tattoo. “One of them has a flashlight”—you realized it’s best to not divulge who in particular—“S-someone will come for me sooner or later!”

He cups your flushed cheek with his free hand, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers. The action brings the insides of your mouth dangerously close to his knife, but he’s careful. Bleed any more and you’ll pass out, and fucking an unconscious body isn’t nearly as fun. “I didn’t take you for such an idiot, sugar.”

Your eyebrows furrow at the finality in his voice.

“How cute.” He snickers and cocks his head to the side. “You think a flashlight save will be enough? All I gotta do is look down, babe.” Oh, isn’t that whimper precious? Makes him want to rip you apart. “‘Sides, I have No One Escapes Death.” He continues, running the blade along your teeth. “Saving you may as well be a death wish.”

A sob weakly leaves your throat. Beneath his mask, his eyes narrow, having grown impatient with your lack of reaction. Shoving the sharp edge of his knife down your throat may as well incite no reaction, at this point.

“You’re hardly putting up a fight now, sweet thing. Give up already?” He loosens his grip on your neck, urging you to speak. “Or am I just that sexy?” He snickers, pulls the knife from your lips and cants your head with the tip. “Go on, lemme hear you say it. Scream my name, sweets, let them hear you all the way at the exit gates.”

Your breaths hitch—just the reaction he was looking for. His lips twist into a wicked smile. “Give them one last thing to think about before they leave you here.”

“No…” Your complaint is hoarse, hardly above a whisper. They couldn’t have left you, not here, not with him. You told them how scared you are—how frightened he makes you. You told them about the eyes watching you, even when the Entity hasn’t called upon you for a trial. You told them about the photographs littering your room—the ones of you, ones you didn’t take. You told them. They couldn’t have left, they wouldn’t.

“You’re lying…”

“Aw babe, you’re too pretty to be this delusional. Your little friends left a long time ago.” He muses, prodding your thighs apart with the swell of his knee. “It’s just you and me now, sweetheart. The Entity can’t force us out unless you somehow get out of arms, or a few minutes pass and the Entity claims you for itself.” He taps the underside of your chin. “Tell me, how does spending your last few minutes alive with me sound?”

You try to hide the tears swelling over your eyelids, but your bones are weary and your limbs heavy. “Please just let me go…”

Poor thing. He has to strain just to hear you—that’s no good.

No good for his patience, either.

“Say my name and I’ll think about it, then.” The blade travels lower, slices just below your jugular—shallow enough to draw a thin line of blood, nothing in dire need of medical attention. Not like you could reach your discarded med kit, anyway. “I can’t hear you princess. Go on, I said. Say. My. Name.” Each word is punctuated by a sharp thrust just above your collar bone. His mouth closes in next to their ear, “Tell me who you belong to.”

Your will snaps.

“Danny!”

The name feels foreign, forbidden, on your tongue.

“Mm, haha…” He’s caught off guard. He wasn’t expecting that, no. A ‘Ghostface’ or even ‘Ghostie’ would’ve made his cock happy, but this… this is unexpected. This is new.

He’s pitying you now, you can still hear the mock in his tone when he speaks. “What a shameless little whore. When’d you learn my name? Who told you?” His voice is playful, and something tells you he doesn’t mind why you know, but rather why you blew your cover. “You’ve been stalking me, haven’t you?”

Your eyes widen. Another nerve’s been struck.

He’s losing breath fast beneath his mask. His heart’s beating so fast—this rush, this thrill is exhilarating. You’re exhilarating, you’re as insane as him.

“Do your pals know how wet I make you? Do you jack off when no one’s looking?” You can’t hide it anymore, the shame and guilt and frustration on your face. He can practically feel the heat— the sexual frustration—rolling from your skin in waves. His cock twitches against his robes, his breaths quick and rugged against your face. “Huh? Do you jack off to me, sweets? Is that why you haven’t fought back this entire time?”

You don’t have an answer anymore.

“Keep making that face, sweets.” He leans closer and drops his voice. “I like it when you’re flustered.”

Your thighs clench, desperate for friction against your cunt—his voice, his voice is what did this. And now he’s using it again you; god you’re such a fucking idiot.

His hand leaves your neck, travels up to your parted lips. He’s hardly surprised when your jaw immediately slackens to accommodate his fingers, dirty leather immediately tainting your tongue. You don’t flinch at the taste; even dirt is above the depths you’ve fallen to.

“Wonder if you taste as sweet as you look.” He mindlessly asks, sliding his fingers over the dull buds of your tongue. “Wonder if your cunt’s as dirty as your mind. Do you go around fucking the other survivors too? The other killers?”

Your draw a sharp breath and change the topic. “I-I’ll do anything, just don’t…don’t tell anyone.” Your suggestions are hardly convincing. In this realm, what else do you have to your name besides your tight little body?

“Mm…anything?” He’s been patient enough with you. “Then beg, princess.”

You hesitate. Begging’s a small price to pay for your freedom; you’ve already fallen so low, what’s a little more?

Your lips don’t move like you want them to.

“Go on, tell me I’m the worst.” He sighs blissfully and pulls his hand from your lips. The shifting of fabric meets your ears; you don’t have to look down to know he’s started palming his erection. Your eyes stay pinned to the holes in his mask, desperately hanging onto what dignity you have left. “Tell me you hate me.” He moans, pressing his knee against your cunt. “I get off on it, princess.”

You’re wet. You wish the shame were enough to kill you right then.

“Just stop thinking, let me fuck you silly just like you wanted.” The knife hardly misses your stomach when he slices downwards, tearing the front of your shirt and leggings. The thin fabrics uselessly falls to the floor—and he takes every opportunity to eye you up and down. The feeling of his eyes on your skin is disgusting, but calling for help is useless by this point. No one will hear, no one will come. Not for someone like you.

“Don’t complain if I leave your pussy bleeding, sweets.” He strokes your dirtied, tear-stained cheeks. You don’t pull away, anymore. “You begged for this.”

You’re a sinner and you’re already in hell.

#yandere ghostface x reader #ghostface x reader #dbd x reader #yandere dbd x reader #yandere dead by daylight #yandere dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight imagines #yandere dbd #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere #yandere scenario #yandere imagines #tw dubcon #kinktober20 #*oneshot #tw not sfw

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foreficfandom · 4 years

Text

The Arcana - Taking Care Of Sick MC

(Minor trigger warnings for: mentions of the in-game plague, fear of sickness, medicinal bugs)

– Asra –

Asra notices your cold the same time you do. Right when he wakes up next to you and sees your pallid complexion, he immediately knows you’ve got the bug.

He usually takes any chance he can get to sleep in, but not this time. First a gentle word of assurance, then quickly to the kitchen to heat up some water for a medicinal tea mix. As the water boils, he feels your neck and face - not too hot. Thankfully it’s not serious, just inconvenient.

Expect a lot of home remedies. Healing magic is too ostentatious for a simple cold, and it’s not a field Asra’s familiar with, anyways. He insists you eat some porridge, and drink lots of honeyed water. There’s lots of mugs of various teas, some awfully bitter but Asra insists you bear with it. You get a very pungent astringent balm on your chest for congestion, and he can’t hold in his giggles when you complain about how much it burns.

A lot of these remedies are trusted green witchery. Asra isn’t super skilled at making tinctures, but it’s enough to help a cold. Some he learned while studying magic, some he actually did invent.

He’s gonna manage the shop while you sleep. He lights lavender incense and mint candles, and Faust also stays upstairs to keep you company. Every hour he does a quick check to make sure you’re doing alright, or not sneaking out of bed. If he catches you, he bodyblocks you with a smirk until you sheepishly crawl back under the covers.

When there’s a lull in the shop, Asra hangs out at your bedside with a book, or some small chores he can quietly do with his hands. If you’re awake, the two of you chat a bit, mostly he does to save the strain on your throat.

His herb teas do make a difference, and by evening you feel better. Bit more porridge and a hot bath, and your fever’s waned a lot. Asra drags out the comfiest blankets to wrap you tightly. Unfortunately, you’re gonna have to sleep alone tonight while Asra takes the couch, just to be safe.

Once you feel better, you finally get kisses. The best reward for recovery.

– Julian –

You’re in luck. Julian may have been described as a ‘hack doctor’ by certain bitter individuals, but in truth he’s a trusted physician well versed in internal medicine. All he’s gotta do is see your watery eyes and red nose, and he’s on the case.

His clinic has some of the top-of-the-line medical technology, including a spiffy glass stick with a line of liquid mercury encased inside, which expands according to temperature. He has you sit on a patient bed and checks the inside of your throat, feels your face for lumps, uses a magnifying glass on your eyes and ears, lays his head on your chest to hear your lungs, all the things he does as a working doctor.

It can even be a bit weird to see Julian switch into ‘professional’ mode while handling you. He’s got impeccable bedside manners, keeping you cheery and comforted as he pokes and prods, but you’re not just some patient, he’s your boyfriend and it’s kinda odd (or sexy???) to be sitting in his clinic like this.

Nevertheless, he eventually diagnoses you with “a godly beauty and shining soul - oh, and also you have a cold”. He actually has you take up one of the beds in the clinic rather than go back upstairs to the apartment, and voila, an assistant registers you on the roster as an inpatient. There’s a reason for that, other than to make you blush - this way, he can prescribe medications.

You get four servings of this awful tar-like tincture made out of lungwort, crab’s eye, snail venom, and other obscure ingredients. Assistants come by to wipe your face with a cold towel, and check your vitals. They don’t acknowledge your relationship with Julian, only treating you with the gentlest of respect. Jokes would be inappropriate, and Julian’s clinic values professionalism. They care about your health more than embarrassing you.

The next morning, you wake to Dr. Julian announcing you nearing recovery already. But he doesn’t actually dismiss you until the fever’s completely gone, which means being stuck in the clinic for a couple of days and witnessing firsthand how strict Dr. Julian can be when it comes to his patients. At least it’s an excuse to see him more often. But you’re thankful to finally escape the role of the patient, and back to being Julian’s partner. Your bill? Several kisses!

– Nadia –

It’s just a cold, but Nadia immediately calls in the court doctor to perform a full physical. A hidden part of her normally-rational brain balks at any indication that someone she cares about might be sick. Blame the plague.

Luckily it’s just a minor fever, so you’re prescribed lots of liquids and bedrest, along with some immunity-boosting citrus lozenges. Within a few minutes the servants retrofit the bedroom to be warm and invitingly dim, place heated bedpans under your feet, light sheh smoke, and deliver a large tray to your bedside. A teapot of water is kept hot over a miniature coal burner.

Nadia takes as much of her free time to dote on you. Which, unfortunately, isn’t a whole lot of time, she can only help you drink some ginger tea and wipe your face before she’s due for Countess work. But she positions a guard at your door with instructions that they’re to wait on your every whim.

She spends the whole day thinking about you in the back of her mind, hoping you’re at least comfortable and healing properly. She finally gets a break for lunch, and rushes to the bedroom to check on you; you’re sitting up and reading, and she’s happy you’re well enough to enjoy yourself but you should be sleeping! Did the servants bring up your broth yet, have you taken your lozenges and tea, is your bedpan too cold, is the fire stoked too high

You try to calm her down through your stuffy nose; rarely do you see her so flustered. Nadia and you have lunch, and she’s eating the same thing you are because she’s not gonna eat delicious roasts while you’re stuck with broth.

Duties again call her away until evening (she had dinner with dignitaries), and she gets the servants to run you a bath with rosemary and mint to help open up your sinuses. The two of you spend the night in separate rooms which makes you whine and her tempted to abandon decades of royal dignity to join you.

But before too long, you’re all better and life resumes as normal. She promises to dote on you no matter the state of your health.

– Muriel –

He hears you cough and says bluntly, “you have a cough”. You’ve known him well enough to know that in Muriel-speak, that translates to “I recognize that sound, and I’m going to help you take care of it”. Living in the forest can be hazardous to one’s health, and Muriel has a lot of experience with colds, fevers, and infections.

First step is to stoke the fire to blazing temperatures, then heating lots of clean water for tea and soup. He wraps you in multiple furs until you’re a pile seated near the hearth. He props the door open to let in fresh air, which offsets the uncomfortably sauna-like heat of the fire. A bundle of lemongrass is thrown into the hearth to smoke a citrusy scent throughout the hut, soothing your headache.

Whenever Muriel would get sick, he’d just plow through the day and hope he can sweat out his fever through chopping wood. But you deserve better than that, so you’re let off of chores until you’re better. Muriel balances his duties with nursing you, which is a little tough ‘cause he’s gotten so used to having an extra set of hands. But it’s definitely worth it, if you’d get better.

He comes back from checking the rabbit traps to feed you a salty bone broth, and brews his green-magic tea brew (that he and Asra invented together) that has elderflower, willow bark, and ginseng. After lunch, he needs to leave again, so urges Inanna to cuddle you while he’s gone.

Finally, the chores are (largely) done, and he can finally afford his full attention to your pitiful, coughing self. He pulls out his rare ingredients - albatross feather, dried glowshroom - and charges them with magic before making it into a bitter powder he urges you to eat. Effectively a magical antibiotic, just in case of infection.

By night, you’re well enough to walk around and eat a bit more, and he’s feeling reassured. You spot one of his tiny smiles. But he pushes away your kisses until you’re for sure all cured.

A couple more days of his tried-and-true forest witchery, and there’s no more coughing. Finally the two of you get to cuddle in the furs like you usually do! It’s felt like ages, you say, and Muriel can’t help but agree.

– Portia –

First step upon hearing your raspy voice? Portia rushes to the kitchen (with Pepi hot on her heels because running time!! Yay!) to cook one of Mazelinka’s fever soups. Portia unfortunately lacks the ingredients to make Mazelinka’s more magical dishes, but there’s enough here for a nutrient-rich, hydrating broth, perfect for a cold.

She sends a pigeon to the castle to call in a sick day, so Portia can take her time in feeling up your forehead, heating water, and hauling out the thick winter quilts to sweat out your fever. You don’t look too bad, but it’s a shame Julian’s on a cruise right now. Otherwise, she’d drag him over right quick to do a check-up.

She mixes up a pot of ginger honey tea and leaves you with Pepi while she visits Mazelinka to request a remedy. Before too long, Portia comes back with a large jug of this thick, grassy-smelling stew with rice and various herbs. She insists on feeding you while you’re laid up in bed, which isn’t necessary but it makes her giggle so you indulge her. It tastes delicious, and you finish a large bowlful while Portia chats brightly and cracks jokes, making sure your spirits are high - the most important when it comes to recovery!

You’re not sure what was in Mazelinka’s soup (although you’re pretty sure the ‘rice’ was actually scuttlebug larvae) but your fever’s waned a lot by the time you wake up from your nap. Portia’s right there when you open your eyes, knitting and humming to herself. She sees you awake and can tell you’re feeling better, which makes her smile.

Dinner is the second half of Mazelinka’s soup, and then Portia fills the wooden tub for a nice, hot bath. Even your voice is less raspy now, so she and you chat while you soak. You’re so much healthier now that you don’t have to be in separate beds come nighttime, which truly is a blessing.

The first thing you do when you’re fully recovered is beg Mazelinka for her soup recipe. She relinquishes it to you, on the promise you won’t monetize it for your shop or anything, and you swear you won’t. Portia’s puppy-dog eyes probably wasn’t a necessary tactic, but appreciated none the same.

– Lucio –

You wake up feverish and Lucio’s first step is to arrange the things he’d like to do on his sick days. Hot mulled wine, a giant bath of citrus oil and lavender, and the best doctors of Vesuvia to wait on him you hand and foot. You have to stop him before he goes too far, which is easier said than done with a sore throat versus an ex-Count on a mission.

You turn down the huge platters of petit-fours, but Lucio insists on the doctors, who come in and do a thorough check-up per Lucio’s strict orders. But it doesn’t take a full physical to ensure that you’ve just got a simple cold, and all you really need is water and rest.

Lucio calls off all his plans so he can dedicate the entire day to keeping you company. He asks if you have a headache, if your sinuses are clogged, if your muscles are sore. You say yes to anything, he’ll try to call the doctors back and insist they give you some sort of medicinal relief. After lots of hemming and hawing, you get a walnut and cherry-based tincture to reduce inflammation, and also a peppermint lemon tea.

He looks at your meager medicines and asks if you’re sure you don’t want anything more. He could call his pets up if you want some cuddles? Maybe we can take one of those baths? What about some dessert, just because? Or we can call up the troubadour to play some music -

Lucio seems strangely contrite when you say that all you need is some rest. He’s very hesitant to leave you alone, so you kept feeling his gaze as you tried to nap. Finally, you asked what was his deal - you appreciate his attention, but something’s obviously wrong.

He’s not someone very in tune with his emotions, so it takes a while before you’re able to mine Lucio’s tremulous inner thoughts; when he was dying of the plague, Lucio hated being alone in his huge room, and ordered company whenever he could. There was no medicine that offered proper relief from his pains, and all he could do was wait and fear the inevitable.

Seeing you sick, even with just a simple fever, brought back those memories. He’d do anything to make sure you never experienced that. Especially knowing what you’ve already been through.

You gently hold Lucio’s hand and assure him that things like fevers and sickness, they’re part of the living experience and they’re made much better with good company. Actual, good company that offers love and support. Which you have, with Lucio here.

He’s always struck dumbfounded whenever you describe him with noble attributes. He feels like he’s the one recovering from … something, rather than you.

A few more nights, and you’re as fit as a fiddle. To celebrate, Lucio orders a large spread of your favorite foods to make up for all the bland mush you had to deal with. He’s back to being good ol’ Lucio, but you know that an inner part of him has changed for the better.

#the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel the arcana #portia devorak #count lucio #the arcana imagines #The Arcana Game #the arcana headcanons

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notalwaysthevillian · 3 years

Text

My Whirlpool of a Life

Ships: Kaminari/OC

Word Count: ~2.4k

I will not be doing a tag list for this fic.

Masterlist

Chapter 7: Test Day

Exam day was here before we knew it.

“Alright! Everyone on the bus!” Iida called out as we staggered out of the dorms.

“Iida. Inside voice.” I shushed, rubbing my eyes.

Kaminari stumbled behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “‘M tired.”

“Me too.”

“You can nap on the bus!” Iida shouted, making the two of us jump.

Grumbling about how loud it was, I dragged Kaminari with me to the back. We collapsed into one of the seats, him letting me have the aisle seat.

I fell asleep almost immediately, using him as my pillow.

“ Dew Drop. Wake up. ”

I took a deep breath, stretching my arms. “We’re here?”

“Yeah, come on. They’re gonna think we’re up to something.” He teased, grabbing my hand.

We walked off the bus and gathered up with the rest of the class. The arena looked pretty cool, with a top that seemed like it could close if it rained. With my quirk, I hoped they would keep it open, but I was willing to bet that wasn’t the case.

“What if I don’t get my license?!” I heard Mineta panicking.

“Mineta.” Mr. Aizawa leaned down to his height. “Don’t ask if you can. Say you will.”

“Right! Sure! I’ve so got this!”

Mr. Aizawa turned to the rest of us. “If you can pass this test and get your provisional licenses, then you novice eggs will hatch into chicks. You’ll be semi-pros. I expect your best.”

“Alright! I can’t wait to be a heroic chicken!” Kaminari yelled out, firing up the class.

“Let’s call out the usual you guys!” Kirishima held up a fist. “On my mark. Plus -”

“ULTRA!”

I jumped as a boy yelled with us, appearing right next to me. His uniform was different. He must’ve been from another school.

“You know, it’s pretty rude to barge into other people’s conversations like that, Inasa.”

“Pardon me! I am so extremely sorry!” He bowed so deeply his head grazed the concrete.

“Who is this guy?” Kaminari pointed at him. “It’s too early for this much enthusiasm.”

I elbowed him. “Be nice! When we’re pros there’s a chance we may end up working with some of them. Not everyone comes from UA.”

“UA in the east, Shiketsu in the west.” Bakugo scoffed.

“I wanted to say it just once!” Inasa stood back up. “Plus Ultra!”

“Plus Ultra!” I echoed back, giving everyone from Shiketsu a friendly smile. “I look forward to competing today!”

“I’m honored to compete against such incredible students. I’m looking forward to it!”

The Shiketsu students continued on into the building, a few of them giving me a quick wave.

“Inasa Yoarashi.”

“Do you know that guy, Mr. Aizawa?” Hagakure asked.

“Yes. He’s strong. He’s the same year as you, and received the top scores for students admitted through recommendations. But for some reason, he turned down his acceptance to UA and went to Shiketsu.”

“Wait, he’s our age?!”

I nudged Kaminari. “I thought Momo had the top score.”

“Must’ve just been the top score for UA.”

Mina looked after the students, watching them walk off. “What a weirdo.”

“Maybe, but he’s the real deal. Keep an eye on him.” Mr. Aizawa looked at me then. “Nima, keep your quirk a secret until necessary.”

“Why?”

“Trust me.”

“Eraser?!” A female voice called out to us, making Mr. Aizawa cringe. “I’d know that scowl anywhere. I saw you on TV and at the sports festival. Been a while since we were this close in person!”

A realization hit me like a freight train. “Oh no.”

Mina and Kaminari both looked at me in confusion.

“Guys, your sports festival aired live.”

More confused looks.

“Which means that almost everyone here knows what your quirks are.”

Todoroki sighed. “We’re at a disadvantage.”

“Not entirely.” I crossed my arms behind my back. “I wasn’t at the sports festival. They don’t know what I can do.”

“You’re our only advantage then.” Mina pointed out. “That’s probably why Mr. Aizawa told you to keep your quirk a secret.”

“Over here everyone!” The woman who was talking to Mr. Aizawa waved some students over. “This is UA.”

“Whoa! It’s Class A!”

“That’s amazing! I’ve seen them on TV before!”

“Second years from Ketsubutsu Academy. This is Class 2. They’re my students.” The woman said.

One boy ran up to Midoriya. “Hey, I’m Shindo. Seems like UA’s had a lotta trouble this year. Must’ve been tough for you.”

“Uh, yeah.”

The boy moved to Kaminari, grabbing his hands. “But even so, you’re all still aiming to become pro heroes, despite those hardships.”

He moved to me. “It’s wonderful!”

Before he could grab my hands, I took a step back. “Thanks.”

“Hearts full of fortitude. I believe that’s what every hero in the world needs to have.”

He gave me a sparkling smile. Something about it felt off.

“This pretty boy is gonna steal our girls.”

I threaded my finger’s through Kami’s. “Not me.”

He gave me a kiss on the forehead. “You’re too good for me.”

I saw Shindo talking to Bakugo, who slapped his hand away. “Stop pretending. What you say doesn’t match the look in your eyes.”

“Man, don’t be rude!” Kiri called him out.

The others apologized to Shindo, but I slipped out of Kami’s grip and over to our resident stick of dynamite. “You’re absolutely right. He’s faking it.”

“Glad to know you have some common sense.” He huffed, glaring at Shindo. “Stick with me today. You’re strong.”

I was confused, but nodded before moving back to Kami’s side.

“Hey. Get your costumes on and head to orientation. There’s no time to waste.”

“Yes, sir!”

Jirou fell into step with me. “It’s weird. I always forget we’re famous to other schools.”

“We’re basically celebrities when it comes to hero course students.”

We got into our costumes and were briefed by the Heroes Public Safety Commisson guy. I tuned out most of it. We had balls, we had to hit targets. Easy peasy. My Tidal Wave would come in handy here.

The walls of the room we were in folded down, revealing the rest of the arena, covered in various terrains.

“Everyone!” Midoriya addressed us. “Stay close together. We’ll fight them as a group.”

“Yeah right. This isn’t a field trip.” Bakugo gave me and Kiri a look before running off.

I followed, knowing Kami would be right behind me.

“Idiot! Wait up!” Kiri called, chasing after us.

Bakugo headed to the city terrain. I knew he’d do well there, with so many buildings to use as perches. Hopefully there was a fake water tower or two I could steal from.

I heard what sounded like an earthquake behind us. “What the hell was that?”

“Doesn’t matter. Keep moving.”

I could hear people being knocked out of the running left and right. Further away, I saw an ice wall go up, and then heard some explosions.

“Looks like Todoroki is doing well.”

“Shut up!”

About half the spots were taken by the time we were climbing up a fire escape.

“Hey Kaminari. Why’d you follow us?” Kiri asked.

“You guys started running, and you stole my girlfriend. Of course I was gonna follow you. Where are we going?”

“Shut up!”

“Why do you always sound so mad?”

“I told you to chill out Bakugo.” Kiri sighed. “It looks like there’s a lot of people up there, so let’s work together.”

“Go die.”

I tapped on Bakugo’s boot. “Hey, you asked me to be here.”

“I didn’t think I’d get Spark Plug too.”

“Dude, we’re dating, what did you think was gonna happen?”

“Come on man.”

Something swung at us. Kirishima shoved me forward. “Look out!”

“Kirishima!”

He was squashed into a little ball of flesh. I couldn’t help but gag. “That’s disgusting.”

“What the crap?” Kaminari pulled me behind him. “Did that really just happen?”

“All I know is that bastard looks like he’s to blame.”

A Shiketsu student stood in the road, tons of flesh balls around him. One of my hands rested on Kami’s back as I stepped closer to him. “Careful.”

“I’ll kill him!”

“I’m from Shiketsu.” The boy started, and I had to keep myself from rolling my eyes. Of course he would monologue.

“Please notice, my school keeps our hats on when we’re working. Why’s that? Because. Each and every one of our movements is crowned by the legacy and honor of our school.” He dropped Kirishima on the ground, making the worst noise ever. “This is a demonstration. Proof of the difference in level between my peers and your vulgar classes. We value obligation and dignity - things that appear to be sorely lacking among you.”

Bakugo laughed. “I really hate your type.”

“He’s hard to follow.”

“He’s saying he thinks he’s better than we are.” I explained. “How about we show him otherwise?”

“Maybe don’t provoke this guy?! Look what he did to Kirishima!”

I pecked Kami on the cheek. “Bug, we can handle him.”

“UA High. I have respect for your school. I take pride in the fact that our institutions are treated as equals. But your class is shameful. You act in ways that disgrace heroes!”

Giant fingers appeared from behind his back.

“He’s attacking again!”

I took a step back. “I don’t want to be gross!”

“Shut up!” Bakugo snapped. “Obligation”? “Dignity”? You just like to hear yourself talk. I don’t see any proof. Show us with your actions, not your cheap words! If you can.”

“You’re worst of all, Bakugo!”

The fingers separated from him, flying towards Bakugo. I pulled the water from my belt, ready to grab them with my whip and pull them away from us if necessary.

Bakugo ran forward, setting up for his special AP shot move. He shot the fingers out of the sky, before lowering his gauntlet.

“I had to make a weak version so I didn’t kill anyone.”

“You know, this is why everyone is terrified of you - you’re way too hardcore.”

The fingers started forming back on the boy’s arms. “Okay, so they float back to him. Disgusting.”

“I see now. I’ll teach you a lesson by breaking you. This will show you what it means to be dignified and behave like a hero!”

The fingers started coming at us again. I stepped back, knowing that someone from a place like Shiketsu wouldn’t just do the same move again.

“He thinks he’s better than us!” Bakugo started running towards him. He started taking out more fingers with his AP shot.

I jumped forward to help, keeping a small whirlpool rotating around me. I’d be able to sense something hitting me from the back, if that was the plan.

“Let’s just get this fight over with. Maybe this will speed things along!”

Two of Kami’s discs shot out, hitting the wall next to the boy as he dodged. “Crap!”

“Work on your aim, and your look. Maybe I can make you something more appealing!”

“Enough talk! Die!”

Bakugo shot out some explosions and smoke filled the area. Just as it cleared, I saw a finger come out from the side, inches from Bakugo’s neck.

“No!”

I threw a wave forward but it was too late. Bakugo was grabbed.

“Once I touch you, you’re my plaything.”

“Bakugo!”

“Idiots,” he grumbled as he was morphed. “Fix this!”

He threw something toward Kaminari, but the boy didn’t notice as I drew my wave back. I moved to Kami’s side, letting the whirlpool swirl around our feet.

“Can you make it bigger?”

I tried pulling moisture from the air, my heart pounding when I realized that it wasn’t working. “The air is too dry, and we’re not close enough to any other bodies of water. This is all I have.”

“This is a demonstration. The test has an unusually low passing rate. At first this seemed counterintuitive given our current world.”

As he started to monologue again, I whispered, “I can soak him, but it’ll leave us vulnerable.”

“Wait for my signal.”

“I decided to thin the herd myself.” The boy continued.

“You’re ignoring the test because you think you’re superior?”

I let the water swirl faster. “You’re crazy. The world needs heroes that can do as they’re asked, not do what they want.”

“I’m simply separating the mediocre from the extraordinary.” He stepped forward, leaning his weight on Kirishima. “By the way. Your comrades here still feel pain in this form. Your untamed electricity will torture your friends if you use it. And you don’t seem to have enough water to hurt me as well as you could. You’re stuck.”

“You’ve been doing nothing but hurling insults at us this entire time.” Kami put a hand to his forehead. I’m kind of starting to take it personally, ya know.”

“Then you’re more self aware than I thought. Take some time to reflect on your failure!”

Kami reached behind him, throwing something. “Reflect on this!”

An explosion rocked behind him, distracting the boy.

“It’s not just a fashion statement. He can use that gear along with his nitro sweat to create simple grenades.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “He tossed it to you.”

Kami nodded at me, and I wrapped the water around the boy, soaking him to the bone.

“By the way, big shot. You stumbled into a really killer spot!” Electricity arced off of Kami’s finger, straight toward the disc.

His electricity, combined with being soaked, shocked him worse than I anticipated. He gasped, falling to his knees.

“Listen up. Bakugo might seem like a jerk on the surface, but he’s actually trying hard to be a pro-hero. He threw that grenade to me while being attacked. That was a result of calm judgement and planning.”

I nodded, noticing our friends were starting to come out of flesh ball form. “And Kirishima is such a good guy that he shoved me out of the way, taking the hit himself!”

“You only know bits and pieces of information about them. Don’t insult what you don’t know!”

The boy stood, fingers appearing around him again. “I’ll teach you to be more aware of your place! You degenerate!”

Kirishima activated his quirk, punching him in the stomach as Bakugo came in and blasted him.

“The more damage he takes, the more people get released.” Kiri pointed out.

Bakugo stood in front of all of us. “No wonder he was only using long distance attacks.”

Kiri nodded at us. “Thanks for the save, you two.”

“What took so long?!”

“You’re so mean! No one’s gonna like you if you -”

“Sorry to interrupt, but could we get our points and get out of here?” I asked, gesturing to the many people that were coming out of ball form. “Before they get us?”

Bakugo licked his lips.

“We’ve got targets.”

#mha #my hero academia #kaminari x oc #kaminari/oc

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lucidpantone · 3 years

Text

Modified anon: Do you have discord? There is a skam groupchat on there. Check out what -------- is saying about you?

hi anon. I’ave heard but not read but I got the cliff notes version of what people have been saying. You’re the 4th person to flag the chatter to me. Thank you for feeling like you needed to inform me. It’s a bit weird that there is a whole group chat occurring about my personal life and trying to uncover personal details about me or head-canoning those details but I can’t really control others ya know? However this highlights one thing which is I was right not to expose personal details about myself on the blog because the one time I have which was celebrating closing on my apt people weaponized an achievement that I consider a milestone in my life and something that anyone should be rightfully proud of to ridicule me and assume things about my life that aren’t even remotely true.

So all I gotta say to this. Ladies especially those who are woc dragging me or inciting a conversation that seeks to uncover personal details about me (to do what exactly with? Dox me?) or generate presumptions about my life. You have never even had a conversation with me. What are you doing?? Also every time I hear a brown/black sister is buying property, getting promoted in a job, buying herself a pair of boobs, botox or hair extensions, or generally just making boss moves maybe lets not sit there as women and call those women liars, lacking dignity or tearing into them for their age (or making passive comments that imply I did some shady shit on the side to garner things ). I didn’t I worked really hard for the last few years in grueling jobs that almost broke me to be able to save up to buy a place and even then because my generation has been so screwed over by unrealistic housing prices I could only do it because a pandemic collapsed the NY market and my father helped me out greatly. I wouldn't have been able to do it on my own because sadly the game is rigged against us. Especially single women of color who strive to succeed. Also folks I am not 40 years old am in my early 30′s (and damn well proud of it!) but if I was 40 what would be the issue?

Last thing, its a shame this has happened because let me tell you there is some wonderful women in their late 20′s and early 30′s in the tag (not publicly). There is a doctor, an attorney, a teacher, a marketing exec and an array of really funny well educated women who just use tumblr as a form of decompression(oh and they own homes too btw) because in the working adult world women are always expected to be on and you cant really ever just be your fun silly self without getting judged or exploiting a vulnerability. So sadly this occurrences makes me and probably those other women not really want to exchange thoughts in fear of getting Doxed or called a liar or judged. Its a shame because women should all collectively aim at creating spaces in where we can exchange thought. Whether it be: “Hey, you mentioned you get laser whats it like am curious?” or “Am applying into grad school and you went there right? can you read my essay see what you think?” or “Hey am queer and you’re pretty open about having alot of sexual partners from different genders?What kind of protection do you use with different gendered partners to prevent from STI, STDS?”. These are all questions I was always open to answering but now I just feel like I have to close myself off and that really sucks and also I love your guys support too.

For example I was gonna make a whole side blog detailing my whole renovation adventure for my new place(it a complete dump a total fixer upper fyi). A light hearted comical side blog being like “oh so your a single girl who is going to attempt to renovate without past experience and no man!!”. Read my blog detailing everything you should not do because I did it! hahahaha. I thought it would be a cute journey to share with you guys but now its like okay. Well i guess I cant because am paranoid if I show you to much of my building your just gonna dox me. Like this sucks and am honestly really bummed about this because I wanted to share this with you guys. Plus you could help me pick out wall paint or kitchen hardware and it just be a fun light hearted thing. Anyhow..... I know these people talking about me are the few not the many and trust me I know how many wonderful people are on tumblr. They are so many amazing people I would have never met any other way. Anyways lets not end on a bad note and buy the discord posse some shots. God knows they need the alcohol to cleanse their soul!

#a letter to the skam discord groupchat #not everyone in there but those who were part of this chat #trying to head canon or find out details about my private life #also to the woc who was egging peeps on in that chat. Like wtf dude?!?!? I ave always supported your shit and reblogged your stuff.#Egging on these white women to tear me down and talk shit about me call me a liar cuz of course brown girls cant be successful.WTF?!?!?!

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deermi · 4 years

Text

Happiness, Luck and the Universe | Part 1

Summarry: Collage is hard. It surely is. But it can become much easier with the best boyfriend in the whole universe by your side.

Gnere: Fluff, suggestive

Warnings: cursing, implied sex (no smut)

AU: Collage, estabilished relationship

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x Reader

Word count: 4,5k~

Author’s note: (Yes, the foreign swaggers squad is living together in this fic.) Okay, wow, I had so much fun writing this!

The loud sound of my morning alarm broke through the cloud of my dreams and began ringing inside my head waking me up. For a moment I didn’t move because just like every other day I was hoping that it would stop on its own. And exactly just like every other day - it didn’t. The longer it rung, the more frustration started to build up inisde me until I couldn’t have taken it any longer. Finally, letting out an annoyed groan I tried to shift to reach my nightstand where the phone was laying, but was immediately stopped when I felt the familiar grip on my waist tighten.

“Stop moving.” my boyfriend mumbled with his raspy morning voice and pulled me closer. Jaehyun’s chest was pressed against my back and I felt it slowly raise up and down as he breathed steadily, ready to drift back to sleep at any moment.

“Jaehyun.” I whined while rubbing my eyes with my hand “Let me just turn it off.”

In response, he just hummed approvingly and loosened the grip on my body just enough for me to move slightly towards the edge of the bed. I grabbed my phone and squinted at the sudden brightness of the screen. I pressed the “turn off” button making the annoying ringing stop, and let out a whine when I checked the time.

“Come on.” I patted my boyfriend’s forearm that was thrown around my waist a few times “We have to get up.”

Jaehyun’s inarticulate mumbling was enough of evidence for me to know that he had almost fallen asleep again. With a sigh I turned around in his embrace and faced him. My lips curled up into a small smile when I saw his familiar features for the first time that morning. I moved his dyed brown hair gently out of his forehead and later moved my hand to caress the skin of his cheek.

“What did you say?” I asked moving my thumb, perfectly knowing that encouraging him to talk in the morning was the only way to wake him up at least a little bit

With his eyes still closed, he furrowed his eyebrows fully aware of what I was trying to achieve.

“I said…” he answered eventually giving up, but his words were cut by a small yawn escaping his lips “You were supposed to only turn the alarm off.”

I watched Jaehyun slowly open his eyes and instantly noticed his dark orbs, still slightly cloudy from sleepiness, that were piercing into mine.

“Lecture.” I reminded him and booped his nose with one of my fingers, taking him by surprise “We have to get ready because we’re going to be late. And you know how the professor can be.”

“Can’t we just skip today?” he whined with his raspy morning voice

“Nope.” I popped the ‘p’ with my lips before I leaned in and quickly pecked his “Let me go and get up.”

Without pulling of the covers I tried wiggling out of Jaehyun’s embrace, but his grip was strong enough to keep me steady in place. My boyfriend just chuckled drowsily at my attempts to free myself, his tired eyes scanning my fame. He was just observing me for a few seconds with an unimpressed look on his face and finally pressed another longer kiss to my lips. His familiar taste made me respond immediately to his actions as I moved my hand to the nape of his neck and tangled my fingers in his soft locks. His soft lips were pressing against mine a little bit more urgently with each kiss. I was melting into his touch and let him bring me even closer to his body. Completely lost in him, I felt his tongue swipe against my bottom lip in an attempt to deepen the kiss.

But before I could react, the door to my boyfriend’s room suddenly flew open startling both of us. I hurriedly pulled away from Jaehyun and regained my breath, before noticing a person standing at the entrance.

“Whatever the two of you are doing, just stop it because I don’t want to piss professor Song off again.” Johnny had his hand placed over his eyes while he spoke “And before you ask, no, I don’t see anything. I don’t want you to sin right in front of me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jaehyun, now fully awake, just waved his hand at him as I hid my face in his chest “Just give us a few minutes and we’ll be ready.”

“Few minutes my ass. I know better than to leave you alone.” the boy now turned around and faced the corridor “I’m leaving the door open so you don’t get any ideas.”

“Who said we have a problem with that?” my boyfriend raised his eyebrows at him teasingly, and my mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as I hit him on the shoulder for the nasty comment

“I knew you had no shame Jung Jaehyun, but let Y/N save her dignity, please.” and with those words Johnny just marched out of the room, leaving us alone once more

Jaehyun immediately took his opportunity and took my chin in between his fingers tilting my head up so I could face him again. With a smirk on his face he tried leaning in for another kiss, but I managed to slip my finger between our faces.

“We really should get going.” I said knowing that we surely wouldn’t even start to get ready if we had decided to continue what we were doing before Johnny had interrupted us. I took the opportunity he got distracted by my action and slipped out of his embrace.

“Why…” Jaehyun whined loudly and threw his arm over his eyes, rolling to lay on his back

“That’s what you get for comments like that.” I threw the covers away from my body, the lack of warmth making me shiver as goosebumps appeared on the skin of my exposed legs. Standing up, I run my fingers through my hair and stretched out my limbs, Jaehyun’s t-shirt raising along with them, trying to make the soreness disappear.

“Babe, don’t over exaggerate it.” my boyfriend’s eyes followed me as I walked around the room. Reaching his closet to grab any of his hoodies, I took a quick glance at him and saw a satisfied smirk on his face. He was sitting up on the bed with the covers draped over his legs, exposing the tanned skin of his chest. “It’s not like we got the the point when we’re naked anyway.”

I snatched the nearest piece of clothing, that turned out to be his plain white t-shirt, and threw it at him with all the strength I had. The material hit his face and he swiftly swiped it off chuckling at the sight of my burning cheeks.

“Thanks, beautiful.” he said, throwing the t-shirt over his head and removed the duvet from his legs “I was actually supposed to wear it today.”

Jaehyun jumped out of bed and walked up to close the door Johnny had previously opened, while I grabbed one of the few pairs of jeans I had left at their place some time ago. I put the beige bra I had been wearing the day before and changed the shirt I had slept in into the oversized yellow hoodie.

“Stealing my clothes again?” Jaehyun’s wrapped his arms around my waist, hugging me from behind and began leaving trails of feathery kisses on the exposed skin of my neck.

“It’s another form of payback.” I closed my eyes and smiled at the feeling of his lips “And, Jae, I’m not kidding. You better start getting ready for real. Stop dragging it out because now, thanks to that, there’s no way we’ll have time to eat breakfast, but we might grab a coffee to go on the way to the lecture. But only if we hurry up. What do you say?”

The boy just hummed approvingly at my proposition, morning coffee being one of his weaknesses, and spun me around before pecking my lips softly “Give me five minutes.”

“Jaehyun, could you quit it?” I whispered-shouted at my boyfriend who was busy running his hand up and down my thigh as his head was resting on my shoulder “I’m trying to focus and I suggest you do the same.”

My boyfriend just ignored my words and sipped on his iced americano without changing his position while I got back to taking notes. The lecture hall was filled with college students who seemed to listen to professor Song talking, with Jaehyun being the only exception. I had a feeling that instead, he set distracting me as his main goal for that day, and actually any other day as well.

When he hadn’t moved I decided to pinch the sensitive skin at the back of his palm, making him snatch the hand away from my thigh abruptly.

“You’re mean.” he whined quietly and leaned back in his seat

“You’re the mean one because you’re not letting me study.” I answered without losing the focus on my notebook, taking down as much as I was able to

I didn’t even need to look at him to see his furrowed eyebrows and a small pout on his lips. Yes, girls on the campus could’ve been drooling over my boyfriend gossiping about how lucky I actually was and how hot he is, but he still was acting like a baby whenever I refused to give him attention.

With the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of him angrily drinking his coffee with the paper straw in his mouth. Smiling to myself I let my free hand travel from his forearm down to his palm and intertwined our fingers. Jaehyun stopped furrowing his eyebrows and tugged on our connected hands, bringing them closer to his body with his lips curled up into a satisfied smile.

Yes, I most definitely was dating a baby.

Jaehyun was caressing my skin with his thumb until the end of the lecture. When professor Song announced that we’re dismissed, I heard him mutter a quiet ‘finally’ under his breath as he threw his head back. He didn’t let go of my hand for a second, even as we both began packing our stuff back to our bags.

“I seriously consider changing my seat so I can stop seeing you two being so lovey-dovey the whole time.” Johnny complained as we walked out of the lecture hall. Jaehyun threw away the empty cup and started to swing our arms, purposely annoying his friend even more. “I see enough of that shit when you’re at our place together. And that means almost the whole time.”

“Stop whining, will you?” my boyfriend rolled his eyes at the comment “Don’t forget we live with Mark as well and he, on the other hand, can accept two people being in a relationship.”

“That’s not ‘being in a relationship’.” Johnny pointed his finger at us “That’s ruining my innocence. Especially when you do the things like you did this morning.”

The three of us walked out of the building. The fresh air immediately hit me and I took a deep breath savoring it after sitting for a long time in one place during the lecture.

“Okay, first of all, we weren’t doing anything this morning, and you see only what your eyes want you to see, which brings me to my second point that you are literally anything but ‘innocent’, Johnny.” Jaehyun sat down on the closest free bench and pulled me down to sit next to him. He threw his arm over my shoulders and brought me closer to him.

“Yeah, but you know what made me like that?” Johnny placed his bag next to mine and instead of taking a seat on the free spot, he remained standing with an accusing look on his face “That one time you were supposed to be ‘making a project’ for one of our classes, but ended up asking me and Mark for a cond-“

“Alright, that’s enough.” I raised my hand in a quick motion, sending the boy a signal to stop his rambling “And Jaehyun’s right. Innocence is not your thing.”

“How is that not my thing?” the boy just raised his eyebrows at me

“Remember when Sooyoung asked you if she could come over?” I mimicked his gesture and saw embarrassment growing on his face

“Okay, whatever. Let’s not talk about my sex life.”

“And why can you bring our sex life when we can’t talk about yours?” Jaehyun shook his head slightly and raised his hand from my shoulder for a second before placing it there back again

“Have I just heard ‘sex life’?”

Mark’s playful voice was the only thing that warned us before his hands suddenly landed on the top of the bench behind mine and Jaehyun’s backs.

“Hi, Mark.” I greeted him briefly

“Johnny has just finished giving us a lecture on how we should be acting as a couple.” Jaehyun explained as the other boy took a seat in the free spot, the bags being the only thing separating me from him

“You’re lucky your parents told you to stay over for the night. At least you didn’t need to see what they were doing this morning.” Johnny folded his arms over his chest

“What were they doing?”

“Sin.” the taller boy almost spat the word out

“We’ve already told you we weren’t doing anything!” I exclaimed “How can you say you know what we were doing when you had your hand placed over your eyes the whole time? Besides it’s you who decided to storm inside Jae’s room without knocking.”

“She has a point.” my boyfriend pointed at me with his free hand

“She does.” Mark admitted with a shrug “Even though I wasn’t actually there. And stop acting like you’ve never smashed it, Johnny.”

Before the taller boy could even open his mouth to rejoin, Jaehyun just snapped at him “Okay, shut up.”

I started to giggle, and was quickly followed by Mark, at the surprised look on Johnny’s face. My boyfriend was playfully glaring at the boy standing in front of us as we continued laughing at their staring competition.

“Any plans for this evening?” Mark managed to regain his breath after some time, but he still had a smile on his face “My mom has birthday only once a year so I am back with you for tonight, guys.”

“The only plans I have for today is my shift.” my good mood disappeared the moment I reminded myself of my work

“Oh, yes. It’s Thursday.” Jaehyun ran his free hand over his face “When are you finishing?”

“Most probably around 9.” I answered with a sigh, even the thought of the time I had to spend behind the counter was wearing me out

“Do you want me to pick you up after?”

“Thank you.” I said with a smile on my face before fixing his denim jacket and pecking him on the cheek “But I’ll manage. I’ll take the bus.”

“See?” Johnny raised his eyebrow at Mark “They’re doing that the whole time. Stop the PDA.”

“Stop the whining.” Jaehyun mocked him while the boy sitting next to me began laughing again

“So…” Mark trailed off, trying to go back to our previous topic “No plans for today? Except Y/N’s shift?”

All three of us shook their heads in synch.

“We don’t have any morning lectures tomorrow so maybe a movie night?” Mark continued “I mean, Bambam’s party is on Friday. We still have this evening for ourselves.”

I furrowed my eyebrows at the nickname they all used about their friend, although I should’ve been rather used to it. It’s not like it had been the first time I was hearing it.

“Our last movie night ended up with you falling asleep, leaving me with Y/N and Jaehyun sucking their faces off on the couch.” Johnny pointed his finger at me, and than at my boyfriend

“For fuck’s sake stop complaining!” Jaehyun snapped at him, finally getting fed up with the rambling

Taking a deep sigh to prevent myself from bursting into fits of laughter, I said “Movie night it is than.”

I carefully poured the warm milk over the shot of espresso, making the foam form a heart-like pattern. Placing the filled mug on the counter I announced that ‘medium size cappuccino’ is ready before grabbing the second remaining cup with the order written down on a small sticky note next to it.

I grabbed the portafilter and put it in the coffee grinder. I watched the seeds quickly turn into powder with an unamused look on my face.

“You look so done with everything.” Jungwoo leaned on the counter after taking another order from a customer and placing one more empty mug for me to fill

I put the portafilter, placed it in the grouphead, and swiftly turned it around hearing the familiar clicking sound.

“Because I am.” with a sigh I grabbed an empty coffee mug, put it on the grind, and just stared at the dark liquid pouring into it “The lectures completely wore me out today. And now this shift.”

“You have only fifteen minutes left.” Jungwoo took a glance at the clock hanging on the wall behind my back “So relax and just think about stretching out on your bed with your favourite Netflix show playing on the screen of your laptop.”

The vision of what Jungwoo had described made me want to be done with the shift even more.

With an affirmative hum I checked the order to make sure I was doing everything correctly, and began steaming the milk.

“Thursdays are seriously a nightmare for me.” I whined “I start my classes at early morning hours and finish during the night. I feel like I’m about to literally fall asleep standing.”

“You have unlimited coffee right in front of you.” my coworker pointed at the espresso shot I had just splashed inside the mug “It’s the easiest way to wake yourself up, isn’t it?”

“I might take one to go because I’m afraid I’ll most probably doze off on the bus.” I poured the milk for the nth time that day

“I can imagine that.” Jungwoo chuckled at me and began preparing the remaining order “Isn’t Jaehyun picking you up today?”

I shook my head “I told him I’ll manage today, but I’m seriously starting to think about calling him to tell him I changed my mind.”

“Go on then, we don’t have any more orders for now so I guess you have some time.”

I looked up at him from the coffee mug and raised my eyebrows hearing his words.

“You sure?”

“Perfectly sure.” Jungwoo nodded his head and grabbed the drink I had finished preparing

“Thanks.” a smile appeared on my face before I turned around, hearing him call out for the customer who had ordered the ‘small sized cafe latte’ behind my back

I entered the back of the shop and took out my phone from my back pocket. Leaning on the wall I instantly dialed Jaehyun’s number. After a few seconds of beeping I heard his familiar voice “Hi, beautiful. What’s up?”

“Can you pick me up?” I asked through the phone

“Of course.” he answered without any hesitation. His tone was sweet and tender, but I knew him too well not to spot the hint of concern. “But did something happen? Are you okay? You said you’d take the bus.”

“No. Everything is perfectly fine.” my answered was short “I just missed you. And I’m a little bit tired.”

I heard his warm laughter on the other side of the phone making my heart flutter. He still was making me feel like this, even after the whole time we had dated. “If that’s the case, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting.” I whispered with a genuine grin “I love you.”

“I love you more.” his answered with a delicate tone “I’m about to get in the car so I guess I need to hang up.”

“Oh, yes. No talking on the phone while driving.” I nodded energetically despite the fact that he couldn’t see me “See you then.”

Jaehyun bid me goodbye briefly and repeated the sweet ‘I love you’ before ending the call. I stared at the screen of my phone with a small smile on my face, slowly scanning the picture of us together taken at a fair we visited during the summer that I had set as my lockscreen. Whenever I looked at it I was striked with how actually love struck we looked, beaming at each other with our eyes locked and small blushes tinting our cheeks.

Hesitantly I put my phone back in the pocket and went back to help Jungwoo. And also to make coffee to go for me and Jaehyun.

The moment we entered the apartment my boyfriend and his friend were sharing, the buttery smell of popcorn hit me. The sounds of muffled popping were coming from the kitchen area and I felt my stomach growl.

“God…” I whined as I threw my head back “I am starving.”

“And that’s why I ordered chinese take out before I went to pick you up.” Jaehyun announced proudly as he grabbed the empty coffee cup from my hands and headed to throw it away along with his

I placed my bag on the floor next to the door and wrapped my arms around his waist, hugging him from behind. I pressed my cheek to his back and breathed in the musky scent of his cologne that lingered on his clothing, making it mix with the smell of popcorn.

“I love you, you know that?” I mumbled against the fabric of the same denim jacket he had been wearing in the morning

Jaehyun started to chuckle as we started to lazily waddle into the kitchen together.

“Because I ordered you take out?” he asked throwing the empty cups into the bin and turned around in my embrace

“You ordered take out?” Mark, who had already been there, asked in disbelief, losing his focus on the microwaving popcorn in front of him

“Yup.” Jaehyun nodded and wrapped his arm around me tugging me closer

“Don’t get your hopes up, Mark.” I warned our friend “I’m so hungry I probably wouldn’t have any problem eating your portion as well.”

“Don’t you dare eat my food!” the boy laughed at my words while opening the microwave. He took the bag out and opened it swiftly, making the strong scent intensify. He threw the popcorn inside a bowl he had previously laid on the counter before popping a few warm pieces into his mouth. “If you hurry up there will be some popcorn left for you during the movie.”

Mark walked out of the kitchen leaving the two of us alone.

“Do you want to take a shower? Or maybe just change before we start?” Jaehyun looked down at me and gently stroked the back of my head

“Yeah, a shower sounds nice.” I murmured, hugging him even tighter “Just give me a second.”

He knew what I had meant so he just continued to caress my hair before placing a soft kiss on top of my head. I looked up locking his eyes with mine. Jaehyun leaned in and pressed his lips lovingly against mine.

“I love you.” he whispered after pulling away before repeating his previous action

I unwrapped my arms from around his waist and threw them around his neck, kissing him more eagerly. I felt the bitterness of coffee we had earlier on his lips, and he probably felt it on mine as well. Jaehyun’s lips were as soft as always, but his kisses were becoming more heated with each second. Once I opened my mouth wider I felt his tongue connect with mine. I tugged on the hair at the nape of his neck earning a muffled groan from him. He picked me up effortlessly, without disconnecting our lips, and I automatically wrapped my legs around his waist. I felt the cold kitchen counter under my thighs as Jaehyun placed me on it.

We pulled away to catch a quick breath before I dipped my head for another kiss, feeling completely intoxicated with him. My hands were tangled in his soft hair as his roamed around my body, giving my waist or my thighs a squeeze from time to time. His lips were moulding against mine, his tongue dancing with mine. I tugged on his jacket pushing it slightly down his shoulders. I let out a small gasp against his mouth when I felt his cold palms suddenly slip under the hoodie I was wearing.

“Oh my God!” Johnny’s unexpected shriek filled the area as he noticed me and Jaehyun

My boyfriend pulled away from me with a pink blush on his cheeks and I quickly unwrapped my legs from around him. His heavy breathing fanned the skin of my face as I remained seated on the counter.

“Guys, we’re making food here!” our friend was standing in front of us with a disgusted look on his face

“Johnny.” Jaehyun’s tone was warning as he turned his face around to look at the other boy “You either get out, or watch us continue.”

“I wanted to grab something to eat because Mark doesn't want to share the popcorn.” he walked inside reluctantly, his eyebrows furrowed “So I’m sorry, but I need to use the kitchen not to die out of starvation. And thank you for making it gross.”

My boyfriend smirked at me, ignoring our friend’s words, and tried kissing me again, just like he had told Johnny he would, but I jumped off the kitchen counter making him stumble backwards slightly with a dumbfounded look on his face. However, it disappeared the moment I grabbed his hand and rushed in the direction of his room pulling him along with me. In the background I heard Johnny mutter something about ‘not being able to put up with us anymore’ under his nose.

Once we entered the bedroom, Jaehyun closed the door with a kick and pushed me against it. With a smirk on his face, he immediately captured my lips with his before taking of his jacket in a swift motion.

“What about the take out?” I asked when he pressed our foreheads together “I’m still hungry.”

“Don’t worry.” he gave me a peck and picked me up one more time “We still have some time before it arrives.”

I started to giggle before kissing him again, feeling him move with me in his arms towards the bed. He placed me on the mattress, hovering over my frame, and started to work on the skin of my neck, sucking on it gently.

“What about the shower I was supposed to take?” I asked breathlessly, trying not to whine at the feeling of his lips

He detached his mouth from my throat to look up at me with his eyebrow raised teasingly.

“Only if I can join you.”

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silence-burns · 5 years

Text

Please Hate Me //part 24

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine

"This is a bad idea," Loki voiced his thoughts.

"You make it sound like that’s new information."

"Well, at first I thought it all might work out and make the day interesting, but right now I'm a hundred percent sure today's going to be as terrible as the entirety of last week."

You gasped dramatically. "Terrible? But you had a good laugh with me!"

"What else was I supposed to do when my life was being ruined and my dignity trampled? File a complaint? To whom could I address it?" he asked, words sharp.

"Why are you asking me? That sounds like your problem."

"You don't see it as your problem only because you're the problem."

"Nah. You're overthinking it."

"Well, I suppose one of us has to balance out your lack of—"

You cut him off with a sudden glint in your eyes. You stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, right in front of him, forcing people to walk around the two of you with annoyed grimaces.

"Did you just say 'us'? Could it be that I've finally grown on you?"

Loki sighed a very resigned sigh. "Yeah. Like a tumor."

Your smile was blinding nonetheless and caused him to turn his head the other way. It was the only reason he turned his head, obviously. Your joy was unreasonable. It wasn’t not like the word slipped off his tongue on accident and he tried to brush it off…

He only listened to your following babbling with one ear, focusing just enough to know when to nod and grunt some confirmation at the right moment. It wasn't on purpose, at least not entirely. It just so happened that his mind was occupied by different matters at the moment.

The path you decided on took you through what you described as quite a nice part of the city. Loki had his doubts about sanity and taste of whoever was behind the design of some of the buildings. The architecture was outrageously bland and plain and no matter how hard he tried, Loki could not find any reason behind such a fascination with squares and rectangles. Involuntarily, he thought back to the elegant arches and ethereal facades of Asgard's places of culture. The rich gold and vibrant colors that brought up all of the beauty of the city and homes of its people clashed violently with what he was seeing now. And why was everything so dull?

You crossed the street, following the mass of people rushing in the same direction. The fumes in the air brought a grimace to Loki's face. You noticed, and forgot about whatever you were just talking about.

"You okay?"

Loki's attention snapped back to you, surprised with how much genuine concern could be heard in your voice.

Well, you had already proven a few times that you meant him no harm, which was nice coming from someone on this savage, disgusting realm, but Loki was not yet used to it. He was trying, though, which he found surprising.

You frowned at his lack of response and took one of his hands in yours, warming it up. "Are you cold? I told you to bring gloves. We could warm up in one of the shops right there if you want?"

If you didn't know him any better, you'd say Loki looked flustered, but since it would be very out of character, you decided he must have just been overwhelmed with a world that must be so different from his. Your suspicions were confirmed when he insisted on walking. The hint of color on his cheeks must've been a figment of your imagination.

"I'm a Frost Giant, after all," he explained, very interested in the display of one of the bakeries. "The cold doesn't bother me as much as others, regardless of my clothing."

"Damn, wish I could say the same. It must come in real handy in weather like this," you gestured to the white blankets of snow covering every surface around. It was still fresh and clean, changing the world into something a little prettier than it usually was. Or maybe it was because it covered the trash littering the streets.

Loki followed your gaze to the few tiny flakes of snow flying loosely in the air. The sky was clear, indicating fine weather for the near future. People didn't seem to pay much attention to the weather, if only to watch out on particularly slippery parts of the pavements.

It was a shame, though, Loki thought. The snow was the only reason the city wasn't completely hideous to his eyes. It might have been caused by the Frost Giant blood in his veins, but he had to admit he enjoyed the walk through the whitened streets more than he anticipated, even putting the architecture aside.

The air, despite the disgusting fumes the cars around restlessly continued to produce, had the bite and frost in it that he'd always enjoyed. He remembered the days spent outside from dawn till dusk with Thor, running around the palace's grounds, building their own fortresses from snow and branches and then attacking one another until their hands were sore and their runny noses frozen. Those were the few memories Loki didn't mind his brother in. He was a terrible fortress architect.

They often ventured far, and made Frigga worry with how late they finally made it home. Even Loki's hands were cold by then, and his clothes damp and wet, but he was happy nonetheless, innocent and unaware of what his future would throw him into.

Loki looked down at his hands. Those days were gone, and not much could bring them back. Even winter felt different in this world, more polluted and tamed. The frost was more of a suggestion rather than a sharp bite to his skin. His heritage would always protect him from damage, but he felt the cold anyway.

The sad truth was, the past had to stay in the past, no matter how tempting it was to recollect and dwell upon old memories. Lessons had to be learnt from it, but one can never move forward if they drag their past with them. Despite his greatest efforts, Loki didn't remember who wrote that. Still, the words felt right to him.

With a silent nod to himself, he got back to the present. You were still standing by the bakery he randomly chose to buy some time. He had been conflicted, but things seemed clearer now.

Once again confident in himself, Loki straightened his back and turned to face you - only to find you already staring at him.

"How about we marry?" you proposed.

All air left him.

"I beg your pardon…?" was all he managed to stutter out, his voice taking a high pitch at the end, despite his efforts to keep it casual.

You didn't seem to notice the chaos raging in his chest. You only knocked softly on one of the posters at the display. With his heart in his throat, Loki read it with more difficulty than it would usually take him.

"It says… Some free samples are offered to everyone who proposes there? Is that a joke?" he asked finally.

"Not according to those photos." You pointed to some low-quality pictures printed and glued under the poster.

His frown only deepened along with his confusion. "You want us to fake a proposal for some free cake?"

"Why not?" you shrugged. "It's not like anyone's going to check up on us to see if we actually get married later on."

Loki blinked slowly. His heart did not slow down, but at least he was starting to hear his own thoughts over the blood pounding through his veins. "Could you please explain to me, why can't we just buy it like normal people?"

"Do you have any money? Like, human money?"

"No."

"Well, all I've got on me will go for our breakfast, especially since Peter will be joining us shortly, and he always devours a double portion like he's been starving for the past year and a half. So, how about a quick proposal?" you nudged him with a wicked smile, ready to march in.

Loki knew that stupid look on your face. You were not faking it. He sighed into the ridiculous, although nicely smelling scarf around his face. "Do you even have a ring?"

That seemed to pop your happy bubble. Your shoulders slumped and for a very brief, quickly shushed moment, Loki felt bad about it. "Damn it…"

"Besides, how would you conceal, you know, my identity? It would be suspicious if I had to hide my whole face during all of this madness."

"That's the least of our problems, there's no way anyone would recognize you anyway. Look, we've made it pretty far already and no one's even looked at you twice—"

You gestured around.

A skinny, blond man was staring at Loki with a look of utter concentration and confusion of his face, no more than three paces away.

You froze, and so did Loki. But only for a moment.

You burst into a broad, jovial smile before approaching the man like a good friend. "What a beautiful morning, isn't it, my dear? Would you like to have a little chat with us about global warming? We've been sent out to make a quick survey about people's opinions and predictions—Where are you going, sir? It will only take a few minutes!"

You looked after the man that would choose to flee rather than continue the conversation. He didn't look back.

You puffed out your chest with pride and turned to Loki. "Okay, I might've been a little bit wrong."

Loki was already casting quick glances around, fixing that stupid excuse of a cover around his face. He knew he would be recognizable. Too little time had passed since he was forced to attack the city, and people would still be bitter about it. Maybe after a few generations had passed and the memory of that disaster got lost in time…

You joined your arms and shouldered him away from the spot and into a less crowded side-street. The snow crumbled underneath your feet, not yet turned into a muddy pulp.

"Loki, listen, I know it might not seem like it, but I'm pretty sure everything's fine. The man didn't even recognize you, or he would’ve started screaming or talking in that very aggressive way some people love to use. And he didn't— which means he failed to connect the dots and probably thought you reminded him of some weird relative that he hasn't seen in years and just got confused… "

"You don't even believe that yourself," Loki cut you off. "You tend to babble when you get nervous."

"I… Well, you seem to know an awful lot about me for someone who hates my whole race."

"It's not—" Loki opened his mouth but stopped. The words didn't seem important anymore.

You paused too, still linked with him by the arm. Loki sensed the tension in your muscles and the change in your breath.

Someone was waiting for you.

The person wasn't tall, but the face obscured by a deep hood didn't seem the most trustworthy. A mugger wouldn't show up right in front of you, standing in the middle of the pavement. Surprisingly, no people seemed to be on your side of the street at all.

Your fingers clenched on Loki's arm, as if you were preparing to haul him behind you. That brought a ghost of a smile on his face. As if he would let you.

The man pointed a finger at Loki. "You should NOT be here."

And that was when you recognized his voice. "Wong??"

Loki frowned. "You know each other?"

Before you managed to answer him, Wong approached you with anger loud in his every step. And snapped his fingers.

Your stomach jumped high into your throat as the ground rolled under your feet without a warning. Loki's didn't feel much better, but he overcame the wave of nausea quickly—he knew what happened. It was a simple transportation spell he had used thousands of times.

It didn't take you far—only to a small park, far from prying eyes. Some children were busy building a rather disfigured snowman at the far end of it, behind a line of trees, their naked branches heavy with snow. No one else seemed to occupy the place.

Wong uncovered his face. You were right—he was pissed.

"What is wrong with you, people? And I mean both of you. You were supposed to be the responsible one!" he jabbed you with a finger. "Don't you think he's a little too recognizable to be wandering around like that?"

"He's got my scarf on!"

Wong didn't bother with a response. Loki, despite his personal feelings towards the monk, couldn't blame him.

Wong sighed, giving up trying to reason with either of you. He was aware of the god's current situation, because a big part of Sanctum Santorum's job was monitoring any threats to the realms and interdimensional peace—and Loki was very high on that list.

On the other hand, despite the ice-cold looks he was being cast by said threat, Wong had to admit no major disaster happened yet—which was surprisingly nice (having the realm's continued peace in mind) but not ideal in Wong's personal interest (and the bet he lost to the Sorcerer Supreme).

"I have a feeling nothing I say will make you go back to the Tower?" he asked.

"Nope," you admitted. Loki only huffed with indifference, raising his chin high despite the thick scarf.

Wong nodded to himself, as if he (rightly so) didn't anticipate any other answer. "Alright, then I'll at least cast a small glamor spell onto him, so you don't—"

"Absolutely not!"

The mere thought of the barbaric, bland magic of this realm being thrown upon him, boiled Loki's blood. If only he could reach out to his own magic, he'd show this pathetic excuse of a sorcerer what it really meant to wield such force…

You nudged him in the ribs, hard. "He's kinda right, you know? You said it yourself—you're too recognizable."

Loki was at a loss for words, and Wong used that moment to cast the glamor with a quick invocation and trained move of his hands. It tickled, like a wet, slippery mist blown into Loki's face. He snapped his attention back to the sorcerer, baring his teeth, but Wong was already departing.

"It won't work on anyone who already knows you, but it should do fine against strangers. You two better not mess anything up," he said and disappeared into a portal before Loki could grab him by the throat. His hand closed on air where the sorcerer stood only seconds ago.

"I hate this world," he growled out, clenching his fist.

You patted his back soothingly. "I know, it's not the best sequence of events before a proper breakfast, but how about we finally go grab some? The place isn’t far."

Loki brushed his face with a hand, the wet feeling not gone, but there was nothing he could do about it without his magic. He once again looked at the damned bracelet fixed around his wrist with pure, unfiltered hatred.

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