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ayasmess · 4 years

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Demonic!Yugyeom x OC | Kinktober: all sins week | Smut (sensory deprivation), angst

words: 3.4k+

Every year, you receive a letter. Every year, you just put it in the left compartment of your closet. But you’d never open them. After all, you swore to never touch it again. Witchcraft.

Your mother tried to make you believe in it, even on her deathbed, and still, you refused.

But what if one night, when you’re not thinking right, you invoked him. Would it be your worst mistake?

“What do you mean you’re not coming?” Your friend asked through the phone.

While putting her on speaker, you went to your closet, putting back some clothes, always avoiding the left compartment. “I meant what I said. I don’t feel good about standing in the same room with my ex and his amazing fiancée who by the way is my childhood friend.”

You heard a sigh. “It’s been 2 years, I’m not saying you shouldn’t feel like that, all I’m saying is that you could meet other people.”

“Why would I meet other people? I have you guys.”

“Maybe because you can’t screw your friend and you need some.”

“Who said we can’t— okay no I’m good without screwing you.” You laughed and stop arguing. “I have to go, but as I told you, enjoy the party, I probably won’t be there.” You replied and hung up before she could even complain.

Maybe something was wrong with you, maybe you should have said yes. Maybe not being close to that box would have been the salvation to your pain. But that night, you decided that he was your salvation.

Do you regret it?

Are you scared of the night?

Do you fear him or you?

For the whole week, you tried to organize your room, again and again. As if something was wrong, you couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. You moved all your furniture, even reorganize your closet. But you never touched that left compartment, as if it was cursed.

Those letters were cursed, after all, they bore his seal.

The week passed, the night of Halloween, your friend insisted to come to your house at least before the party. She didn’t like the thought of you being alone that day. So here you were, both of you on the floor of your bedroom, alcohol in your blood, for god’s know how long. You were not the type to drink that much but tonight was different.

“I still don’t understand why you don’t want to go to the party... You know we still have time.” She looked at you, smirking.

You sighed. “I don’t know, it feels wrong. To be there and to see his happily ever after face, while I’m just a drunken ex who can’t get over him.”

“We all know it’s not him you have to get over. It’s hard sometimes to move on when you feel like you’re in a hole and everyone just keeps moving.”

“And that hole is so big. God, I can’t even see the outside.” You drunkenly admitted.

“Girl, we’re so drunk, we don’t make sense.” She laughed as she got up. “Come on.”

You looked at her puzzled. “What?”

“Remember what your mom used to say? To enjoy the day without thinking about tomorrow and if a dude can’t appreciate your boobs just go for another one.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what she used to say...” You snickered.

“Let’s go to that fucking party and have fun. Who cares about that trash and his trashoe. We’re going to have fun and... and I forgot what I wanted to say—“

You laughed loudly and you paused as you looked at her fondly. “Okay just for you.”

“Oh god, please don’t fall in love with me.”

“Shut up and help me find a good outfit.”

She searched in your closet for the clothes, throwing some of them on the bed. While opening all the compartment, her fingers met a box nested at the bottom. Her curiosity got the best of her and she pulled it.

When she opened it, a hand closed it quickly. “Don’t.” You spoke a little harshly.

She looked at you surprised. “Letters? Why do you hide letters?”

You looked away and hesitantly you responded. “It’s about the invocation. You know that whole witchcraft stuff my mom used to believe?”

“Yeah! And I freakingly believed her! What is the content of those letters?!”

“It’s nothing, just superstition. Every year, we’re allowed to make a wish to our spiritual guardian. And we have to burn that letter as a part of the offering.”

“You never did that... because?”

“Because I don’t want to meet him or communicate with him. Not anymore.”

“Okay... y’all weirdos. Come on let’s go get that outfit.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You walked down the street, fiddling the side of your skirt.

“No, but who cares. In the worst case, it was just a drunken night, we probably won’t remember the details. In the best case, you met an amazing guy, who had an amazing sense of humor and you both shared amazing sex—“ You put your hand on her mouth before she could continue.

“Okay, that’s enough! I got it I got it.” You chuckled nervously.

If only you met that guy. Except, you obviously didn’t. But you did hear a conversation about your amazing ex and his amazingly pregnant fiancée. When you tried to move away from the group, you bumped into someone. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You heard as you felt the content of your drink on your shirt. Great. Amazing night.

You sighed and looked upwards. Okay maybe, your friend was right about meeting a cute guy. Meh, too late. “It’s okay, I wasn’t careful either.”

“Look, let me go get a shirt in my room.” Oh, and you bumped into the host.

“It’s okay I wanted to go home anyway.”

“At least, let me walk you to your house. I think we live in the same street?”

“Yep... You don’t have to—“

“Come on, I’ll grab my jacket.”

Okay, maybe it wasn’t so late.

And maybe you enjoyed his presence as you both talked on the way. Was it the way his eyes glowed when he smiled? Was it his cute smile? Was it the amount of alcohol in your blood? Or was it this sinking pain in your chest every time you thought how unfair your life was? What made you kiss him in front of your house?

You felt his hand slide from your cheek to your waist, pressing you against him. You didn’t mind, as long as he could take away that oppressive feeling.

But he couldn’t.

At which point did you invite him inside? You don’t remember. Who cares, as long as he keeps pressing his lips on your neck.

When did you even start to grind against his thigh while he pressed you against the wall of your room? You couldn’t care less, you just wished his touch could be your salvation. Just for the night.

And then you felt his hand sliding below your waist. He sensed your sudden stiffness.

That oppressive feeling on your chest became heavier and heavier.

And stupidly you realized, his simple touch couldn’t salvage you.

He distanced himself before sighing. You couldn’t even meet his eyes. You felt his hand on your cheek as he gently kissed the side of your temple. “It’s okay, we don’t have to.”

You couldn’t help but whispered a pathetic sorry. He asked you if you needed him to stay.

All you could do was shake your head as you clenched your fists.

“Okay” That’s all he said, as he left.

What a fucking awkward night.

You walked toward your bed and lie on it. You didn’t have any rational thought. Nothing.

And then your sight turned toward your closet. The compartment was still closed.

You didn’t think right.

Let’s blame the alcohol.

You shouldn’t touch that cursed letter.

But you did.

You got up, you walked towards that closet and you opened it. You took one of the letters between your hand. A strange numbness on the extremities of your fingers begin. You couldn’t read it, Latin words spread the old paper.

You never understood how the letters came to your house. No one knew. Some say it’s just black magic, and we shall never touch it, in fear of corruption.

Others used them for their sins.

A small whisper asked you.

Are you a sinner?

All your instincts screamed, don’t open it. Don’t call him.

And yet, you did.

You wished to see him again, you wished he could take away that pain, you wished he made you forget about it, about this guy you met, about your ex, about his perfect life, about your mother, about this oppressive feeling, about this loneliness.

“Take it away.”

You wished for him.

And just like that, the letter burned.

The room became cooler. And the lights around you blinked. And you felt a shiver.

“Missed me?”

His voice was the same. Just like when he left you, or when you left him. Cold and cynical.

You let a shaking breath. He slowly walked in your direction.

“Tell me, sweetheart. Did you miss me?” He whispered to your ear, and gently he pressed his lips on your neck. You sighed, as his arm encircled your waist and pressed you against his chest.

Despite the shortness of breath, you whispered pathetically. “Yugyeom—“

“I waited for you. 3 long years, in this darkness.” His fingers digging into your sweater, you could almost feel the extremities of his nails.

“At first I was worried that I scared you.” A small kiss was pressed against your temple.

“And then resentment came, along with his companion, un-forgiveness, when I realized you were never going to free me again.” He bit your ear.

“So tell me, love, why should I answer your prayer when you gave up on me?”

Shaking, you tried to control yourself. And boldly, you answered. “You get to consume my sin, isn’t that worthwhile reason?”

He chuckled. “I shall honor your prayer then.”

Suddenly, your surroundings disappeared, you just blinked for a second, and the next you were caught in his illusion.

You could feel the softness of the bed against your back. You could smell the scent of burning candles around you. You could hear the quiet sound of the rain outside, hitting the windows.

But all your attention was on him.

His hands were on top of your head, his knees on each side of your body. You wouldn’t be able to get away from him. That is if you wanted to.

He straightened himself, unbuttoned his leather shirt. You let a shaken breath at the sight of it. He chuckled at the sound of your squeal when he pulled you closer to him.

“I like this color. Looks good on you.” He hummed as his finger played with the front zipper of your red sweater. He kissed softly the side of your mouth. “But I prefer you without it.” He pulled it downward, revealing your naked chest. He smirked at the sight, caressing your waist. “Definitely better.”

His other hand brushed the side of your jaw, his eyes finding yours, and softly his lips found yours.

Maybe you missed this. His delicacy every time he kissed you as if you could disappear at any moment. As if, his tenderness would bring you back to him, like a magnet. As if, no one could give you this warmth.

You couldn’t help but bringing him closer to you, gripping the sides of his shirt, while you responded passionately to his kiss.

A small whimper left your lips when you felt his hand leaving your waist, leading toward your breast, his thumb caressing your nipple, before pinching it.

He straightened himself and moved his chest away from yours.

His hand traveled toward your thighs, before encircling them and bringing you closer. You could feel the shape of his crotch through the clothes.

But he didn’t move, he didn’t do anything. He just stared at you, a little smirk on his lips.

Looking at him, you couldn’t help but pout. You wrapped your legs around his hips and brought your crotch to his.

Licking his lower lip and biting it, he then asked smugly. “What are you going to do? Satisfy yourself?”

You whispered, ungraciously. “Shut up.” But again, you were not the gracious type, and he wasn’t either.

Hence why his hands fallen on either side of your head, he brought himself closer to you and whispered. “Come on, be a good girl, and do it.” His lips brushing yours, you closed your eyes, before lifting your pelvis.

You could feel his smirk against your lips, as you started to grind against his crotch. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and gripped the lower part of his hair. You couldn’t repress the small smirk on your lips when you heard him grunt. He pressed his crotch against yours before detaching himself from you roughly.

He snapped his fingers, and one second later, you were completely naked in front of him. He cockily raised an eyebrow at your blushing cheeks, as you were embarrassed by this sudden appearance.

“Let’s play a game sweetheart.”

You frowned at his words, you knew they were bad news but your curiosity took over.

His face moved closer to you as he cooed. “Let’s see how much you can take it.”

He unbuckled his belt and took it between his fingers. You gasped as you felt invisible hands holding your wrists and bringing them on top of your head, to the bedhead. Before you could question his intention your wrists were encircled by the belt against it. “Yugyeom—“

“Ah-ah.” He stopped you. “You still have a punishment to take.” You shivered as you felt his finger brushing your neck, following its course toward your chest, and then stopping right before your pelvis.

He looked at you and thought. “Let’s add another thing.”

You nervously anticipated. And before you could even ask him, darkness surrounded you.

The silk scarf around your eyes, your hands tied against the bedhead, you felt deprived of his touch, until his finger skimmed your thigh.

He chuckled at the sound of your whimpers. Before you could even say anything to rush him, his thumb was pressed against your mouth. “Who said you could talk, love?”

Slowly opening your mouth, you took his thumb against your lips, biting it lightly. Softly, you began to suck it when he pressed it against your tongue.

Suddenly, he pulled it away from your lips. Before you could whine about it, you felt his mouth on your lips, gently kissing you. You responded with more passion as if you didn’t know when he would give you this satisfaction. Biting your lower lip, when you moaned at the touch of his finger on your inner thigh, he deepened the kiss.

You shivered when his fingers brushed your skin, slowly moving toward your core.

He didn’t press his fingers on it, he just skimmed it, chuckling at the sight of your pelvis moving away from the ticklish touch.

He kissed the side of your jaw as his finger was pressed against your core, gathering moisture. You whimpered when you felt pressure on your clit. He pressed his thumb against it, making an encircling gesture. You wrapped his waist with your leg so he could continue.

You cried at the slow invasion of his finger inside, his kiss muffled your moans. He moved slowly, before adding another finger.

He moved his lips toward your neck, biting your skin and leaving purples marks in his path toward your chest. You moaned when he started to take your nipple between his lips and at the same time his fingers quickened their pace. You could feel your core tightening its grip on his fingers, as he kept stimulating it. You cried when you felt pressure on your clit. You squealed out of surprise when you realized it wasn’t his touch.

All you could hear was his snickers. “What you cannot fear what you cannot see, darling.” If it was another time, you’d argue but all you could think was how overwhelmed you were. You opened your mouth to shut his cocky attitude but a gasp left your lips. He quickened his pace and the pressure grew on your clit, you could hear the wet sounds of his fingers pushing and pulling out of your pussy.

Your wrist tried to pull themselves from the grip of his belt, as you cried when you felt your pleasure building up.

Before your orgasm finally hit you, your wrists were liberated, and you quickly encircled your arms against his neck, bringing him closer to you. Waves of pleasure hit your body, the silk depriving your vision disappeared and before you could think, his lips found yours. His fingers left your spastic core. He brought you closer to him, encircling his arms around your waist.

Your body called its shaking against him, as you buried your face in his shoulder, his musky smell engulfed you. He kissed the side of your temple, before looking at you in the eyes.

You took his face between your hands and gently you brushed his cheeks with your thumbs. You murmured. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for leaving you here. For not being there when you needed someone.”

There was no room, no windows, no candles, no walls, no illusion. Just this bed with him and you in this darkness.

Darkness surrounded you, but you weren’t scared. Not anymore.

His hand moved toward your cheek, removing the falling tear, before kissing your closing eyes.

He took your thighs with his hands, bringing you closer to his crotch. You moved your hand and wrapped it around his girth. He kissed you gently as you felt him inside you.

He slowly moved, letting you get accustomed to his length. You sighed at the building pleasure, before pushing him on the back so you could ride him. And softly, you began to grind against him. He wrapped his hands on your hips, throwing his head backward, feeling your warmth surrounding his cock.

His pelvic pressed against your clit, stimulating you. You brought your chest closer to him, so you could kiss his neck. Taking his skin between your lips you left small purple marks on it.

You cried when he moved his pelvic, thrusting his hips. He held your waist so you wouldn’t move, and he started to pound from below. You could feel your legs shaking from the pleasure.

Before you could react, he removed himself from you. He pushed you so your back hit the mattress and he was on top of you. You whine at the sudden emptiness, as he tapped his cock against your clit, teasing you.

He kissed you as he pushed it inside you once again. He slowly thrust before moving faster. Moans were muffled by his kisses. He started to pound while his hand reached your clit, stimulating it.

You whimpered at the pressure of his fingers, you wrapped your legs around his waist and gripped him even tighter.

Your breathing got faster and difficult as this overwhelming pleasure hit your body. And before you could even think right, your vision lightened, your back arched. Your hand gripped the side of your pillow as he continued to thrust inside you, seeking his pleasure and overwhelming yours. His thrusting became erratic. You brought him closer to you, kissing the shell of his ear, engulfing him with your intoxicating scent. You could hear his soft moans when he started to come inside you.

You caressed his hair as you both tried to calm your breathing.

He pulled himself away from you.

His gaze meeting yours, you began to feel nervous and vulnerable in this state. You were scared of the possible rejection, but you couldn’t help but touch his cheek with your hand.

Slowly, as if you could disappear if he moved harshly, he kissed your palm. He laid at your side, before pressing you against his chest. Leaving a soft kiss on the side of your temple he whispered. “Don’t leave.”

You kissed his neck before answering him. “I won’t. Not anymore.”

You were not scared of your feelings. You were not afraid of being in love with a demon.

#got7 #got7creators #got7 smut #yugyeom #yugyeom smut #yugyeom imagine #got7 fic #kpop smut #all sins week #kinktober collaboration #aya's writing #rating: mature

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novemberandmay · 3 years

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As She Falls

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Her wings pointed to the sky as she was pulled into Earth’s gravity. Her limbs were also pointed up, except for her head and torso. She watched as clouds passed her, the rough wind trying to crush her non-existent body into molecules. Even though she wasn’t in her physical body, she could still feel the wind? How weird. But she was uncaring of this, as she crashed into her hospital room. She could finally see how her body was, after all this time. She looked at it, finding her body looking pathetic. It was thin, overly thin, and covered in bandages. She was hooked up to so many machines, it was a miracle she was still alive. But while observing this, she heard the door in front of her open. Glancing up at it, she saw something surprising.

“Chloe? What are you doing here?” She asked, shocked. But she didn’t get an answer, since she didn’t have vocal cords or a way to voice her thoughts. Chloe stood in the door way, her expression pained. She started to mumble things, things that didn’t make sense. Chloe seemed crazy and possessed at that moment, but it didn’t matter to Marinette. She raised her hand to try and get Chloe’s attention but was covered in light. She was forced into the older girl’s body, into the girl’s very soul.

When she opened her eyes, the light had make her close them earlier, she was surprised to see a little girl in a hotel’s lobby. She was gripping a teddy bear, but seemed upset, maybe a tad sad. The girl stayed still for what seemed like days before she turned around and passed through Marinette. The girl stormed out of the room, tears leaving her angry expression. Marinette ran after the girl, finally recognizing her as Chloe. She found the girl again in a hotel room, where items around her seemed broken. Then a door sounded behind her and worried screams rang out. As this happened, everything warped and twirled, ‘til she saw her Chloe, the teenaged Chloe. She was sitting on a couch, her expression somber. This time, though, she could see that Chloe was able to spot her. As she had glanced over at her.

“Chloe? What’s happening? Are you okay? Do I-?”

“How pathetic, Dupain-Cheng even haunts my dreams. Great.”

“What? This isn’t a dream Chloe! I’am really here, I’m fin-“ Chloe’s crazied laugh sprang out, startling Marinette.

“No need to lie, you illusion. I saw her dead body myself, I know she’s not alive. Not anymore.”

“But I’m fine Chloe! I’m just fi-“

“SHUT UP!” Chloe screamed, throwing a teacup at Marinette’s face. It hit her, causing blood to stream down her face. Chloe stormed up to her, her rage filled expression being the main focus. The blonde girl raised her finger up and pointed at her, her elbows bent.

“NOW YOU LISTEN HERE! MARINETTE IS DEAD. SH-she left me. SHE’S JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE! LEAVING ME AT THEIR BEST CONVENIENCE!! JUS-just like mama. She’s ju-just like her-r.” Her screams became stutters as her voice became pathetic. Marinette’s eyes softened and she reached her hands around Chloe, hugging her tightly. Chloe started to sob, falling to her knees, bring Marinette down with her.

“WH-why?! WHY am I noT ENOUGH?!?! WhY-“

It was hours before the emotions inside her seized, leaving her feeling empty.

“I’m sorry Chloe. I promise I won’t leave you again.”

“Y-you promise?”

“I promise Chloe. I swear that I will wake up and you won’t be alone.”

As they hugged tighter, everything went white.

She was suddenly transported back to the hotel room, where she was not alone. On the ground, holding her hand, was Jon. He was sobbing, and looked as if he would collapse into a coma soon.

“Oh Jon! What happened?”

There was no response as she looked over his shoulder, he just kept crying. She laid her hand on the boy’s shoulder, where the familiar bright light surrounded her.

This time, she was alone in a house. But there was noise some where, it sounded pained. She rushed around, opening doors left and right until she found the cause. Jon.

She found Jon huddled in a corner of a kid’s room, sniffling. Her face lost it’s tension, as she sat beside him. She was ready to hear his tale.

“Did you know I can always tell when someone lies to me? That everyone does it a lot? Even ma’ and pa’ lie to me. Only you and Dames don’t lie that much, at least not to me. You tell me when you can’t tell me something, you try to be honest. But now you’re gone. And now Damian lies. No one tells me anything true anymore...”

“But it’s fine. It’s just like before I knew Dames! I can handle it...I hope. I’m used to you both being honest, so I don’t know if I can handle it now. So much has changed, some much is different...why can’t it go back to before you jumped? Everything was okay then- I could fix it! I could help you, I could at least try. But reality doesn’t work that way, right? Yeah. So I can’t save you, I can only imagine that in my wildest fantasies. Did ya’ know I used to think of you and Dames as my parents for a bit? I know you aren’t, but I just wanted to imagine it. Having a mum that’s not running off to get the latest catch, one that comforts me. Having a pa’ that’s not off saving the world every 5 seconds, but is beside me, even if a little reluctantly. But who cares? I’m just being ungrateful! I mean- who else wouldn’t want Superman as their dad? And Lois Lane, the famous and renowned reporter, as their mom? If anyone else knew of my position, they would want it! So why? Why don’t I want to be their child? Why do I want to be normal? To not tell when someone’s lying? I know it’s wrong and I’m just being ungrateful, but-“

“Jon.”

“...”

“Listen to me. Nothings wrong with you. I would love to be your mum, and I’m glad you think that way. It’s not bad to feel this way. Your emotions are valid. You are valid. I love you, I love you so, so much. So please, don’t think this way. I’ll be your mom, I’ll be anyone you want me to be, okay? ‘Cus I love you. I love you like a mother would love their son.”

Marinette raises Jon’s hand to her chest, smiling at him.

“See? I’m not lying, am I? I promise to never lie to you, no matter what.”

Jon stares at her, tears gathering in his eyes. His mouth twitches, he looked pained, sad.

“MAMAAA!” He screamed at her, lunging at her. He gather her into a hug, sobbing. He cried, cried for hours. He wouldn’t let her go, as he collapsed on to her. He cried into her hair, as she pat his back. Marinette hugged him back, caring for him like a mother would.

“...thank you..” Jon mumbled. Marinette only smiled in return, watching as he faded away. She looked up and reached for the sky, a bright light covering her. It felt right. She felt happy.

Marinette appeared back in the hospital room, now with a new person.

‘Damian?’

He said nothing as he grabbed her human body’s hand. His face was remorseful and sorrowful, his scowl now including tears and forced look. He was holding back sadness, she could tell. She wouldn’t let this continue though, so she walked up to him. She stopped right beside him standing straight. She bent over, and reached for his shoulders. She gave him one last hug in this form, before zipping into his body, ready for her next conformation.

Taglist: @miraculous-ninja @rebecarojas07 @toodaloo-kangaroo @solangelo252 @neakco @dood-space @jjmjjktth @animeweebgirl @nickristus-dreamer @talushi2002 @miraculouslydumb @stellar-star @myazael @crystalangelluna

Notes: I know it’s a bit rushed, but I just had to finish the idea as soon as I thought it. Hope you liked it! The taglist is open, and prolly will always be, just so you know. I’ve had a great day today, I took my NWEA and made an amazing score, so I’m proud. So are my friends, like May. Anyways, I got off topic, have a nice day y’all! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it! Till next time! Buh-bye!

(DIDNT MEAN TO POST IT WHEN I DID, OOPS)

-November

#maribat #daminette #mlb x batman #mlb x dc #batman x mlb #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #dc x mlb

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carlosxhook · 4 years

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The Law Of Total Madness ~ H.H

Pairing: Harry Hook x Reader (yes I wrote Got7 into this sue me) + (please don’t I’m broke 🤦‍♀️)

Y/N’s P.O.V

Being Chad Charming’s twin sister was an interesting occurrence, Ben being your best friend for your whole life and growing up around Chad expectation of the perfect sister was exhausting this was where you found your love for singing and dancing thanks to Ben. He also introduced you to your other best friend prince Yugyeom originally from Jypnation and 6 other his friends who made music together the 8 of you were always glued together, you stuck together and turns out it was good for you to get away from Chad he may of been your brother and yes you loved him but god was he unbearable! Even better the 8 of you talk in korean to confuse anyone trying to ease drop Princess love to be some nosey bitches, you were a hip hop dancing, princess role breaking rebellious free soul and Chad HATED that. Perhaps the icing on the cake was that you were secretly dating a Scottish pirate, the only son of Captain Hook, the love of your life Harry Hook. It happened when you and Ben were kidnapped with Ben after convincing him you should go with him for “protection” when really you just wanted to wag chemistry class they kept you and Ben seperate and you and Harry ended up in a long make out session about 15 minutes before the most epic battle you’d ever witnessed, Ben announced that after 6 months since Dizzy, The Twins and Celia came to auradon that 3 more vks would be coming over! Hoping it would be Harry, Uma and Gil you talked to Gil while ‘kidnapped’ you two were close it was nice he seemed genuinely like a good guy, it was nice that he’s loyal to his crew and today was the day they were to arrive. Ben, Chad, Mal, Carlos, Jay, Evie, Doug and I were all gathered around waiting for them to show them around and such, the limo pulls up and all three vks get out my chest gets tight thinking about seeing him again yeah we starting “being a thing” very quickly but I liked him a lot I knew that much “Welcome to Auradon” Ben smiles “Try not to break anything” Chad snarls and I smack him over the head earning a deep chuckle from Harry as he smirks at me “it’s very colourful here” Gil smiles he’s too pure omg “well I would love too stay and help but I promised NaNa I’d be at practice 10 minutes ago, it was lovely too see you all again.” I wave before running off towards the school dance hall and quickly issuing magic to get changed into a red crop top and some high waisted black shorts with black converse, damn I was too cute for my own good sometimes, poor Chad never got any magic my parents had me enchanted when I was little so I could protect myself.

Harry’s P.O.V

“I apologise for Princess Y/N’s departure she’s preparing for a very important event and competition as a representative for Auradon, if any of you need her she’s typically in the dance hall!” Ben hints looking towards me it’s not like her and I were seriously anyways, yeah I liked her, a lot but I’d barely say I thought about her. That’s a lie everyday that stupidly gorgeous girl plagued my mind and she just runs off before I can have her in my arms again, how selfish? Does she even still care about me, about us, we had a connection fuck I knew feelings and l..l...lov that l word made you weak, how pathetic I thought I had a happily ever after.

We go through the entire of auadorn and finally reach the Dance Hall we hear loud music coming from within and I peek in seeing Y/N practicing “let’s watch!” Ben opens the door and we stand at the back my eyes fixated on the gorgeous girl dancing her heart out, “she’s gonna win” Chad laughs at Gils proud statement “please who does she think she is this isn’t the isle she should be in a castle or locked in a tower” Chad snorts “I’m sorry say that again Princey” I growl “cool it” I hear Uma whisper “you wanna get found out huh” she follows. “He’s an ass” I mutter focusing back on the events in front of me Y/N walking towards us with a big smile “what did you think?” She asks as her sparkling eyes meet mine before Chad can even open his mouth I reply “Ye did very good indeed” winking at the now blushing princess “anyways” she chirps “we need 3 more female dancers to back up Yugyeom and I’s duo for the competition, because as much as I’d love too see Jackson, Mark and BamBam in skirts with wigs and heels... I don’t wanna frighten the audience” she giggles looking behind her at the 7 boys now making their way over once they reach us the throw Y/N a questioning look before speaking in what I can only assume in another fucking language.

Y/N’s P.O.V

I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss Harry I did and as much as I wanted to run into his arms and breathe in his scent and glory I know I can’t, I lean over to Uma to get closer to Harry “Hey Uma, I don’t know if ben told you but we are sharing a room, I’m barely ever in my dorm so don’t worry I won’t bother you!” I smile and she just scoffs she’s not the biggest fan of me I mean she did kidnap Ben and I after all, I couldn’t blame her though the Isle was shocking I would wanna get out too I am kinda thankful cause of it I found Harry. That was if he still even liked me, I heard from Mal he’s a player and no good that he flirted with anything that moved I mean one of the old exchange students Nana did that too, and he was harmless I was just hoping Harry’s flirting was too.

“Yugyeom, can we finish I wanna show em to the dorms?” I smile to the fluffy haired boy sweat dripping down his white shirt making it slightly see through “only this once ya, usually I’m the one to try cut practice shorty” he laughs “sweet, don’t forget we go all day tomorrow with the boys!” I point to our 6 other friends and wave shooting them a wink before turning around seeing everyone but the pirates had left “well I’ll shall show you to your rooms I guess” I lead the way to the dorms it’s a bit awkward and the silence burns.

“So Y/N” Gil cuts the air “what’s this competition?” He smiles coming and placing an arm around me I hear Harry growl but I just let Gil rest his arm on me “well it’s a multi-kingdom performance competition, we must sing and dance and the winner’s kingdom hosts a massive party and a heap of important musical performers come for all necks of the woods too play and come watch!” I smile getting excited just thinking about it “Yugyeom and I have a duo, I have a solo and so does he, then a boy group performance and then a girl group performance if we win 3/5 of the categories Auradon will host its first ever K fest, it’ll be amazing!” I stop abruptly “our duo performance is gonna be the best we’ve ever done, and we’ve done a lot” I chuckle “anyways this is the boys dorm 701 Gil and Harry are here and then just down the all at 690 is where Uma will be if y’all need her. Your belongings will be inside for you if you need anything please don’t hesitate to ask” I turn around and walk to my room Uma in tow “so Y/N, been a while huh?” She laughs “indeed it has, how’re you feeling about all this?” I ask pointing around “it’s where I’ve always wanted to get my crew, I got Gil and Harry here, now I need to work on the rest” I see a glint of sadness in her eyes “I’m only really here because I care about those boys and they don’t deserve to rot on an island, yeah they’re dicks and trouble but they’re loyal to me so I am loyal to them, they fight for me so I fight for them. Always!” I was shocked Uma was really caring I didn’t expect this side of her “I’m only telling you this because I know you and Harry are a thing” she pays my back “wait we still are?” I ask hopeful “yeah, the moment he gets you alone he’ll be all over you like a hungry wolf, watch ya back” she laughs I take a deep breath “thank you Uma I wasn’t sure he even still knew me” I lay on my bed and my stomach grubmles “girl you’re so busy dancing you don’t eat” Uma scolds “come on” she grads my hand “were getting you some food!” Running out the door she takes me too the kitchen and starts making food “I used to have make chips all the time at the shop, so hopefully Auradon sir makes them taste better than the grubby isle ones” she scoffs “Uma, can I ask something?” I nervously fiddle “sure princess what’s up?” She says cutting up potatos “Did Harry’s father ever abuse him?” She seems taken aback “it’s just I remember telling Harry I’d stay behind he just had to pretend he had me at sword point, and he said he’d never even pretend to do such a thing because he wasn’t his father.” I wipe a few tears I was confused was Harry harmful “Harry gets his father’s temper or therefore lack of, he had outbursts, I’m sure he’ll still have them, yes to put it shortly his father before he was in the crew would often abuse him. But it wasn’t uncommon, not in the isle love is a weakness.” “Then am I weak for loving him no matter what Uma” why was I even opening up to her “no because I think you could be good for him, just don’t turn him” she jokes “or I’ll use this” she holds her shell out “yes captain!” We laugh. “Maybe finally having a roommate won’t be so bad aye” I smile as she cooks Uma might actually be a really great friend and she knows more about Harry than anyone else maybe Hook and I could work.

*The Next Day*

“Those boys I swear are always late” I mutter to no one in particular “now what’s a gorgeous girl like you doing standing ‘ere all alone?” My heart jumps hearing his voice again “Hi Harry” I turn around smiling “ye know isle got boring without a princess to kiss” she smirks “is that so, awe Harry did you miss me” I joke about he moves closer “believe me or not love, I actually did. Let’s say you left a bit of a mark on me so to speak” I giggle “now come here babe” I pull him in for a long and heated kiss “Lovely doing business with ye princess” he smirks spinning around and walking out. What the actual fuck was that, what is he playing at I’m not just some toy, I turn on the music and start dancing to Bonnie & Clyde by Dean nothing can distract me not even Harry.

Harry’s P.O.V

I fucked it up I panicked and played fuck boy player again the confident fascade is what I’m know by I must keep it up, show no emotion, no weakness. Sorry princess. It’s just how I am.

I walk to uma’s room and knock on the door “yeah what” I hear her shout “it’s me” and like that the door flies open “Where’s Gil?” She questions “running round with Jay apparently they’re besties or whatever I’m just letting the dog loose” I plop myself down on the princess’ bed “geez Auradon beds are comfy” I sigh “I don’t think your little girlfriend would appreciate your smelly leather and metal scent over her sheets” Uma jokes “not me girlfriend” I point out “I’d watch it if I were you then, she gushed on about that Yugyeom boy for a very long time, of she ain’t yours surely she’ll be his I mean they’re never not together.” As if on cue in walks Y/N “Hey Uma did you see where I put my tablets, the ones with the orange jar, I’ve got a massive headache.” She rubs her head still unaware I’m laying on her bed “yeah left hand side of the bathroom counter top” she smiles did I miss something what are they all of a sudden so... friendly...

“Thank you so much oh and by the way I’ll be back late tonight so don’t wait up I’ll sneak in, Yugyeom and I have to rehearse til late cause Ben wants to come watch us and make sure it’s all good” I watch as she leaves then I close my eyes and drift off too sleep surprisingly.

“Harry wake up omg” I hear as I open my eyes too see Uma standing above me “what?” I ask rubbing me eyes then picking up me hook “get off of Y/N’s bed and wake up she’s gonna be here soon” she scoffs “surely she wouldn’t mind a handsome looking lad in her bed waiting for ‘er” I laugh.

Y/N’s P.O.V

“Ben I don’t really understand?” I question “you want us... to kiss?” I point between Yugyeom and I “yes the chemistry is there I’m telling you it’s the winning touch, the performance is so dynamic it just needs the big ending, it’ll leave everyone shocked, stunned and more importantly it shows how well you work together.” The king smiles “are you sure this is a good idea?” He’s gone crazy completely mad oh this is not going to end well “let’s call it a day you two need to eat and back again tomorrow for more practice” Ben smiles holding the door open for us both, “he’s not serious right Y/N” Yugyeom whispers “I hope he’s not, but something tells me he is, it’s fine gyu we are the best this is nothing!” I smile placing a hand on his shoulder “what about that boy?” He asks in a small voice “we aren’t dating he made that very clear, who cares this is our dream we are so close!” I smile side hugging him and briefly laying my head on his “fighting!!” I smile before grabbing his hand and walking to my dorm he always walks me to the door of my room when we practice late “Thanks Yugyeom!” I smile “let’s work hard tomorrow!” I hug him really tightly saying goodbye and open the door to find Uma working on something and Harry asleep on my bed “I don’t remember ordering a strange man in my bed, Uma I think this ones for you.” I point to the pirate passed out on my bed “he’s been like that for hours, I don’t think he’s sleeping at night” Uma shrugs “I’ll be back I have to go try round up Gil watch the scot” I laugh before going to change clothes in the bathroom I walk out no more than 10 minutes later and he’s still there snoring away. “Harry I told you if you were struggling to come find me” I play with his hair and carefully remove the hook placing it right next to my bed I grab the spare blanket from the cupboard and put it over him and when I go to walk away I hear “Please, just stay with me love” he says almost way too soft “I’ll explain later just please” I notice he’s shaking must be nightmares or ptsd “it’s okay Harry I’m right here, I’m always gonna be okay” I smile placing a soft kiss on his forehead and jumping into the free slither of bed he’s left much for my surprise he moves and pulls me close with his arm around my stomach before I know it I’m fast asleep.

Harry’s P.O.V

I woke up and there she was in my arms and it felt right, it felt like nothing could ruin this moment until once again I panicked I’m not used to feeling this I grab my hook and leave her all alone, pangs if guilt hit me but I ignore them I’m a pirate the best one I don’t need feelings they make you weak and I will never be weak. I will make my father proud he will call me his son and I’ll finally have a family, I don’t need some stupid princess to distract me.

Y/N’s P.O.V

I woke up alone in my bed with nothing left but the memory and slight scent of metal and the ocean, or was it leather? Doesn’t matter now he used me again and I let him, I need to watch myself no distractions that would discredit all of Yugyeom and I’d hard work I’m letting Harry ruin this for me. That being said another day another practice T-minus 1 week until we gotta rock this competition he’s obviously gotta work himself else I ain’t here for his amusement ugh, today there’s a big school meeting where we perform some songs as a taster for the school and our sister school (team) Ateez High are sending over their recruits to perform, I can’t wait we have had these prepared forever so we got this in the bag.

{Might do a series on this one, kinda proud my first imagine for Harry Hook x Y/N reader I had to add something kpop okay just bear with me! Got a few requests so I’ll be getting right into them⚡️🤍}

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heyheydidjaknow · 3 years

Text

I finished it, finally! Yee fucking haw! It’s not perfect, but I’m not feeling terrible about it, and the next one is going to be fun. Unless something happens, the next chapter should come up on Sunday as planned. Knowing me, it won’t, but I wanna hope. As always, the table of contents and the previous chapter is at the bottom, and a full list of the shit I’ve published is at the bottom of the table of contents. I’ll do a proper proofread tomorrow. Right now, Grammarly and Kami are carrying the team, so if there’s a mistake, take it up with them.

Chapter 14

“I trust you won’t be creepy.”

“I’m thankful.” Yoshi runs his thumb along the rim of his cup slowly. “You have little faith in me, as I understand it.”

You try not to be disrespectful. “Well, things in your life could’ve gone better, right?”

He seems to consider this for a moment. “I suppose so.” He takes a slow drink. “Mistakes from my youth have led to many hardships. Still, though the road has been a long and strenuous one, I would not want to change my past.”

Your untouched drink is cradled in your hands. “You don’t regret anything?”

“It is a foolish and maddening thing, longing for a life unobtainable to you.” He closes his eyes, your own scanning the walls for the photograph you know is in some nook or cranny. “Besides, if things hadn’t happened the way they did, I wouldn’t have my sons.”

You can understand, intellectually, he does not mean to be—and likely is not— as arrogant as you perceive him. Still, something about the way he sits, the way he speaks, even how he looks at you now makes you feel painfully inferior, as if you reacting the way you are makes you somehow beneath him in more than a literal sense.

You decide against arguing the point, eyes flickering from the shrine back to the man in front of you. “I guess that’s true.” You know you are not going to drink any of what he has offered until you have to. “And you’ve always thought like that?”

He nods. “It was what I was taught.”

Nodding, you look back down at your cup, a deafening stillness settling between you two. ‘He convinces me to come here,’ you grumble silently, ‘and all I get for it is a lecture and an awkward silence.’ You look back up at him, setting the clay vessel on the ground and pulling your knees to your chest. ‘I could be doing something else, like fixing my shirt or something.’

“Speaking of them,” he continues, “Donatello tells me you have been experiencing night terrors.”

‘Snitch. Did he tell me he told him?’ “You don’t?”

His eyebrows rise. “Sorry?”

“We have the same trauma,” you explain simply. “Both our families died in fires we caused. Think that counts.”

He does not even flinch. “I’ve never thought of it that way.” He smiles softly. You want to punch him in the face. “I suppose so, yes.”

“You seem pretty calm about it.”

He chuckles at your expression. “I’ve had fifteen years to come to terms with my loss,” he takes another drink. “And,” he jokes, “I was often simply too exhausted to have nightmares back when the wound was fresh; caring for four young boys is tiring, you understand.”

“Right.” You crisscross your legs in front of you. “Yeah, the makes sense.”

“Having said that,” he continues, voice lowering, “I can’t imagine going through what I did at your age.” He sighs. “If something like that happened to one of my boys at this age, I can’t honestly say how they would cope.”

‘Poorly. I’d guess they’d cope poorly.’

“I understand that you and I have differences in ideals and morals.”

“You could say that.” Your mouth stretches into a wry smile. “I honestly only started hangin’ with and helpin’ y’all as a way to make up for my manslaughter. With this exception, I live by the adage, ‘Not my circus, not my monkeys.’”

“As I said,” he covers his mouth to hide his amusement, “we differ in that respect. I take it that’s why, when Donatello explained the situation—” you break eye contact—“he was unable to explain in any sort of detail what they were about.”

“Not his circus not his monkeys. ‘Sides,” you shrug, “he was already being really caring and understanding, and I was already sobbing my eyes out, which I’m sure he already told you, so.”

You stare down at your tea. “Are you going to elaborate?”

“Not if I don’t have to, no.” Your face heats up.

“Do you want my help?”

‘I hate this,’ you squirm. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be here if Donnie hadn’t asked me to.”

“For someone who believes in leaving people to their own devices,” he notes, “you seem to value the requests of my son a great deal.”

Your knees are back up to your chest. “He’s important to me. He’s been there for me. It’s the least I can do.”

He takes a beat to gather his thoughts. You brace yourself for a lecture.

“You care for him, then.”

You nod once, treading carefully.

“Romantically?”

You still do not look at him directly, staring instead at the gorgeous screen door. “I dunno.” Your fingernails scratch at the surface. “I’m not exactly in my right mind, you understand.”

“I can’t say I do.” A pause as he takes another drink. “Then again, I’ve only felt for one woman all my life.”

“Look at that,” you try to joke. “Another difference between us.”

“Do you mind letting me in, then?”

“A little,” you admit, “but I will since there isn’t really a point to being here if I don’t.”

“That’s the spirit.” You can hear his smile.

You set the cup down again, glancing up at him before fiddling with the laces on your shoe. “People under stress and without anywhere else to turn tend to latch onto the first people they relate to,” you explain, practicing your knot tying with fumbling fingers; there is no harm in practicing your dexterity. “He was the first guy I met after I died, got kidnapped, and almost got killed by a giant vine creature. I like him,” you clarify quickly, “I really do, but it’s hardly fair to pursue that sort of relationship, especially considering everything going on with the Kraang and Shredder.” Your eyes go out of focus. “We get along great,” you mumble. “He’s sweet, kind, generous, and empathetic. He deserves to make sense of his feeling properly without me muddying things up with my possibly trauma-induced attachment.”

“So,” he clarifies, “it is not that you aren’t in love with him, but, instead, you’re worried for his sake?”

Your face goes scarlet as you choke on your saliva. “T-that’s a bit—uh—extreme, isn’t it?” You rub the back of your burning neck. “I’m not even sixteen, Yoshi. You don’t understand love properly at sixteen!”

“I fell for my wife at thirteen,” he smiles. “It’s certainly not impossible.”

“That’s—look,” you protest, “that is entirely besides the point. The point,” you state, “is that is completely irresponsible for me to pursue a relationship with your son. Frankly, I’m surprised you don’t agree.”

“He cares for you. You know that. Who am I to decide who he does and does not pursue, especially when that person makes him happy?” He reaches for a worn kettle sitting between you two on a table, pouring its contents back into his teacup—you remember Leo telling you that it is technically called a yunomi. “I find love typically does no harm so long as it does not consume you. Moderation is key.”

You look up at him. “So, you don’t have any reservations about it?”

He takes another drink. “I wouldn’t say that. He is my son, after all. In truth,” he admits, “I was more concerned that my sons would never experience what I did than anything. Given the circumstances of our existence, I’m sure you can understand my wish to give them a relatively normal, happy life.”

You sigh. “I guess, yeah.” You adjust your blanket again. ‘Seems counterintuitive, teaching them the art of murder, but I guess that’s his normal.’ “That’s just a generally good parenting thing though, right? I’d hope you’d want that even if you weren’t a giant rat and they weren’t anthropomorphic turtles.”

A parent. He is talking to you like one might speak to their kid.

“I suppose so,” he nods. “It’s been difficult, but we’ve certainly come a long way over the years.”

The screeching of tires pierces the still air, the chattering of his four sons bouncing off the concrete walls.

You strain to hear what they are saying. “I never noticed that there was an echo in here. It’s less noticeable than in the tunnel.”

“That’s by design,” he explains. “I’ve made something of an effort to dampen it.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” You set the yunomi on the table. You sigh, holding your breath and downing your now gross, cool tea in three quick gulps. “I hate to cut this short,” you lie, wiping your mouth with your sleeve and tottering to your feet, “but I’ve gotta check to make sure everything went smoothly on their mission and adjust my timetable accordingly.”

He nods, deciding not to point your tell out. “I won’t keep you, then. Would you like to borrow my cane?”

This is not the first time he has offered. You, of course, refuse.

“Oh well. I thought I’d offer.” He sets his cup down, staying seated. “It has been pleasant talking with you, Y/N.”

“Likewise, Mr. Hamato.” You nod once in acknowledgment, hopping over to the door and slipping out into the hallway.

Your stomach churns at the stench coming from the lab—you can smell the gasoline. You lean against the wall, making a pointed effort not to eavesdrop and rapping your knuckles against the door. Their voices immediately lower to hisses and someone drags the door open.

“Hey,” Mikey beams. “We were just talking about you. Need somethin’?”

“Just is an over-exaggeration.” There is a considerable amount of protest as Donnie pulls him away from the door with an uncomfortable edge to his voice. “P-please, come in.”

A beaten DIY van sits pathetically on the subway track, looking not dissimilar to a burnt, crushed soda can from where you stand. The once hot pink graffiti has most certainly seen better days, and you squirm at the thought of the sound it must have made if you understand the situation properly. Raphael, who you glance at out of the corner of your eye, looks similarly beat up. Of course, you are not going to say anything because you value your life.

You whistle, smiling incredulously. “So,” you try not to laugh, “I take it you took on the cucaracha.”

“Made it my bitch is what I did,” boasts Raphael. “Shot it with a laser.”

“Cool, cool.” You chuckle at his excitement. “You take care of the egg?”

Is there a better sight than watching the light in someone’s soul die? You would hesitantly say no. “The what?”

“Right outside the building,” you elaborate. “On the side of the road. Looks like a horrifying imitation of an orbee?’

He takes a slow, deep breath, holds it, exhales. “I’ll be right back,” he says calmly, and sprints out of the lair.

Michelangelo laughs. “Were you being serious or are you messing with him?”

“Serious.” You readjust the blanket, trying to subtly figure out how to breathe without being assaulted by the mechanical smell. “I won’t joke about that sort of thing. It’s cruel.”

He hesitates. “… speaking of, are you alright? I didn’t get to ask before.”

The other two are quietly watching the interaction with an odd amount of intensity.

You shrug. “I guess. Probably.”

“Alright,” he nods. “Just lemme know if you need to talk, alright? Donnie’s no—ow!”

“Don’t talk bad about people in front of them,” Leonardo criticizes. “It’s rude.”

“You called him special, like, four hours ago!”

“The word of the day is hypocrisy.” Donatello puts his hand down.

“Hypocrisy’s right” You rub Mikey’s shell reassuringly. “To be fair, though, Leo could honestly probably just dodge it anyway.”

He leans into it. “I guess,” he grumbles, shooting a look at Donatello. “Favoritism.”

“It’s strategic favoritism,” the tallest brother corrects. “It’s to encourage parti pris.”

“Cronyism,” you tease, grinning. “You mean cronyism.”

“Hey, I’m plenty qualified!”.

You stifle a giggle as his face reddens, looking back over at the battered vehicle, raising an eyebrow.

“That was a team effort.”

“Yeah, okay, Hamato.” You blow a strand out of your face. “How long do you think it’ll take to fix?”

“Half a week? Maybe a bit less.” He looks back at it ruefully. “The spy roach completely jacked it.”

“Clearly.” You remove your hand, Mikey seemingly thoroughly comforted. “Then mind if I borrow a needle and thread so I can fix my jacket? I have school tomorrow.”

“Do you have the dexterity for that?” Leo crosses his arms across his chest absentmindedly.

“If I can hold a pencil,” you reason, “I can do basic stitching. ‘Sides, it’s only gotta hold until I get home.”

“I didn’t know you sewed.”

“I don’t. That’s why I’m asking now.”

Donatello pipes up again. “I really don’t mind—”

“Dude,” you reason, “you have to fix a whole ass van. I’ll manage.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket. “It’s a quarter to twelve. You won’t finish before midnight.”

“Then sucks to be me.” You shrug. “I’ll fix it here and walk home.”

He looks at you with a surprising amount of incredulousness. “It’s New York City.”

“You go out at night all the time,” you protest.

“I can carry you—”

Immediate panic. “Nah, I’m good!” You try to sound confident. “I walk home all the time, remember?”

“Not at midnight.”

“What’s a couple hours difference?” You would rather get attacked or kidnapped than fly over buildings again.

“A hundred-twenty minutes,” he states. “You know that crime is statistically more likely to happen at night, right?”

“That tracks. What’s different?”

“Violent crime peaks at midnight.”

Mikey butts in. “Why can’t she just go in the blanket? It covers enough.”

Donatello rolls his eyes. “Mikey,” he sighs, “she’s a teenage girl walking around with her torso covered by a single conspicuous quilt. Let’s use our heads here.”

It takes him a minute. “So you’re worried about her getting, like, attacked?”

“… were you paying attention to any of the conversation? Or the lesson we just learned?”

“Dude,” he protests, “when do I ever?”

“What, you mean the one where y’all learned to face your fears or the one where talking about people in front of them is rude?”

The bitter edge to your words is not lost on him. “Look,” he reasons with you, “I-I’m not saying you’re incapable of taking care of yourself—”

“You are, but that’s not the point.”

“Shut up, Mikey.” You are surprised he did not punch him, though, admittedly, you can hardly argue the point. “What I mean is that if you put yourself in harm’s way, you’re going to get hurt.” He nods at Leo. “He’s a really experienced fighter and even he gets overwhelmed if he goes out of his way to do something reckless and dangerous like Karai.” He spits out her name like it is poisonous.

“Since when have you had a thing against Karai?”

The eldest brother sighs. “I’m never living that down, am I?”

“Unimportant, and nope. Point is,” he continues, fingers twitching at his sides, “it doesn’t make sense to tempt fate.”

You open your mouth to argue. You close it again. He has an extremely valid point all things considered, especially considering everything that has been happening, and although you are completely certain about your stance on him carrying you home, you would be lying if you said the idea of stumbling home without your walker or shirt sounds very appealing.

“Then what exactly are you suggesting?”

He looks off. “I’m suggesting she stays the night, Leo.”

Mikey blinks. “What, in your room or on the couch?”

“It would be up to her.”

That works for you. “Your home. You pick. Where do you keep your sewing supplies?” You slip out of the circle the four of you have formed.

“On top of the bookshelf,” he points. “Behind the cardboard box.”

You nod, hopping over.

Mikey offers his two cents. “It makes more sense for you two to share a room. It’s kinda cold in the front room, and you guys’ll probably end up going to bed at around the same time anyways. She also has your blanket.”

You stand on your toes, fingertips brushing against a plastic container.

“That’s a fair point.” You catch it before it cracks open on the ground. “Training starts pretty early, so she should have time to grab her things before school.”

“See? Foolproof plan.”

“Would Master Splinter approve?”

“Leo,” you call over your shoulder, “he’s slept over at my house twice already. I really doubt he cares.”

“But we don’t know.”

“Then you can go ask him.” You turn around. “Where’s the jacket?”

“In the cardboard box.” Donnie starts towards the train wreck on the tracks.

You pull it down, taking your shirt and jacket and sitting down, crossing your bad leg under the one you can use, despite the nausea. ‘Exposure therapy.’ “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You feel a tap on your shoulder. You glance up at Mikey, who crouches down next to you as Leo waves to his brothers and leaves. “You need anything?”

He shakes his head. “Just wanted to hang out with you is all,” he shrugs. “You didn’t go after Donnie.”

“I didn’t,” you nod in agreement.

“Why?”

“Because car.” You unlatch the box, carefully digging around inside for some pins. “That, and the smell is bad enough from over here.”

He crosses his legs in front of him. “That’s fair.” He taps his foot absentmindedly. “You think he knows?”

“I thought I made it pretty damn clear,” you shrug, “but it’s Donnie, so I wouldn’t bet on it.”

He grins at that. “Then do you wanna hang out while you work on that out front? He isn’t exactly talkative when he gets in the zone.”

You shake your head. “If I do, I won’t get much done,” you admit. You unwind a long portion of the thread, snapping it apart. “Besides, the only way to get over a fear is to face it head-on.”

“Alright.” He hops to his feet. “Thought I’d ask. Have fun.”

”Bet,” you mumble through a bit tongue, shaky fingers making threading the needle almost impossible. “You too.”

“See ya.” He waves, running out of the lab.

You let out a breath, picking a piece of loose wire off of a table and creating a poor imitation of a threader. While you genuinely enjoy talking with Michelangelo, you have some things to think over.

Clumsy fingers start on a running stitch. If your timetable still holds true—which, surprisingly enough, it has thus far—the episode after next’s plot will take place in about three weeks. Your cast is coming off in two. You do not know where and when The Kraang are coming through their portal, or if there is any way for you guys to know, but seeing as you are skipping the episode where the turtles get stuck in a labyrinth under the assumption that, without Baxter being bullied by the Shredder and his goons, he has no reason to construct it, you would tentatively estimate the next episode will happen in about a week. You are still fairly sure that Stockman will not get involved with the Shredder without his input until Oroku finally opens his eyes to the dangers and powers of the Kraang, which should happen around the same time as the next episode.

Your eyes glaze over as you get into the groove of it. ‘The next episode is also when the guys get on Karai’s shit list because they betray her, and, if that happens, the episode where the Shredder starts getting involved with the Kraang and comes to appreciate their resources." You prick your finger. ‘It wouldn’t be long after that before Saki gets the idea to create a mutant army, and with Baxter already somewhat on the villainous map, our best chance to make sure he doesn’t end up under his employment is to…’

You wipe the sticky liquid on your jeans, careful of the bandages on your back. ‘It’s not a guarantee that he even knows Baxter exists.’ Your eyebrows furrow in concentration as you try to keep the stitches separated at equal distances. ‘Hell, it’s not a guarantee he’s even alive. Still, it’s better to air on the side of caution and not think about how you’ll have to do it until the time comes.’

You let out a soft sigh. “I’ll buy a gun, when that happens,” you murmur to yourself. “Just want more time where bodily harm is all I have to deal with is all.”

You slide your poorly stitched jacket over your shoulders under the blanket, pulling your sleeves into place and zipping it up. After folding the blanket up and draping it over your arm, you pull yourself to your feet, hopping over to Donatello and his death trap as he sat down, looking over his work. “How’re the repairs comin’?”

The two of you have not spoken for the three hours it took you to repair the jacket, and significantly more progress has been made on his end than yours. At the very least, the generally rectangular frame was pounded back into submission.

He looks over at you, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and stifling a yawn. “Fine,” he sighs, looking back at the hulking mass of metal as you lower yourself down next to him. “It won’t blow up or anything if it’s driven, but it still needs another day’s worth of work to get it back to where it was before.” You nod along as he goes into more intimate detail, not understanding half of it, but happy to just listen to him talk resentfully about the whole process that you can tell he genuinely does not mind.

“Sounds like a time.” You rest your head on your good knee. “And you’re not gonna fix the graffiti?”

“It rubs off,” he shrugs. “Besides, it’s not exactly important to the design.”

Your head bends in a subtle nod, cheek numb from the pressure of your knee. “Are you going to sleep today?”

He shrugs. “Maybe? It wouldn’t be a bad idea.” His legs are almost crisscrossed in front of him, and he leans his weight back on his skinny, muscular arms. “I honestly don’t want to leave it alone, though. It would be weird to just leave it unfinished.

“Hardly, but alright.” You sit up for a moment, handing him back his quilt. “Thanks for giving me something to cover myself up with, and for not ditching me on a roof, and patching me up, and—I owe you, is what I’m getting at.”

He smiles tiredly. “Don’t worry about it, really,” he reassures you, his face flushing and muscles relaxing slightly. “You’ve made it up plenty.”

“I disagree. I’ve never saved your life.” You trace the fading lines on your cast his brother had left.

“I don’t think a ton of people would literally kill someone for me and my family,” he argues. “That’s pretty awesome, right?”

‘Not sure how I feel about framing murder as a positive thing.’ You do not say anything, looking back at his work.

He sighs. “You should go to bed,” he advises practically. “It’s getting late.”

“Never stopped you.” You straighten your legs. “I’ll go if you come with.”

“Tempting,” he teases with a sudden burst of confidence, hoping to his feet and outstretching his arm to help you up, “but what’s in it for me?”

Your face lights up as your face goes red at his borderline roguishness, taking his arm pulling yourself up. “For as much shit as you’re going to get for it,” you promise, pecking where his nose would be with an almost kittenish smile, “I’ll get up extra early, make everyone breakfast, and go topside for coffee.”

His face almost turns the shade of a human blush, forwardness gone in an instant. “C-can’t,” he stutters, clearly flustered. “When I was eleven, I got addicted to it and I’m not allowed to have any anymore.”

“Relatable,” you giggle. You blow the hair out of your face, comfortable as he helps you walk towards the door, the air between you two charged with electricity. “Is that for all caffeine or just coffee?”

He opens it for the two of you, ever the gentleman with the quilt over his shoulder. “Tea’s fine. Don’t bring tea down, though,” he quickly clarifies. “Leo’ll have a very inconspicuous fit.”

You blink curiously, looking up at him as he pulls you along. “Why?”

“It’s the one food thing he’s particular about,” he shrugs, not bothering to hide his gooey smile as you use his upper arm for support. “Couldn’t tell you why.”

“Are you particular about any foodstuff?”

“Not really?” He helps you up a few steps. “I’m not Mikey, but I don’t think I’m that picky about that sort of thing.”

“That’s fair.”

You do not let go of his arm to use the wall. You do not even think to if Donnie is reading your body language correctly. His smile widens as he opens the door for you.

You give a nod as thanks, lowering down onto the foot of his relatively narrow bed. “Alright,” you clap your hands together quietly as he sits next to you. “How do you wanna do this?”

You are sitting on his bed, willing, with no pretense other than sleeping getter. He is currently on cloud nine.

You look back at the frame. ”Too narrow for us to lay side by side,” you note. “You sleep on your front, meaning you will likely take up most of the room." You look between him and the bed, trying to imagine a position that would work. “You could lay on top of me, I guess, but then your legs would hang off the end.”

“I can sleep on my side,” he offers hurriedly. “If that makes things easier, I mean.”

“You sure?” Your fingers fumble with your shoelaces.

He nods eagerly. “S-so long as you still don’t mind being close to me, I mean. The bed’s still kinda narrow.”

You roll your eyes, smiling. “We’ve slept together before,” you reason. “If you wanted to pull anything, you would’ve the other two times.”

He glances off, face still red. “Y-yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck bashfully. “That makes sense.”

You gesture to the bed. “Then,” you nod once, “so long as you’re comfortable, you lay down. I’ll work from there.”

He tentatively lays himself down, facing the wall, tensing ever so slightly as you lay behind him, legs curling up under his thighs.

You lay your arm under your head as a pillow, the other pulling the blanket over the two of you. “This work,” you whisper, closing your eyes.

“Mhm,” he hums, covering his face with his hands. “We closed the door, right?”

You look back over. “Yup.”

“Locked it?”

“Seems so.”

He relaxes a bit. “Alright,” he nods, quietly reveling in the way your fingers, again, traced the indentations in his shell like the first night.

‘When I wake up tomorrow,’ he realizes, ‘she’ll be right there. Right behind me, in my bed. By choice.’ He smiles behind his fingers. ‘When we get older, maybe we could have our own place. Or our own room, more accurately, where she just lives with us. Imagine her moving in. If—no, when,’ he corrects himself, ‘we defeat The Shredder, if I ever get the nerve, I’ll ask her.’ He reaches his leg back, entangling it with yours carefully. ‘Would we have to get married first? No, you move in before you get married, right? I should’ve paid more attention during those movie marathons.’ He closes his eyes as you drift off, focusing on this train of thought. ‘How long do you need to be in a relationship before you get married? How would we get married, even? Legally, that would be impossible, right? I can’t go to a courthouse. And if we had a child—practically speaking, of course—would they live with us or go to a public school? We could give them a good education, I’m sure, but—’

You shift in your sleep, absently laying your arm over his side and pulling him closer.

He exhales, allowing himself to relax back into you. ‘Not tonight.’ He rests his hand on top of yours. ‘It’s too late, too soon.’ His thumb runs along the back of your hand, letting himself drift off in your arms.

‘It’ll be okay. We’ll last long enough to take it slow.’

Table of Contents

Chapter 13

Chapter 15

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thewitchandtheassassin · 4 years

Text

That World (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

Summary: Part two of “Alone With You” happy ending style.

Words: 3171

Warnings: Uh, alcohol, language and some angst? Lemme know if I missed something.

A/N: Holy shit. One hundred percent wasn’t expecting a longer fic to be my coming back fic but this thing had a mind of its own. And, I just really want to thank y’all for sticking around. It means so much and I’m happy to say I think I’ll be staying for a while this time. But either way, WE GOT A NEW STORY HOLY FUCK!

-X-

She knew she shouldn’t have walked out. She knew it wasn’t what she’d wanted, but the words had gotten stuck in her throat and she couldn’t bring herself to let them slide off her tongue. So, instead, she’d taken the coward’s way out and left.

Left you broken just beyond the door closing behind her.

You’d never just been a way to pass time. Well, maybe in the beginning it had started out like that, but after the third time you’d let her in, something warm started creeping into her chest. You’d always assumed multiple people kept her company but the truth was…

There was only you.

She hadn’t meant to keep you in the dark – to make you feel the way you did – but she’d wanted to protect you (or maybe she was protecting herself. Those lines were a little blurred, if she was being honest with herself). She thought letting the distance hold you apart would keep you both safe but all it seemed to do was break hearts.

-X-

Hours became days and before Natasha realized it, it’d been a month since she’d heard you, seen you. She’d ignored it at first – the longing gripping her chest – but it was becoming overwhelming. She was reckless and withdrawn (more than normal). She was snappy and irritable and the team was worried.

“Nat, seriously, what’s going on?” Clint asked, flopping down beside Natasha on the couch in the common room.

Rolling her eyes, Natasha jerked to another page in her book, eyes scanning but not seeing the words printed. “Nothing.”

He reached out, grabbing her wrist calmly. “That’s a lie and we both know it. Talk to me.”

Natasha swallowed drily, fingers flexing around the book in her hands. Her tongue felt like it weighed a million pounds inside her mouth, threatening to suffocate her if she dare speak. A familiar pain traveled through her, the icy memory of the Red Room’s punishments creeping up her veins and pooling in her stomach.

Clint was startled to see tears filling Natasha’s eyes and he ripped the book from her, tossing it aside and gathering her in his arms. One hand stroked her hair while the other kept her close, murmuring soft reassurances to her.

“I fucked up,” Natasha hiccupped. “I-I should’ve stayed. I should’ve told her…”

His brows furrowed but Clint remained silent, waiting for his oldest friend to continue.

“All she wanted was for me to stay and I didn’t,” she whispered. “I never wanted to hurt her.”

Something dawned on Clint. “Is she who you used to go see after missions?” he inquired carefully, ignoring the tension that seemed to stiffen her muscles.

“…yes.”

Nodding, Clint leaned back and brushed a lock of hair from Natasha’s face. “If you’re this upset, you need to go to her. Tell her you regret leaving that night – that you regret leaving her. Wallowing isn’t doing anyone any good,” he advised, smiling sympathetically.

“I’m afraid she won’t forgive me,” she admitted brokenly. “I never told her anything. Not about missions or my life or anything. I kept her so far in the dark that I don’t know how to bring her into the light now.”

“You’ll never know until you talk to her,” Clint said. “If you care about her this much, you need to talk to her. Otherwise it’ll be entirely your own fault that you lost her.” He knew his words were harsh, but she needed to hear them. If he tried sugarcoating it, she’d never leave the couch.

Natasha’s face scrunched as she forced back tears. He was right. As much as she wished he wasn’t, he absolutely was.

“Okay,” she breathed, determination befalling her features. “Okay.”

Clint smiled, patting her shoulder as he stood. “C’mon. I’ll drive.”

-X-

The drive to your apartment was silent aside from the incessant tapping of Natasha’s fingers on her thigh. She was trying to prepare her speech, like she was readying for battle, but she knew the moment she looked into your eyes it’d be useless. This wasn’t something she could sweep under the rug with a seductive look or a sensual kiss. She had to actually talk.

She was going to throw up.

Sudden terror gripped her as they stopped in front of the building. “I can’t do this.”

Clint chuckled and shook his head. “Yes, you can. Go talk to her. I’ll wait here until you say otherwise.”

Bottom lip snagged between her teeth, Natasha inhaled sharply and tossed open the car door before storming inside and up to your floor. With every step her heart thudded a little harder, but she ventured on, blinking sporadically to keep the tears at bay. Fist balled tight, she knocked twice behind rocking on her heels.

Silence.

One…

Two…

Three…

Four…

Natasha’s head tilted. Only stillness greeted her as she stared at the door mocking her. She couldn’t hear anything on the other side, which was bizarre considering your floor creaked just at the entrance.

Her eyebrows nearly touched as she tentatively reached forward and knocked again. It was well past nine at night, so where the hell were you? A nasty thought crossed her thoughts and she faltered. What if you’d already moved on? What if you were on a date? What if they were in there?

The old woman who lived next door peered out of her apartment and stared at her. She could see the emotions warring on the beautiful woman’s face.

“Excuse me, miss,” the woman called, garnering Natasha’s attention. “She’s not there.”

Natasha’s head snapped around. “O-oh. Do you know when she’ll be back?”

The woman’s pursed lips concerned Natasha. “I don’t think you understand, sweetie. She doesn’t live here anymore. Moved out about two weeks ago.”

All the blood drained from Natasha’s face and her lips parted slightly, a deeper concern blossoming in her stomach.

“None of us know where she went either,” she admitted. “We just saw her leave one day and the next, the landlord was trying to find new renters. It’s a shame too. She was lovely. Always helped me with my groceries.”

“She’s…gone?” Natasha repeated slowly, glancing at your door like she expected you to throw it open and laugh at your elaborate joke. This was just a joke…right?

Smiling sadly at Natasha, the old woman studied her. As a former nurse, she’d seen many people walk into her hospital with a similar expression; regret and devastation marring their features, waiting for someone to yell “surprise” or hoping to wake up from a bad dream.

She silently prayed this woman would someday find you and right whatever wrong caused that look; she’d always hated that look.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she mumbled before closing her door, the quiet click sounding like a thunderous boom in Natasha’s ears.

The urge to slump to her knees was crippling but Natasha forced herself upright and staggered out of your (former) building, dragging herself towards Clint’s car. Her fingers felt numb as she gripped the handle, dropping into the passenger seat. She said nothing and he didn’t push.

You were gone.

-X-

Traveling the country had never been something you’d really considered before. You liked having a steady home, steady relationships – a steady life. But two weeks after Natasha walked out of your door, you decided to throw caution to the wind and try it. You had more than enough money to survive for a while so you tossed your bigger items into the storage and began a trek across the country, headed west.

Was it irresponsible to quit your job and break your lease all because a woman didn’t love you? Probably, but you didn’t care. You needed something new; something wild that could help mend the shattered shards of your heart.

So you found yourself in a little town in Ohio two weeks into your trip, a cheap beer in hand as you looked around the bar. You weren’t trying to catch anyone’s eye, merely curious of your surroundings. Plenty of people were scattered about, filling the air with small-town liveliness.

A feminine hand caught your attention out of your peripheral and you discretely glanced over. Long digits traced across the edge of the wood.

“I might be mistaken but I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you around here before.” Her voice was like a warm breeze in the middle of September and you couldn’t stop yourself from gazing at her.

She was pretty, relatively speaking, though she didn’t hold a candle to the woman who’d prompted this trip. But she might be pretty enough to help you forget.

“You’re not wrong,” you smirked, sipping your beer as you watched her eyes flicker to your lips.

She offered her hand, skin smooth and gentle against yours. “I’m Lucy.”

“(Y/N),” you replied, letting your fingers brush the palm of her hand as you let go.

Hopping onto the stool beside you, she raised a finger and the bartender handed her a drink. You weren’t sure if he’d been simply waiting for the gesture or if it was just a lucky coincidence but you weren’t going to question it. You were a stranger, what did you know?

“So, what brings you here?” Lucy asked, raising her glass to glossed lips.

You shrugged. It’d sound pathetic to admit all of this started because of a woman, right? An Avenger but still…

“Road trip,” you hummed, eyes drifting through the crowd again.

Lucy chuckled, smirking at you over the rim of her drink. “I’ve heard a lot of people say that but that’s never the full story, is it?”

Your gaze jerked back to her and her smirk deepened.

“Boyfriend troubles – or girlfriend?” she wondered, her glass thumping on the bar as she set it down.

Sighing, you acknowledged her probing with a humorless laugh. “Technically? Neither. She was never my girlfriend.”

Lucy’s brow arched, curiosity brimming in green eyes. “Oh?”

You downed your beer. “Yeah…” you didn’t exactly want to offer information but the need to vent was pulsating into your bones. No one knew the story; hell, no one had even known you had an occasional bed partner. “I had feelings for her but she walked out and never came back, so I decided a trip across the country wasn’t such a bad idea.”

Lucy gave an apologetic hiss and patted your arm. “Ouch.”

“But,” the corner of your mouth tugged up, “I’m sure some good company would help take the sting out a little.”

-X-

Finding out you had left was a blow Natasha hadn’t anticipated. She’d considered calling you from Clint’s car but the idea you had blocked her number gave her pause. You’d left for a reason, so she should honor that…

And she did try.

But, as another week drifted into two, she was crumbling inside. She’d spent many years trying to correct all the mistakes she’d made over in her youth but now she had no idea how to fix this one. You’d never been hers – though through no fault of your own – but it felt like you’d taken a chunk of her heart wherever you had gone.

In the end, it wasn’t even her who found you.

Tony Stark was many things: arrogant, a billionaire playboy, but not stupid. He’d seen Natasha losing herself and, while he might butt heads with her often, he hated the misery that lingered on the outskirts of green. So, as any friend would do, he stole her phone.

Your number was easy to find since it was the only “civilian” number on there, aside from Laura Barton. Natasha was nothing if not minimalistic.

Minutes later, he pinged your phone and had FRIDAY tracking it.

“Boss, what should I do with this information?” the AI wondered, curious – well, as curious as an AI could be.

“Send it to Agent Romanoff and tell her I better be her best man at the wedding,” Tony replied coolly, wandering off to go bug Pepper before Natasha could come skin him alive.

When FRIDAY alerted her of Tony’s meddling, she did consider hurting him for less than a second before she was racing out of the Compound and towards a jet. Yes, flying a million dollar get to win back her not-ex’s heart was dramatic but she was an Avenger.

And Avengers were good at dramatics.

-X-

You hadn’t left that little Ohio town yet, which honestly surprised you. After spending a night drinking with Lucy, you’d followed her home…

And slept on her couch.

She’d been wonderful to talk to – and you’d been right about the company – but sleeping with her had never been an option. You weren’t going to use someone like that, even if she was a stranger. But, she’d offered her couch and nearly two weeks later, you were still there. She’d argued with you about finding a motel, telling you she liked having someone to fill the silence of her little apartment.

So you stayed.

Right now, you were tucked in a little coffee shop, a mug in front of you as you waited for Lucy. She was off getting things ready for her upcoming art gallery in town so you’d been left to your own devices (which was fine). You were absently flicking through your social medias, listening to the locals discuss a plane that had touched down outside of town. You weren’t really paying any attention to it but the silence that enveloped the shop as the door opened certainly caught your notice.

You peeked over your shoulder, eyes widening as a disheveled – but still unnaturally beautiful – Natasha strolled over. She looked dress for war, but the uncertainty in her eyes left you frozen. In all the months you’d known her, she’d never looked so scared before. Like you were a wild cat that would either spring at her or dash away if she got too close.

“Hi,” she greeted, voice raspy and alluring.

You gaped, your throat suddenly so dry that it burned. You could tell your silence hurt Natasha but your lack of running away helped lessen the fear swirling inside her stomach. She cautiously grabbed the chair across from yours and dragged it closer, though she kept a respectable distance between you.

“W-why…how…um, huh?” you sputtered, trying to gather your thoughts. You had so many questions that wanted out and no idea how to ask them.

“You left New York,” she stated plainly, as if that explained everything – which, it did not.

“Yes?” you replied, though it definitely sounded like a question at that point.

Natasha cleared her throat, green dancing between your mug and the floor. “I was a coward,” she muttered, “The night you said you couldn’t do what we were doing anymore. I wanted to stay, but I was scared. Scared of what happens if I let you get too close; scared you wouldn’t like the real me. So, I left. But when I came to talk, you were gone.”

Her gaze almost felt accusing but you both knew she wasn’t angry with you.

“I –” you stopped yourself from apologizing. You hadn’t done anything wrong. You were the wounded party.

But looking at her, you wondered if maybe you weren’t the only one hurting.

“I shouldn’t have left,” she continued, lip trapped between perfect teeth. “I should’ve stayed when you asked and I’m sorry I didn’t. I should’ve told you I wanted more too. I should’ve given you everything instead of taking it. You were never just fun for me – and I wish I’d told you that sooner.”

“Nat,” you exhaled, watching her shoulders slump. “I wish you had too.”

She nodded, her hair obscuring your view, hiding that face you loved so much. “I know I don’t have a right to ask, but can we try again? Try to have something real this time? I can’t promise I’ll be perfect but I really want to give us a shot. Because losing you? It was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt.”

Your tongue was lead in your mouth, pressing it to your teeth. Thoughts swam through your mind at millions of miles per second and you wondered for a moment if you were dreaming. The air felt ten degrees hotter and you were fairly certain everyone was looking at you but you didn’t dare look away for even a millisecond.

“Hey, everything okay?” Lucy.

You didn’t even know she had arrived and suddenly the world felt like it was tipping on its axis. Natasha’s hair fluttered as her head snapped to the new arrival and you could see her heart turning to dust as she assumed the worst. Lucy’s eyes were on you but yours never left Natasha.

She didn’t say a word, merely kicking out of the chair and rushing from the shop, leaving you stunned. Another flurry of emotions and thoughts erupted in your brain but you knew one thing: you had find her.

You couldn’t lose her again.

Bolting off your chair, you lurched out of the shop and glanced about frantically. A glimpse of her black outfit was the only sign she’d ever existed in this little town and you surged after her, pushing your muscles in a way you hadn’t since you were forced to run a mile in gym.

You weren’t going to let her leave you again. If she left, there wasn’t going to be a third chance – and you knew it.

Catching her arm just outside of the trees that you assumed lead to her jet, you dragged her to a halt, breath escaping you in pants as you stared at the back of her head. This felt like something out of a stupid romantic comedy but that wasn’t your biggest concern.

“Natasha,” you started, though she hurriedly cut you off.

“It’s okay,” she sniffed, clearly fighting off her sorrow. “I get it. You don’t have to explain.” She was silently begging you not to. She couldn’t handle it if you did.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” you assured her, tugging on the skin-tight material clinging to her body. “Lucy’s just a friend I made when I stopped here. She’s not…we’re not…”

Instead of struggling to find the words, you simply jerked on Natasha’s arm, bringing her crashing into you. Her hands found your shoulders and yours cupped her face, thumbs brushing the stray tears away. You had so much you wanted to say but you’d been taught actions speak louder than words so with a rush of courage, your lips brushed hers.

She gasped, her lips still against your own and you wondered if you’d made a mistake. But, as she sagged into you, she fervently brought her mouth to yours, kissing you desperately. She clung to you like you’d disappear, arms coming around your neck to keep you close.

When air became a necessity, you pressed your forehead against hers and smiled. “Want to take a road trip with me?” you asked breathlessly, giggling as she nodded without hesitation.

“Yes.”

Maybe this was that world after all.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanov imagine #mcu imagine #black widow x reader #reader insert #avengers imagine

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louisironson · 2 years

Note

mmm….seinfeld, american vandal, and mlp for the fandom ask

ooh okay all levels of deep cut you’ve been here a while

Seinfeld:

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most): george costanza the absolute madman

scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped): i feel like any answer i give is just going to look like that tweet of jimmy fallon that says baby boy over it. especially if it’s kramer. that said you cannot deny that kramer is Shaped (i’m taking the “cuteness” part of the definition VERY loosely)

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave): i know it’s just because he’s patrick warburton but. i’m gonna say puddy

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week): crazy joe davola i see a character be a literal clown i am forced to stan

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave): aren’t they all that’s the point of the show!! but. elaine

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason): jerry, specifically to hear him go “oh no!” in the way he does in the outing when he realizes the two-line phone is broken

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell): all of them g-d bless ❤️

American Vandal:

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most): it used to be christa but lately it’s been peter

scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped): peter. you know the little guy w the big eyes that people are saying is the mascot for autism. that’s peter to me he’s my mascot for autism

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave): jenna hawthorne we love gay people who lie

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week): it’s technically not “canon” or “a thing that actually exists in the show” but i think about Noah Centineo Ashley Hanson all the time there’s just so much potential for dumb shit. Hot Guy Ashley Hanson (not my words) is the av fandom’s peak right after the potato famine au (you had to be there)

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave): christa did nothing wrong!!! rafferty’s a bitch anyway

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason): i want to fuck with a stoned dylan so bad. actually all the wayback boys it would be hilarious

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell): kraz. av really affirms the philosophy of No Good Kyles

My Little Pony (and I’m specifically gonna say Friendship is Magic):

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most): i’m trying to remember which pony i had as my own contact picture during the era when i made every person’s contact picture a pony. it might have just been my oc though so that doesn’t count… i think it was either derpy or trixie

scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped): any other autistics love derpy so much as a child that you maybe contributed to your own oppression a little like oops! anyway. derpy is my answer to this question

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave): princess luna for sure!!

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week): i was an octavia/vinyl scratch stan and they were my first gay ship. THEY LITERALLY HAD NO LINES the mlp fandom was wild y’all there are so many runners-up to this question

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave): the great and powerful trixie i adore her i love her

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason): i feel like every single character has a fanwork dedicated to tormenting them and it just feels cruel to pick one after all they’ve been through. i pick pinkie pie’s little gator whatshisname but specifically as like a science experiment because he’s so nonplussed all the time i want to see what makes him tick (EDIT: his name is gummy!!)

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell): by the time starlight glimmer appeared i wasn’t really involved in any fandom content so i promise i’m not jumping on the hate bandwagon but. i can just tell she’s ableist as fuck so fuck it. send her ass to the rainbow factory

#asks #blorbo asks #seinfeld #american vandal #my little pony

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fandomsilhouette · 4 years

Text

we’ll have (a devil of a time)

Felix throws a wrench in Lila’s meticulous planning when he refuses to be wooed by grandiose tales of adventure and daring, when he refuses to give away any hint of what she might lie about to get his attention. Somehow, this leads to Marinette shaking hands with all the wrong (right) people.

Happy @felixmonth, y’all!

This new kid, this Felix, is never going to fit in. Everyone can see it the moment he steps through the door on that first day, black suit and scowl in tow, and slouches into the seat at the back of the class next to Chloe, prim and proper, glowering all the while. He catches Lila’s eye immediately, with his tangible air of wealth and power, the sheer amount of usefulness he seems to hold in his brooding body.

Of course, her interest lasts exactly as long as it takes for Felix to make it very clear that he has absolutely no interest in her, no matter how much she lies or cajoles him into joining the rest of the class.

“Hey, Felix!” She starts by sidling up to him, turns on the charm she thinks she has. She’s got him pegged, she’s sure of it: a pretty boy like that, all dark and mysterious, has got to want space to be sensitive and vulnerable. He longs to be their friend, and Lila knows it. All she has to do is give him a chance.

Then he immediately declines her exclusive invite to the Winter Social After-Party (hosted by her, of course), leaving the split halves of her invitation to flutter pathetically to the ground.

“I prefer to spend my time with people of consequence, thanks.”

Just like that, Lila is left scrambling to piece together the torn shreds of her plan. Alright, then. If he won’t be friends with her, he won’t be friends with anyone.

She lets her gaggle of admirers reassure her over and over that “He was so mean to you, Lila! How could he say such a thing?”, that of course she doesn’t have to associate with a bully (no matter how sweet and generous and self-sacrificing she is, oh!), Lila makes it her business to meticulously bar Felix from each and every social circle she can manage.

Irritatingly, this suits Felix just fine. He sits at the back of the class every day next to Chloe, making it seem like the back was something to choose instead of somewhere that the lowest echelons of the class, the dregs of society, were banished to.

Marinette has gotten used to watching the back. She could be exiled at any moment, after all. So she’s seen the way Chloe doesn’t cling to Felix and heard the way Lila and Alya whisper snide comments from their seats next to her just quietly enough that she can’t hear without asking, watched them stiffen and shush on the occasion Felix walks by their table. A slight nervous fidget. A muttered “speak of the devil.”

Marinette knows that associating with Felix is a social death sentence. She also knows that he makes Lila uncomfortable, off balance. Most of all, she knows that her own social life is hanging by a thread. Marinette is done waiting for someone else to cut the string and send her crashing. Her life is not meant to be waiting for someone else’s choices.

She finds him at lunch at the backmost table by the trash cans, the table of outcasts and degenerates, lounging in the shade of a tree. Sunlight filters through the leaves, casting him a mottled medley of light and darkness until a cloud passes overhead and sends his features into shadow. He picks at his plate, a vulture seeking a soft patch of flesh.

“Hey.”

He looks up, but not directly at her. He doesn’t respond. The fork hangs suspended a little above the plate.

“I’m Marinette. You’re Felix, right? I know Lila’s turned the class against you, and that’s pretty rough. I’ve been there. I’m actually still kind of there. I know you already have Chloe, I’d like to be your friend too.” She sits opposite him and begins eating with an air of determined purpose. He waits a long moment.

“I don’t need friends.” He spits at last.

Marinette pauses between bites. “Let me be clear. I’m not giving you a choice about this. Call it a partnership if you want, a merger of interests, whatever. Lila is going to wreck you and you could do worse than to have someone who knows exactly what her game is working with you.”

“...I see. And what exactly do you know?” He goes back to eating, unconvinced and dripping with condescension.

“You know Lila is lying, obviously. Do you know why?”

“I know very well why.” He says, a sharp edge of arrogance entering into his voice “She makes people like her to get what she wants. I’ve known people like her.”

“And what does she want from you?”

“I’m rich.”

“You’re cold. You’re standoffish and mean and an absolute prick. You’re an easy target to make her look good. She’s going to be out here doing her best to be your friend,” and she spits that word like a curse too, “and you’re going to ‘bully’ her, turn down her made up offers and snub her parties, and she’ll say it’s because you think you’re too good to hang out with them but of course she doesn’t think that! She wants to see the best in you! Until the rest of the class hates you, thinks you're the worst person on the planet for daring to breathe the same air as them.”

He goes silent then, fork still frozen in the air as his knuckles grow bone-white on the gleaming metal. After a long moment, he adds “What do I care? This nobody school doesn’t matter to me, and neither does anyone in it...” He hesitates, glancing at the seat next to him, then returns with renewed vitriol. “What value does this have to me?”

Marinette scoffs. “You of all people should know better than that. We’re insanely well connected, didn’t you know? Rose is friends with Prince Ali. Juleka is in Kitty Section, which has been aired on TV. Adrien is… Adrien, and you already know Chloe. Alya runs the most popular superhero blog in Paris. And as much as I hate to brag, I’ve won competitions for Gabriel Agreste, I’ve worked with Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale, I’m the costumer for Kitty Section, I’ve been on TV, and you’d better well take me seriously! You think these people won’t figure out who you care about and leave it in ruins for you to cry in the ashes of?! Just because they haven’t yet doesn’t mean they never will.” She hesitates. “You don’t know them like I do. They’re insanely loyal.”

“Not to you,” he scoffs.

“That’s the problem.”

Silence hangs thick in the air. At long last, gives a small, conciliatory nod. “I… see. Perhaps this could be a… profitable arrangement.”

Marinette gazes sardonically at him, as he begins to flounder with his hands, reaching out for a hug and then a handshake, shimmying awkwardly in place. She waits a moment, amused, then sticks her hand out for him to shake.

He takes it.

“This is what you were going for, right? It’s your signature move.” Her voice shifts suddenly into something playful and light, and Felix is knocked off balance. This is… different.

He sputters. “It seemed… appropriate for our agreement, okay!”

“It’s called a ‘friendship’, you know.” Marinette sticks out her tongue and winks.

Felix blushes. “I wasn’t… I didn’t… it’s an unfamiliar phrasing… for me.”

“I’ll help you get used to it,” she promises, “That’s what friends are for!”

He chuckles a bit, an uneasy, unpracticed sound. Marinette smiles, genuinely this time, and they settle in to eat in comfortable silence.

It becomes a familiar habit, an easy routine: Marinette joins Felix for lunch, jokes around and teases him until he’s bright pink and laughing, then slips away once Chloe makes an appearance. She waits for him after class on the days Chloe rushes off early, and finds herself walking home with him, the space between them shrinking each day.

Felix finds himself having parallel conversations, one snide and one almost curious, both vulnerable and resigned to losing the only friend they have left, offering their own selves up for sacrifice as if it would hurt less if they gave it freely instead of having it torn from them.

“Why do you even hang out with her?” Chloe and Marinette both ask him.

“You two are a lot alike, you know. You’d never see it in her, but you’re also not looking. You should.”

That’s all he’ll say about it, and they learn not to push.

One day, Chloe shows up early, and Marinette is left scrambling to pull the leftovers of her lunch together, clumsier in her rush than she ever is. She sits down on the bench, shoving Marinette over and announcing that she’ll be “slumming it with the commoners, actually,” and won’t be eating at her hotel anymore. Her eyes look every direction but Marinette’s.

“Alright,” Felix responds placidly. He picks up his lunch and walks around the bench, settling back in next to Marinette. “Please don’t push my friends around, Chloe.”

“Well, I--” Chloe is taken aback, hurt. “The rule has always been that she’ll leave when I show up! I’m here now, so she can shove right out of here, thanks.”

Marinette sputters. “We had an agreement! You get half of lunch and all of class and it’s not like that’s less time than I get, and I was about to leave anyways but now I don’t think I will. Thanks.”

“He’s my friend! You and I both know he’s only tolerating you because of who you know,” and at that Chloe glances over to the rest of the class sprawled out on the grass, giggling over Lila’s latest fantasy adventure.

Something like hellfire burns in Marinette’s chest and she swallows it down.

“Fine. I’ll leave.”

Felix moves faster than anyone, standing up and gathering her lunch in his arms, tucking it gently into her bag. He swings her backpack onto his arm, which looks wildly out of place with its cheerful pink against his dour grey vest, and then gently pulls her hand into his.

“I’ll leave with you, Marinette.”

Chloe gapes, eyes bulging, an ugly startled expression that Felix knows she isn’t faking.

“You’re going to choose her over me?” For once her voice is quiet.

“...I can’t let you pull me wherever you want, Chloe. Marinette is my fr-- my friend. Just like you are.”

“Why not?!”

Marinette lets Felix pull her up, his arm wrapping around her waist, and then pauses uncomfortably, standing where she is.

“...look. Do you want to just come with us? Felix keeps saying we’re alike. Maybe it’s time to find out why.”

Chloe’s face contorted into an unpleasant grimace, as if she’d just swallowed the bitterest pill in the world and, grudgingly, came out the healthier for it.

“I… what are you doing, Marinette? We don’t like each other. That’s what we do.”

“...yeah, well.” Marinette glances over at the class again. “I could use another friend. Couldn’t you?”

Felix grins. “Or a business partner!”

“...I could manage business partners, probably.” Chloe smirks and Marinette smiles back when Chloe reaches out to shake her hand.

“You two are so alike! It’s so cute that you’re getting along.” Lila’s saccharine voice cuts through their tentative conversation and sends them startling. Alya’s just a few steps behind her, scurrying to follow with Lila’s bag clutched in her arms. It would be worrying how much she looks like Sabrina, if Marinette still had it in her to care. Months of passive aggressiveness and constantly being in the wrong had taken its toll on her, and she was done. Isn’t that why she had sought out Felix to begin with?

Felix is already helping her up again, pulling her up from the bench as Chloe storms up to Lila only to brush past her, shoving her shoulder into Lila’s chest. Alya catches sight of Felix’s arm around Marinette’s waist, and calls out.

“You’re really going to make a deal with the devil, Marinette? Is that how low you’ve sunk?” Alya’s voice is uncharacteristically malicious. “You won’t be friends with Lila, you antagonize her, bully her, and now you’re befriending her bully? This is the person you want to be? Ugh. I can’t believe I ever thought you were worth being my friend.”

Chloe pauses, halfway between the table and the door to the classroom, and spins around on her heel, snapping into place with a confident click. The old smirk is back now, given a new purpose.

“Actually, Alya Cesaire, you aren’t worth her friendship.”

Alya is frozen in something in the middle of furious and offended and gaping, humiliation shock, and Marinette is frozen right there with her. Hesitantly, gazing at Chloe in shock, she sidles a little closer to her. Chloe is still going.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I hate this goody two shoes queen of perfection, but you? Have you forgotten when she’s done for you? After all the terrible advice you’ve given her over the last year, I’d think you’d be on your knees begging her to stay. After all, isn’t she the one who helped you get an interview with Ladybug for your blog? No one had even heard of it until then. And she was the one that helped you go on dates with Nino while she babysat. She’s the one that brings you cookies every morning and coffee when you’re tired and lets you crash at her place. You think she should be waiting for you? Darling, you’ve gone and lost what little mind you had left. You have no idea what you’re pushing away.”

Marinette can’t figure out what has possessed Chloe, to say all these words in Marinette’s defense that have been burning a hole in Marinette’s chest for so long but have never quite found their way out. She doesn’t even know how Chloe knows all this. She gapes at Chloe in newfound admiration and awe, suddenly aware of how the same venom that Chloe had always drowned Marinette in can be used to pull her back up.

Felix is getting impatient at the door, and Marinette slips her hand around Chloe’s wrist to pull her away. Chloe doesn’t stop, just redirects her attention to Marinette, flipping her ponytail back behind her like she’s dismissing Alya and Lila.

“What. An. Idiot. You know?”

Marinette gapes for a moment and then bursts into giggles. “You’re right!”

“Like, I don’t like you but at least I can recognize the value you have as a friend.”

Chloe determinedly doesn’t look at Marinette as she says it, and Marinette doesn’t respond for a long moment. When she does, she squeezes her hand still wrapped around Chloe’s wrist and goes quiet, soft, fond.

“I like you too, Chloe. I’m glad we’re going to be friends now.”

Felix grabs Marinette’s other hand as they get to the doors.

“Business partners, huh?”

Both girls stick their tongues out at him.

Alya watches them leave, her hands crumpling into angry fists. She manages two furious, determined steps after them before Lila summons her back.

“Wait.”

She’s sitting at the table now, lounging across the seat like a traitor on a newly conquered throne. Alya turns back to her. Her mouth, gaping a moment ago, has hardened into a razor-tight line.

“Let them go. They’re not worth you, Alya. They’re being bad friends. What was that you told me about Felix? You don’t have to associate yourself with bullies, right? C’mon. Let's have lunch!” She swings her legs back over and starts making her way over to the shaded grass under the trees, settling with her feet tucked under her. Lila stretches out a hand, nails manicured and neat, and waits until Alya takes it.

Lila pulls Alya down, and grins with all her teeth bared.

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chipper9906 · 3 years

Text

Heal The Cracks Within My Heart - Chapter 6: No More Tricks

<- - - Previous Chapter

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR LOKI SEASON 1 EPISODE 6 ‘FOR ALL TIME. ALWAYS.’

Pairings: Loki/Sylvie

Rating: General Audiences

Chapter Word Count: 8,958

Overall Word Count: 57,236

Status: Multi Chapter Fic - In Progress (6/?)

Chapter Preview:

“Good to meet y’all,” Miss Minutes said with that unnerving smile, walking – but not really – across Mobius’s desk and over to Loki and Sylvie. “I’m sure you can’t wait to get to work protecting the sacred timeline!”

“Oh, simply ecstatic,” Loki said with as much sarcasm as he could fit into one sentence. “Something to finally give my pathetic life some meaning. How about you, Sylvie?”

“Like a dream come true…” Sylvie drawled.

“Great to hear!” This Miss Minutes was, apparently, incapable of picking up sarcasm.

Link To Fic

Click Below To Keep Reading

* * *

One of the (few) good things about the sprawling size of the TVA was that there were often parts of it with no one in sight. It was on one of these floors, where the files hadn’t been disturbed for so long that they were collecting dust, that the Gods of Fate had smiled upon them and opened up the Time-Door into.

Mobius’s head was the first to peek through the Time-Door, looking both left and right down the miniature hallway. Once he had confirmed there was no one that had seen the Time-Door manifesting from nowhere, he waved both Loki and Sylvie through, before stepping fully back into his place of work.

“This feels so wrong,” Sylvie complains as they walk, tugging at the restricting dress shirt around her neck. Loki regards her from the corner of his eye, scanning up and down her body as he takes in her new uniform.

“It is a little weird seeing you without your armor.” Loki reaches out to tug at the lapels of her TVA blazer, grinning unabashedly when she smacks his hand away with a weak glare. “–But for the record, I think you look stunning whatever you choose to wear.”

“Oh dear God,” Mobius groaned dramatically in front of them, forcing Loki and Sylvie’s gaze away from each other and over to him. “Is your plan to just constantly flirt with each other to get me to find these files faster? Coz I’ve gotta say, it’s working.”

“It almost sounds like you’re eager to be rid of us,” Loki said, sounding almost offended. Almost.

“You’re both probably bearable on your own, but the two of you together?” Mobius shook his head. “Nightmares, the both of you. An insane amount of people exist out there in the Universe – now made even bigger with this whole mess you’ve made – countless amounts of variants you could have run into, but no, you had to go and find versions of yourself and hook up with them!”

“First of all, are you telling me you aren't a little bit curious to know what another variant of yourself would be like?” Sylvie asked, bringing Mobius to a grinding halt and turning to face them.

“No, actually. I'm not,” Mobius said in disbelief at her question. “I could have happily gone on with the rest of my life without ever thinking that, thank you. And now I know I won’t be able to stop thinking about it.”

“Give it a try,” Sylvie said, throwing a wink in Loki’s direction that nearly made Mobius groan out loud again. “And secondly… no one understands you better than yourself. We have our similarities – a few Loki traits that seem to stick no matter what form we take – but… we’ve both walked different paths. Genetically different, souls the same; but whilst they were formed the same, they’ve been molded by our experiences. So, whilst we may not see things the same way sometimes, at the end of the day, we just…”

“Understand each other,” Loki finishes for Sylvie with a tender smile.

“God, it really is like puppy love,” Mobius mumbled as he turned back around and continued onwards. “Feels like I’m watching a couple of teens trying to figure out how feelings work…”

“That’s… an apt comparison, actually,” Loki admitted as they both picked up the pace to keep up with Mobius, not wanting to get lost in the maze of TVA corridors. It was only occasionally that they walked through a section with a worker milling about the place, or saw an occasional Minute-Men either patrolling the area or simply passing through to wherever it is they had been ordered to go to.

“Things seem calmer than last time,” Loki noted. He wasn’t sure whether it was good or bad that the TVA wasn’t still freaking out about the whole multi-versal situation they had on their hands. Every now and then, as they passed through different corridors, Loki would see a flash of that horrific statue proudly displaying 'Him' as he stood over all his subjects. At least they knew now that Sylvie’s guess of being able to select a previously opened Time-Door and return them to the same TVA was correct…

“Things seem empty,” Mobius corrected him. “This place is usually bustling with activity -- and now it’s a ghost town. If we’ve dispatched most of our workers out into the field, then…” Mobius sighed deeply. “Things can’t be doing too well…”

Mobius came to a sudden stop as they rounded a corner, nearly walking straight into a TVA worker who had also been rounding the corner. The man blinked in surprise at Mobius, not even registering Loki or Sylvie behind him. The man pushed his glasses back up his nose, frowning at Mobius before looking somewhere behind him.

“Mobius? Where have you been? They’ve been looking everywhere for you, man. Judge Whittle’s about to blow a fuse if you don’t get down to his office stat.”

“Forgot I need to grab these guys,” Mobius lied smoothly, gesturing with a flick of his head back to Sylvie and Loki behind him. “They have some, uh… some research I asked them to collect for me that I think could be of some use.”

The man finally looked over to them, thankfully not looking too suspicious of them as his eyes darted between them both. “Right… Well, you better not keep Judge Whittle waiting. What with everything going on, I think he’s trying to hold onto some sense of time, and being late again might just snap his last thread.”

“That’s why I’m headed there now,” Mobius assured the man with a pat on his shoulder and a friendly smile. The man returned the smile, giving all three a respectful nod before walking past them and disappearing out of sight around another corridor. Mobius released a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, fixing his already tidy tie as a force of habit.

“I have to say, you’re an excellent liar,” Loki commended Mobius. “Are you sure you’re not a variant of us, too?”

“God, I hope not,” Mobius retorted, continuing to lead them forward once more.

“Wait, hang on-,” Sylvie said, tugging at Mobius’s arm. “Did he say Judge Whittle?”

Mobius looked back to Sylvie with a confused frown. “…Yes?”

“What about Judge Renslayer? What happened to her?”

Mobius stopped outside of a stereotypical-looking office door, pausing with his hand on the door handle. “Judge who?”

Both Sylvie and Loki shared a look of surprise, strangely unsettled by the idea that Renslayer apparently didn't exist in this timeline. Or, at least, hadn't been taken from her life to work in the TVA. What other changes would they have to expect to come across in this timeline? And how much of an effect would each small change have?

"Doesn't matter," Sylvie told Mobius. "Just... someone we know from another timeline."

"And by 'know', do you mean 'have killed', or...?"

"Us personally? No," Loki answered. "But last we saw you — the other you — you were headed back to the TVA to give Renslayer our regards, so... we don't actually know what happened to her."

“Given my fighting skills? Nothing, probably,” Mobius guessed, yanking down on the handle and swinging the door open. It was only once Mobius had stepped inside and out of the way of the door that Loki noticed the little golden plaque attached under the little window, the name ‘M. Mobius’ etched into the metal.

“Come on. I don’t know how much time we have,” Mobius called them into the office. “Considering I’m expected in Whittle’s office, we probably don’t have long until someone comes to fetch me.”

“You have an office?” Loki said in surprise, stepping into the room with Sylvie close behind.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

“The you I know never took me to his office,” Loki replied, glancing around the small space that had been allocated to Mobius. It looked… well, like everything else in the TVA, really: neat and organized, drab and boring; painted with soul-sucking colors that, at this point, reminded him of a prison.

“Maybe he didn’t have one.” Mobius dropped down onto a squeaky office chair, fiddling around with the buttons on one of those ridiculously bulky-looking computer monitors until it whirred to life. “I can’t imagine every variant of myself is good enough at their job for—”

“He was just fine at doing his job, actually,” Loki was quick to defend Mobius. Which was quite strange, as he was defending Mobius to… Mobius. “Managed to out-lie me a few times, which I can assure you is a tricky thing to do.”

“He was the only one of your bumbling workforce that was able to keep hot on my tail,” Sylvie joined Loki in defending Mobius, much to Loki’s surprise and… a little bit herself, if she was being honest. “I was able to stay one step ahead of him until he roped this idiot in—” Sylvie jabbed a thumb in Loki's direction. “—And he led you right to me.”

“To try and recruit you.” Loki now had to defend himself. “I wasn’t exactly a volunteer worker; it was work with them or be reset.”

“And here comes the old couple bickering…” Mobius mumbled under his breath. Before either Loki or Sylvie could point out that, whilst technically over a thousand years old, they were still considered young by Asgardian standards, Mobius had opened up some sort of application that brought up some virtual files in a holographic display.

Much to both Sylvie and Loki’s displeasure, these files were also accompanied by the cheery bright orange face of Miss Minutes. Sylvie barely restrained herself from unsheathing her sword hidden beneath her blazer and slicing the southern-speaking mascot in half like she desperately wanted to do back in the Citadel.

“Well, hey there!” Miss Minutes greeted them, sounding as chipper as ever. “Ooo, new faces! Do we have some new recruits, Mobius?”

“You could say that…” Mobius answered, brow pinched in concentration as he swiped through the seemingly endless amount of files in the TVA’s database.

“Oh, simply ecstatic,” Loki said with as much sarcasm as he could fit into one sentence. “Something to finally give my pathetic life some meaning. How about you, Sylvie?”

“Like a dream come true…” Sylvie drawled.

“Great to hear!” This Miss Minutes was, apparently, incapable of picking up sarcasm. “Is there something you needed my help with, Mobius?”

“Yeah, actually.” Mobius scratched across his upper lip, disheveling his neatly combed mustache. “I’m, uh… getting out new recruits up to speed with what they need to know about… about ‘Him’.”

“Have they had the talk yet?”

Loki wasn’t entirely sure why, but something about that question made him want to shiver off this layer of discomfort that seemed to coat him. At the same time, the last time someone had ‘the talk’ with him, he was unable to look his mother in the eyes for a good few days.

Mobius’s eyes flickered up from the monitor to Miss Minutes. “Yeah, they’ve had the talk; they know why they’re here.”

“Well okay then!” Miss Minutes chirped, crossing her arms behind her back with a gleaming smile. “Anything in specific you need me to find?”

“Yeah, any files we have on His TemPad,” Mobius said, wheeling himself back a bit from the desk and yanking open one of the drawers.

“Bit of an odd request,” Miss Minutes commented as she began flipping through the holographic files in front of them. Mobius continued digging through his desk, searching through different folders with a look of concentration. For a moment, Mobius’s hands stilled over something, but Miss Minutes' overexcited voice stole away their attention.

“Alright, here we go!” Miss Minutes flicked the holographic file through the air, and both Loki and Sylvie wore matching frowns as it disappeared from sight. The question of where it had gone was answered as Mobius pulled his TemPad out from his desk drawer with an “Ah-Ha!” of success, proudly waving the TemPad in their direction.

“Anything else you need me to do for you?” Miss Minutes asked, sounding both polite and… terrifying.

“Uh, no -- this’ll do.” Mobius returned Miss Minute's politeness with a smile of his own – even if it did appear quite forced and strained. “Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome!” Miss Minutes said before disappearing in a weird move where she seemed to fold into herself, all three in the room thankful for her absence.

“I never thought a cartoon clock mascot would make me fear for my life,” Loki said, still staring suspiciously at the space where Miss Minutes had vanished from.

“Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here…” Mobius muttered, fingers dancing across the TemPad as he brought up the files Miss Minutes had just sent him. His eyes scanned rapidly across the screen, skipping to what seemed to be the most important segments of information.

“Interesting…” Mobius leaned forward against his desk, resting his head on his hand and tapping his index finger against his upper lip.

“What’s interesting?” Sylvie asked, not appreciating that she couldn’t see the information she needed, whilst knowing that it was right there in someone else’s hands.

“Oh, just how vastly superior that thing on your hand is to this,” Mobius answered, waving his TemPad around like it was now useless. “For one, the efficiency on that thing? From what I’m seeing, it’s probably… four or five times more so than ours?”

“So, you’re saying that this TemPad can do more before it runs out of battery?” Loki asks, pointing to Sylvie’s hand.

“Not that you even have to worry about that,” Mobius said with a disbelieving chuckle. “You noticed how that thing doesn’t have a port to charge it?”

Sylvie shot Mobius an annoyed look, crossing her arms across her chest. “Just how oblivious do you think I am?”

“Man, you guys really do find a way to turn people’s words into an insult against you,” Mobius noted, sounding almost amused by the revelation. “Is that a self-conscious thing, or…?”

Sylvie, on the other hand, did not look amused. “I’m good on the therapy session, thanks. You were saying about charging it?”

“Oh, au contraire -- I think therapy would be an excellent choice for you guys,” Mobius teased with a grin, which he quickly wiped off his face at the death stares he got in return. “Alright, alright. The thing about charging this TemPad is… well, that you don’t need to.”

“Come again?” Loki asked.

“From the looks of things, His version of the TemPad kind of… recharges itself?” Mobius struggled to find the best way to explain what he had just read. “Well, not entirely from itself. The TemPad makes a connection, if you will, with its owner. Or… master, I think would be a better word.”

Sylvie raised her hand up closer to her face, peering down at the TemPad. Almost on cue did its surface come to life, emitting a soothing hum as power ran through its complicated circuits.

“And… what does the connection do?” Sylvie asked, looking away from the TemPad back to Mobius.

“It uses you as its batteries,” Mobius answers. “It recharges through you. Your life force, your energy, whatever you wanna call it.”

“Uh, should we be worried about that?” Loki asked, just barely resisting the urge to yank the TemPad off Sylvie’s hand and throw it as far as he could at the thought of it draining away her life.

“Considering ‘He’ is still alive after eons of using it? No, I don’t think so,” Mobius assured them – although just barely. “At the end of the day, ‘He’ is human, just like us -- uh, well, me, anyway. Taking into account the fact that you guys are both demigods with access to magical powers, I’m pretty sure the TemPad will barely scratch the surface of your energy.”

“Then… how did it not affect ‘He Who Remains?’” Loki asked. “Something that needs that much energy… it has to take its toll.”

“Maybe you can ask him before you kill him,” Mobius suggests. “My best guess? ‘He’ probably needs to ‘recharge’ himself. You know: sleeping, eating; all that boring mortal stuff?”

“You say that like we don’t need to eat and sleep, too.” Sylvie retorts.

“Uh-huh. Still doesn’t change the fact that you’re gods. I mean, how old are you guys again?”

“Point taken,” Loki conceded on both their behalf. “How long does the TemPad take to charge, then?”

“Depends on how drained it is,” Mobius says, turning his attention back to the displayed file. “It’s charging all the time, so as long as you’re not opening up Time-Doors left, right, and center, it usually has enough power that you don’t even have to think about it. If you somehow do drain the power enough that it’s nearly empty then… from ‘His’ experiments, it seems it takes a day or so to get it back to full power.”

“Experiments?” Sylvie picked up on the word. “What kind of experiments?”

“Well, ‘He’ didn’t always spend his time behind a desk organizing the strands of time. Before he created us, it was just him out there -- jumping from timeline to timeline, trying to bring some semblance of peace and order to the chaos.”

“About that–,” Loki interjected. “–The whole ‘jumping from timeline to timeline’ thing... Did ‘He’ jump between those timelines randomly?”

“Uh…” Mobius turned back to his TemPad, scrolling through the block of information it displayed. “Seems like it, for the most part.”

“So there’s no way to select a specific timeline?” Loki asked, casting Sylvie a down-trodden look. “No way to find a specific timeline?”

“We weren’t exactly designed for that,” Mobius replied, flicking away the information on his TemPad. With a few more presses of his fingers, the screen of his TemPad displayed a diagram of the sacred timeline -- if it could even be called that anymore. What he showed them more closely resembled a plate of spaghetti than the single straight line of the timeline. “See this right here? This is exactly what we were supposed to stop. We weren’t meant to travel between timelines, because the very existence of another timeline outside ours means we failed at our jobs.”

“But that’s what it was like before the TVA was created,” Sylvie pointed out. “Somewhere in there is the timeline we came from. We just need to find it again and travel back to it.”

“What for?” Mobius asks. “Why’s your timeline so important?”

“It’s the sacred timeline,” Sylvie answered, quickly continuing when Mobius opened his mouth to argue. “Yeah, I know, your timeline was also the sacred timeline, but it wasn’t until me killing ‘Him’ created all these different timelines.”

“Okay, sure-,” Mobius said with a nod. “That still doesn’t explain why you want to go back to that timeline. You killed that version of ‘Him’ in that timeline, didn’t you? Why else do you need to go back?”

“Because that timeline contains a few people that could be useful in defeating the other versions of ‘Him’,” Loki answers.

“And… how do you know that?”

“Because they were the only versions of themselves that were able to kill another mad ruler,” Sylvie says, glancing at Loki with her face softened in pity. “The only being who was destined – and able – to kill us…”

“Oh…” Mobius cleared his throat awkwardly, unsure whether to continue scrolling through his TemPad or keep talking. “Uh… I don’t know if this is inconsiderate of me to say, but… maybe it would be worth getting that guy to join your team? Since he was able to kill you, maybe they could-,”

“No.” Loki didn’t even need to give a reason why he was against that idea. The tone behind that one word said more than any explanation he could give.

“Fair enough, scratch that idea-,” Mobius made the smart move and returned his attention to his TemPad. “Selecting certain timelines, selecting certain timelines… Ah, here we go! Seems it’s… huh.”

“What? What’s huh?” Sylvie asked.

“There is a way to select a specific timeline. Kind of,” Mobius answered, standing from his chair and making his way around his desk to them. “Could you hold up the TemPad for me?”

Sylvie did as Mobius asked, holding out her arm in front of her so the TemPad was on display.

“You remember what I said about the TemPad making a connection with the user?” Mobius asked, getting nods from them in return. “Well, the connection goes deeper than that. So much so that… only the person who has been designated as the leader of the TVA can use it.”

“What?” Sylvie splutters. “I’m not the leader of the TVA-,”

“Tell that to the TemPad,” Mobius returned.

“Sylvie… I think he might be right,” Loki said, getting Sylvie to snap her head towards him. “He wanted us to rule the TVA, remember? Someone to take over his job. He offered us the position, took off the TemPad, and then-,”

“But I didn’t accept it!” Sylvie argued, looking more and more horrified with every passing second. “I just-”

“Took the TemPad,” Loki cut her off, filling in what she was about to say.

“Far as the TemPad is concerned, you’re the leader now,” Mobius told her. “You see those gold lines running across the surface?”

“Yes, but what’s that got do with anythi—”

“They’re not just for design,” Mobius answered before Sylvie could finish. “Those lines? They’re actually timelines.”

Sylvie blinked in surprise, glancing first over to Loki, then down to the TemPad.

“You see, ‘He Who Remains’ wanted to make sure he could return to his timeline whenever he needed to,” Mobius continued, nodding to the TemPad. “Mostly to make sure none of the other variants of him were wreaking havoc on his timeline, but also… just to return home, I guess. Do me a favor and run your hand along its surface, would you?”

Sylvie shot Mobius a curious look, but did as he asked anyway. The surface of the TemPad shifted, the squiggly lines running along its surface passing by in a blur of movement. Then, it seemed to settle on a certain design, displaying the usual bright gold line with branches coming off of it.

“That right there?” Mobius began, looking between the two of them, and then down to the TemPad. “That’s your timeline, Sylvie.”

Sylvie’s head shot up at that, feeling her heart clench at his words. It was… it was impossible. Her timeline didn’t exist anymore. Judge Renslayer and her Minute-Men had made sure of that.

“Now see, if I try and select a timeline-,”

Mobius’s hand moved towards the TemPad, and almost on instinct did Sylvie pull it away from him, holding it protectively to her body. Mobius let out an exasperated sigh at the defensive action, dropping his hands back to his sides and shoving them into his pockets. “Really? Isn’t trust supposed to be a two-way system?”

“From what I’ve heard,” Sylvie said as Loki unconsciously tried to move closer to her. He had done this a few times before, and this time, she found herself moving closer to him, too. “Not sure your argument works when you clearly don’t trust us, either.”

“Can you blame me?” Mobius asked, getting you a genuine huff of laughter from Sylvie.

“No. If anything, I respect you for it,” Sylvie said.

“Good form of self-preservation, really,” Loki added.

“Fine. I won’t touch it.” Mobius turned around on the spot, strolling back over to his side of the desk. “Guess you’ll just have to take my word for it.”

“What would have happened?” Even if Sylvie didn’t want Mobius to touch it, that wasn’t to say that she wasn’t curious as to what he was trying to show her.

“Nothing,” Mobius answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “It wouldn’t have responded to me -- because I’m not its owner.”

“But… why would He have just given it up like that?” Sylvie asked. “I hadn’t agreed to anything yet.”

“‘What’s the worst that could happen,’“ Loki mimicked He Who Remains’s words. “Either we took over, or an infinite amount of Him manifests into existence and fights to get back to where He was. No matter what option came to be, he no longer needed that TemPad.”

“Still seems strange to me that he just… gave you the TemPad,” Mobius thought out loud, placing his hands on the desk and resting his weight on it. “That is what I saw, right? He just… took it off and slid it across the desk to you.”

“Yeah… He did,” Sylvie’s face pinched into a frown, slowly looking up to Loki. “Loki, did you ever notice how… he seemed almost excited at the idea of me killing him?”

Loki mirrors her frown, thinking back to what felt like a lifetime ago now. “In what way?”

“He was looking at you guys kinda funny during your big fight,” Mobius said, drumming his fingers across the desk.

“Was he?” Loki asks. “I was a little too distracted at the time to notice.”

“He even looked strangely invested when you guys, uh…” Mobius trailed off awkwardly, hoping they would fill in the blanks for themselves. When Loki and Sylvie only stared blankly back at him, he hung his head with a dejected sigh. “Oh, for the love of… When you kissed, for god's sake…”

“Oh…” Loki was surprised to feel the flush of heat to his face. “Again, a little distracted -- which, I think was your plan.” Loki cast Sylvie an annoyed look at that last part.

“Already said I’m sorry–”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah -- how about we move on from that.” Mobius hurried them past the miniature bickering session that was likely to start. “Or… no wait, let’s go back to that.”

Loki and Sylvie looked to each other at the same time, like they were somehow able to communicate through eye contact alone. “Let’s go back to… us arguing?” Sylvie wanted to clarify.

“Yes! But, no, don’t actually argue—” Mobius somehow made this all the more confusing. “What was it that He said to you guys? Something about trust, or… being unable to trust—”

“He asked me if I could trust Loki.” Sylvie, of course, remembered this. She knew she’d never forget. “And… if I could trust anyone at all."

Mobius nodded to himself, staring down at his feet as he thought. “Why would he say that? If he wanted you to work together, to lead the TVA together, then… why would he plant those doubts in your head?”

“It almost seems like he was trying to get us to fight,” Loki said to Sylvie. “Maybe… he never really wanted us to take over.”

“You think he wanted to die?”

“I think he wanted to be reborn,” Loki corrected Sylvie. “I don’t think he was just tired; I think he was bored. After countless years of writing everyone’s stories – himself included – I think… I think he wanted you to open up the multiverse, to live an infinite amount of lives outside of his own script.”

Sylvie shook her head with a bitter laugh, her lip curling in disgust as she looked down to His former TemPad. “My whole life, I only had the thought of watching His life drain away to get me through the day… And now, it turns out I did what he always wanted, anyway.”

Sylvie reached out a hand towards the TemPad, the glow of its timelines reflecting in her shining eyes. She ran a finger softly across the timeline – her timeline – watching as the TemPad slowly moves with her finger, displaying the different branches that come off of her timeline.

“Is this really my timeline?” Sylvie doesn’t look away from the TemPad.

“It’s what the files say,” Mobius tells her.

“How is that possible?” Sylvie tears her eyes away, looking up to Mobius. “My timeline was pruned.”

“Exactly. It was pruned,” Mobius says. “But now we have this whole mess of branches, forming into a whole mess of timelines.”

“So?”

“So, somewhere out there is a timeline where you were never picked up by us,” said Mobius, looking pointedly to Sylvie’s TemPad. “Oh, right -- it’s that timeline right there.”

“A timeline where the TVA never interfered…” Loki says in wonderment, turning wide eyes towards Sylvie. “Your timeline never would have been pruned…”

“My family…” Sylvie whispers, finding herself frozen in shock. “My home… my life…”

“So… we’re on Sylvie’s timeline now?” Loki asks Mobius. “How would that work when we, apparently, don’t exist…?”

“This isn’t Sylvie’s timeline,” Mobius said, scooping up the TemPad he left laying on his desk and tucking it into his jacket. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. When you grabbed the TemPad and opened a door here, it should have opened up into a TVA on your timeline. But… it didn’t.”

Mobius took a seat on the edge of his desk – despite the perfectly fine chair right there in front of him – crossing his arms against his chest with his back partly turned to them. “What were you doing whilst you were opening the Time-Door? Was there any interference?”

“Oh, um…” Sylvie glanced awkwardly to Loki, whose raised questioning eyebrow quickly dropped into a look of realization at her pointed look.

“Ah…” Loki drawled out slowly, scratching at the back of his head. “Would us, uh… touching be classified as ‘interference?’”

“Oh, you were–” Mobius cut himself off with a burst of laughter, slapping at his knee. “You opened up that Time-Door whilst you were kissing, didn’t you? That explains it…”

“Does it? Feel free to pass on that explanation to us -- you know, if you feel like it.” Sylvie didn’t appreciate being the recipient of Mobius’s ridicule.

“The TemPad was trying to open up the Time-Door to your specific timeline. Problem is… it didn’t know which one of you to focus on. Can’t open one door into two separate timelines, so, it had to compromise. Instead of opening up a Time-Door into either one of your timelines…”

“It opened up into one where we don’t exist.” Loki guessed correctly.

“You both canceled each other out,” Mobius tacked on.

“And what about the others?” Sylvie asked.

“The other… what’s?”

“The Apocalypses we jumped to,” Sylvie clarified. “Were they… were they my timeline?”

“If it was just you touching the TemPad? Then yeah, it would have been your timeline.”

“That must have been why it was different,” Loki said in realization. “Those attackers… they came earlier than they were supposed to, didn’t they?”

“One small change can lead to a whole ton of butterfly effects.” Mobius slowly made his way to the side of the desk, sliding the drawer closed as he went. “Some of those changes can be small, like… like someone speaking one word on one day differently. And then the other changes…”

“Can breed a multi-verse ending conqueror,” Loki finished grimly, getting a shrug of agreement from Mobius.

“So… we know we can get to my timeline. Is that the only way we can select a specific timeline?”

“Right, the uh, the other sacred timeline,” Mobius mumbled, scratching at the back of his head as he thought. “Well… you came from that one, right? You made a connection between that timeline to this timeline when you shoved Loki through that Time-Door.”

“But we’ve moved on since then,” Loki pointed out. “If Sylvie touches the TemPad, it’ll display her timeline, won’t it?”

“If that’s the one you select, sure. But–”

“But the TemPad saves previously opened Time-Doors.” Sylvie already knew where Mobius was going with this. “That’s how we got here in the first place. I opened up a Time-Door I had already opened before, back in the Citadel.”

“Which is the timeline currently on display,” Mobius said. “All you’ve gotta do is follow that timeline back… and it’ll connect to the timeline you came from.”

“Hang on…” Loki turned his attention back to Sylvie, his brow furrowing in thought. “What about my timeline? Would… would that have been re-created too?”

Sylvie placed a comforting hand on his arm, giving his bicep a kind squeeze with an understanding smile. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

Loki looked genuinely taken aback as she unwound the TemPad from her hand. For a moment, she simply stood and held this greatly powerful device in her hands. She kept her eyes locked with his, a note of understanding passing between them as she slowly held out the TemPad for him to take.

Loki didn’t take it. Not right away. “It might not work. Not just because my timeline might still remain erased, but… what if the TemPad can’t have two owners?”

“’He Who Remains’ made it clear he wanted both of us to rule.” Sylvie pushed the TemPad into his chest. She grabbed hold of his hand, pulling it up to the TemPad and curling his fingers around it. “Besides… we might be two separate beings, but our souls exist as one and the same. If it works for me? Then I know it’ll work for you, too.”

“You are very confident,” Loki noted with a small smile, his weak grip on the TemPad strengthening as he finally took the TemPad from her.

Loki couldn’t bring himself to look at the TemPad as he slid it onto his hand, experimentally flexing his fingers to get used to the feeling of the cylindrical object sat atop his hand. Sylvie nodded at him in encouragement when his eyes landed on her, letting her hand slip away from his arm to make sure they were no longer touching.

Loki finally dropped his eyes down to the TemPad. Sylvie’s timeline continued to blink up at him, just waiting for its new owner to press his touch into its surface. Loki let his hand hover over the TemPad, a moment of shaky hesitation passing before he swiped his finger across the flat surface of the TemPad.

In the blink of an eye, the surface began to change. Billions upon billions of timelines flashed before his eyes as the TemPad searched for his timeline, and for one heart-stopping moment, Loki wondered if it would simply be searching forever, his timeline removed from all of existence.

And then it stopped. It stopped, and Loki and Sylvie could only stand and stare at the brilliantly gold streak of lightning that stared back at them. Right there was Loki’s timeline. Right there was a universe where none of this had ever happened -- an unlimited expanse of possibilities his life could have taken.

And that’s when Mobius held the pruning stick to Sylvie’s neck.

Loki knew it was foolish of him to let his guard down, even if in the presence of – who he supposed – was a friend. But it wasn’t his friend. This Mobius might have been witness to the events that led to their friendship, but he didn’t experience them. And that was made all the difference, it seemed.

One second, Sylvie was right there next to him, looking at the TemPad just as he was. The next, she was just… gone. Loki’s head snapped up in a daze, taking in the sight of Sylvie struggling vehemently as Mobius wrapped an arm around her neck, keeping her pinned to him as he held the glowing end of the pruning stick much too close to Sylvie for either of their comfort.

Sylvie looked more pissed at herself than she did at Mobius. Just like Loki, she had made the foolish mistake of letting her guard down. The entire time she had been here, she had every possible guard up and alert, just waiting for the moment this all went to shit. And then… and then Mobius had told her that somewhere out there is the family she knows, the family she never got to grow up with, and she had stupidly returned back to the state of that little princess of Asgard who had no reason not to trust anyone.

“Don’t struggle.” Mobius’s words did not come out as a command. Not that he wanted them to sound like it. It was more a word of advice than anything. “I don’t want to accidentally catch you with this thing.”

“Then why are you holding it to my neck?” Sylvie forced out through gritted teeth, continuing to struggle despite Mobius’s warning. She kept her gaze focused on the pruning stick Mobius had snuck out of his desk drawer, her hands dug into the arm around her neck, tugging uselessly at them to get his hold to loosen. Except, every defiant pull to his arm only resulted in the pressure against her neck tightening, coming dangerously close to cutting off her air supply.

“Mobius, what are you doing?” Loki spluttered out, yanking out his dagger from his jacket pocket in a flash of metal.

“What I have to.” Mobius took a cautious step back away from Loki, dragging a very uncooperative Sylvie with him. “And don’t you think about going for that sword, Sylvie. The moment I feel your arms move anywhere down, I’ll prune you before you can even come close to touching it.”

Sylvie laughed mockingly at that. Loki stood in a battle-ready stance, looking very much not amused by Mobius’s words as Sylvie had. “You’re not used to the whole ‘threatening demeanor’ thing, are you?” Sylvie goaded him.

“I’ll admit it’s not my forte.” Mobius carefully maneuvered himself back around the desk, placing it between him and Loki. Loki slowly moved forward with him, coming to a stop just in front of the desk. “Especially when I don’t want to be doing this.”

“Then why are you doing this?” Loki hoped his pleading tone would get through to Mobius in some sort of way.

“Because it’s my job,” Mobius forced out the words with as much authority as he could muster.

“You’ve seen the truth!” Sylvie grunted, still fighting against Mobius’s hold. “You know what He did to you! To all of us!”

“That doesn’t change the importance of my work.” Mobius’s words make the weight in Loki’s chest sink heavier. “Or the importance of His work. I agree with you that this whole thing ends with Him; I just don’t agree with your method. I think… I know that the strands of time are only safe in His hands. Only He can untangle and sort out those strands and ensure the timeline runs through to the end without any problems.”

“Mobius, no–” Loki desperately hoped he could get through to him. “If that was the case, then we wouldn’t be right here, would we? You wouldn’t have existed if that was the case. Sylvie and I wouldn’t exist. But that’s what's happened, whether by His deciding or not. If we just sit back and let him rise to power once more… what’s to stop this from happening all over again?”

“And what if your version of Him isn’t the one that comes out on top?” Sylvie asks Mobius, lessening her struggles now that Mobius held the pruning stick even closer, buzzing away mere inches from her face. “Somewhere out there is a variant of him that isn’t interested in pruning the other timelines. Instead, he only wants to rule over them all.”

“It’s up to Him to decide what we’ll do about that,” Mobius replied, much to Loki’s dismay.

Mobius sighed lightly, ducking his head with his eyes clenched shut. “Please, just… do as I say. I meant it when I said I don’t want to be doing this. I think… I think you guys could be of some help to us–”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Sylvie groaned. “You’re trying to recruit us now?”

“Not right now,” Mobius corrected her. “I know you won't right now in this moment. But… you’ll see. You’ll see that this is the only way. Now, please, if you’d just… hand over the TemPad. I promise we won’t reset you, or put you in a time-loop -- nothing like that.”

“Mobius–” Loki tried again, only to be cut off by the man in question.

“It won't be long before someone comes into this office. I can’t guarantee they won't do something drastic if they come in and see you like that with your weapons. But if you come cooperatively–”

“We’ll be slaves to the TVA, just as you are?” Sylvie asks, voice soaked in disgust. “No thanks -- I’d rather take my chances with the pruning stick.”

“Yeah… yeah, that’s a good point,” Mobius mumbled, much to Loki and Sylvie’s confusion. “You… you voluntarily pruned yourself, didn’t you? The both of you were pruned, and you made it out…”

“We did,” Loki confirmed, taking a single step closer, feeling the wooden panel of Mobius’s desk pressing into his knees. “And we both took down the creature He himself tamed and weaponized to devour timelines whole.”

“In other words… do it,” Sylvie spat at Mobius, giving one last attempt at breaking free that yields no results. “You know as well as we do that that’s not a threat to us. Not really.”

“No, I suppose you’re right,” Mobius agreed. Seeing Mobius deactivate the pruning stick briefly filled Loki with a surge of hope, wondering if maybe, just maybe, they had found a way to deescalate the situation. That hope prompted surged out of him, however, as Mobius flipped the pruning stick around in his hand, now holding the pointed, sharp spear end of the stick against Sylvie’s neck. “You might be able to escape pruning… but can you come back from a blade in your throat?”

No. No, they could not.

“Mobius, please,” Loki begged one more time, holding out a dagger in front of him. “Stop this. You’ve seen reason, I know you have. I don’t want to do this as much as you don’t–”

“Then just hand over the TemPad,” Mobius said like it was a no-brainer decision. Loki felt his muscles coil in anticipation as the very tip of the spear pierced Sylvie’s flesh, clenching his jaw hard when he saw the small trickle of blood slip down her neck. He had to make a decision–

“You know your magic doesn’t work here,” Mobius reminded him with an almost pitiful expression. “This is it, Loki. No more tricks from the trickster.”

Loki decided.

“No. There’s no magic,” Loki agreed, holding out his dagger like he was about to drop it in surrender.

Loki dropped his hand down in a flash, connecting with the surface of the TemPad, just as he had seen He Who Remains do back in the Citadel. Mobius blinked, and then Loki was gone. He startled, not even having time to ponder over what had happened before Loki blinked back into existence behind him – not that he could see – and slid the dagger he held in his hand right in the small of his back. Mobius jolted at the searing pain that erupted from his back, barely able to get out a gasp of pain as his body locked up.

“–But I still have your technology,” Loki completed the rest of his sentence before yanking the dagger out from Mobius’s back.

Sylvie took advantage of the slackening of Mobius’s grip, forcing an elbow back hard into the side of his ribs. Mobius had completely let go at this point, but she still spun around on the spot, bringing up her leg and kicking Mobius hard in the chest. Mobius went down without much resistance, slamming into the wall behind him with a pained grunt. He slid down to the floor, leaving behind a trail of red against the wall as he went.

“Huh…” Mobius’s eyes were unfocused, staring blankly to the ground in front of him. “You know, I… I could have sworn I heard you said to that other me that… that you were done stabbing people in the back.”

Mobius dredged up just enough energy to raise his eyes up, meeting Loki’s agonized ones. There was… nothing in his eyes. No blame, no hatred, no fear. But… there was nothing good there, either. No forgiveness, no kindness he’s seen from Mobius plenty of times before. It was just… blank. He was blank.

One second, Loki's staring at a man whose heart was still pumping, whose blood still circulated around his body. Then, he was actually able to see the moment the life drained away from him, like a candle being blown out. Any semblance of the man he knows disappears from Mobius’s eyes, his head dropping down to his chest before he slowly slumps down to the ground, staring without seeing.

The weight of the dagger in Loki’s hands had never felt as heavy as it had before. His shaking hands lift the dagger up, the buzzing fluorescent lights of Mobius’s office reflecting off the shining surface of the blade. The dagger had served its purpose, had done what it was designed to do. And yet, as Loki stared down at the offending item and took in the sight of Mobius’s blood coating the once perfectly clean metal, he wanted nothing more than to cast it into the eternal flame and watch it melt into nothing.

How many times had he done exactly this? He was far from inexperienced in battle, and far from inexperienced in hurting those he cares about for his own gain. So why, this time, did he feel the burn of bile in the back of his throat? Why, this time, did his hands shake so hard that he let his trusted weapons drop to the ground? Why, this time, did he find himself stumbling down to the ground, breaths coming short and fast as he stared at the corpse of the only friend he’s truly ever known?

“Loki…” Sylvie’s voice sounded far away and muted, as if they were underwater. In the back of his mind, he registers that she’s moved in front of him, blocking him from seeing Mobius’s corpse. Her concerned face fills his vision, blurry as if his eyes were filled with tears. Wait… were they? It would certainly explain the stinging sensation he felt in them, and the wetness he could feel rolling down his face.

Her hands cup his face, desperately trying to bring him back to himself. Just like Mobius, his eyes had gone scarily blank. “Loki, it’s not your fault. It’s not, okay? That’s… that wasn’t him. That wasn’t Mobius -- not really.”

Something flickers back to life in his eyes. They shift around, searching across her face as if he was finally seeing her here, still with him, sat right in front of him. He swallows hard, his gaze drifting to where he knows Mobius’s corpse lies behind her.

“I know.” Simply hearing Loki speak out loud helped to lessen some of the fear that had been constricting her chest. “But… it also is.”

Sylvie didn’t even know what she could say right now that would be of any comfort to him. She had never really had to comfort someone before, or had someone comfort her. Except… well, she supposed that Loki had attempted to comfort her a few times: back on Lamentis when it seemed like the end of the line; or in ‘The Time-Keeper’s chambers when they realized the Time Keepers weren’t real. But then, even if she did know how to go about comforting him, this certainly wasn’t the place to do it. Not with Mobius’s body sat right there behind her, and not in a place where they could be locked up at any moment.

Sylvie turns her head towards the office door, just waiting for the sounds of rushing footsteps to echo down the hall. A part of her thinks it would almost be better than the silence they found themselves in -- apart from the repetitive tick of the clock hung in the top middle section of the wall Mobius was slumped by.

She needed to get Loki out of here. She didn’t care where, or what timeline it was, it just had to be not here. Sylvie brushed her thumb tenderly across Loki’s cheek, wiping away a stubborn tear that clung to his skin. She dropped her hands away from his face, turning to Mobius’s body with a grimace. Avoiding looking the corpse in the eye, she reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the TemPad he had stored in there, trying her best not to disturb his body too much.

“Sorry, Mobius,” Sylvie whispers as she moves away from his body, casting him one last regretful look before straightening herself into a stand. The TemPad in her hands was at least familiar, and yet… it felt wrong to use, now. Shaking her head, she flipped open the screen to the TemPad, letting out a breath of relief that it was fully charged. She entered in the information for the Time-Door without much of a thought, its manifestation enough to force Loki’s gaze away from Mobius’s body.

“We need to go,” Sylvie reaches out a hand towards Loki, grateful that his eyes follow the movement of her hand instead of settling back on Mobius. Loki nods, hesitating for a moment before he picks his dagger back up from the ground. His TemPad clad hand clasps onto Sylvie’s, taking her offered help as she pulls him up to his feet. She doesn’t let go of his hand, even when he’s stood back on his feet, and when Loki squeezes her hand in thanks, she knows she's made the right decision.

“Don’t look.” Sylvie moves in front of him, forcing his eyes onto her. Loki does as she asks, forcing everything in his vision apart from her to go blurry and out of focus. Sylvie slowly starts walking back towards the Time-Door, pulling Loki with her as she goes.

What Loki and Sylvie didn’t know was that, after they stepped through that Time-Door, someone did come into Mobius’s office. But it wasn’t just a group of Minute-Men. Nor was it Judge Whittle.

Deep purple robes brushed against the floor as the figure stepped into the room, calculated dark eyes scanning across the room before falling on Mobius. The man sighed, more in irritation at not having caught the intruders red-handed than in the sadness he should have felt for having lost such a devoted worker.

“They found their way in,” The man calls out to the security detail stood post next to the door. “Get someone to retrieve this body once I’ve looked over it. We need to check for any cross-contamination.”

The man waited until one of the security detail had hurried off to carry out his orders before stepping further into the room. He strode over to Mobius’s body, crouching down onto one knee with his head tilted to the side as he looked him up and down. He reached out, grabbing Mobius’s arm and rolling him over onto his stomach. Immediately, he took sight of the dark patch of red soaked into the back of Mobius’s jacket. With careful hands, he pried the jacket off of the body, followed shortly by the now stained white button-up shirt.

The man clicked his tongue, resting an arm on his knee as he looked to the open wound that had been carved into the center of Mobius’s back. There’s a tentative knock to the office door he had closed behind him, looking over to it as it swings open. The Minute-Men he had requested filed into the room, standing at attention and ready for orders.

“You—” He points to one of the Minute Men in line, who somehow manages to stand straighter now he had been singled out. “—Come here.”

Obediently, the Minute Man hurries over to the man, nervous eyes fixed dead-ahead as he waits for further orders.

“I want you… to take a look at the wound,” The man instructs him, folding his hands behind his back and nodding his head towards Mobius’s body. “Look at the shape of it… the size of it. Do you recognize the weapon that inflicted it?”

“Um….” The Minute Man stammers out, voice trembling with nerves as he kneels down by Mobius’s body to take a closer look at the wound. “It… it seems like a small blade, Sir.”

“Hmm… I’d have to agree with you on that one.” The man places a hand on the Minute Man’s shoulder in what should have been a comforting gesture, but was far from it. “A small blade, expertly wielded, by someone who is… intimately familiar with the weapon in question. And… considering the placement of the wound, I’d have to say familiar with this analyst, wouldn’t you?”

“I… I suppose so, Sir.”

“You suppose? Okay, well, I’ll give you my final theory.” The man’s grip on his shoulder tightens, feeling the trembling of the Minute-Man underneath his hands. “I think… the damage done here was by a dagger. Do you know what that means?”

The Minute Man remained frozen under his hands, wisely letting the man monologue away instead of actually answering.

“It means it’s them. It means that they’re finally starting to make a move… It means that what I saw, and what I heard, was true. It means… it won't be long before they start hunting down me.”

Next Chapter - - - >

#sylki #sylki fanfiction #sylki fanfic #pro sylki #loki/sylvie #lovedagger #enchantricks

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itsmelaurel · 4 years

Text

Begin Again

Summary: When your best friends move away for college, you think life is officially over. However, you find yourself making new friends including the blonde surfer from the other side of the island.

one

—————————————————

two.

The last three weeks of summer went by way too fast and it was finally your last first day of high school. You were currently out on the front steps of your home with a sign that said Senior. It was a tradition your mom went all out for every single school year.

“Looking like a snack before 8 am should be illegal.” Sarah shouted from behind your mom which caused you to roll your eyes.

“Oh, perfect shot. Probably going to use that for the Christmas card.” Your dad clapped sarcastically at your attitude being caught on camera.

“Alright, now all the kids on the steps.” Your mom directed. You and Sarah sat down first. Wheezie sat next to you and Katie, Kelce’s sister, sat on the other side of Sarah. Knowing it was only four of you this year had your heart sinking a little. These steps typically held seven Kildare Prep students. Now it was down to four and next year there would only be two left.

“I’ve got to send this to the boys. I tried to get them to take pictures on their first day of classes, but I was told they were too grown for that.” Kelce’s mom said while huddling next to Rose.

You had been successful in keeping busy these past few weeks in order to keep your mind off your best friend's physical absence in your life. All of you still texted every day in the group chat, but the promised daily FaceTime calls were slowly fading.

While you were busy with cheerleading and hanging out with the pogues, the boys had joined a frat and started classes two weeks ago. On top of that, they started partying several nights during the week and getting blackout on the weekends.

They still had no idea you were hanging out with the pogues. When they asked what you were up to, you would always tell them just hanging out with friends. Surprisingly, they never asked who. Just assuming you would never willingly hang out with the pogues.

You weren’t technically lying to them, but you constantly felt guilty about it. Then Sarah would remind you that they were living their best life at college, so why couldn’t you?

“Okay my sweet little babes, it’s time to head to school.” Your mom finally stops the photo shoot and pulls you from your thoughts. Her and your dad kiss your cheek goodbye, both of them tearing up when you get in your Jeep. They were so dramatic and you freaking loved them for it.

“I’ll see you at school after I drop these two off. Wait for me?” Sarah asked while leaning in your window. You promised to wait for her before leaving the driveway.

Arriving at school early was new for you. Last year you, Sarah and Kelce typically rode together in the mornings when Rafe had football and Topper had lacrosse. Kelce and Sarah were never on time which resulted in you running to first period with minutes to spare.

The song changed in the car, a soft country melody flowing through the speakers. The only person who listens to country is Topper and you roll your eyes at the fact he snuck this onto your playlist. Thinking of him made you realize that they really won’t be walking the halls with you today. It made your throat tighten with emotion at how different this year is going to be. The anxiety that you’ve done such a good job of hiding these past few years comes bubbling up unexpectedly.

Before you can stop yourself, you dial his number hoping it will calm your nerves. It rings a fourth, fifth and sixth time before it goes to voicemail and you hang up before you even hear the greeting. A dark, little voice in the back of your head says that he’s in college now and wouldn’t want to be bothered before 8 am about you're pathetic feelings.

The phone ringing through the speaker startles you and you immediately answer it without looking at the caller id thinking it’s Topper.

“Morning sunshine” JJs sleepy voice rasps through the car speakers.

“Morning punkin” a smile graces your face at the sickly sweet nicknames. It’s become a little joke between the two of you, mostly making fun of John B and Sarah’s overly sappy relationship.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his voice sounding more alert than just a few seconds ago.

“Nothing, why?” your teeth capture your bottom lip and bite down.

“Somethings up”

“Nothings up-”

“Nu uh, don’t do that. Don’t lie to me. What’s wrong?” He prods hoping you let him in.

“I’m just really nervous about the first day, that’s all.”

“You’re going to have a great day, y/n. And if you don’t there’s nothing ice cream can’t fix.” His words are simple, but it causes you to giggle and your anxiety to melt away.

“How’d you know something was wrong?” You question.

While hanging out with the pogues these last few weeks, you and the blonde surfer had gotten close. When the couples would break off from the group, the two of you would hang out alone.

“I could just sense it and your voice cracked a little when you answered.” You imagine him giving you a shrug as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. But it was.

“Thank you, J.”

“Anytime buttercup. Do you have cheer practice today?” Now he’s the one who sounds nervous.

“I don’t. Why?”

“I don’t have work today either. Do you wanna hang out?” He all but rushes out the last sentence.

“Yeah, i'd like that.” You work out the details and he promises to bring ice cream just in case.

“Hey, you gonna sit out here all day?” Sarah knocks on your window causing you to jump. She gives you a weird look, but doesn’t question it. You climb out of the car and grab your backpack.

“How do I look?” You ask your tall blonde best friend as you head inside, motioning to your makeup and hair.

“I can’t believe you would wear that.” Her eyes scan your body and she grimaces playfully.

“We are wearing the exact same thing.”

“Shit, do you think they will notice?” She looks around at the sea of bodies all wearing a similar version of our private school uniforms.

“You’re so stupid.”

“But you love it.” She sticks her tongue out and you playfully return the gesture, all anxiety from this morning completely gone as you enter first period.

——

When you get home from school, a beautiful floral arrangement of your favorite flowers are sitting on the kitchen counter. A card is folded neatly next to them.

We hope you had a great first day. Wish you were here with us already.

xoxo,

Rafe, Kelce & Topper

Your hand dances over the petals softly as you lean in to smell them. The flowers are beautiful and you snap a picture to send the boys.

Y/n: thank you for the beautiful flowers. kildare prep wasn’t the same without y’all today.

Not even a few seconds after you hit send, your phone is lighting up with a FaceTime call from Rafe.

“There’s my little senior.” His voice is teasing as he comes into view. He looks the same as the last time you physically saw him. Hair gelled back and blue eyes bright as the sky.

“Thank you for the flowers.” You know it was him who specifically ordered them from the cheesy xoxo. It was something he started using after he watched a couple of episodes of Gossip Girl with you.

“I’m glad you like them. How was your first day?” He questions and you give him a quick rundown, laughing when you tell him about Sarah falling asleep in 2nd period with drool coming out of her mouth.

“Did you miss me?” He asks playfully, but there's a twinge of something else there too.

“Of course I did, Rafe.” You tilt your head as you watch him lay back on his bed.

“I miss you so much.” He admits softly and it catches you off guard. Rafe isn’t one to share his feelings or be vulnerable in any way.

“I miss-” you begin to tell him how much you miss him, possibly even admit how your heart aches when you think of all of them, but you're cut off quickly by someone busting through his bedroom door.

“Cameron! Are you ready to get lit?” His new roommate Parker comes into view when Rafe sits up in bed.

“Dude, I’m on the phone.” Rafe gestures to the obvious FaceTime call.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry.” Parker leans down and waves at you. “Hey y/n! How was the first day of kindergarten?” He laughs obnoxiously at his own joke and you wrinkle your nose in return. Parker wasn’t the worst person they could be roommates with, but he was pretty annoying most of the time. He lived for the frat life and everything college stood for. If you weren’t in college, he only referred to you as a child.

“Knock it off.” Rafe gives him a look, but Parker just flips him off.

“It’s okay Rafe, I have to go anyway.” You glance at the clock knowing JJ would be there any minute.

“No, don’t go. I’ll go down the hall.” Rafe says in a panic clearly not ready for your call to be over.

“I really do have to go, maybe we can talk another night this week?”

“Why can’t we talk later tonight before bed?” He questions.

“Because apparently you are about to get lit.” You let an impassive mask slip over your face.

“Oh, right.” He says as if he forgot he already has plans. “I could cancel and we could have a FaceTime movie night?”

“Dude, you aren’t cancelling. The four of us have had this planned since Sunday.” Parker chimes in with a look of mock disgust at his roommate. Thankfully the doorbell rings providing you with the perfect excuse to get off the phone.

“Rafe, I have to go. Text me later.” You blow him a kiss and hang up before he can say anything else.

However, your dad beats you to the door and let’s JJ in while you're still in the kitchen.

“My man. I didn’t know you were coming over today.” You hear your dad's voice followed by JJ saying something you can’t quite hear. They share one of those bro hugs making your eyes roll.

JJ and the rest of the pogues have been over to your house a lot the past three weeks. While your parents loved each of your new friends, they were especially fond of the blue eyed boy that would come over by himself sometimes.

“I promised the princess some ice cream.” He winked at you when he walked into the kitchen.

“Why does that not surprise me?” Your dad smirked with a shake of his head. “Wanna stay for dinner? We’re having steaks.”

“Uh, if that’s okay?” JJs eyes look to you to make sure you are okay with this and you nod.

“Perfect, I’m going to get the grill ready.” Your dad walks out leaving the two of you standing alone in the kitchen. JJs eyes roam over your body and he lets out a low whistle.

“Wow, this uniform is something else.” His words cause you to blush.

“I know you're jealous that you don’t get to wear it every day.”

“Caught me.” He laughs and you join him. Your phone starts ringing and you check to see who it is.

Rafe

You let it ring out only for it to start ringing again with Kelce’s name.

“The powerpuff girls seem eager to talk today.” JJ comments as he takes in the flowers and your phone ringing off the hook.

“Hey, don’t call them that.” You squint your eyes at the nickname.

JJ scoffs “Like they don’t call me worse names when you tell them we’re hanging out. Do you correct them?” He questions as he steps closer to you. You bite your lip and watch as his eyes darken.

“You do correct them, right?” He asks again when you hesitate to answer.

“Well, they would have to know we hang out in order for me to do that.” You admit sheepishly.

“We’ve been hanging out for three weeks. How do they not know?” His eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. You can see his train of thought even though he hasn’t said it out loud.

Surely she’s told them about me.

“When I tell them I’m hanging out with friends they don’t ask who. They just assume it’s not the pogues and I don’t correct them.” You watch as he deflates a little at your words.

“That- Uh, I-” He stumbles over his words, hurt dancing across his eyes.

“I’m going to tell them. I was trying to avoid all the kook versus pogue bullshit they are going to spout off.” and you're not sure why you do it but you let your hand slip into his, offering a gentle squeeze hoping it comforts him.

His eyes look down to your hands, his signature smirk back on his face and all the tension in the air slowly disappears with it.

“If you wanted me to be your little secret all you had to do was ask.” His cockiness is back in full swing and you let go of his hand to shove him playfully.

“So, what type of ice cream did you bring?” You ask effectively changing the subject.

The both of you head up to your room to watch Ozark. He asked if you wanted to watch it the last time he was here. You’d never seen it before so it wasn’t a problem to put it on. A little more gore than what you were used to watching, but it was a pretty good show overall.

Next thing you know, you hear your mom hollering that dinner is ready. Your eyes flutter as they try to adjust to the setting sun shining through your window. A hand lightly caresses your arm and you snuggle a little deeper into the bed.

Your eyes pop open when you realize you're actually cuddled into someone and not the bed. The thought causes you to jerk straight up and look over at the boy laying in your bed. His blue eyes are staring back sleepily and a soft smile graces his face.

“I- I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry.” You rush out feeling that predictable blush rising on your cheeks. He reaches over and grabs your hand. His fingers linking with yours much like earlier.

“I didn’t mind it.” He admits honestly.

“Me either.” Your words are barely a whisper but he hears you. Sitting up, his eyes flick down to look at your lips then back up to you making his intentions clear. You nod, giving full permission for him to lean in. His breath hovers over your lips as he gets closer, causing your eyes to flutter shut.

“Y/n! JJ! Let’s go!” It’s your dad's voice that bellows from downstairs this time and both of you jump apart feeling like you’ve been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to.

He stares at you for a moment longer before getting up “Come on, I don’t want to upset your parents.”

You follow closely behind him heading downstairs, head still spinning over what almost just happened.

Never in a million years did you think you and JJ Maybank would be cuddled up napping together or about to share a kiss. It was a lot for you to grasp. So, you push all thoughts of what just happened out of your mind for later and try to play it cool in front of your parents.

Too bad your mom sees right through it.

taglist: @dreamsndior @rafej-cambanks @prejudic3 @katiaw2

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj obx fic #jj x y/n #sarah cameron #topper thornton #rafe cameron #kelce obx #pogues x reader #obx fic #obx x reader #soft!kooks #soft!pogues

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nastybuckybarnes · 4 years

Text

Bad Dream - Five

Pairing: Dark!Steve X Reader

Summary: A year after wiping your memory and keeping you for himself, Steve Rogers is happy. Happier than he’s ever been. With you and your daughter, life couldn’t be any better. The only problem? You’re starting to remember things.

Warnings: Smut, Angst, The plot Thickensssss

Word Count: 2K

A/n: WAYYY OVERDUE IM SORRY I SUCK. I’m lacking motivation for writing lately and it’s irritating me. Love y’all so much

!!!THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!!!

MADNESS MASTERLIST EDITED POORLY! BAD DREAM MASTERLIST

~*~

“Good Morning, sweetheart.” Steve kisses your cheek. You smile, confusion filling you at your body’s natural response to him.

Your stomach twists and flips and you push yourself into a seated position in bed.

“What’s wrong?” You shake your head at his faux concern, holding onto your stomach tightly.

“I... I need some air,” you rasp, stumbling out of bed and towards the doors leading to the balcony. You throw them open and take deep breaths, leaning your forehead down against the railing.

Steve’s footsteps follow you and you feel tears well up in your eyes, fear making your body tremble.

“What’s wrong?” He repeats, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. You flinch out from under it and let out a shaky breath. “I-I don’t know,” you whisper, trying to sound convincing. “I think I’m coming down with something. I don’t know...” He smoothes your hair back then sighs.

“Did you eat something bad?” You shake your head. His fingers still on your back as a thought enters his mind. “When was the last time you got your period?” Horror fills you and you take a few deep breaths. “It’s been about two months. I thought... nothing of it. I’ve heard of women having irregular periods after birth but...” Your mind goes back to all the times he’s fucked you in the past seven months since you had Sarah and you nearly gag.

“I... I need...” everything blurs as you try to stand back up and you fall into Steve, head spinning.

“Woah! Hey, you’re okay.” He holds you steady, brows furrowed with worry as he sees the glazed-over look in your eyes.

“Can you hear me?” You can’t answer, trying to crawl out of your skin as he helps you to the bed so you can lie down.

Tears well up in your eyes and Steve can’t help but panic, thinking he triggered the wrong thing last night.

“Honey. I need you to relax, okay?” You try to take deep breaths, if not for him then simply so you can figure out what the Hell is going on.

“What’s wrong?” You shake your head and take a few deep breaths. “I... I...” A knock on the front door cuts you off and you exhale deeply. “That’s Buck. He’s got Sarah. I’m gonna go get her and then we’re gonna see what’s wrong, okay?” You nod, watching as he gets up and walks out of the room.

Silent sobs wrack your frame as you realize what's happening to you, what he’s caused. The man who kidnapped you, wiped your memory, and raped you is going to get your daughter. The man who’s controlled you for nearly two years is holding you here against your will and there’s not a single person on the planet who’ll believe you.

~*~

“Mommy missed you so much,” you whisper, kissing Sarah on the head. She hugs you tightly, babbling nonsense into your ear while you pack your bag.

“What’s going on here?” Steve asks, frowning when he sees your stuff packed away.

“I feel homesick, I think. I want to see a doctor, find out what’s wrong.” He narrows his eyes at the shake in your voice then steps closer to you. “We’ve hardly been here. We’re going to enjoy our stay, alright? Then we’ll go home and see a doctor. But until then, I want to have fun.” He nips at your neck and you struggle to fight back tears.

Sarah chooses that exact moment to start wailing and you couldn’t be more grateful.

“She’s hungry and needs a nap,” you explain, pulling away from Steve and walking to the guest bedroom to feed her in privacy. “Where are you going?” Anger is seeping into his voice and you whimper softly.

“I-I just wanted a change of scenery. I’m sorry.” His features soften and he nods, kissing your forehead.

“I thought you were running from me.” You shake your head almost too quickly and he smiles. “Feed my daughter then put her for a nap. And... if you’re not already pregnant, I’m gonna get you full and growing my child by the end of the night.”

He leaves the room and you break down in tears, crying quietly into your hand as you sit down on the bed.

Sarah ceases her crying as soon as she latches onto your breast, but the same can’t be said for you.

How are you supposed to live knowing you’re being held captive?

Your mind goes to your father, Chief of police, and an idea starts to blossom.

~*~

“Dad? I need you to look into the reports that the Avengers put out about me. Something’s not right.” You can hear your dad moving around on the other line. “What exactly am I looking for?” He’s in business mode now.

“Anything that doesn’t seem right.” He exhales deeply. “I’ll try, kid. You safe over there?” “Yeah... for now. I need to get away from him, get out of here.” You glance over to the bathroom door, hoping that the fan, shower, and faucet are loud enough to mask the sound of you talking.

“I have to go now though. I’ll call you again soon.” You can hear him sigh again.

“Alright. I love you, kiddo. And I believe you. Please stay safe.” You sniffle, nodding to yourself. “I love you too. Talk to you soon.” You hang up and then strip until you’re naked and get into the shower.

You let the hot water run over your face, washing your salty tears away almost as fast as they appear.

It’s about ten minutes later when there’s a knock on the bathroom door.

“Sweetheart? You’ve been in here for a while.” He pops his head in and you avoid looking at him through the fogged-up glass shower doors.

“I-I just got the temperature right. I’m still not feeling the greatest.” He walks into the room and closes the door behind himself, taking his shirt off. Your heart thunders in your chest and he smiles. “You’re always so responsive.” Little does he know, your heart is racing for a very different reason than he thinks.

He rids himself of the rest of his clothes and gets into the shower behind you.

“Jesus, you always like the water so hot.” He doesn’t flinch away from the water though, instead, he steps further under it until his body is flushed against yours, hardening cock pressed against the small of your back.

An involuntary whimper of fear leaves your lips and he sighs, his mouth ghosting over your neck.

“The things you do to me...” His arms wrap around your midsection and you feel your body's reaction to him. Warmth builds in your core and you shift backwards, leaning into his embrace with little reluctance.

“I’m gonna fuck that tight pussy of yours. Make sure you’re pregnant. And you’re gonna take it, aren't you?” Your head jerks up and down, new tears filling your eyes as your body yearns for something that your mind wants to get away from. One of his hands comes up to hold your throat while the other trails down between your legs, sliding through the slick that’s gathered there.

You feel ashamed of the way you want him, the way your body’s been programmed to want him, but you can’t do anything to stop the soft moan of pleasure that leaves your lips when he slides two thick fingers inside of you.

“You like that? You like it when I fuck your greedy cunt with my fingers?” You make no move to answer and he squeezes your throat in warning. “You’d better fucking answer me when I ask you a question. Tell me how much you like it when I finger your pussy.” You choke on a moan as he curls his fingers and hits your g-spot, water stinging your eyes.

“I-I love it so much when you f-fuck my pussy with your fingers.” The words taste like acid and you feel absolute mortification fill you as you say them.

“Yeah, you love it. My good girl likes it when I fuck her little pussy. I’m gonna fucking destroy your cunt with my cock and you’re gonna like every second of it, aren’t you?” You nod, squeezing your eyes shut as he pushes you against the shower wall.

“Yeah, you are. Cause you’re daddy’s good girl, aren’t you?” You fight the urge to cringe as you nod again, biting your bottom lip when he pulls his fingers out of you.

He pulls his hands away from you for a moment, just to spin you around and face him. You look up at him with fear in your eyes and he feels himself harden.

In an instant, your legs are hiked up on his arms and you can’t help the squeak the leaves you at the quick movement.

He holds you against the wall, arms keeping your legs up as he backs up a couple of inches, eyes trailing over your body. You’re completely at his mercy (which you know he won’t grant) and he inspects the way you’re opened up to him, utterly vulnerable. He stands dominant as ever, eyes dark with lust as he steps back to you, hard cock sliding through your folds and bumping your clit.

You moan and grasp his shoulders, eyelids fluttering shut at the intense feeling.

“Look at you. Already a desperate mess for my cock. Pathetic.” You don’t want to open your eyes. Don't want to look at his face. So instead, you throw your head back a bit more, letting the hot water rush over your face.

“Don’t worry, I wanna be inside you.” He slides through your folds once more then pushes inside of you, groaning as your walls flutter to accommodate his size.

He stills inside of you for a moment, leaning forward to press kisses to your neck. You take a few deep breaths, water getting into your mouth as you moan softly.

“You always feel so good around my cock. Always so tight.”

You arch your back subconsciously, walls squeezing his cock in a silent plea for movement.

“You want me to fuck your pussy good, huh? Want me to fuck another baby into that tight cunt?” You nod breathlessly, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders, leaving bright red crescent moons that are so so close to drawing blood.

“Fuck, you feel so good around me, your cunt was made to be fuckin’ wrecked by my cock.”

You bring your fist to your mouth, trying desperately to muffle your moans as he starts thrusting inside of you, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that would come with knowing he’s so close to making you come.

“Come on baby, you know you can’t hide your pleasure from me. You know I’ll fuck the moans out of your pretty little mouth.” He starts thrusting harder, each time hitting the spot inside of you that makes you see stars. You can’t hold back, and a loud moan leaves your lips as his thrusts slam you into the wall.

The pain brings you so much closer to the edge and you squeeze your eyes shut, teeth grinding as you try to focus on the coil tightening in your belly and not the man causing it.

“You gonna cum, baby? You gonna cum all over my cock?” He’s huffing hot pants of air onto your neck while he fucks you hard.

“Do it. Cum all over my dick.” Hot tears drip down your cheeks and you cum hard on his cock, muscles spasming as intense waves of pleasure roll through your body.

He fucks into you even harder, the tightening of your cunt around him sending him over the edge. His cum fills you and he grunts softly in your ear, body pressed tight against yours.

Silent tears stream down your cheeks and you have to hold back sobs as Steve stays glued to your body.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. So perfect for me, sweetheart. You’re mine, you know that, right? Mine forever. Nothing can change that.” You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, hopelessness sinking into your bones.

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