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ynscrazylife · 3 years

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Hey !! i love ur writing style <3 i wanted to ask you if you could write a loki x reader where the reader and loki have been best friends for a long time now and after he faked his death in tdw he knocks on their door and the reader and loki have an argument and then they kiss?? maybe like the scene in crimson peak “you lied to me” “i did” “you told me you loved me” “i do” smth similar? :)

The Greatest Deception | loki angst fluff fic

Summary: After Loki reveals himself to be alive, Y/N has some choice words to say. Loki has a question.

Authors Note: Thanks for requesting! Also, I want to say that I fully support and acknowledge that Loki is genderfluid. Seeing as this fic was requested with Loki having he/him pronouns, I will use those pronouns. (Also, I didn’t know which pronouns you wanted me to write since you mentioned they for the reader but typically I use she/her, so lemme know if you want that edited)

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 | Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

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“Lady Y/N?”

The voice was muffled through the door and the one in question rolled from her side and onto her stomach as she laid in her bed. A low groan emitted from the creature whose limbs were tangled in the blanket and sheets.

. . .

“Lady Y/N?”

A short knock-knock accompanied the repeating words, and Y/N had a feeling of that the lovely woman who she’d love to talk to at any other time wouldn’t stop until she replied.

She pulled herself into a sitting position, smoothed over her unruly hair, and finally pulled the covers up so her pajamas wouldn’t be seen and called out, “Come in!”

The woman opened the door and sent her a sheepish smile. “The All-Father has requested your present, ma’am,” she informed her.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Do you know the reason as to why?” She quizzed.

The woman spared a quick, darting glance at Y/N’s window. “Well, the All-Father has requested all of the palace’s royals and higher-ups to gather in the courtyard. He is gathering local citizens for a, ah, play, and more would like, in this words, his ‘most esteemed confidants to enjoy,’,” she answered, subtly bouncing her weight from one foot to the other.

Y/N thought for a moment. This was the first time she was hearing that the King was holding a play — not to mention, the fact that the last play (if you could even call it that, because by Heimdall’s recounting it was horrific) was held before any of the children of Odin were born.

Just thinking about that caused a twinge to hit her stomach and for it to twist up. Loki. Odin’s youngest child and the one that had most recently left her, as he sacrificed herself to save his vaillant brother, Prince Thor. It had been weeks, maybe even a month, since Y/N had heard the news and had been resorted to a lonely, saddened version of herself. Loki was her best friend, the person she trusted more than anything and—no, no, who was she kidding? He’s more than that, and he deserves to be remembered as more than that by her.

He’s also the one that she loves, and has loved for at least the past year when she realized it.

Nonetheless, she had taken many steps to get through the grief of Loki’s dead — as had his father — and she wasn’t going to let all her hard work crumble down on one, singular thought.

“Very well, then. Please inform the All-Father that I will be there shortly, thank you,” she said.

The woman nodded and bowed her head before exiting.

Once the door had been fully shut and she could hear footsteps no more, Y/N crossed over to her window and drew back the curtains, not having missed the look at said window.

The sunlight poured into her room but the stage was indeed sent. Rows of fine chairs sat with rows of fine people in them. In front, Odin stood with a red curtain drawn closed behind him. His arms were gesturing wildly and he had a big grin on his face as he gave his speech.

Despite the curiosity that itched into Y/N’s face, she pushed it aside. She had never seen the King conduct himself in such ways, but alas, everyone grieved differently. So, she closed the curtains and got dressed for the day ahead.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

The moment Y/N stepped outside, she could’ve sworn that there was already long beads of sweat trailing down her skin. She let out a huff but journeyed on towards the courtyard, as this formal royal wear was necessary and she had no intention of pissing off Sir Snotty-Dickhead — as she called him (he had some fancy and long name she couldn’t remember, in her defense) — who was Odin’s right hand man.

By the time she got there, Odin was still rambling on with his speech, but his sudden notice of Y/N saved the guests from boredom.

“Aha, the guest of honor! Lady Y/N, herself,” Odin announced, bringing his hands together in a clap and gesturing for her to come toward him.

She betrayed herself and her cheeks involuntarily reddened as all eyes laid on her. She approached Odin and curtsied out of respect, but her mind was full of wonderings of why she, of all, would be singled out.

“I’m sure you all know who Lady Y/N is, yes?” He began, briefly pausing before continuing. “If you sadly do not, let me tell you. Lady Y/N had been a friend of the royal family, specifically my child, Loki’s—” the name caused her to suck in a sharp breath, “—and she was granted the title of Lady to uphold the image of the palace and to complete very important Asgardian duties.”

Once he stopped talking and the crowd clapped politely, Y/N took the opportunity she was presented before it’s door could close and quickly went and sat in her seat, the only seat not occupied yet, in the front row.

Odin then began speaking against whilst he walked to the side, “Speaking of my dear child Loki, this play that has been put together is one designed to honor him and his heroic sacrifice. Without further ado . . . ” He let his words trail off, and the red curtain pulled open.

Y/N’s face contorted into surprise at the words, not expecting this to take place. Again, she reminded herself, everyone grieved differently, so she decided to give it a chance. However, as the play went on, she was quick to realize that honoring Loki wasn’t the intention here. The horrid acting could be excused but Odin himself allowing this mockery of how Loki died? Of how he sacrificed himself? Well, with every second that passed, her face heated more and more — and not due to the sweat — and she grit her teeth, just barely refraining from yelling.

The worst part for her came though when the actor who played Loki did a dramatic reenactment of his sacrificed and the actor who played Thor did the worst fake crying ever. Y/N turned to the others, expecting them to be just as enraged as she was, but was floored to find that no—they were laughing. And not just that, but Odin was having himself a chuckle as well!

Her fingers tightly gripped the edges of her chair and she forced herself to look straight ahead, just about able to hold in her tears until the play was over and the actors bowed.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Afterwards, while everyone was standing and giving Odin rounds and rounds of praises, Y/N stayed rooted in her seat. She couldn’t just let this go by as if it were nothing, but she was struggling to compose herself to confront him.

After a couple minutes of going back-and-forth, she decided, screw composure. She didn’t have to be composed. She was allowed to be angry.

So, she stood up and marched straight for him.

“All-Father,” Y/N said through grit teeth, forcing herself to curtesy, “I request your company in private, if I may.”

It took Odin a moment to tear himself away from accepting his latest comment, but the way he quickly glanced over at Y/N, she knew that he had not noticed — or perhaps he did not care — the state she was in.

“My apologies, Lady Y/N, but should I depart now, I fear I shall upset my comrades!” Odin said, ending his comment in a boastful joy, which resulted in laughter and cheers.

He didn’t wait for her response before engaging in another conversation, and Y/N’s lips remained tightly shut until she decided to just go forth and let her stuffed-up emotions out.

“Fine. I will say it in front of everyone, then!” She said, firmly and loudly, gaining everyone’s attention. “That was a pathetic excuse to remember Loki . . . It was an insult! You mocked him, your own child! How could you even— I . . . I just don’t understand . . . He sacrificed himself for your son and for Asgard and this is how you repay him? God. I expected much, much more from you for him because I . . . Let’s just say that we both love Loki, in our own ways, and I-I . . . I am very disappointed.”

Wanting to flee from the tears that were now streaming down her face and from the silence that was pounding, she turned around and she walked away, the realization that she had just confessed her love in front of everyone hitting her.

“Lady Y/N!”

Odin’s words stopped her in her tracks, but she did not turn around. Just stood. Waited.

“He told Thor, before he passed, that he, uh . . . He loved you, too.”

Y/N stared straight ahead, her hand jutting out to grab the pillar next to her to steady herself.

Loki loved her?

She didn’t stop the tears from coming this time. She let them, and the sobs, overwhelm her.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

“Lady Y/N?”

The voice and the knock were much more stiff than they were this morning.

“Come in.”

Her response was devoid of emotion, much more curt than it was this morning.

The same woman turned the door’s knob and opened it, sending Y/N, who was curled up on her bed, head nestled into her knees, a wary look. “The All-Father has requested your presence at his quarters,” she said.

Y/N let out a small huff, in no mood to talk to the King after what had happened. She forced her head up and gazed boredom at the woman. “Is it an emergency?” She deadpanned.

The woman looked around the room and by her lack of response, Y/N knew that either she didn’t know or didn’t want to say.

She sighed. “I will be there shortly,” she said.

The woman nodded and wordlessly left.

After she did, Y/N stood up and went in front of her mirror, taking in her appearance. Her once brushed hair was now frizzy and in knots and her eyes were puffy and red. Angrily, she practically tore the hairbrush through her hair and dabbed at her eyes with makeup until the red could be seen no more. She had no intention of letting him see her this way.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Screw formalities, Y/N thought, as she walked straight into Odin’s quarters which composed of a small living room, a bedroom down the hall, an office, and a bathroom. She didn’t bother to curtsy or announce her presence.

When he finally and gradually turned around from whatever he was doing, a slight look of shock crossed his features, before he replaced it with a warm smile. “Y/N!” He said, but quickly corrected himself, “Lady Y/N.”

Y/N frowned and crossed her arms. “I hope that you have called me here to apologize,” she said, an icy edge to her voice.

Odin nonetheless looked at her kindly. “In a way, yes,” he vaguely said, before a magical transformation underwent before her.

His wrinkles disappeared, his beard disappeared, his grey hair turned jet black, and his clothes transformed into his usual wear.

No longer was the All-Father standing in front of her, but her best friend. The one she loved.

Taken by utter shock, Y/N instinctively stumbled back, her jaw dropping and her eyes widening. “What the hell is this?” She gasped out, not wanting to believe it at first. It was a cruel trick — it must be! There was no way.

“It’s me,” the mischievous deity said, a rare softness to his voice and in his eyes. He took a step forward, but then stopped himself. “I never died, I only impersonated my father.”

Y/N stared at him, angry tears coming to her eyes once more. “How?” She forced out, thinking that maybe she was dreaming. “Why?”

Loki looked around, slightly dumbfounded, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to question him. “I wanted the throne,” he answered, as if it were obvious and a perfectly acceptable reason.

Y/N stared at him as if he had grown two heads. To her, he might as well have.

“Oh, really? So you take over your father, trick everyone - me, your brother - into believing that you’re dead, you banish Sif . . . All because you wanted the goddamn throne?” She cried.

The cluelessness left his eyes and replaced itself with guilt, regret pooling inside him. He looked down, shoulders falling with a sigh.

“I’ve felt guilty tricking you ever since it had all went down. I wanted to tell you but, honestly, a part of me didn’t think you’d be that upset over my death. But you were really, so upset and I . . . I was lost. I didn’t know what to do. All I wanted to do was hug you and tell you that it was fine, that I was here, but I thought I’d screw up your emotions and hurt you even more,” he admitted.

Y/N just looked at him, her frown growing deeper. “That’s an awful excuse,” she hissed out, words laced with venom.

Loki immediately snapped his head up to look at her and his gaze held desperateness. “It’s not an excuse,” he said quickly. “It shouldn’t be. I’m . . . I’m so sorry. The last thing I ever wanted to was to trick you, and . . . I did. But today was the final straw. I couldn’t continue like that.”

Y/N took a step forward, having an inner battle in herself on whether or not to forgive him. “You lied to me,” she reiterated bluntly.

Loki nodded guiltily. “I did,” he agreed in a small voice.

She took a pause, taking in a deep breath. “You told me you loved me,” she added.

There was a brief moment of silence before Loki said, in the same small way but a little more firm now, “I do.”

Y/N kept walking, not even fully sure or convinced of what she was doing, but knowing that she needed to do it, until she was standing just inches away from him. They looked at each other for a couple moments, neither saying anything, until Y/N wrapped her arms around Loki. He returned the embrace.

“Never do that to me again!” She yelled through the tears that were now coming. God, was she tired of crying. Especially today.

Loki hugged her tighter, his own tears falling. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, and repeated that over, and over, and over again. “I’m an idiot.”

Y/N leaned back and cupped his face with her hands. The love she had for him overwhelmed her pain, and more than anything she needed him now. Besides, she could see his guilt. She could see the truth shining in his eyes. He wouldn’t do anything like this again, because he loved her. And she loved him.

“At least you’re self-aware,” she whispered through a sniff, taking a page out of his book with her joking remark. Before he could quip back (and she was sure he’d have an excellent one), she leaned forward and captured his lips in his a kiss. Loki smiled against her lips and wrapped his arms around her waist.

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geraltofriviasleftbuttcheek · 3 years

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It takes Jaskier three days to find out Geralt is his soulmate.

After the whole thing with the elves, he follows the witcher to the next town, ostensibly to debut his musical genius, but also because—well. He just finds Geralt of Rivia to be the most interesting person he's ever met. Jaskier is drawn, first and foremost, to interesting people with stories to tell, and Geralt, as he'd said that first day, is just full of stories waiting to be told.

He sings Toss A Coin to much warmer reception than he's gotten yet in backwater towns like this, and Geralt comes back from a contract for some creature bleeding out his intestines and looking like he'd rolled in every single mud puddle on the way back.

"Did you go out of your way to jump in every puddle you saw?" he asks, face screwed up in disgust as he helps the witcher up the stairs to the room he'd rented with his new earnings. "If you were thinking to clean the blood off, you didn't do a very good job."

Geralt just grunts, slumped against him and breathing through his nose in a way that seems very concentrated. His eyes are very black, like pitch, and there are veins spidering their way over his cheeks. He's also much, much paler than Jaskier has seen so far, and for a brief moment, he wonders if he's going to watch one of very few witchers left in the world perish on the spot from some poison or other.

That would certainly cock up his plans to give the sod an image makeover, and he says as much as he watches, with concerned bemusement, as Geralt struggles to get his armor off to check on his wounds.

"Do you ever shut up?" Geralt finally asks, squinting at him. He yanks a vambrace off and tosses it aside, teeth gritting as it pulls at his wound. It's too dark in the room with all of the witcher's black clothes to see just how much blood there is, even with all the candlelight.

Jaskier huffs in offense and puts his hands on his hips. "I wouldn't have to if you weren't so silent all the time. Honestly, it's like you don't know how a conversation works."

"I don't want to have a conversation with you."

"Tough shit," Jaskier says, and finally steps forward to help. "Gods, maybe you should just climb into the bath like this. Might soften up the coagulating blood in your shirt to let you take it off. Here, c'mon. You're disgusting, and I might have to throw up from the smell alone."

Geralt gives him another look but doesn't argue when Jaskier helps him up and over to the bath. The water is only lukewarm now, but it's clean, and that seems to do it for a nasty, gross, blood-covered witcher.

He splashes in with little other fanfare, and then Jaskier jumps away as Geralt makes a strange motion with his hand and the water starts to steam. He stares in awe as the witcher settles in with a content sigh.

"How did—what was that?" he asks, curiosity brimming. "How did you do that? Witcher magic, obviously, but what was that?"

Geralt opens one pitch black eye to look at him. The spidery veins are starting to recede, barely. "Witcher magic," he deadpans, and Jaskier makes a face at him. There's the smallest, tiniest curve of his mouth, though—the bastard is smiling.

"Ha ha," Jaskier shoots back, sitting beside the tub. He dangles his hand in to feel the water now pleasantly, muscle-relaxingly hot. "Keep your secrets, then. I'll get them out of you one day."

"Will you, now," Geralt teases—teases! Melitele, the man has a sense of humor.

Jaskier just sniffs primly and stands up again, moving to grab some of his soaps and oils. "I will indeed, witcher. Now—which one of these do you like best?"

Geralt grumbles and scrunches his nose at all but two of the soaps (the unscented ones, he should have known), complaining how they're too much for his senses right now, heightened as they are with the potion he'd taken earlier—also the reason for his current black-eyed state. Jaskier is fascinated by that, of course, and immediately starts asking him about the contract, how it went, what he'd fought, what other potions he has in his arsenal.

He just—he wants to know. Geralt is intriguing and fascinating and interesting and there's just something about him that draws Jaskier in and makes him want to know everything.

To his surprise, the witcher, while brief about it, does indulge him and give him a bit of a retelling of the fight as Jaskier helps him out of his shirt finally and washes his hair, combing out the gore and tangles. He gets a bit more about the mechanics of making witcher potions and what ingredients go into them, and a bit on the habits of the creatures—drowners, it turns out—and how they compare to other beasties he faces.

Jaskier files away the thought that Geralt prefers talking about the gentle, everyday things in his life over the blood and death and fighting. He wants to keep that for himself, he thinks.

He's so caught up in this quiet revelation that he doesn't realize he's let his hands fall to strong shoulders, fingertips brushing delicately, feather-light over scarred skin, until he notices a bright spot of color from the corner of his eye. He looks down reflexively and feels himself still, sucking in a sharp, startled breath.

Geralt with his witcher senses notices immediately, body tensing up under his touch. "What."

Jaskier, rare as it is in his life, can't seem to find his words. He watches, gobsmacked, as a trail of soft light blue follows the places he touches the witcher. It shimmers as he moves his fingers, like the tail of a star shooting across the sky, almost glowing, and he's mesmerized.

It's not the having of a soulmate that's rare—most people do, in fact, and many times even multiple ones—compatibility is always in flux, after all—it's the Color Touch that most people never get to experience. One in every one hundred thousand people will be lucky enough to find the person—or persons—that will show their Color Touch.

It's the presence of a bond so immediately strong that it manifests to the naked eye.

"What is it," Geralt repeats, tone sharp. "What the fuck are you—"

He sits up in the bath, as if to move away from Jaskier, but Jaskier keeps him in place, sliding his fingers down to his forearm where Geralt can see the trail of color left in his touch's wake. He feels the witcher still, eyes—no longer pitch black, now back to their normal, beautiful gold color, the spidery veins gone—boring into the places Jaskier's fingers leave spots of blue as he dances them up and down his pale skin.

"Impossible," Geralt breathes, but it sounds more like he's talking to himself.

He reaches out and grasps Jaskier's wrist, stilling his movements, and when Jaskier gently pulls out of his hold they watch as the burnished gold color he leaves behind shimmers for a few heartbeats before fading away again slowly.

"Impossible," Geralt repeats, just as soft, and finally, Jaskier finds his voice again. He laughs, breathless and excited.

"Oh, my dear, I don't think 'impossible' is a word that's familiar with you," he says.

He smiles when Geralt turns wide, wary eyes on him, full of a hidden, repressed hope, reaching out and trailing his fingers over the witcher's jaw, once again mesmerized by the blue of his own Color Touch. "I knew from the moment I saw you there was something special about you, Geralt of Rivia, and I wanted in on it."

Geralt swallows thickly at that, throat bobbing as Jaskier's fingers caress over it. He looks away, clenching his jaw. "I'm not a fan of Destiny," he grits out. Jaskier feels him lean into his touch, though, almost instinctively.

"Can't say I am, either," Jaskier agrees. "Doing what I'm told has never been one of my strong suits. I prefer making it up as I go, and to hell with the rest."

It gets a snort of laughter out of the witcher, the tense lines of his body relaxing back into the warm bathwater. They'll be alright, he thinks.

Jaskier can't help but lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, though, just to see if that leaves a Color Touch, too.

It does.

#the witcher #geraskier #fics.#time for my monthly reappearance on this hellsite #just to post this single fic and fuck right back off lksdjf #anyway have some soff soulmate fluff <3

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kayxleeee · 3 years

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Loki Laufeyson:Delusions (Loki x Reader)

Warning: NONE! Slight Mean + Sad Loki

A/N: Love this one! I always feel so bad for Loki in Thor The Dark World :(

Summary: After Loki returns to Asgard he is immediately sent to prison for his crimes on Earth. Unfortunate events occur when Asgard is under attack and you just want nothing more than to check in on your beloved.

Word Count: 2k+

*NOT MY GIF* Do not copy my work

The news of Loki return to Asgard was both worrisome and exciting. There were rumors being spread about that he was returning as a fugitive for the destruction of not only earth, but the crimes that he had committed against Asgard. You of course found yourself just happy to know that he was alive. He may not had been well, but sure he was very much alive.

Living. Breathing. Speaking.

Out of all Thor’s closest friends, you and Loki bounded the most, which caused you solely, to develop feelings for him. These feelings would lead to a sever fallout between you and your warrior companions. With Loki’s criminal accusations, hate and critism came from many, especially from Sif and Fandral. For you to still think highly of him,--well you were considered a traitor in their eyes.

When he returned you were forbidden to pay him any visits. Odin also ordered that the only visitors Loki received were of kin and even those visits were kept very minimal. Now with the unbearable news of Frigga’s death you worried about his sanity even more than before.

The queen has been deceased for a few days now, Thor was easily consoled by Jane’s presents and the support of the Asgardian people who were also mourning their queen. However no one was concerned for the fallen prince, except for you. You knew that his crimes were severe, but nothing was more torturous than knowing of your mothers death and there is nothing for you to do because you are locked away without even the slightest hope of saying goodbye.

For days you try to receive information on the location of where Loki was being held. You are a warrior of Asgard, you should have known these things, but because of your so-called bias-ness for the Prince of Mischief you weren’t allowed. Your inquiries about Loki’s whereabouts in the palace were extremely noticeable and you received a lot of animosity for it, especially from Lady Sif. She called you stupid and selfish for wanting to see him. You were also accused of not having any dignity or self respect. No one would tell you directly where Loki was being held, but with enough sneaking around the palace, you finally over heard a few guards speaking of his whereabouts.

With the common criminals.

You have been watching two sets of guards for more than an hour. You wanted to slip past them undetected, but you needed to wait for the perfect moment. You weren't one of the most skilled warriors in fighting but you were known for your intelligence and abilities to be clever in any situation. The plan was for you to create a diversion to get the guards away from the staircase leading down to the dungeons. You knew that since the palace had been attacked from the inside out the guards would be on high alert. You cast a large stone, breaking a window to which the guards attention is drawn to the noise. They run into the direction of the shattering glass. As you sneak past them, the memories of Stif warning you fills your mind as you flip into the entrance running down the concrete staircase as quickly as possible.

“It’ll be the last thing you do” She threatened.

“He is a prisoner, he knows his crime.” She scoffed

“If you go to him, we will know where your loyalties lie.”

“Loki cares nothing about you, he is a man who cares simply for himself.”

You reach the bottom of the large steps, hoping you were turning down the correct corridor as you ran quickly. You notice on your way that the majority of the cells are completely empty. This worried you, but did not stop you from searching for him. You luckily reach his location without any mishaps.

“Loki!” You announce breathlessly watching as he paced around the small room with his back turned away from you.

His cell was tidy, clean as if he had not touched a single thing. He had all of his things that brought him comfort; fancy furniture, books, papers, and pens. You knew that Loki loved to read because the two of you spent the majority’s of your time together in the library. You felt at ease knowing that he at least had that. This was of course curtsy of the Queen; she asked for these items. Although he was being punished, the only thing she wanted for her dear son was that he was comfortable in his confinement no matter what he had done.

“What is it ?!” He snapped turning around to face you. He took heed in your presence and then pressed his lips into a thin line. “Ah, Lady (Y/n).” He greets you calmly, then an amused grin appears on his face. “Here to tell me the mighty King has passed on too?”

His comment took you by surprise, you assumed he would be just as grateful to see you, as you were to see him.

“Don’t be so morbid Loki!” You cut him off with offense frowning your face in confusion. “With the news of your mother passing, I would think you’d have far-more compassion for your family, for Asgard.”

“My family.” He repeats, mocking your charismatic tone placing his hand over his chest. “My Family is not here on Asgard. My family are no more than those disgusting vile creatures you fight and kill.”

“Loki I know you’re hurting, I know you have all this anger built up, but you have to know that you do have family and loved ones here on Asgard.” You say subtlety hinting at yourself. “I did not come here to be mocked.” You say in a calming voice as he walks over to you.

You place a hand on the enchanted glass as you look up to his figure continuing to speak. “I am not one for your dramatics, I just wanted to see how you were holding up.”

“Holding up?” He lets out a malice laugh. “Ha! Holding up?! I am locked in a cage like an animal!”

You slam your fist against the glass in annoyance realizing your loving reunion was falling flat. You did not come here to argue with this man, you didn’t even plan far enough to think of exactly what you wanted to say, but it was never envisioned like this.

“And who’s fault is that Loki?! Who’s fault!?” You snap matching his dramatic tone.

“My own! For trusting idiots!” He yells back and you can’t help but think what idiots he were referring to. He continues, “Why are you even down here, Odin forbade anyone from seeing me, you can’t be THAT stupid. Or perhaps you want to cast more stones?”

“Cast stones?— I came here as a friend Loki. All this worrying I did for you, all the tears and regrets. I risked my own life and freedom by coming down here” You scoff rolling your eyes at his demeanor. “Just to be spat on by you?”

“Better I to you, then you to me.” He laughs.

“That is your problem, you always think people want to hurt you just as bad as you want to hurt them! Look at you and your brother, he mourned you, we all did, and you go and do this? Destroy and take over the only place he loves. What did you gain?!”

“Oh bullshit! That place was nothing, but a pathetic little wasteland! They needed ORDER.”

“They needed no such thing Loki, YOU needed a sense of belonging.” You say with emphasis.

“My god you’re just as delusional as my brother .” He laughs.

“Delusional?!” You yell.

“Yes.” He says calmly, pleased at how angry he was making you. He walks away and sits on his couch crossing his legs and resting his arms on top of them. “D-e-l-u-s-i-o-n-a-l, delusional.”

As he walked away you noticed a single error in his walk as if it all was an illusion. Something that only someone who knew Loki would catch if they payed close enough attention.

“Enough, no more illusions Loki. Show me your true state, I know you are not this heartless. The only person who stands here delusional is you!”

With that, what you thought was the real Loki fades away in shimmers. A much sadder scene formed before you. The cell becomes a mess, with the once neat furniture, either broken or distorted across the room. The scuff marks on the walls concluded that he had thrown the furniture with immense force. His beloved books were ripped and torn to shreds, and his once neat clothes tattered and disheveled. Your eyes meet his saddened pale figure sitting on the floor near something he recently broken. Fresh blood oozes down his foot as the glass that was lodge in him is discarded next to him on the floor.

“IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED TO SEE!? A BROKEN MAN YOU SEE !?” His unruly hair falls into his face as he screams at the top of his lungs, veins bulging from his neck.

You immediately go to the side panel that unlocks the cell, running to his aid. You kneel beside him where there is not much debris, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug. He barriers himself deep into your neck letting out a silent sob. You hold him close as if you never wanted to let him go.

“I am here Loki.” You whisper to him placing a kiss to the top of his head.

You have never in your seen the Prince so weak, so fragile, so upset, so venerable. This all must have taken a huge toll on him, you couldn’t imagine what he was going through.

“ I did not want this for myself, I did not want this, not for her.” He says lowly as his voice breaks.

“I know.” You rub his back softly. “But you have to know that she loved you unconditionally with all her being, Loki.”

“I-, I don’t believe that.” He sighs with a hint of hesitation in his voice. “No one could ever.”

“That should not be hard to believe because I do, I love you too, I love you unconditionally.”

“You love me?” Asked confused he pulls away from your embrace looking at you with puffy red eyes.

“Yes.” You admit.

“You surely love as a friend correct?” He questions with squinted eyes.

“More.” You place a hand on his cheek giving him a small reassuring smile. “I’ve always loved you Loki, more than a companion, way before any of this.”

He places his hand over yours, giving you a weak smile, then leans in to kiss you. You were surprised , but quickly adapted the new feeling. The kiss was sweet and slow, so slow it felt as if time had stopped. He pulls away resting his forehead against yours.

“This probably is the best news I’ve received all week.” He says with a light chuckle. "I'm so sorry."

You smile pecking his lips once more before speaking again.

“I hope you know that for me to love you unconditionally, that I know who you are deep down. I know you aren’t all bad. I know that you had your reasons for going to earth and ruining New York, just as you had reasons for all the mayhem you have created. What was it ?” You say attempting to have him open up more.

“My reasoning ?” He asked in an unsure voice. “ I do not know.” He concluded turning way to look forward as if he was thinking.

“I find that very hard to believe Loki.” You say resting your head on his shoulder, taking his hand. “But I’m here whenever you’re ready to open up.”

It was true, you never thought Loki was all bad, you knew that there had to be reasons behind his mischief and misunderstanding. A few minutes passed of the two of you just being in one another’s presents. You imagined in other circumstances, this is how Thor felt when he Jane, as if nothing else matter other than the fact that they had each other.

“It…. His name was Thanos, after I fell from the birfrost—” He finally spoke, but it was short lived.

“(Y/n)!” You hear Thor shout from the other end of the cell interrupting. He states at the two of you intensely.

“Thor it is not what is seems.” You say imagining Lady Sif would soon be on her was as well.

“You are not in trouble (Y/n), but I need to speak to my brother, alone.”

You turn your attention back to Loki and he nods patting your hand. The two of you get up and Loki weakly walks you over to the entrance of the cell that you previously came through.

“We can talk later, you know I’ll be here.” He looks at you with a knowing grin placing another kiss on your lips, before Turing to his brother.

You nod turning away to leave the two alone to talk. You had hopes that one day you and Loki could somehow be together, and finish that conversation, but today was clearly not that day.

#loki x reader #loki fluff #loki x you #loki x black!reader #mcu fanfiction #loki laufeyson #thor and loki #thor x reader #thor the dark world #tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston x reader #loki x y/n #loki headcanon #loki of asgard #tom hiddelston imagine #mcu loki #marvel #black reader x avenger #mcu bwww

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zealous-whispers-of-us-redux · 3 years

Text

a different kind of song

(A/N: no one ever asked for this, but there isn't enough merman!Bucky/reader fics out there, lol. Also, her song is basically "Siren Song" by Margaret Atwood)

Warning- allusions to sexual assault. Do NOT read if that bothers you!

Summary: The sea swallowed her whole, and she was reborn with saltwater on her tongue and webs between her fingers.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

She did not remember her life as a human. All she remembered was the war, and the hunger, and the men raiding her village. She remembered the sweat-soaked skin of a warrior snatching her up as she cried out for help. She felt the slide of his body, his blade against her throat. Then when he had finished, she remembered being thrown away into the deepest part of the sea, left to die. But she was blessed by the primordial sea god Phorcys, a child of Artemis, and was allowed to live again. Her new body was formed from misery and blood, and the reward for her suffering was eternal life with the chance to kill as many humans as she wished with no divine interference. The killing of human men, for men were the chosen victims of any siren. Women were not drawn in by their song, and if, by chance, a woman stumbled across a siren, that siren would leave her alone.

Slowly, she began to forget the trappings of humanity, the sound of her mother's voice, and the taste of human food. She aged with the world, hidden deep beneath the waves. Countless men fell prey to her beautiful song, and she learned how to kill quickly. She grew to love the taste of flesh, the sound of someone drowning. She forgot what it was like to be lonely.

Now, she only knew starvation.

An all-encompassing hunger clawing at her belly made her whine with pain. Humans had avoided this part of the sea for a few years, and she last ate three months ago. She'd had to survive solely on fish, which, while technically food, were not filling nor even tasty. She was beginning to hate fish.

There were no boats; she checked three times in the past hour. It was dangerous for her to be so close to the surface because the air outside was toxic. There was also a very likely chance that she would be spotted by anyone who could harm her. But she was so hungry that she forgot herself. She floated just beneath the surface and sang, letting her voice ring out through the water, enticing any man into approaching. The setting sun shined down on the outcrop of rocks above her.

And there! A flash of something!

She sang louder, opening her eyes underwater. There was a man with darker hair than she had ever seen lying on a gigantic rock. He was acceptable, she guessed. She barely knew what that meant.

He had yet to notice her, dumb as he was. She could see her song was affecting him as his eyes started to close, and his hand inched unconsciously closer to the water. His finger just barely skimmed the surface before she lunged, yanking him into the sea with her. He began to fight back as she dragged him down to the sandy bottom. Thrashing against her hold, he scrabbled to gain purchase on her body, but to no avail. Her skin was as hard as stony coral and difficult to cut. She sang her trumph, mocking him as she brought him up to break the surface, only to bring him right back down.

But this man had a tail, and she did not realize it until it hit her in the face. She squawked in surprise, her song cutting off. The merman twisted out of her slackened grip. She snarled, baring her teeth as she swam at him. Sirens were stronger than mer, especially in deeper waters, so it did not take much to grab him again. They wrestled, flipping over each other. She sliced his side with one of her nails; his tail knocked the wind out of her. He pulled her lure too hard, and she made a pained sound, biting at his hand. He cried out as she ate clean through one of his webs. Blood leaked into the water, making her ravenous.

"This is the one song everyone would like to learn: the song that is irresistible," she began, "The song that forces men to leap overboard in squadrons, even though they see the beached skulls!"

The merman ceased struggling. He stared at her, his eyes growing vast and dreamy. She grinned toothily. She had only had mer meat once before. It was harder to draw in mermen than human men, so because of that, she was only able to entice a single merman. But that was years ago, and he wasn't nearly as delicious to look at as this mer.

She dropped the tone of her voice to a seductive curl. "This is the song that nobody knows because anyone who has heard it is dead, and others can't remember. Shall I tell you a secret? And if I promise to, will you come nearer? I will tell my secret to you, to you, only to you. Come closer, closer to me."

She lifted her finger, tempting him to come over so that she could take a bite. The merman swam closer until their chests were pressed together. He said something in a language that she had never heard before.

"This song is a cry for help, my dear. Help me! Only you, only you can, for you are unique!" she cried sadly.

His tail curled around hers, and she frightened at the gentle touch broken out of her song. She spat and gnashed her teeth, but still, his tail stayed where it was. He opened his mouth and said something, but she still could not understand. She went to bite his nose off, but he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers so plainly that she stilled. She was not sure what was happening. She was not sure what she was supposed to be doing. She floated there, letting him mash his mouth against hers. His mouth tasted bizarre.

Finally, the merman stopped. He pulled away only minutely, still looking spellbound. Strange. Her song had ended. Why did he continue to look at her like that? He reached out and lifted her chin to meet his eyes. His own were darting back and forth across her face, searching for something. He spoke more things that she didn't understand.

"Uhh-h- hello," the merman said in a language she could understand. "Hi."

"Why were you crushing your mouth onto mine?" she asked.

"What, never heard of kissin' before?"

His smile was much too pleasant. That was unacceptable. Food was never supposed to look nice. She wanted to claw the smile right off of his face.

"Kissing?"

"Yeah, touchin' lips. Usually done as a sign of love or, you know, desire."

"Desire?"

"Sweet Thetis, you're fuckin' gorgeous," said the merman, ignoring her confusion.

His hand shot out to touch her lure, but he thought better of it and withdrew.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

His smile grew bigger, how funny: "Beautiful. Pretty."

"Pretty? What's that?"

"You know, like when you find a shiny thing, an' you wanna keep it forever?"

"I do not know," she grumbled (How dare this mer make her feel unintelligent!). "I have never had shiny things."

"Never had… Hold on, my pretty one."

Mystified, she waited just as he'd asked as he ruffled through a pouch that she had not noticed before. She had never seen anything like it and wondered where she could acquire one. Of course, she never had a reason to have a bag since she had no use for possessions. Perhaps it could hold weapons! Or bones to snack on!

"Ah-ha!" the merman said, thrusting something in her direction.

She stared at the thing in his hand.

"Looks even prettier underneath your lights," he said, avoiding her eyes.

"What is it?" she replied, her hand darting out nervously to touch it.

She pulled back almost instantly, but the merman grabbed her wrist.

"It's called gold," he explained, tipping it into her hands. "The humans use it to get other shiny things. D'you like it?"

"I am not sure. I do not know what I like."

"You can keep it."

"What kind of trickery is this?"

"No tricks. As I said, you're beautiful, and beautiful things should have beautiful things."

"No tricks, certainly, but what do you want in exchange?"

For the first time tonight, he looked sheepish. She noticed that his stomach was turning pink, but for what reason, she was unsure. She wondered what he was trying to work up the nerve to say.

"Well, er, matin' season is comin' up," he began.

"Not yet."

"Right, it isn't for a few months yet, but I was taught to woo the mer, er, the creature that I choose with shiny things. It's my first matin' season, you see."

"Mhm."

"An' the wooin' part takes a while. An' then there's the courtin' stage, which takes even longer."

"If you need a mate, there are mer all around this area during this time."

"Well- heh." The merman rubbed the back of his neck. "I-I'd like it to be you."

"Why?"

"Because you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Ah."

"I have more shiny things if you want 'em," the mer said, reaching for his pouch.

She shrugged. "I have no use for them."

"You don't gotta have a use for 'em. Where's your home cave? I can bring 'em there."

"I do not have a home cave," she said.

"Oh, right, where is your family's cave, then?"

"I have no family."

"No family? You mean, you're out here all by yourself?"

"Yes."

"Aren't you lonely?"

"What is lonely?" she asked.

"Sad, because you have no one with ya."

"What is sad?"

"Whaddya mean, 'what is sad?' It's sad! Don't you know what that is?" the merman twisted his face up like he was in distress, though what kind she was not sure.

"I only know hunger," she told him.

His eyes lost some of their shine. "Oh, yeah, right. How long's it been since you ate properly anyway? You don't look so good."

"I have not caught a human in months."

"D'you need help huntin'?"

"Can you ensnare a human with your singing?"

"No, but I know some good spots for fish."

"I am not in the mood for fish," she said.

"You just haven't found the right kind," the merman replied, closing his left eye.

He turned tail, swimming away from her before glancing back to see if she would follow him. The hunger in her belly was making her act quite strange in that she was willing to go along with this merman. She felt, oh, what's the word, she knew this, like mer, she was curious. She decided to follow him, keeping a bit of distance between them until the merman flipped around in an impressive display of tailfins and long dark hair, and decided they would swim side by side. His hand kept brushing hers, trying to grab onto her fingers for some reason. She tugged away, unsure of what he was trying to do. She still had not yet decided if she wanted to mate with him anyway. Sirens did not mate in the same way that mer did, that much she knew. They called it breeding, and it was over in a frenzy of teeth and claws. There were no gifts of shiny things or "kisses."

"What's yer name?" the merman asked.

The question stunned her. She could not remember her name before the sea took her in, and she had no use for a name now. No one else called to her. Her name was simply another memory, another casualty to add to her list.

"I do not know," she said.

"You know what a name is, right? Like, I'm Bucky, for example."

Her fingers drifted up to her lips, searching for her name. If she remembered the shape of her mouth as she spoke it aloud, perhaps she could remember the correct sounds. She thought back as far as she could, to the feeling of water filling her lungs, to the sounds of screams, to the smell of a fire burning down her village, to her blood staining her tongue. She wanted to remember her name. She had not even realized this was something she had lost until she needed it.

Then there was a flash of memory, jagged and cutting. Her heart began to race. In her mind, she heard it. Her mother had been crying. Her mother had been screaming at the men to stop. Her mother had been shrieking to let go of her, let go of my daughter. Her mother yelling at her to be brave, hold her breath, be strong, my love, my dear. Her mother. She remembered her mother.

Her lips parted, and she whispered the name into the water. The merman, Bucky, repeated it.

"Again," she said.

He did, and oh, she felt something new, something besides hunger. A hole opened in her chest. Her lower lip wobbled, and then she was singing a new song, never before heard from a siren. It echoed around her and Bucky, reaching out to the farthest depths of the sea. It was filled with desperation, isolation, and salvation, but it was hope and home too.

"Is this what sad is?" she asked Bucky once her song was over.

"Yeah, it is," he answered, curling his tail around hers.

When he went to wrap her up in his arms, she let him, falling into his embrace.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mermaid au #angst #fluff #merman!bucky #siren!reader

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obsessive-ego · 3 years

Text

Just go with it

Musical beetlejuice x reader

Lewd mentions

Beetlejuice needs you to pretend to be his fiance or he's in trouble

"Babes?"

...

"Babes, wake up"

....?

"Y/n wake up"

What?

Was your first thought as you are shaken awake by the ghost who has made your home his, you mumble out something unintelligible as you grope around for your phone, you cringe as the bright light of the screen blinds you, as your eyes adjust to the light you groan, 4am.

"Beetlejuice, what-"

"Okay, babes, no time to explain but I need you to pretend to be my fiance" despite the odd statement beetlejuice sounded a tad worried.

"What?"

"Long story short I may have said a few things to some guys, and if we dont pull this off I will be dragged back to the netherworld" the ghoul whispered dragging you out if bed.

"Oh" was all you could muster is your drowsy state.

"So theres a suit from the netherworld waiting to meet you, in your living room, now" beetlejuice continued rubbing the back of his neck.

You sigh and shuffle about your room, slipping on slippers and giving your hair a quick once over, as you reach for your housecoat beetlejuice swats away your hand.

"Bee-"

Beetlejuice drops his jacket around your shoulders "this will work much better babes, we need to sell this"

You groan, you were too tired for this, thank god you didnt work in the morning, who knows how long this shit is gonna take, but as tired as you were you couldnt let whoever take your ghost back to the netherworld.

"Okay you're my fiance, I proposed a week ago, and you're head over heels for me, that last part wont be hard to fake huh doll?" The ghoul gives you a wink, you sigh.

"Wait, almost forgot" the ghoul snaps his fingers, you feel a light squeeze on you right handed middle finger.

Upon your finger appears rather tacky, pretty ring, the band was black and white, and resembled a snake, the gem was a brilliant green, you honestly felt your heart squeeze when you saw it, to be honest staring at the ring felt like a dream, maybe because you just woke up? It was beautiful, and the idea of it being for real kinda hurt knowing it was for pretend, but those feelings didnt matter right now, Beej needed you to help him avoid being dragged back to the netherworld, you can think about those depressing emotions later.

The two of you leave the bedroom, beetlejuice takes the lead as you shuffle behind.

As the two of you enter the living room you could help but pause and stare at the 'suit' beej claimed that was waiting for you.

In your little arm chair sat a fairly tall skeleton man, his bones a blueish hue, wearing a lime green suit that looked fresh off the rack, guess not all dead guys wore dirty clothes, in all honesty this was your first time seeing another dead person aside from the maitlands and beetlejuice, they were human, beej was humanish, but this guy looked like he walked out of a cartoon.

"Sorry for the wait, you know breathers, they need to sleep" beetlejuice cackled snapping you from your thoughts "well there's y/n, theres the ring, and theres the door, feel free to use it" beetlejuice snears, wanting to get this whole thing done with, yes he adored messing with you, and with different circumstances this could have been funny, but too much was on the line for him and you were an awful liar, he loved you sure, but theres no way you could pull off lying.

"Y/n I presume?" The skeleton gestures to you, completely ignoring beetlejuice, you nod "its pleasure to put a face to the name, I apologize for the rude awakening, when you've been dead for as long as I have, you tend to lose the meaning of time, my dear this wont take long, we just need to clear up some loose ends then you can get back to your rest" the skeleton gestures you to sit on the couch next to beetlejuice who has already made himself comfortable.

You gently sit down next to BJ who was quick to drape an arm over your shoulders and pull you into his side.

The skeleton pulls out a clipboard from his jacket and flips through the pages

"Lawrence B Shoggoth, y/n m/n l/n, I have requested an audience with you two to clear up some issues with Lawrence's recent updated paper work, not to mention a handful of rumours that need to be put to bed" the ghoul flips through the papers "it says here the y/n you are Lawrence's spouse, is that true?"

You nod

"You see y/n, Lawrence here cant be trusted at face value, so that is why I must converse with you on the matter, so you are his fiance correct?"

"Yes"

"I see, now how long have the two of you known each other?"

"About a year or so" you shrug

"Mmmhmm" the ghoul scribbles down something and continues "now when did he propose to you?"

"Last week" this was so anxiety inducing, for a man with no eyeballs it sure felt like he was staring into your soul.

"Now what drawn you to such a, oh how do I put this, such a man?"

You hear beetlejuice huff out as if he was insulted.

"Well, beetlejuice may be rough around the edges, and can be a dick at times, but he's great company, hes funny, witty, has great taste in movies, and he makes me smile, hes also, well, he's also good looking too" you look away from both parties, as you were clearly embarrassed over what you said, it was the truth, but it still made your face burn.

Beetlejuice leans forward, looking in your direction, eyes wide and mouth a gape, his hair now a bright pink.

"Mr Shoggoth, you look surprised at y/n's words" the ghoul grabs Beetlejuice's attention.

"Heh, you see y/n is the shy type, hearing that type a thing is rare and ALWAYS gets my attention". Beetlejuice slicks his hair back removing the pink and resetting it to its default green.

"Mmmmhmmm" was the ghoul's only response as attention was drawn back to you.

"So y/n you truly are betrothed to Lawrance, you want to be wed to him on purpose?" The skeleton's tone was almost surprised, as if beetlejuice was the most revolting creature in existence and you wanting, out of your own free will to be bound to such a thing, was the most insane thing he has ever herd.

You nod, beetlejuice gives the skeleton a smug toothy grin.

"This isnt a joke, nor is he blackmailing or threatening you?" His tone sounded desperate, as if he needed to prove beetlejuice was lying for his own good.

You only shake your head, while beetlejuice surpresses a laugh

"Ya see bone head? I'm innocent~" he chuckles, squeezing you close to his side.

"Y/n you are aware of what you're doing for Lawrence correct?" The skeleton sounded almost smug, you only stare back, waiting for him to elaborate.

"You see y/n, you are doing Lawrence here a huge favor, when the dead marry the living, they are able to walk the earth like you do, you are granting him life, something he has never had, this is why we must confirm with you, that you understand what he's doing" the skeleton gestures to beetlejuice, the demon only rolls his eyes in response.

"I know"

Attention is drawn to you

"I know all about that life giving thing, beetlejuice told me about it"

"Well you see y/n, this isnt the first time Lawrence has-"

"I know, I was told, by him and the person he tried to marry the first time, small world huh"

The skeleton pauses for a moment then coughs into his fist, as if to regain his composure after being surprised, he continues "I see, Lawrence has been honest with you, I didnt think he had it in him"

Beetlejuice snarls at the comment, tips of his hair turning red.

"Just a few more loose ends y/n then you can return to your rest" the skeleton flips through his papers "ah, Lawrence, y/n may have been couched, and since you seem so eager to speak, I do have a few things I need to clarify with you, if the two of you are in love as you say and this isnt a farce, you would know plenty about your future spouse, when was y/n born?" The skeleton snears as if hes caught you two red handed

Beetlejuice snorts out a laugh "easy *birthday day and year* hell I woke them up with some early morning birthday head"

You cover your face in embarrassment at that comment, yet you were surprised he knew the year.

"Correct, and might I saw congratulations on a LEGAL partner this time"

Beetlejuice rolls his eyes at the low blow before grumbling "it was a green card thing"

The skeleton ignores Beetlejuice's comment and continues "what drew you to this breather? And please keep it out of the gutter"

Beetlejuice huffs "spoil sport, y/n here is one of the kindest, sweetest, softest breather I ever met, they let me do whatever I want, they want me around, no stings attached, they got great taste, just look at the company they keep, and let me tell ya, the first time we met they sucker punched me in the jaw for scaring them, and I've been dreaming of that swing ever since"

You just stare at the ghoul, he remembered that? He remembered how he first met you? When lydia locked you in the basement and he jumped out at you, successfully scaring you but earning himself a fist in the jaw, wow. Your face felt hot remembering that, what a frist impression.

The night droned on and on with dull questions the suit had lined up to prove beetlejuice was lying, but every question had an appropriate answer, and the skeleton knew he could not prove anything as the night went on.

Low on patience and time he decided call it quits.

The skeleton pushes his clipboard back into his jacket and sighs "I appreciate your time y/n, thank you for your cooperation, and Lawrence, I look forward form your departure of death, a short vacation from you is the pick me up I deserve" the skeleton raises up from your chair and walks over to a wall on the other side of the room, you watch him draw a door, and knock 3 times, you're livingroom wall opens up to the netherworld. You freeze at the sight, you always felt uneasy seeing the netherworld portal open up, maybe it was a living thing? As if beetlejuice felt your discomfort he pulls you into a side hug, grounding your anxiety, you give a sigh of what feels like relief.

The skeletontirns to face the two of you "Before my departure, y/n I do have one final thing to ask you, can you kiss Lawrence for me?"

"What?" You gawk in confusion

Beetlejuice snorts out a laugh "what? You the type of guy who gets off on watching others get hot and heavy, I mean I feel ya, but if you insist, I can help a guy out" beetlejuice is quick to cup your face "give daddy some sugar~" he purrs puckering up to go in for the kiss.

"Lawrence you misunderstand me, I ask y/n, if you two are truly betrothed, shy or not, y/n shouldnt have any issues kissing their lover" the skeleton gestures to you, without eyeballs or eyebrows he sure wore a smug face, as if he found you two out.

Beej snorts out his nose, great, he's fucked, theres no way you could sell this now, the ghoul had to take the lead and try to steer this away from what this bureaucrat wants "Shy or not, my little sex pot here isnt too keen on others watching, believe me, I tired, the only thing they wont do in the bedroom-"

"Bee, it's fine" you interject, gently grabbing the demons sleeve, he looks at you mouth agape, green slowly blossoming into pink in his face and hair.

"You mind leaning down honey?" You ask softly, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, yes beetlejuice has kissed you more times then you could remember, and yes, youd be lying if you didnt enjoy them, but taking the lead? That was new, and to have someone watching? Not to mention if you dont make this look good he's gonna take beetlejuice away.

Beetlejuice on the other was practically glowing pink, and vibrating with excitment, not to mention drooling.

You gently cup the demons face, running your thumbs across his stubble, you swore you could hear the demon purring, you take a deep breath through your nose before closing the gap between the two of you.

Beetlejuice's hands find homes for themselves, on in your hair, the other on the center of your back. Your hands move from the demon's face and bury themselves in his messy hair, gently giving his head a scratch, you squeak with surprise as the ghoul lifts you up from the ground, instinct kicks in nd you wrap you legs around his waist, lips still locked with his, you feel his tongue probing at you mouth, begging for your permission to enter, you oblige, his tongue wasnt new to you, you felt it a handful of times, running up the side of your face when the ghoul was trying to get your attention mostly, but in your mouth?

It was long, and big, and kind of cold, it easily took the lead, exploring your mouth.

You push on Beetlejuice's chest to notify him you needed to breath, the two of pull your lips part from each others, a thin line of saliva still connecting the two of you.

"Oh Lawrence" you sigh

The demon now completely electric pink, still holding you up growls before asking "couch?"

You hum out "yes"

Before the ghoul flops backwards on the couch, having you sit on top of him, you give his tie a quick yank and he groans in response.

"Oh doll, you're lucky you dont work tomorrow, cuz I want you to ride me all night~"

"Ahem!"

The two of you freeze for a moment, beetlejuice snickers at your face, clearly embarrassed, you pause for a moment, swallowing your shame before addressing the ghoul who was still here

"You're still here?" Was all you manged to breath out

"I mean I'm into it, but y/n? Not so much, and they clearly arent into you watching so" beetlejuice snorts, trying to wave the skeleton off so the demon could relax.

"I see, y/n you clearly are attracted to him, and understand all the consequences of marrying the dead, I declare that Lawrence B Shoggoth was, in fact, telling the truth, this should be a holiday, such a rare occasion" the skeleton trailed off as he walked into the netherworld, you only watched as he vanished and the walls of your little apartment rearranged themselves like it never happened.

You sat top beetlejuice for a moment, sighing over dodging the bullet of losing your, very dear friend, you may or may not be head over heels for.

You're reminded of where you were sitting with a familiar pinch on your butt.

"Hey honey~" the ghoul purrs

You jerk up at recalling the situation you're in, beetlejuice groans at you movement

"Careful sweets, keep moving like that and you'll turn this semi into a boner" he snorts out a chuckle.

You're quick to get off the demon, though he did grunt in protest, before sitting back up and pulling a couch cushion over his lap, despite how crude he was, he did have SOME common courtesy.

As much fun as it would have been for the demon to tease you on your rather hot actions, he noticed how your attention wasnt on him, rather then you were staring at the wall that was once the door to the netherworld.

"So we did it?" Was all you seemed to whisper

"Yup, I got to hand it to you babes, you did quite a good job fooling that stiff"

You turn back to the demon and give him a soft smile feeling completely relieved.

"You know it's funny y/n, you're a terrible liar, and you sure as hell cant act, you got way too many tells, but yet, I didnt see a single twitch nor did I hear a single stutter, why's that?~" you knew that tone oh too well, it was the 'I know something embarrassing about you' tone, it was smug yet made your legs turn to jelly.

"I guess when it comes down to really important stuff i guess i can-" you stammer while fiddling with the hem of your shirt

"I dont think so dolly" beej was quick to interrupt "babes, you've been wearing my jacket the whole time, I've seen you keep glancing down at the ring, and fuck me, the amount of fire in that kiss, someone like you cant fake that"

You refuse to look his way, this was one hell.of a way to come clean with your feelings, a heavy silence fills the room, though you're pretty sure beetlejuice could hear your heart pounding away.

As if the ghoul could sense your discomfort, he sighs "ya know babes, it's pretty late, and breathers need to sleep, so how bout you head back to bed and I'll finish grilling you in the morning"

Glancing back at beetlejuice you could see the flicks of purple appearing in the pink mess of his hair, you give the ghouls half hearted smile, as you go to take off the jacket he raising his hand motioning you to stop

"Its gonna be cold tonight babes, how bout you keep it warm for me?"

"Oh, alright, night Bee, glad I could help you" you wave off as you head to your bedroom to over think what just happened.

Beetlejuice groans when he hears the familiar sound of your bedroom door closing, he was so close to getting a real confession out of you, but tomorrow morning is gonna be pretty dangerous for you, he sighs removing the pillow from his lap, he had a more pressing matter to attend too, and with your taste on his tongue and the beautiful imagine of you on top of him yanking at his tie, this 'problem' wont take long to deal with.

Bonus

The next morning was quite awkward, beetlejuice wasnt kidding about grilling you in the morning, but at least what felt like an interrogation last night, now felt like childish teasing

"Bee, can I ask you something about last night?"

The ghoul beams with excitement at your question "anything you want babes"

"If we would have failed, what would have happened to you, you said you would have been dragged back to the netherworld and" you pause hoping the ghoul would fill in

"Oh, yeah, if we would have got caught I would have had to spend a week in the netherworld with my mother fixing this paperwork and just being chewed out, a nightmare babes, we dodged a bullet" he raises his hand for a high five as if to congratulate you on helping him out

"What, I'm sorry what"

Beetlejuice lowers his hand and frowns at your response

"Beetlejuice I was worried sick, I thought they were gonna take you away forever, i was terrified if i fuck up I'd never see you again, like what am i supposed to do without you?! I dont want you to leave me" you practically screamed

Beetlejuice only started at you, slowly soaking in what you said

'I dont want you to leave me'

His blank stare slowly shifts to a smile, flicks of pink appearing in his hair "dont worry sugar, you're stuck with me"

#beetlejuice x reader #muscial beetlejuice x reader

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boxboysandotherwhump · 3 years

Text

The new boy in town.

Tags: @salamancialilypad @whumpfigure @albino-whumpee @comfy-whumpee @ashintheairlikesnow @haro-whumps @moose-teeth @vickytokio @yet-another-heathen @orchidscript

Chapter 2

CW: body-shaming/ insults, discrimination/ dehumanization of mutants, an insect gets hurt, a nearly fistfight ensues

Heat thrummed through Gideon’s bones and throbbed in unison with his building headache. His patience had shriveled up like dried fruit under the torrid summer sun while this horrible lavender scent clung to his hair, his skin, his clothes, making him dizzy.

It became stronger on the village outskirts, Gideon realized as he hurried after Director Sahin. The man ascended the crooked stone staircase effortlessly, his moss-green robe billowing behind him. His artfully decorated spear swayed with every step he took, not brushing a single leave. The only thing rustling through the underbrush was the wind and the creatures living there.

A twig caught in Gideon’s black curls, while the Director rambled on about the virtues of disciplinary work. How it encouraged the growth of one’s character, or some shit. The twig broke off with a quiet snap, painfully pulling at his scalp. Gideon’s mood dropped even lower. It was going to be a nightmare to fiddle all those shitty branches and leaves out of his hair later on.

He was seconds away from losing his barely-held composure.

The only thing keeping him from bursting at the seams was the promise he’d whispered into his brother's grave, a last farewell bedded beside a corpse.

Gideon had come to this godforsaken village to learn how to fight and survive in the forest, not to become some obedient little soldier boy! But in order to do that, he had to get cleared for training again and out of suspension.

If he had to play the director’s errand boy for a day to achieve that, so be it. He had endured worse.

“Haaah, here we are.” Director Sahin inhaled deeply, arms falling wide. “Finally. My dear friend’s farm. Tell me, young Gideon, is it not simply beautiful?”

Gideon shrugged. “‘S’ okay.”

Granted, the house did look cozy, resting encircled by giant roots with its warm brick walls, but those gigantic snails everywhere sent a shudder down his spine. If he had to touch those slimy monsters he-

The farm’s sliding doors opened before he could utter a protest, and a fine-boned, middle aged woman emerged, followed by a huge man with a greying beard. A boy, probably his own age but significantly shorter, held the door open for them.

The older woman’s lips curled into a crooked smile as she caught sight of Director Sahin, whose whole face had lit up. Dark eyes shining.

“Moira. My darling. Please do not tell me you are about to leave? Not when I looked forward to seeing your beautiful face again.”

Gideon suppressed a gag. Moira crossed her arms, smile growing sharper. Her eyes held a warm twinkle as she spoke. “Eric; charming as ever.”

The man behind her stepped closer and huffed: “M happy ‘ter see ya too, Eric.”

“Oh Ansgar you flatter me. But I must confess, I am not here solely for tea and a chat-“

The Director rattled on and Gideon’s focus wandered to the girl that had stepped out the door behind a blonde woman. A fancy grey blouse hung off her thin shoulders, nearly covering the lace trim of blue silk short. A stark contrast to the more practical attire favored by most villagers. But that wasn’t what caught Gideon’s attention, no, he had seen all sorts of fancy getups up in Berlin -in the city's upper ring that is- what drew his eyes to her, was her face.

Its left side was oddly deformed, her pale skin uneven like a creased silk sheet, drawing her left eye down and her full lips up. She mouthed something to the boy, smiling, earning a smile from him in turn.

“Ah yes may I introduce: Gideon, my newest student.”

Having lost most of the adults’ conversation Gideon tuned back in just in time, to give them a curt nod.

“I will send him to collect the salve after the feast, then,” Director Sahin announced, please as can be.

“Wonderful.” Moira clapped her hands. All back to business brusqueness. “Sahar will appreciate not having to deliver it for once. Right?”

The other boy snapped to attention, green eyes wide and fingers twitching like the hands of a pianist. A grateful smile rose to his face and he nodded.

Oh great, so Gideon had to take the trip up here twice.

They descended the stairs, lined up one after another on the narrow path. Sahar right in front of him, following the strange girl. He had avoided Gideon’s eyes as he squeezed past him, careful not to touch, probably scared off by his uniform. The school’s emblem, embroidered on his stainless white shirt, proudly declared him a scout in training. Deadly. Fearless. The little farm boy definitely did better not to mess with an insect slayer like him.

The girl came to an abrupt halt, frozen in the woodland’s shadows before it gave way to the dusty hill road. Gideon nearly collided with Sahar, when he heard it.

A primal, bone chilling hiss tore through the hot afternoon air, rattling through his very core.

Every hair on his body stood, muscles tensing, on edge just like his fraying nerves.

He knew that sound.

Even though he’d heard it only once before. On the crusade from last-stand-berlin to the village, where he had seen the beast it belonged to lurk on the riverside, watching them.

He would never forget a spider’s hiss.

And there one stood, right in front of him, its eight thorny legs towering high above its ugly head. The spider’s giant yaws worked, rubbed against each other in agitation. Its razor sharp fangs glistened in the sun.

A man sat atop its massive, hairy body, scar-faced and clad in a straw cape that was fastened to a beetle’s shell armoring his left shoulder. Shimmering in iridescent hues of blue and green. The man did not smile as he glanced down at them. A silent challenge was edged in the hard lines of his rugged face.

Tense static filled the air, an almost tangible thing that bit at Gideons fingers. It wormed its way into his bones, crawled over his scalp.

He almost, almost, flinched when Director Sahin shouldered past him, spear drawn and followed by the other man. Both planted themselves right in front of him and the others.

The intruder’s scar stretched with the rise of his eyebrows, eyes slitting in a lazy half-grin.

“Hey, there. Hold your horses. Before someone does something he regrets later.”

“That a threat?” Ansgar grunted.

Moira ducked past him, face twisted in a furious scowl as she spit. “Oh, something other than entering our village on a damn wolf-spider you mean?!”

The corded muscle in her boney arm flexed as she shook her fist at the man, unveiling a wrath behind her primly dressed form that no one would have wanted to fall victim to.

He, however, just leaned closer, smile stretching into a shark-tooth grin. “Gutsy, are we? I like that.”

Director Sahim stepped up beside her, spear held in a steady grip. “How could you make it past our InD-Units with this monstrosity?! God show you mercy if you did something to-”

“What do you think I am?!” the intruder drawled, hands raised in mock offense. “A monster?! Only reason I got past your insect defenses was this baby here.”

Gideon had to stand on his tiptoes to catch a glance of the small round device that sat embedded into the spider’s head, partly hidden by the man’s straw cape. A little red light blinked in a steady rhythm above three buttons, which the man was careful not to touch as he rapped his knuckles against it.

“Renders her absolutely obedient. All natural instinct turned off. See?”

He unsheathed a knife from a holster strapped around his leg and its steel blade shimmered in the sun before he rammed it in one of the spider’s eyes, plopping it out with a nauseating plitch. The spider endured its master’s violation in utter stillness, only its yaws twitched, creating this awful hiss in their never ceasing movement.

“She’s docile as a lamb.”

“And how exactly is that supposed to work?” the girl inquired, meeting the man’s stare with a calculated cold composure. She ignored the incredulous look the blonde woman gave her, as she mouthed: “Charlotte, what are you doing?”

The intruder's mouth twitched.

“Man, what do I know, Missy?! I’m a mutant hunter not a scientist.” He leaned closer, eyes narrowed, fixed on the girl's deformed face. Venom spiked his words, dripped from his tongue like acid. “My expertise lies in chasing down freaks.”

The condescendingly cruel way in which he spoke, wielding words like a weapon meant to pierce and twist where it hurt most, reminded Gideon oddly of his father. Anger welled up in his chest, buzzed down his legs and made them move. He planted himself right between the girl and the intruder.

How dare he compare someone to mutant scum?!

“Tsk. Mutant hunter?! You’ve ever even seen one? Or are you just talk? Threatening girls?!”

“Gideon.”, Director Sahim hissed, squeezing Gideon’s shoulder in warning as he tried to pull him back.

The man gave them a wry smile. “No no. Let’s hear him out. Have you ever seen one boy?”

“Yes.” Gideon spat, unable to reign his emotions back in. “They’re hideous monstrosities. And I’m going to find and kill every single one of them.”

The man burst into violent laughter, shoulders shaking and head thrown back, nearly losing his balance under the force of it.

“You do have guts, I give you that. But also lots to learn. Do you really think a girl can’t be a mutant? Monster’s come in all shapes and sizes, boy.” His eyes wandered back to Charlotte. “Just ugly, that’s the whole lot of them.``

The blonde woman gasped, searching for words to shoot back, but falling silent as she noticed Charlotte’s expression.

Red blotches burned on her face, rage twisting it into a vicious scowl. The afternoon sun set her copper curls on fire. Ready to spew fury and flames, she opened her mouth but Sahar was faster, his small voice piping up.

“Char- Charlotte is… is no- no mutant and and and she’s neither ugly nor weak. And and and people who talk about, talk about killing others for no- no, no reason are… They’re the- the real monsters.”

His fingers fiddled with his shorts, tapping and twisting in the dark, worn linen as he stumbled over his words. His big green eyes jumped from the rocky street to the spider’s fangs, lingered on the intruder’s face before landing on Gideon. They narrowed as he all but spat the last words in Gideon’s face.

“The hell you just said?!” Gideon’s nostrils flared. How dare this little runt run his mouth about things he didn’t know shit about!

Crossing his arms, Sahar forced himself to hold his ground against Gideon’s furious, wide eyed stare. “You you, you heard me.”

Gideon heart hammered in his throat, pumping liquefied fire through his veins. His hands twitched.

“I give you one chance to take. That. Back.”

The boy’s trembling fingers dug into his forearms, knuckles whitening as he lifted his chin.

“Never.”

A roar tore from Gideon’s throat as he leapt forward. Rage burned through him like a wildfire, ready to ignite everything his fist would come in contact with.

Beating the selfritousnes out of that stupid stammering farmboy was the only thing that mattered now. Everything else blurred to background noise. Even the stranger on his shitty spider.

In that frozen second between charge and impact, Sahar’s feet moved. His body tilted to the side. Dodged Gideon’s blow. Effortlessly. He bounced back. Landed on the first stone step and uncrossed his arms. Ready to defend himself. His fingers had stopped twitching.

That little runt had nerves!

Gideon broke into a sprint.

“You sure are good at dodging!” He swung his arm back. “Try to handle this!”

Muscles flexing Gideon readied for impact, only for his arm to be janked back. A large hand had wrapped around his wrist. Stopped him mid punch. Craning his neck, Gideon stared up into Ansgar’s stern face.

Fuck he’s fast?!

“Looks like ya still got lots t’ learn about respect ‘n self-discipline, young man.”

Director Sahin sighed, eyes still locked on the intruder, who watched the spectacle with a lazy kind of interest.

Ansgar released Gideon’s hand and turned to Sahar. His grey eyes glistened like ice shards. “Same goes for you. Ya disappointed me, Sahar.”

Sahar blinked up at the man, eyes round and full of disbelief.

“Wh-what- what, what do you, do do do do- what do you mean?”

“I haven’t trained ya to run off ‘n start mindless fights. I tried to teach ya discipline ‘n how to survive these woods.” Ansgar’s voice did not waver and every word made Sahar shrink into himself. His fingers tapped a hectic distorted rhythm over his leg

The intruder snickered, “someone’s a stuck up,” earning Moira’s venomous glare.

“But- but I didn’t- he he he he he was, he was the one who-“

“Enough,” Ansgar thundered. “Don’t argue with me. If ya want a beatin’ so bad I’ll give ya one later. And now back t’ the farm. Ya grounded for the week. No fest. No nothin’!”

Sahar crumbled under the man’s anger, head ducked between his shoulders as the first teardrop fell. It trickled down his trembling jaw, painting a glistening path on his warm skin.

Voice reduced to a shaky exhale Sahar nodded, “yes, sir.”, and stormed up the stairs.

He had just vanished between the thick bushes, when the intruder broke out into a new laughing fit.

#whump #whump writing #mutant whumpee #crying whumpee #insults #fighting #post apocalypse #post apocalyptic #whumpee #some flowers have teeth #sahar #gideon #charlotte #sahar tries his best #gideon the angry bean

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mhathotfic · 4 years

Text

This was one of the first request I got on my old blog from @popsicledrop and it’s still one of my favorite Todoroki works I’ve done and I also just kinda wanna talk about Nagas more because snake

Warnings: swearing, breeding kink, breath play

Pairing: Shouto Todoroki x reader

It was like a spell. One she could not and did not care to brake. She felt herself drawn to the forest as if she needed to be there. The mere thought of the wondrous place was enough to lure her in as it was. It was like the sweet warm voice of an old friend calling too her, beckoning her to come and stay a while. (Yn) desperately wanted to answer that call, to become acquainted with her dear friend.

She’d been told time and time again as she was growing not to answer that call. ‘All that’s waiting for you is surely just a regrettable tragedy’ they were adamant. ‘why can’t you just stay put!’ they would scold her whenever she had wondered too close to the forest edge. She couldn’t ‘just stay put’ though so she took to leaving under the cover of night to explore what she could. Even now when she was settled into her adulthood at the age of twenty, she still felt the need to sneak away.

This night hadn’t been any different at first. She had grabbed her lamp and packed plenty of snacks for her adventure fully excepting to be home before day light, but curiosity took hold of her. Something in her needed to keep going. That kind voice called to her again, directing her to keep going deeper and deeper into the forest. She obeyed it.

She was awestruck at the beauty in front of her. She had come across a small clearing filled with a lovely assortment of wildflowers. The trees surrounding the clearing filtered in the early morning light making shadows dance around it. The crowning jewel though? The little spring just at the very edge of clearing, tucked away behind a few rocks. It was almost like someone was trying to hide it. She smiled giving into her excitement and started stripping unaware of the hungry eyes that were watching her.

Shouto had never seen a human as beautiful as her before. It took everything in him not go over and breed her right there. He had to be patient. Humans tended to be fragile creatures. He was unsure if she was just as fragile as the rest of her kind. She had to be special though, to have made it this far into his territory without him noticing.

He watched with half lidded eyes as she stepped into the spring, her gorgeous from disappearing into the warm water. A groan almost pushed past his lips when a satisfied moan left hers. Fuck, he needed to hear more of her noises. It was like music, a sound sweeter than any song he’s ever heard.

He made his way over to her slowly, carefully as not to scare her. “You know” he began pleased by the way she looked at him, surprised but not frightened. “It’s really rude to take a bath in someone else’s home without even asking”. “It’s just as rude to walk in on naked women isn’t?” She challenged much too his amusement.

She hadn’t made any moves to cover herself. Something she even questioned the motive of. She knew the inherent danger of the situation. She had grown up with stories of Nagas. About how most were kind but not all. Some were malicious and with it being their mating season she should have been more cautious than she was.

“Fair enough” he smiled, and she found herself suddenly enamored by him “Would you mind if I joined you?” He slithered closer until he was at the very edge of the body of water. “It would be rude of me to deny you access to what’s yours wouldn’t it?” She answered surprising him. He had expected her to be more resistant, but she was being more playful than anything. Was this flirting? That’s how humans courted each other right? He tried to not let the prospect excite him too much.

He entered the water keeping a polite distance in between them unsure of just how far she was willing to go. “I should introduce myself, Shouto Todoroki” He stated extending a clawed hand towards her “may ask for your name?”. “(Fn) but you can call me (Yn). Can I call you Shouto?” She takes his hand moving closer to him. He was alluring to her, more so then even the forest itself. She felt like she needed to be closer like she’d die if she wasn’t.

He smirks down at her as she wrapped her arms around his neck “A bit forward, aren’t we?”. He leaned down slightly, placing a kiss on her lips his hands founding their way to her waist pulling her even closer. “Do you really mind?” She questioned once he pulled away. “I suppose not” he said hoisting her up and placing her down on a flat rock.

His lips immediately went work on her neck kissing and sucking at the soft skin. “Mm… that feels really nice” (Yn) murmured tilting her head to allow him better access “But you still haven’t told me if I can call you Shouto”. A pleasured sigh slipped from her lips when his hands started to gently message her breasts “I-I wanna call your name but how can I do that if I don’t know which to use?”. He groaned against her neck giving her a quick yes before turning back to his work.

His lips trailed lower down her chest slowly. He dragged his forked tongue over one of her perked buds before taking it between his lips. He was rewarded with a breathy moan of his name and fingers tangling in his hair. He groaned rolling and pinching her other bud between his fingers. He could get addicted to this. To all of the noises that fell from her lips showing him just how much she liked what he was doing. The way she tugged at his hair like she needed to hold on for her life. Even the way she moved against him was amazing. It was as if she needed to be more than just close, like she needed to be one with him. He shuddered at that thought.

His hands moved down to her hips, his lips pursuing hers in a sloppy kiss. He moaned exploring the newfound territory. He let out a soft groan when her tongue finally began to dance with his. She brought her hands to either side of his face gently stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. “God” she heaved out after breaking for air “You’re so handsome”. Her thumb brushed against his scar as she continued to speak “I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to have you like this” she wrapped her legs around him pulling him closer.

He buried his head in the side of her neck taking a shaky breath. He couldn’t take how kind she was being to him. She had just met him and yet she was willing to allow him the privilege of touching her like this. What’s more is how she spoke of it like she was the one being blessed. She was too kind treating him like a beloved mate rather than a perfect stranger. He was smitten with her.

He had never believed in those old stories his mother used to tell him when he was a child. There couldn’t be such a thing as ‘love at first sight’ or 'destined mates’. They were old fairytales Meant to encourage the young to find a partner. He never understood the point of a mate like many of his kind but holding her like this. He was starting to understand it. Even so those stories just couldn’t be true. That was wishful thinking, and yet the more time he spent with her, being thoroughly spoiled by her kindness, he wasn’t so sure of it.

He was sure of one thing though, his need to breed her. He hooked his arms around her thighs, carefully but quickly moving through the water. “Whoa!” she gasped out wrapping her arms around him “Shouto? Baby, where are we going?”. He felt a wave of pride? Yes, definitely pride, wash over him at the new pet name “If we’re going to do this, I should do it properly and take you to my den”. “D-den?” she stammered out, she sounded embarrassed but excited by his statement.

'Cute’ he smiled placing kisses wherever he could. It didn’t take long to reach their destination. She was unsure how she didn’t notice his den before. It had been right there the whole time. (Yn) couldn’t help but wondered if there were other things she hadn’t noticed. She looked around her new surroundings, finding herself pleasantly surprised by how nice and comfy it was inside. She sighed contentedly as she was placed down on something plush and warm.

“I want to breed you so badly, can I?” He asked, pressing his lips against hers, his fingers rubbing her stomach gently. “I’ll make you so round and full with my eggs” he breathed out clearly enamored by the idea. She had to admit though, she had always wanted to be a mother and the idea sound so attractive to her. “Are you sure you want me to carry for you?” she was nervous as she spoke but didn’t shy away from him. “I won’t say no, but if you’re not sure then…” all her playful eagerness was suddenly melting away leaving her a bashful blushing mess. God even this side of her was unbearably endearing to him.

“Do you think I would ask if I was unsure?” He pushed her down gently, his tail wrapping around her leg. He didn’t give her a chance to answer, opting to keep speaking “You’d be a wonderful mother to my children, I’m sure of it”. “You really think so?” she smiled up at him sounding absolutely elated with his declaration.

“I’m positive, so will you have them for me?” he sighed leaning into her touch, she had reached up to caress his face again, a habit she seemed to be forming. Not that he disliked it, on the contrary he enjoyed it quite a lot. “I’d be honored to” she breaths out before pulling him into another messy kiss. He hungrily swallowed every noise she made his hand moving down her body slowly until he reached her delicate sex.

“Shouto wait” she placed her hand on his earning a confused look from him. Was she having second thoughts? “I really want you to touch me but” she traced her fingers over his and sighed “It’s just, just that your claws are so sharp and well humans aren’t exactly sturdy”. He hummed understanding her concerns “Its ok I’ll just have to use my mouth instead”. He tried to move but was stopped by her again. He raised an eyebrow at her letting out a frustrated sigh. “(Yn)-” he started but was cut off with another kiss. “You’ve done nothing but spoil me so far Shouto” she smiled mischievously dragging her hand down his body committing every muscle to memory. She leaned her head on his shoulder satisfied by the gasp that he let out when her hand got to its destination “It’s your turn now”. She slowly traced her hand along the length of his cocks. She was mesmerized by them. they were a lovely, almost red, shade of pink, the twin members had twisted together and was slick in her hand. It was so different from a human’s and that only excited her more.

“Don’t tease” he hissed, bucking into her hand. “Sorry Baby, I was just admiring you” she said carefully detangling his cocks. He groaned feeling her pump her hand, alternating between the two. Fuck this was too good to be reality, he had to be dreaming. If he was though he hoped it wouldn’t end. She sat up slowly, looking up at him with such a lustful gaze that it made him feel weak. “Does it feel good Shouto?” he grunted nodding his head “I’m glad but I bet I can make you feel even better”. He was about to ask how when she opened her mouth nice and wide letting her tongue stick out slightly. It was a clear invitation, and one he wouldn’t take for granted.

He was quick to push one of his throbbing cocks down her throat while she continued to stroke the other one. She was way too good at this, holy fuck she was so good. He tossed his head back moaning and knotting his fingers in her hair. He bucked involuntary when she moaned suddenly, he looked down to find that she had started using her free hand to pleasure herself. She already had three fingers in her and god that was such a lovely sight. He couldn’t hold back anymore, all the self-control he had was thrown out in that moment. “Fuck” he hissed tightening his grip on her hair and beginning to thrust into her mouth eyes closed tightly.

When he open them again, he was blessed with such a wonderful sight. She looked lost in her own pleasure her eyes hazed over with lust. Was she just as close as him? Was she really getting off on this? Fuck, she really was, wasn’t she? He groaned moving a hand to her chin, encouraging her too look up at him. She meets his gaze with a lustful one of her own. Her eyes seemed to be asking, no begging, him for something. He didn’t even need to ask her what she wanted. “A-are you, shit, are you sure you want me to?” he groaned. The way she hummed around him was all the confirmation he needed. He growled fucking her mouth desperately until he was cuming. She drank it all up eagerly with a satisfied hum. She was pleasantly surprised at how sweet it was and how much of it came out.

“See?” (Yn) smiled up at him once she caught her breath “I told you I could make you feel better!”. That cheerful attitude was going to be his undoing. He sighed returning her smile before coiling around her and hugging her tightly “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”. He was genuinely worried. He knew she gave him the go ahead but still. He hadn’t lost control of himself like that before and he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. “I’m fine Shouto I promise! Although” she mumbled the last bit her face feeling flushed. “Although?” He repeated watching her as she shifted a little “I-I wasn’t expecting it to taste so sweet I really liked it” she admitted.

“Is that so?” He practically purrs pushing her to lay on her back. “Maybe I’ll let you have more later, does that sound good?” He asked gently pushing her legs apart and settling himself between them. She was still sopping wet from touching herself, he groaned at the sight. “That dose sound really good” she answers that mischievous smile returning to her lips “But I think that there’s something else I’d like to do more". “Is there?” He murmured trailing kisses up and down her neck and chest. She hummed her fingers making themselves at home in his two-toned hair “I seem to remember a certain Naga asking if he could breed me, but here I am still very much unbred”. “We’ll have to fix that, hmm?” He returned her smile.

“We wil-Ah! Oh fuck!” she shouted in surprise throwing her head back. He had managed to slip both of his cocks in her, starting a nearly ruthless pace. He would have loved to take it slower with her. To really take the time find out every little thing about her body but he was a man on a mission. He needed to breed her and breed her now.

She reached out and caressed his face, she was looking at him longingly, as if she thought taking her eyes off him would make him vanish. “Y-you’re s-oh! Mm…won-wonderful Sh-shouto!”. She spoke between kisses, whining and whimpering every now and then “Mm… oh god” She moaned tilting her head back, giving Shouto access to her neck. She was already so close.

“Are you going to cum already?” He breathed against her ear, satisfied with her response of a desperate whimper. He coiled his tail around her, careful not to squeeze her too tightly “You’re clenching around me so much, does it really feel that good?”. He wasn’t aware of how filthy his words were. He was just curious, but the way she whined and got even tighter clued him in. “Sh-shouto, Baby pl-please I’m s-so close I hah!” she gasped out, her words become nonsense as he managed to pick up speed.

She looked so wonderfully wrecked, her face was flushed, and her eyes rolled back. All that left her lips were broken little gasp and moans that vaguely resembled Shouto name. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. How could he when she was falling apart so beautifully under him. “You’re so gorgeous, (Yn)” he smiled down at her “Can you cum for me?”. She didn’t need any more encouragement than that as she came undone, clinging to him tightly and whimpering.

Shouto allowed himself to indulge in her, thoroughly enjoying the warmth and tightness of her body. God she was amazing. (Yn) returned her hands to either side of his face pulling him into a deep and messy kiss. “Th-that was incredible” she mumbled once they broke apart. She had a cute little dazed smile as she sang his praises but looking into her eyes, he could tell she wasn’t quite done yet.

“Shouto c-can you do something for me?” She ran her hands over his scales, tapping her fingertips gently against them when he hummed in response “I want you to squeeze me tighter”. “Are y-you, you sure? I might hurt you if I-” he started, in concern only to be hushed with a kiss. “I trust you. it’ll be ok you won’t hurt me” she smiled grabbing both his hands and holding them tenderly, bringing one up to her lips and placing a kiss on it. He sighed returning the smile she had given him “Ok but tell me if it’s too much”.

“T-that’s perfect” her breath was labored and heavy and that would have concerned him, if wasn’t for the fact she was tightening around him just as much. There was definitely something to be said about being so tightly flushed against each other. He could feel every little move she made the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed and the way her pussy clenched around him so tightly. He felt like he was losing it again.

“Fuck you’re so amazing” He moaned his pace becoming frantic and desperate. He was teetering so close to the edge. “You take me so good. Do you like it when I fuck you like this?” He hissed out barely even registering the words spilling from his mouth. “God yes!” She whimpered she could feel herself getting close to release all over again. “You’re so tight and wet for me. Fuck I’m going to make you so round. Do you want that? Do you want me to breed you like that?” his eyes were glazed over with lust as he spoke. “Mm… please I want to be bred so badly!” She panted and whined desperately. That was it, that was the last strand of sanity he was barely clinging to. He growled, desperately looking for his release.

He heard her scream in pleasure and felt her tightening around his cocks. Her orgasm pushed him overboard. He pushed as deeply as he could with a groan. He pressed light kisses on her neck and cheeks waiting for her to come down from her high. “You did so good” he praised once she had come to her scenes. She sighed happily letting him spoil her with his words. “I’m almost done ok?” He uncoiled his tail from her body chuckling at her whine of protest. He sighed laying his last egg in her and placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

(Yn) a content sigh left her as she turned on her side placing her hand on her stomach. There had to be at least four or five eggs inside her.“I’m going to be a mother” her voice sounded so dreamy and far off. She nuzzled into the plush pelts under her, smiling up at him “Thank you for letting me experience this Shouto”.

Shouto felt his heart skip a beat at her expression, her eyes were filled with an emotion that felt so foreign to him. He sighed smiling gently at her and scooped her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck “Shhouuto” she whined loudly with a cute little pout. It was clear she was tired, but he needed to get her cleaned up. “You can rest in a moment” he murmured kissing her cheek “We should wash up first though”. “Fine” she huffed burying her face in his shoulder.

She sighed contentedly when the warm water hit her skin, soothing her sore legs. She stretched her arms out, sighing when she felt arms wrapping her around her waist. She tilted her head back asking him for a kiss. He sighed rubbing his hands on her stomach and kissing her gently. Once they got out and she got dressed and picked the rest of her stuff up he carried her back to the den despite her protest against it. “I can walk, you don’t have to carry me everywhere” “I know, but I want to”. She whined in embarrassment pressing her hot face into his neck. He smiled at her antics. She really was unbearably cute. He’d be crazy to let her go. Humans typically raised their young with their mates, right? Would she mind staying with him then? He’d ask her after she rested a bit, he didn’t want to overwhelm her.

When she finally awoke from her nap it was already dark out. “something smells good’ she mumbled stretching. “It’s about fucking time!” that voice, it wasn’t Shouto’s but it was familiar none the less. “Katsuki?! What are you doing here?” she asked the blond sitting across from Shouto. It was tense in between the two as she walked over and sat down next to Shouto. He draped his tail across her lap, a protective gesture she realized.

“What am I doing here ?! What the hell are you doing here?! You’ve been gone all goddamned day and you’re just going to act like this shit is normal?!” he screeched at her. She sighed turning to Shouto “I’m sorry about him, he’s just worried about me is all. He hasn’t caused to much trouble has he?”. “No, he just got here actually, is he always that loud?” he sounded agitated but didn’t make any hostile moves towards him, she figured that was a good sign.

“Don’t fucking ignore me (Yn)!” Katsuki yelled gaining both their attention “Hurry up and eat, then we’re going home”. He shoved some food towards her, that must’ve been the good smell. She didn’t move to take it “No”. “No?!” he repeated looking shocked. “Yes, no I want to stay here with Shouto” she said in a calm voice “I apricate you always looking after me but its time I make my own decisions”. “Are you sure about this?” the two men asked in unison looking at each other shocked that they agreed on something.

She laughed at them before giving them a nod “I am” she smiled looking into Shouto’s eyes “I know it’s not all that common for Nagas to take a mate but if you’d have me, I’d love to be yours”. He smiled pressing their foreheads together “I would love that”.

“Hey assholes I’m still here you know, can you cut that lovey-dovey shit for a minute?!” Katsuki snapped at them heaving out an annoyed sigh. “Look half-n-half you better take care of her got it? I don’t wanna leave her in your hands but she a stubborn little brat-” “Hey!” she huffed. He rolled his eyes at her “I trust her judgement though. If she thinks you’re worth it then I’ll leave you be for now”.

He stood up walking away with his hands in his pockets, stopping just before he left the den “If you fuck up, I’m taking her home got it?” he growled out. “You don’t have to worry about that I don’t plan on ever letting that happen” Shouto said matching Katsuki’s glare. “Tsk whatever, I’ll be back tomorrow with the rest of your stuff (Yn)” he turned to leave, for real this time. “I guess we have his blessing” (Yn) smiled, running her fingers over his scales. He smiled back at her feeling the tension melt away, he sighed contentedly and kissed her cheek.

#shouto x reader #shouto x reader smut #todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader smut #shouto todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x reader smut #naga todoroki

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hardkinkbardkink · 4 years

Note

What if geralt puts jaskier’s little cock in a cage. Maybe the smell of jaskier’s lust is getting in the way of hunts, and at first it’s just a practical thing, but geralt ends up loving how desperate jaskier gets and how much he works himself up, unable to get any relief without geralt’s intervention anymore. geralt watches him trying to rub his soft little cock through the cage, whining and begging for geralt to just let him out, and pretends that he's not getting off on this too, but he iiiis

(chastity anon continued) maybe geralt squeezes the cage until the metal creaks, and the cage is the only thing that stops geralt from crushing jaskier's cock with his witcher strength. maybe geralt milks jaskier's prostate with his fingers, acting all aloof while jaskier whines about not getting to come *properly*. maybe jaskier ruts his caged cock up against geralt at night, desperate for stimulation but unable to get any no matter how hard he tries. (is that too much? i'm a bit drunk lol)

you know what is too much babe? me, taking eight thousand years to fill an ask, especially a Magnificent, Amazing, Showstopping ask like this. awful. tragic.

everyone & their mother's done a cock cage prompt and u know what???? they should, it's a good bloody prompt

anyway fuck me sideways this took ages, im sorry x i'll try very hard to get more prompts out before uni starts. sub!geralt has really been haunting my dreams so possibly expect more of that? no promises, love yous x

incidentally finishing & posting this also mildly intoxicated. tumblr formatting is homophobic. here it is on ao3 cos i really need that x

***

Geralt's nose twitches.

The trail is fresh. Impossible to miss. He closes his eyes, focuses his senses.

All he can smell is the heady, overpowering scent of Jaskier's release lingering on the bard's hands.

"Jaskier," he says. Growls, maybe.

He doesn't turn to look at him, though he can hear Jaskier flinch. The spike in his heartbeat makes his blood pump faster, his scent more pungent, like a particularly cloying perfume. Geralt clenches his fists and his teeth and he's strung so tightly he fears his control might snap.

"What? What is it, witcher, I'm--I've been quiet, out of the way, what could it possibly be this time?"

Geralt can't answer. Won't answer. Focus. Focus. The frigid wind pushes his hair into his eyes and the creature's trail comes to him once more.

Sword drawn, Geralt moves forward into the night, irritated and glad to have something to sink his blade into.

***

"Ah, Geralt!" comes a distressed shout, and then Jaskier's half-running in his direction, tripping over his own feet. His doublet is undone, and so is the chemise. A mark sits high on the side of his neck, still wet from the mouth that left it there.

He grabs for Geralt's bicep, claws urgently at one pauldron before shoving himself between Geralt and the wall behind him.

"Nothing to worry about, dear witcher," Jaskier says breathlessly, ducking to peek from underneath Geralt's arm. "Just a--a misunderstanding, is all. Some parties in our arrangement failed to mention they were otherwise, ah--engaged."

"Jaskier," Geralt says as threateningly as he can manage. He's too fucking tired to deal with this again. And again. And again.

"She didn't fuck like a maiden," Jaskier mutters, and, mournfully, Geralt abandons the message board he'd been scouting, heading instead for the stables with the bard in tow and a group of young men yelling their displeasure in the town square.

***

"I don't see how this is--" Jaskier squeals, tries to shrug out of Geralt's grip. "--in any way necessary, Geralt, the silk will crease, gods have mercy."

Geralt pulls the hood lower over his eyes and walks swiftly, one gloved hand clasped tightly around Jaskier's arm, dragging him down the cobbled street. It's busy this time of day. Jaskier's incessant moaning draws them only more attention.

"Another word and I'll have your mouth sewn shut," Geralt hisses privately to spare them the unnecessary scandal.

Perhaps it is only because he finally realises the gravity of the situation that Jaskier falls silent. Geralt doesn't care for the reason. He quickens his pace.

The shop stands where it always had, inconspicuous and private, tucked away in the shadow of a large armourer. Dust rises from the stale clothes stacked on the shelves, tickles Geralt's sensitive nose; he doesn't spare a glance at the gaudy fabrics. A merchant greets them and Geralt nods at him knowingly, walking straight past him to a heavy door at the shop's back.

"Geralt?" Jaskier says tentatively, his voice quivering.

Geralt pushes the door open and shoves Jaskier inside.

The woman is a different one than the last time he'd visited, though it had been many decades since he'd had any need for services of this kind. Never this one in particular, still.

Jaskier stutters at his side, head whipping around wildly.

"Geralt? Geralt, you filthy old man, what--

He sighs in annoyance at the mischievous glint in Jaskier's eye.

"A gag, perhaps?" the woman asks, amused, and Geralt almost considers it.

"A cage," he says instead, grabbing Jaskier's shoulders and pushing him towards her.

Jaskier flails his arms like a drowning man.

"A--a what now? Geralt? If you think you can keep me in a gods-damned cage, you bastard--"

Perhaps the gag would be a wiser choice.

"Just some parts of you, sweetheart," the attendant says calmly, making to tug at Jaskier's trousers.

Geralt holds Jaskier's arms firmly behind his back as he's stripped from the waist down. He can't help but glance down over Jaskier's shoulder when the woman examines his limp cock.

"Such a sweet little thing," she comments with a smile and gives Geralt a nod before disappearing deeper into the shop. He watches the sway of her hips beneath her skirts.

"Geralt?" Jaskier whispers. His heartbeat drums dully in Geralt's ears, too fast, too loud. "Geralt, what are you doing to me?"

Jaskier's stopped thrashing, though the wheeze of his breath remains anxious in anticipation.

Geralt doesn't answer.

The woman returns quickly, a vial of a viscous, translucent oil in one hand and the steel cage in the other. Geralt marvels at how small it is, though he keeps his expression neutral.

"I'll--" Jaskier begins, though the words die in his throat when lithe, slick hands grab his cock abruptly.

"You'll want to watch, master witcher."

Geralt does.

It's a quick affair, now that Jaskier's given up his struggling. He stands still as a statue, head turned away and eyes squeezed shut. His hands shake when the woman threads his delicate balls through the metal ring, and he gasps when she gently tucks his cock into the cage.

"The fit is a bit snug," she says, lifting Jaskier's newly caged prick, turning it this way and that to get a better look. "Would you like something bigger?"

Geralt shakes his head. Jaskier doesn't try to reply.

The attendant hands him a small padlock with a key in it, and Geralt has to take his gloves off to fasten it on Jaskier's cage. The key goes around his neck, safe beneath his armour.

Geralt tugs Jaskier's trousers up, ties them roughly and perhaps too tightly. He can just make out the cage's shape under the fabric, an obscene bulge that's sure to get Jaskier longing stares.

He hands over most of his purse and urges Jaskier out, back into the world.

***

The bard is silent for three days.

They trudge the path in blissful peace that Geralt will yearn for when it breaks. When they make camp, Jaskier refuses to help. He sets up his bedroll as far as he can, shivering through the night, huffing indignantly. He won't eat until he thinks Geralt is asleep.

The atmosphere is so tense Geralt wonders why Jaskier won't simply leave, until he remembers the little silver key around his own neck.

They get to town, eventually, and Geralt sets out on a contract almost immediately. He doesn't hesitate to leave Jaskier at the inn, for once confident no trouble will befall him. The assurance is a surprising comfort.

On the fourth night Jaskier rouses Geralt from a fitful sleep, perched carefully at the edge of the bed.

"It's enough, isn't it?" he says softly, his expression shattered and pained. "I've learned my lesson. You can--please take it off."

Geralt blinks a few times. Takes a deep breath that chokes him with the urgent scent of desperation, unresolved lust. He thinks, and he thinks.

"No."

"Geralt--"

"No," he repeats calmly, closing his eyes again. "You wear the cage or I cut your useless cock off."

Jaskier gasps, and stutters, and goes quiet again, though not for long.

"If that's what it takes to stay with you then I--I will. I'll do it. But you--" A hand settles lightly on Geralt's abdomen. "You will take it off? Eventually. Right?"

Geralt hums dismissively. He revels in the neediness in Jaskier's voice, his uneven breathing as he settles back on the floor. It nearly rocks him back to sleep, until--

The whimper is a soft thing, barely audible, and yet it's enough to hurl Geralt viciously into wakefulness. He cracks an eye open, breath caught in his throat.

The darkness does little to hinder his sight; he gets a perfect view of where Jaskier's sprawled out on his bedroll, legs spread obscenely, hand desperately clutching his trapped prick. Geralt watches as he tries to get his fingers between the bars, tries to touch his swollen cock through the unforgiving metal. He whines again, louder this time as his head rolls from side to side.

"Jaskier," Geralt says abruptly. Jaskier jumps, though his hand doesn't fall away.

"Sorry," he breathes, voice thick like he might cry. "Sorry, I need it so badly, Geralt--"

And Geralt can smell it, is the thing--the salt of Jaskier's tears and the crushing, overbearing desire that now clings to him. He can't escape it, and maybe--maybe he doesn't want to.

He wouldn't ever admit it, but Geralt's cock grows unreasonably hard as he watches Jaskier frantically try to get off. He'd never thought about it, how good Jaskier would look, how good he'd sound--how achingly wanting he'd become after just a few days in chastity. It almost tempts Geralt to unlock the cage, so he can watch Jaskier's tiny prick bounce when Geralt spreads him out on the bed and fucks him within an inch of his life.

Almost.

"Go to sleep, bard."

***

The cage, Geralt comes to find, does not work as he'd hoped.

Yes, Jaskier's overeager cock can't get him in trouble anymore, and Geralt's glad for that, truly--fending off angry cuckolds never was his favourite pastime.

As far as distractions go, however--well.

The persistent, all-consuming scent of unfulfilled arousal so intense it nearly knocks Geralt to the ground is a slight problem.

He doesn't mind, really, when Jaskier looks so tempting biting his lip and rubbing his thighs together, so delicious pawing at his own prick and his swollen sack. When he begs and pleads and a whine slips into his normally sure voice, turning it thick and watery with tears.

Geralt refuses, refuses, refuses.

Jaskier does not ask to leave.

He gets drunk a lot, now. A cup of wine turns into three and then the whole carafe, and for once Geralt doesn't feel the need to keep a watchful eye and a hand on his sword. He leaves Jaskier to his will and heads to bed, calm and content.

Sleep doesn't seize him for long hours, so when Jaskier makes it back, stumbling noisily through the door, Geralt hums to let him know he's awake. He keeps his eyes shut.

It's a while before Jaskier climbs into bed beside him. The warmth of his bare skin pressed close against Geralt is a shock; the realisation that the cold, hard shape digging into his thigh is the metal of the cage trapping Jaskier's prick is--

Fuck.

His heart doesn't stutter when he feels the hot puffs of Jaskier's breath on his neck, but it might have, were he a weaker man. A hand creeps tentatively over his chest, limbs winding around him until Jaskier lies halfway on top of his supine body.

"Geralt," Jaskier breathes, sounding wrecked, and his hips move abruptly forward, clumsy thrusts against Geralt's side that make Geralt feel the curved steel even through his clothes. "Please, Geralt, please let me get off."

No, slips right to the tip of Geralt's tongue and stays there, unsaid and distant. The way Jaskier's words bleed together sets Geralt on edge. He doesn't dare move a muscle when Jaskier keeps rutting the cage against his body, keeps trying in vain to seek his pleasure. Dry lips settle on the edge of his jaw, grow wet with sloppy kisses. Geralt's own cock swells in his smallclothes, unrestrained.

"I'll do anything."

A hot rush of power hits Geralt head-on, nearly steals his breath away. The word echos in his head. Anything. Anything.

Jaskier moans faintly, right into Geralt's ear. The arm thrown across his chest moves lower, and for a moment he thinks Jaskier is going to touch his frightfully hard cock and it'll be over. He wouldn't have enough restraint to stop himself, then.

But Jaskier merely reaches to touch his own prick, like he did so many nights before; desperately trying to fit his long fingers between the bars, caress his plumped, reddened, tortured cock. Geralt releases the grip he'd had on the blankets underneath him, flexing his fingers against the ache in his knuckles. He wonders if--and he wants to--

His sudden movement doesn't startle Jaskier, to the bard's own credit or the wine flowing through him. He groans when Geralt bats his hands away from where he's fondling himself, leans forward and sucks a mindless mark to the side of Geralt's throat.

Geralt thinks of the way Jaskier's whimpers had sounded in the deep nights just as he grabs hold of the cage and squeezes.

The effect is immediate, though he doubts Jaskier gets any physical stimulation off it. Still, he chokes on a breath, and whines, and suddenly he's trembling wildly against Geralt's side.

Geralt tightens his hold just a little. They both hold their breath when the metal creaks pitifully beneath his fingers.

"Geralt," Jaskier says again, but this time his voice waivers with dread.

Geralt's whole body hums, sings, screams at him to grip just that much harder, fuck--perhaps enough to warp the cage, so it always digs into hot flesh and reminds Jaskier that it could have been his bare prick crushed in Geralt's fist instead, perhaps--

He lets go with a shuddering exhale, rolling swiftly on his side, back turned to where Jaskier's gulping down lungfuls of air.

"Tomorrow," Geralt says, all too loud in the darkness. "You can--I'll let you come."

"You'll take it off?"

"I'll let you come."

Geralt doesn't sleep, arousal hot in his core, skin prickling with anticipation.

***

"Fuck," Jaskier whispers heartily. His hands tremble where they rest, bound, at the small of his back. Should've got the gag, too. "Fuck, you bastard."

He's quite the sight, like this, knelt on the bed with his knees spread and his face shoved into the blankets. Open. Presenting. Captive and helpless and entirely at Geralt's mercy.

Geralt has yet to decide how merciful he's feeling.

He gets an eyeful of Jaskier's round arse sloping beautifully into the arched curve of his spine. Geralt aches to touch, yet he does not.

"You said--" Jaskier begins, muffled against the bedding.

"I know. Patience."

His own cock throbs, confined in his leathers, and Geralt reels at the thought that Jaskier's suffered through this for weeks.

He weighs his options. Reaches for the oil he keeps in case he needs to take Jaskier's cage off. Pulls his hand back before he manages to grab it, thinking. Thinking.

Jaskier wails when Geralt buries his face between his cheeks, tongue flat against his tight, untouched hole.

"Geralt, Geralt, Geralt--"

And Geralt never thought he would want this--never thought he could have this--but a flame of possession, of ownership flares bright and hot in his chest, and he knows he won't ever want anything else.

"That's filthy, you--"

Jaskier mewls and gasps, his thighs quivering until they give out, knees sliding impossibly more apart. Geralt fucks him with his tongue and goes near-delirious when Jaskier cries, big, heaving sobs shaking his body. He tastes decadent. He tastes of despair.

Jaskier's bound hands reach Geralt's head, long fingers weaving into his hair, pulling, holding. Geralt works his jaw greedily and Jaskier's body parts for him, unravels and blooms until even Geralt can't stand it any longer.

The outraged huff Jaskier gives when Geralt flips him heavily to sprawl on his back is vaguely amusing; nearly enough to cut through the thick cloud of desire settled over Geralt's mind, though not quite.

Oil spills over his fingers before he knows it, slicks Jaskier's feverish skin, makes it glimmer and glisten. His fingertips caress the steel cage almost reverently. He stares at it, at Jaskier's gorgeous prick flushed an angry red, swelling against the bars. He stares and it's as if a spell carves itself into his bones, heavy and binding and inevitable.

He pushes two fingers inside Jaskier just as he leans in to put his mouth around that cute little prick, cage and all. It clinks against his teeth. Geralt forces his tongue between rigid metal bars, desperate for a taste. Jaskier writhes beneath him, but his arms are still tied behind his back, immobilised between him and the bedding.

The cage is so small it doesn't even reach Geralt's throat and that's--

Fuck.

Geralt pumps his fingers blindly into Jaskier's tight hole, fits a third one in before he reasonably should. Jaskier moans delectably. His pleas grow in volume.

"Please let me come, pleaseletmecome, I'll be so, so good, I--I've been so good, Geralt, gods--"

Geralt presses his hips against the bed and guides his mouth higher, over Jaskier's trembling belly, over the ribs Geralt can now make out beneath his skin. He sucks a mark there, right over the bone. Moves higher. Thrusts his fingers faster, until he feels Jaskier jolt and his moans drip into a constant, maddening staccato. He puts his mouth around a nipple and finds it delightfully sensitive. He'll try, on another day, to get Jaskier to come just from having his tits fondled. Now, though--

Geralt wonders if he can fit a fourth finger without reaching for the oil.

He can.

A bite just below Jaskier's jaw. A hand closing tenderly around the cage. Squeezing. Crushing. Jaskier goes still, silent, breathless--he clenches tight-tight-tight around Geralt's fingers as the sharp scent of his release pierces the air.

"Good boy," Geralt says, watching Jaskier's soft cock spurt pitiful drops of come over his abdomen. Most of it catches on the cage. Geralt yearns to lap it up, but not before--

His own hand feels heavenly around his cock when he finally makes to undo his breeches. Geralt kneels between Jaskier's splayed legs; watches his hole spasm around nothing, the way his prick tries to twitch in its confines. It isn't long before his orgasm creeps up his spine, mind-numbing in its intensity.

Geralt spills over the cage.

Only then does he settle between his bard's thighs once more to lick him clean like a newborn cub.

#cw dubcon #cw chastity #cw bad person geralt?#dunno #honestly luvs #this is a fucking piss take

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nextwarden · 3 years

Text

Webtoons are good for the soul PART II - ECLECTIC BOOGALOO

A continuation of this.

Sea Salt and Sand by neggut [ongoing]

In the autumn holidays 3 months ago, Brynn and Bailey shared a kiss. When Bailey left, Brynn tried to forget all about her and continue living an unremarkable life, only for Bailey to suddenly transfer to her school! What follows is a coming of age story full of pining, misunderstandings and confusion as Brynn and Bailey question the true nature of their relationship.

It’s cute and a bit angsty but not too much. The art style often feels incomplete or rushed but in a good way, its flaws give character to the characters and the story. One of my all time favourites.

Apathy meets labrador/10

Dragonbourne by Gummy Shark [ongoing]

After a troubled past, Sir Ross Edmund Avery is somewhat content to lead a mundane existence, alone in his house. However, when he stumbles upon a child in the woods on Solstice Night who is anything but mundane, his simple life will be turned upside down.

A scar(r)ed man adopts a feral child, hijinks ensue. Once again, the art style is endearing, full of curves and long lines. Haven’t checked on that one in a while but the first twenty chapters were very promising.

Found family/10

The Last Human by Zack Jordan [ongoing]

She's the galaxy's worst nightmare: a Human. Fortunately, she's the last one. Now her adoptive (alien) mother is realizing that raising a young Human is no easy task.

Basically the badass and child duo trope but the truth may surprise you. Fun, cute, very wholesome, and surprisingly emotionnaly philosophical at times. Spidermom is best mom.

Recommend/10

Vampire Husband by Scragony [ongoing]

The life of Charles the Vampire an Cheryl the human after years of marriage.

What if tragic romance between human and vampire but they had their “happy-ever-after”? This is after. It’s funny and cute.

Relationship goals/10

Blood Stain by sigeel [ongoing]

A story about courage, growing up and finding friendships in most unlikely places... spiced with some MAD SCIENCE!

Haven’t quite wrapped my head around this one yet, but it’s fun and drawn by sigeel (a.k.a. Linda Sejic) so of course it’s beautiful. Enjoyed it a lot, will have to keep reading.

Bloody merry/10

Punderworld by sigeel [ongoing - on hiatus]

Hades' and Persephone's love-struck misadventures.

Another take on Hades and Persephone’s love story. Once again, sigeel, so of course I love the art.

Bumbling idiots/10

The Queen and the Woodborn by Shiniez [ongoing]

Far away behind seven hills and seven forests, seven fields and seven rivers, there lived a Queen... welcome to the queen and the woodborn. a fairy tale romance for the mature readers about the unseen Queen and the Goddess in the woods. a tale of the two forgotten by the world around them who will make the world remember their names. expect gods and monsters and a romance for the ages.

Not many chapters yet but very long ones to compensate. This one is by Shiniez (a.k.a. Stjepan Sejic) so, once again, love the art. The story, the character designs and concepts, and the pace are all amazing.

Very wow/10

P.E.T.S. by Gyxks [ongoing]

Just when Tasha was about to start a new life, she was abducted by aliens. Fortunately, she and other humans were rescued by an interstellar general named Tourmaline. She soon discovered that her body was unfit to return home without endangering life on earth. Join her on her journey traversing this new world and these new feelings for an alien general.

POV: You’re living your best life as a young adult, at the shopping mall at 2am in your pyjamas, when suddenly death aliens rain pain all around and you’re abducted only to be saved by tall buff alien commander lady. Romance ensues. Maybe, it’s slow burn but quite enjoyable to read.

Blush/10

Scoob and Shag by Misterie Krew [ongoing]

Scoob and his best pal Shag are up to their usual hi-jinks, but everything is not as it seems in their latest adventure.

No relations to any character whatsoever. None. None at all. Also no relations to any kind of sense at all either. Can’t quite explain that one except that it’s genius. Just read it.

Is that a gun?/10

Bewitched by peachyytown [ongoing]

The witch who keeps "kidnapping" the princess is actually her girlfriend and they're just going on dates.

Short but cute alternative take on all that witch/monster/princess shenanigans. In the same vein as Our days in Lumain. Also the art is very nice.

Meetcute/10

When the Pink Trees Bear Fruit by neggut [completed]

A sweet love blooms between two women on an orchard in 1973.

A short story, five chapters only, but play devastatingly well with one’s heart. In the same vein as It Stems From Love by Soya S. Holm. neggut ist sehr gut.

Tears/10

Rooftops & Roommates by Zaanart [ongoing]

Jeb is an architecture major at university, rooming with his best friend Todd. There's just one problem... Jeb’s secretly a gargoyle! Between studying, partying, and a bad ghost problem, will Jeb be able to keep his true identity a secret?

Jeb is sweet, Jeb is fresh, but Jeb is decidedly not very good at keeping a secret. It’s funny, slice-of-life, roommate college shenanigans at its finest. With a magical twist.

Ship/10

Everything is Fine by Mike Birchall [ongoing]

Sam and Maggie are a normal couple, in a normal house, in a normal neighborhood. There is nothing strange about their heads, their neighbors or their sweet little dog. Everything is Fine.

I haven’t actually started this one yet, but the premise is very very very interesting. Perhaps not for thos who are faint of heart? Deceptively cute. Or is it?

It’s fine/10

Castle Swimmer by Wendy Lian Martin [ongoing]

What happens when your entire life is ruled by a prophecy – your future foretold by people you’ve never met, who died long before you were born. Such is the story of two young sea creatures. One believed to be a guiding light for his people, a Beacon who will lead them to a bright, prosperous future. The other is a teenage prince for who’s destiny is to KILL the Beacon so that HIS own people might thrive. When both reject the course set for them, it leads to a raucous adventure as big and unpredictable as the ocean itself – and a romance that nobody could have predicted.

It’s fish. It’s gay. It’s under da sea and ya gotta kiss the boy. I haven’t read it all yet but enough to vouch for it and to have some vested interest in the universe and its lore.

Enemies to lovers/10

Demon Highschool by Kiiyoko [ongoing]

After a compromise it was agreed that criminals would attend a "demons highschool" where they would work as slaves for demons And while it was all in good favor, things take a very dark and twisted turn at said, highschool.

There’s something, some kind of twist, about the MC which I haven’t gotten to yet, and which I am very interested to discover. I’m not quite sure how I feel about this one as of now, mostly curious I’d say.

Pet/10

Hooky by Miriam Bonastre Tur [completed]

Dani and Dorian have missed the bus of the school of magic. Now, they must find someone who teach them how to be a great and good witches... Or maybe not.

This one is a strange one about witchery and family. Surprisingly deep and serious at times, very enjoyable. Unfinished on Webtoon but a good start to get into the story.

Siblings/10

Loving Reaper by Jenny Jinya [ongoing]

Animals struggle. Pets and Wildlife alike. The reaper cares for their stories and helps them with the crossover. Short stories about the "Loving Reaper" to raise awareness and collect funds. Breaking hearts for a good cause.

Beautiful bittersweet stories about animals, pets, life and death and love.

Tissues/10

Batman: Wayne Family Adventures by StarBite, CRC Payne, Kielamel Siba, Lan Ma, C.M. Cameron, and Camille Cruz [ongoing]

Batman needs a break. But with new vigilante Duke Thomas moving into Wayne Manor and an endless supply of adopted, fostered, and biological superhero children to manage, Bruce Wayne is going to have his hands full. Being a father can't be harder than being Batman, right?

What if Bat-family but happy? Official comic, barely started, very fun.

Wholesome/10

The First Night With the Duke by MSG, Taeva, from an original work by Hwang DoTol [ongoing]

A handsome, selfish noble falls for a beautiful, kind commoner -- at least, that’s how the story’s supposed to go. When an average college student wakes up as Ripley, an extra in her favorite romance novel, she resolves to enjoy the luxuries of her character’s status while watching the novel's plot unfold from the sidelines. However, her plans are soon derailed when she finds herself in bed with no other than Duke Zeronis, the novel’s hero! Dodging the villainess’ schemes, the Duke’s advances, and her own feelings, can Ripley keep the story on track and survive beyond the first night?

Haven’t read that one but a very dear (and respectable) friend (*cough* @berigolote *cough*) of mine keeps pestering me to give it a try. So here it is, try it.

Do it before me and you get a cookie/10

HEART Anthology by Marvin.W, caw-chan and many other artists. [ongoing]

Featuring stories from the 2020 Short Story Contest! From wholesome stories to tearjerkers, are you ready to catch these feelings?

A collection of beautiful stories on the shorter side, all about the many kinds of love in life, the many beauties of it, and the pains that make it worth living.

Tears that warm the heart/10

In My Heart by Redfield42 [ongong]

Sasaki Mari is a typical delinquent troublemaker whose only goal is to get a boyfriend, but due to her reputation as bully and low grades, all the boys reject her. Then she decides to change her style, and asks for help from the student with the best grades in the class.

It starts off light and fund and progressively seems to delve a little bit more into the seriousness of life. Not a tragedy, however, and very much worth a read still.

I think I have a trope I like/10

My awkward princess by LazyArts [ongoing]

This love story is about a girl named Luna charlotte, and the student council president Alice Evelyn. Luna is a delinquent whom often gets in trouble, as Luna reaches the end of the line she almost gets expelled, now luna has to become a model student with the help of Alice. Will Luna be expelled or will she succeed, read to find out.

Along the lines of Not So Shoujo Love Story, In My Heart, and Susuhara is a Demon. Delinquent/Good Student meetcute, romantinc hijincks ensue.

Seduction/10

RAINBOW! by Rue & Sunny Gloom [ongoing]

This is the story of a girl named Boo. She has pink hair and a vivid imagination and she is about to discover a side of herself that she never considered before.

Okay, so yes, this one is also also a delinquent meets cute nice girl, but - BUT! - there’s an element of story telling that I love about it: the way we see Boo’s anxiety incorporated visually into the story. Just for that it is one of my favourite recent discoveries!

Protecc/10

-----------------------

Okay, that’s all for part II. Hope you enjoy those as much as I do. Thanks for your attention, sorry for the length and, please, do keep on reading, they all deserve it! As do you.

PART I

#webtoon #webcomic #comic #comics #recommendations #part 2 #the return of the revenge #wlw #mlm #long post #mega thread #keep reading punk

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dragons-bones · 4 years

Text

FFXIV Write Entry #29: Stormsong

Prompt: paternal | Master Post | On AO3

Well, this did not go where I thought it would, and certainly isn’t crack. But I think I like it?

Anyway, SPOILERS for The Sorrow of Werlyt through the quest “Sleep Now in Sapphire” as well as the Omega Raid story line.

A late summer storm had roared up the coast, driving the residents of Terncliff inside their homes and the Ironworks engineers and Resistance soldiers down into the magitek facility. Most were in their commandeered bunks—at least those not on patrol throughout the town—while waiting for the storm to pass, but for the engineers at least, there was still work to be done in the warmachina bay.

For a given definition of work.

Valdeaulin rolled his eyes as Cid Garlond and Synnove Greywolfe’s shouting echoed down the hangar. He couldn’t fathom the reason why Greywolfe was here, for all that she had taken it deeply personally that she hadn’t been involved in the G-Warrior’s development; something to do with the warmachina’s systems, perhaps, or the recovered pieces of the Sapphire Weapon, currently in one of the secondary bays. He could follow her ranting about aetheric principles to a degree, but the similarities between thaumaturgy and arcanima rapidly ran dry when the arcanist also dabbled heavily in engineering.

From his spot close to the exit out towards the bay, at least, the pounding rain and crash of thunder mostly drowned out the engineers’ row (Greywolfe was standing atop the G-Warrior’s shoulder, yelling down at Garlond as they both shook their fists and waved wrenches at one another for emphasis, the other Ironworks employees not reacting to them at all). If he closed his eyes, he could imagine for a moment that rain was falling on the stone roof of his home rather than sheet metal, that the cool wind blew in from the dark depths of the Twelveswood, that the voices he heard were those of his wife and daughter. But then something would crash in the hangar, and he would be drawn back to reality.

With an annoyed sigh, Valdeaulin opened his eyes and resumed his work on a map of the region surrounding Terncliff and heading towards Werlyt. He didn’t have to do it, but there was precious little else for him to do with the weather so foul and the hunt for Gaius’ wayward foster children and their Weapons project temporarily halted. And it would make the lives of the Resistance patrols easier, at least.

He was making notations on one copy about the local patterns of aether for any Resistance mages—eerily dead, but with the occasional strange spot he could sense of high activity that might be a natural golem, or a pocket of minor elementals—when he heard footsteps trotting towards his position. His ears twitched and he looked up, eyebrows going up despite his attempt to remain stoic.

His time with the Order of the Twin Adders had been relatively short—perhaps two years, if that—but Rereha Reha had been notorious well before she and her sisters-in-arms had stumbled into bearing the mantles of Warriors of Light. Valdeaulin hadn’t served in her unit, but he had seen the fallout of some of her “shenanigans,” both good and ill, and his commanding officer had spoken of her with fond exasperation. Like him, she was an outsider to the Twelveswood, but for some unfathomable reason, she had been permitted beneath its boughs by the Elementals to live and learn in Gridania.

She hadn’t changed much, appearance wise anyway, since that time he had last seen her before Operation Archon: devious, almost smarmy grin, pink hear dyed with streaks of white, skin astonishingly blemish free despite a career outdoors that he had once overheard a Gridanian noblewoman hiss over in a fit of jealousy and left him struggling to disguise his laughter as a cough. She still favored sky blue for anything that wasn’t a uniform, going by her leather coat, but her usual matching stockman hat with its jaunty feather was suspiciously missing.

And…was that a hatchling dragon in her arms?

When the lalafell came to a stop before him, he grudgingly said, “Lieutenant Reha.”

“Ooooh, that’s Captain Reha now, Sergeant,” Rereha said, just shy of cackling.

Valdeaulin nearly dropped his pen. “Dear good gods, why do they keep promoting you?” he said in disbelief.

“Mostly to make me someone else’s problem,” she chirped, easily hopping up onto a stack of crates next to him. The dragonet in her arms croaked reproachfully as it was jostled, but she merely patted it on the head and continued, “I think the plan is to get me high enough that it forces Grand Marshal Brookstone to retire already. I am also, apparently, quite good at getting the job done even if it means someone goes prematurely grey from shock, mortification, or both.”

“That sounds like a quote,” he said.

Rereha held a finger up to her lips in a ‘shush’ gesture, smirking, and waggled her eyebrows.

Valdeaulin shook his head and, to use one of Severa’s favorite phrases, decided to bite the bullet, gesturing to the dragonet. “And who’s your friend there?”

If he hadn’t once been the father of a precocious daughter (one who would be about the same age as this hedonist bard had she lived), he likely wouldn’t have noticed the very brief widening of Rereha’s eyes in the classic children’s expression of oh shite. But he did, and he kept his face studiously blank of anything except polite interest while the lalafell smiled bright and wide—too wide, just a hair—and said, “Oh, this little guy?”

She held the dragonet, a yalm long from nose to tail by his guess, up for inspection. He had black eyes, apparently all pupil, or perhaps his irises were true black, as well. His head was head was wedge-shaped, with fan-shaped protrusions on either side of his head of similar shape to his wings. The closer look showed that his scales were tiny; from a distance he had almost appeared smooth-skined. He was dark green, shading to a paler shade on his belly, and the undersides of his wings and ear fins, plus his extremities, were pink.

The dragonet was, quite frankly, adorable, despite the unsettlingly powerful glare. Something about his aether niggled at him, though; he could have sworn he had encountered it before, but that couldn’t be possible…

“I had heard you and the other Warriors of Light had brought peace between the Ishgardians and the Dravanians,” Valdeaulin drawled, “but I didn’t expect it had extended to babysitting.”

“Dragonets do what they want,” Rereha said with a sniff. “He usually stays in Anyx Trine, but occasionally he comes wandering to find us and beg for bacon jerky.”

The dragonet perked up at that word and he craned his neck and head back to chirp at Rereha imperiously.

She sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I got the goods.” She set the dragonet in her lap and slung her pack off her shoulder.

As Rereha rummaged around in her bag, Valdeaulin said mildly, “Does he have a name?”

“Hm? Oh! Yeah,” she said, popping her head up and triumphantly holding a wrapped packet. The dragonet began hopping impatiently, wings flaring, and Rereha shoved him out of the way, but he merely took that as an invitation to hop onto her head, lean over, and croak angrily in her face. She poked his nose and said to Valdeaulin, “He’s, ah, Deeh Sohm.”

His parental bullshite detector, as his Trisselle had called it, noticed the ever-so-slight hesitation, but as before, Valdeaulin didn’t comment on it. As hilarious as it would be to make Rereha Reha squirm, he assumed whatever it was that was causing her to react like someone with their hand in the biscuit jar, it some sort of Warrior of Light business.

Instead, he merely nodded, and went back to notating the map. Rereha, meanwhile, hurriedly unwrapped the waxed paper to reveal a pile of jerky and began breaking off pieces. For every piece she passed up to the impatient “Deeh Sohm,” she popped one into her own mouth, apparently as ravenous as her small companion. The jerky vanished completely into their stomachs in no time at all, and both dragonet and lalafell belched in satisfaction. A lick of blue flame accompanied the dragonet’s.

Valdeaulin did not comment, though he did briefly wonder if Lisie would have stayed as shamelessly irreverent had she grown up. The thought only hurt a little, this time.

Apparently now that snack time was over, it was time to sleep the food off: Rereha yawned once, laid down with her head pillowed on her back, and promptly passed out, in the manner of many soldiers and adventurers who learned to sleep whenever and wherever they could, with an inelegant snore. The dragonet, briefly dislodged from his perch atop her head, instead stomped down to her stomach, kneading it like a cat before he curled into a ball, wings tucked close.

Valdeaulin shifted just a bit on his own seat, shuffling back to make himself a better windbreak for the occasional stormy gust that howled into the hanger.

Suddenly, the dragonet’s aether signature…changed.

Valdeaulin very, very slowly raised his head, eyes wide. Before, the dragonet’s aether had felt dim, the faintest hum of a repeating tune of power, fitting for a creature that looked so young.

Now, though.

Now, it was a chorus of complex harmonies, of rhythms and tone and melodies that somehow blended into a coherent whole. It was heavy with the weight of antiquity, nearly crushing with how narrowly it was focused upon himself.

The dragonet stared at him, and now he would swear that fathomless, midnight gaze saw through him, right to the very heart of his being, weighing and judging and knowing. A loud, grumbling hmmmmmmm, almost two-toned with reverb, echoed in his mind.

Rereha snorted, though she didn’t wake entirely, and she patted the dragonet on the head. “Go t’ sleep, Dad,” she slurred.

Slowly, the ancient awareness folded itself away, bit by bit, until the dragonsong was muted once more to that simple cascade of notes of earlier. The dragonet blinked at him, yawned, and tucked his head under his wing to nap.

Valdeaulin stared at the pair for long moments, before resolutely returning to his work.

He did not want to know.

#ffxivwrite2020 #final fantasy xiv #spoilers #ffxiv spoilers #5.3 spoilers #werlyt spoilers #valdeaulin #oc: rereha reha #midgardsormr #dt's writing

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wonderlander-i · 4 years

Text

Happily Ever After

Pairing : Oliver x F! MC

Warnings : none ( well it's not like I can write anything NSFW I'm such a disaster 😂)

Word count : 1.9k

Author's note : I didn't play distant shores just to spend the rest of my life between theatres and parties only because I'm a thot for Oliver. Hell naw.

Here's a quick rewriting for the diamond scene because I got extra emotional today and I'm not ready for the finale!

Also this is a repost because the tags weren't working on my original post is this normal?

“Now what” Oliver locked his eyes with her, gently taking her hand his.

“We could always be the high society couple and settle in London” She smiled widely, covering the back of his hand with her palm.

“I doubt that’s what you want to do” He arched an eyebrow

“How about we run away?” She smirked, her eyes glinting mischievously.

“I guess I should pack some extra pants then” He grinned, kissing the back of her hand.

“A feisty one, isn’t she?” An old sailor smiled, wiping the sweat of his forehead with a dirty cloth.

Oliver chuckled at the sight of Evelyn standing in the center of the deck of their new ship giving orders to the men around her to move and put things in the places she desired.

“Aye, she’d boss his majesty the king around if she’d got the chance to”

“Didn’t she persuade him to make her an ambassador of England?”

“She’s quite the charmer” He shook his head, a proud smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You’re a lucky man, ya know?” The man patted Oliver’s shoulder before walking away to carry on with his work.

At this moment, Evelyn turned her head in his direction, beaming. She smiled warmly at him. Her smile held a hundred words of unspoken promises, of eternal happiness, and of wishful dreams of sailing together to the unknown and never turning back. And in that crowded place, between all the bustling movements, the loud upbeat chatters, and crashing of the waves, nothing mattered to him except keeping that grin drawn on her face forever.

“The luckiest” He thought to himself.

“Where are you taking us” Oliver asked as she dragged him through the alleys of a busy market in a village. The rich smell of sweet and spice tickled his nose as he looked around to the million colors that surrounded them, like they were escaping from a painting, coming to life.

“Patience, Oliver” She giggled, her voice barely reached him above all the sounds of the merchants calling out their merchandise and the children playing, still running and parkouring between the food stands and the rolls of silk.

He shook his head, the corners of his lips turning up as he took in the beautiful traditional emerald green dress that she wore. She was utterly fascinated by the fashion of the world in their era. She wanted to try everything, to experience everything. Her eyes lit up with the brightest glimmer at every clothing shop they came across and he swore to himself to order her a traditional dress from every country they were sent to next. She always found her surprises wrapped in a beautiful box under her bed, and the way she’d dance in it around the room made him wonder, how could happiness be only one piece of fabric away?

Shaking his head to chase his thoughts away, his eyes widened when they emerged into a larger alley which led to a golden temple. Majestic, bold, and his books could never do he view in front of him justice. She stopped running and turned to face him, her hair flying around her like every strand of it danced to the rhythm of the overflowing music bursting from everywhere, studying his curious expressions with satisfaction.

“Well, this is worth almost tripping on a basket of cumin” He stated.

“Evelyn?” Oliver called calmly as he studied a letter with the scarlet royal seal on it. Sitting at his desk in his study room, he patiently tapped his fingers on the wooden surface until she appeared by the doorframe.

“Yes darling?” She stepped up behind him with two steamy cups of tea in her hands.

“Some papers came while you were out” He spread the letter on the table in front of her, his eyebrows furrowed. “Would you explain why this says that you had been assigned as a navigator on my ship?”

“Well they couldn’t say no to the commodore’s wife” She replied, setting the cups next to the letter and taking a closer look at it.

He turned his chair to face her, his composed expressions replaced by an anguished look.

“You don’t understand the risks” He pleaded her to change her mind, taking her hand in his “It’s a war! I don’t doubt that you can fight better than half the men the navy will ever have, but-”

“I do understand the risk” She interrupted him, determined “and that’s why I will never let you go to a war alone.”

“I won’t be alone. I will have hundreds of men, a whole royal navy unit behind me”

“And the best navigator these waters have known, with the most beautiful eyes to lead you” She smiled, leaning down to plant a kiss on his forehead. “I know you will be taking good care of all your men, but who will take care of mine?”

He sighed, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. He rested his head on her chest and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. She smelled like sweet cinnamon, sunshine, and safety.

“It was bold of me to think that I can go that long without those cups of tea of yours”

Oliver linked his arm with hers as they took their usual evening stroll by the seaside, a picnic basket dangling from his other arm. They somehow found their peace in walking barefoot on the ivory sand, filling a glass jar with curiously colored seashells and well rounded pebbles. They earnestly deserved this undisturbed tranquility after all those years of combat in the open sea. It’s been a year since his father, the disgraced admiral, passed away. They were both astonished to learn that Oliver was to inherit his estate which was barely a quarter of a mile away from the coast line. It was more of a castle than an estate. Old fashioned, charming, and one hour later Evelyn was setting the admiral’s portraits on fire.

She grasped her shawl tighter to shield herself from the autumn breeze as they walked hand in hand. They subconsciously reached for each other’s hand frequently, constantly, all the time, everywhere. As if their linked souls sought to manifest their bound in every questionable way.

And in a matter of moments, they were already sitting on the red stripped blanket, admiring yet another sunset together. Evelyn sighed deeply, glancing sideway at the man whom she almost worshipped. He was the perfect evidence of God’s perfectionism. How could such a flawless divine creature be…human? She pursed her lips into a thin line, fearing that she might explode from all her swirling emotions. His presence filled her with the most extraordinary feelings. It was outrageous, overwhelming, yet intoxicating in the most enchanting way.

“Oliver” She whispered, taking the glass of wine from his hand and setting in on the sand.

“Yes?” He hummed

She didn’t reply. Instead, she handed him and envelope. His name was written on in with big neat letters. He recognized the handwriting to be hers. He arched an eyebrow at her unusual behavior, but he opened it with no furthermore questions.

Dear Commodore Cochrane,

I am very pleased to inform you that you have been promoted to be father

Yours truly,

Your wife.

His jaw dropped and his eyes widened, and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. His eyes darted between Evelyn and the paper in his hand for several times, and not even a word slipped from his mouth. It’s not until he saw that something was dripping on the letter, and he realized that these were his own tears, that he was pulled back to reality. His lower lip trembled as he reached with his hand to frame the side of her face, as the other moved to rest on her belly very delicately, fearing that if he presses harder she might shatter like a porcelain doll. Neither of them dared to break that sacred silence, nor knew how to. They sat there, lost in each other’s eyes as the sky changed its colors to a soft lavender hue. And if eyes were the windows of the soul, she saw pure love pouring from his. She would’ve sworn that she can’t fall for him harder, until that one moment.

Only then she knew that loving him was an endless fall, and it’s a long way down.

Evelyn sat on a bench in their little garden, her one year old son sleeping peacefully in her arms. He was carefully wrapped in a warm blanket, snuggled to her chest. She gazed at him adoringly.

“You’re the perfect replica of your father aren’t you” She hummed softly, her finger caressing his little rosy cheek. “You’ve got the same golden hair that captures the sun” Her finger moved to twirl the small blonde curl that fell on his forehead. “The same olive eyes, like the morning of a spring day encapsulated in a honey jar” And she poked his nose “And the same look of mischief, you’re always up to something aren’t you?” The little boy yawned in his sleep, and she smiled.

She felt a strong pair of arms wrap around her and her baby, and she flinched instinctively, protectively holding her son closer. But as soon as she recognized the familiar scent of morning dew and the sweet sea air, her shoulders relaxed and warmth flooded her chest.

“For how long have you been here” She asked, turning to face the grinning man.

“That’s a question which I shall not answer”

“You realize that your answer is implied, right” She rolled her eyes playfully, and the threw her head back to lay on his shoulder. “Hello there, commodore”

“I think you kind of started developing feelings for me. I’m sorry madam, but I’m a married man” He mused.

“Oliver, we are married”

“I’m afraid you’re wrong, you must’ve mistaken me for someone else”

“Oliver!” she groaned, trying her best to not wake the baby up. “Sir, we’ve married for eight years. We have a son together, we’re expecting another child soon, and if you wake him up I’ll send you on a pleasure cruise with the edge of my sword”

“Still as feisty as the day I first met you.” A deep chuckled rumbles in his throat, as he let go of her and walked around the bench to face her. He kneeled in front of her and placed a soft kiss on the forehead of their son. And out of the blue, his expressions turned grave and serious.

“Evelyn, I may not be the best at showing it, but you truly made me the happiest man in the world. I’m sorry if my time can never rise up to match the comfort of yours, I would’ve given you the whole world if I could and-”

“Shush” she effectively stopped him by placing her finger on his soft lips, her heart aching with undeniable love.

“You are my world”

“And to think that you’ll ever be any less cliché”

#oliver x mc #oliver cochrane #distant shores #playchoices #Choices #choices fanfiction #choices stories you play

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lilith-of-rivia · 4 years

Text

III

The Whisper in the Stars

Pairing: Geralt Of Rivia x Elf OC

Word Count: 2,251

Warnings: cursing?

MASTERLIST

I woke the next morning to the sun coming threw the curtains, rudely shining directly into my eyes. It was the first time since we left home I had awoken in a bed and warm, and not on the floor of the woods. It was also the first time in many, many years I had woken to a man's arms around me. I didn't know when or how his arms had made their way around my waist. His chest to my back, and his breathing soft and calm on the back of my neck. The warmth of it makes my skin crawl. I wanted nothing more than to ravish in his touch. But I figured the witcher wouldn't be too happy about the sleeping arrangements once he woke.

Softly and carefully, I removed his hands from around me making him stir. His eyebrows furrowed together and I quickly stood up looking at him. His eyes were now open, but barely. His lips twitched into a half-smile.

"I hope I didn't offend you, princess." His voice was even deeper than normal and gruff with sleep.

"You didn't witcher. I just wanted to get a start to the day. Maybe wander around town, look for new clothes for Ciri and Dara." I said with a smile. He sat up placing his feet on the ground, I could hear his body cracking.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped your boundaries last night." I blurted. Knowing how many male elves I had been with in the past, hated when I didn't go their pace, whether it was slower or faster.

"I wouldn't have let you, little elf if I didn't want it. I enjoy your company. We all do. And your heartbeat is a great lullaby." I couldn't help but smile as I walked over to him, his golden, warm eyes looking up at me. I new the witcher never showed this emotional side to others very often, and it made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"It's a good thing you stumbled upon us then." I bent down a tad and kissed his forehead. His eyes never left my face. I was more drawn to this creature than I had ever been to any man in my life. And after 1,389 years there had been plenty of men.

"Common get dressed and come with me." He nodded standing up, putting his shirt back over his head. I grabbed my dagger, sliding it into its sheath and tying my top.

Once he had his boots on we exited the room, to find Dara and Ciri sitting in a group of kids on the ground below the inn. They were playing some form of game. All laughing and smiling. It warmed my heart to see them being able to be kids. Legolas was sitting on the stairs, willing something onto his new bow. I couldn't tell what type of pattern it was but he was extremely concentrated on it. Jaskier was sitting on a log not far from Ciri writing in his book.

"Would you like to come and get some new clothes with me?" I asked walking up behind the two, kneeling down.

"Oh yes, I'd love to." Ciri cheered and jumped up Dara following.

"Thank you for letting us play!" She said to the group of kids who all smiled and waved at her.

"There was a jeweler merchant set up across the clothing shop. I'm gonna stop in there." I told Geralt who looked at me with a brow cocked.

We walked into the jewelers to see an elderly man talking to the elder that had "greeted" us. Their heads turned as we walked threw the door. The man behind the table stood and smiled brightly at us.

"Good day, Geralt of Rivia and friends. How can I help you today?" He greeted and smiled. Geralt looked down at me as I walked up to the counter, Ciri at my side.

"I have something to possibly trade," I said and pulled out the necklaces I had been wearing. I broke the chain around my neck and let the ring fall into my hand and placed it on the counter.

It was a golden ring with gold leaves that came together around a stone native to my homelands. The man took it, looking at it with eyes wide.

"This stone. Where did you get it? Why are you giving it up?" The man asked and looked at me. I could now feel Geralt's presents behind me as he examined the ring.

"Its a stone called Adamant, a white jewel. It's one of the most valuable jewels to my people. But it hasn't meant a thing to me in many, many years. It was an engagement to a betrothal about 500 hundred years ago, I only kept it due to the value I know it holds. I'm only willing to give it up for the right price." Ciri was now holding the ring. Looking at it closer.

"I have a queen who would kill for a peace like this." The jeweler said and pulled out a chest, full of coins.

"I'll give you 3,000 Orens for it." He said as he started to weigh the gold coins. I had very little knowledge of the currency of this land so I looked to Geralt.

"Does that seem fair to you?" I asked and he titled his head to the side, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I've killed monster for 3,000 orens. I feel you could do better man. If this queen is willing to kill for a peace like that, I do not believe you will only be selling it for that amount. Do not try and scam the woman." He said, his voice gruff and his eyes set in a glare. He slowly moved closer to me, his chest nearly touching my back.

"Try again." He growled.

"The highest I can go is 5,000." The jeweler said now looking even more intently at the ring. I looked up at Geralt and he nodded.

"Deal." He smiled and started to fill a pack full of coins before handing it to me. With a quick thank you, we exited the store and I tied the sack of coins to my belt.

***

"So you were betrothed?" Great asked quietly as we sat and watched the woman who gave me my clothes measure and dresses Ciri.

"I was, a long long time ago. Before my father realized I wanted to marry for love. Not for the kingdom. And I was also a fierce warrior even then. My father thought my talent would be wasted on the elven king who just wanted a bride to produce his kin. I kept the ring tho. Thought it'd come in handy one day. And it did." He chuckled softly.

"I never took you for the settle down and marry type anyway." He said glancing at me.

"I'm only open to it, with the right person. Someone willing to treat me as an equal and not just want me for my uterus. Unfortunately, many higher up elven men in my home only care about spreading their seed and continuing their line. My father was the first in many years to not go threw with a betrothal." I now met his eyes.

"I'm not a housewife. I'm not a trophy wife. I want to be a wife who's known for defending herself and her family. And not just a woman pregnant all the time." I said and he smiled a little.

"I believe any man would be lucky to have your hand in marriage little elf." He was so close to my ear as he whispered and it made me shiver.

After Dara and Ciri were equipped with new clothes and shoes, I walked to the woman who was now placing all her tools back. Placing my hand in the bag of coins I pulled out a handful and placed it on her table.

"For everything you've done. We appreciate it so much." She smiled and took the money off the counter and I turned to leave.

"Oh, my dear don't forget your cloak and new knickers." I turned to her again and she handed me a bag full of I'm guessing the new nickers which I was more than happy about. And she wrapped the cloak around my shoulders.

"Its a sheep's wool cloak. It'll keep you plenty warm out on your adventures with the wither. If you're ever around again. Don't hesitate to come to see me. Good luck young one." I smiled and she leaned up and kissed my cheek before pushing me towards Geralt and the kids who were waiting by the door. The cloak was beautiful. It was black all over but the inner fabric was a beautiful blood red.

As we exited the shop Jaskier and Legolas were walking up to us, Legolas had two new horses by his side. He handed me the reins of a beautiful black mare. She was stunning. Her main was thick and her tail was almost to the floor.

"The town elder said these were the ones he was willing to give up." I placed my hand gently on her nose and she leaned into it.

"Hello, lovely," I whispered softly, she huffed in response. I softly pressed my forehead to her snout and closed my eyes. Feeling her bond connect with my own. She had never had a true owner, I could feel her sadness and wanting for a real person to care for her. Not to just be a show pony to the town.

"Vega..." I whispered. She huffed again.

"Such a pretty name," I whispered again and stepped back from her. I slowly walked around her petting her as I went.

"I wish I could do that," Ciri said looking at me as she pets Vega's nose.

"I know you have talents of your own. Embrace those, don't be jealous of someone's abilities when you've been gifted by the gods with your own." I softly kissed her head.

"You will soon come to master those powers and become a very fearsome warrior like Geralt." She smiled wildly at me.

"Or like you." I couldn't help but smile at her words.

"I'm nothing compared to the Witcher of Rivera but I'm more than happy to teach you anything you ask." I heard Geralt hum softly before he turned and walked towards the inn. We all followed behind him, and I tied Vega to the post outside next to Roach.

We all went to our rooms to collect the items we had left in. I grabbed all the new clothes I had acquired and placed them in a bag rolling it with a blanket and, grabbed my swords placing one in my sheath on my belt and the other next to the door. I walked over to the bath and picked up the lemon-scented bar soap and looked at Geralt who was putting his armor on.

"Would it be bad if we took this. I'll leave them a coin." He chuckled softly not looking in my direction focusing on trying to tie his gauntlets that were studded along the outsides of them. I walked over to him and gently took his arm and rested it on my thigh while I tied them for him.

"I didn't need you to do that, princess." He said looking at me as I finished his other arm.

"No, but it was painful watching you struggle, witcher," I said with a smirk and stepped back.

"I'm taking the soap. You can smell pretty bad some days. What does Jaskier say, Onions?" I asked with a laugh and he just grunted, rolling his eyes.

We walked out of the inn and down to the horses. I placed my second sword in the sheath on the saddle and my pack on the end of it, strapping it in. My bow and quiver were also strapped onto the saddle. Not too long after I finished everyone else had their belongings packed to their horses. We all went to the well in the center of town and filled our water packs.

"Where to next?" Jaskier asked as we walked to the horses, Geralt mounting Roach after helping Ciri and Dara onto their own. I followed suit, mounting Vega after untying her lead.

"Where ever the monsters take us. Hoping to find a village willing to house us for when winter hits. I don't want you all out and open to the harshness of the snow this winter." He said as he begins leading Roach to the main road us following.

"Well, I think we should let Apha do all the talking. She's nicer than you Geralt." Jaskier said before he jumped into song as we left the town behind us.

"Toss a coin to your witcher-"

"No Jaskier!" Geralt yelled behind him. But the bard continued, Ciri and Dara joining laughing while they sang. I couldn't help but giggle at the Witcher's stone-cold glare. I gently poked his arm as we rode side by side and he looked at me.

"Where the monsters take us?" I asked, his lips twitched and I could see a shadow of a smile.

"Yes, little elf. Are you with us." He also glanced back at Legolas who was pulling up the rear to make sure no one was falling behind. He heard of course. With his enhanced hearing. He nodded to Garelt wordlessly.

"We're here Garelt. Where ever the monsters take us."

#Geralt x OC #geralt smut #geralt of rivia #geralt fanfic #witcher fanfiction #witcher imagine #witcher fic #witcher jaskier #witcher yennefer #witcher ciri #witcher netflix #lord of the rings oc #elf oc #lord of the rings #legolas green leaf #lotr #lotr fanfic #lotr oc #witcher oc

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booklovingturtle · 4 years

Text

Jude Tells Cardan About Locke

Hiya! This is a kinda like a part two to this fic and once again, dedicated to @duarteegreenbriar for the idea! I also reference this one at the end.

In this fic, Cardan notices Jude has a nasty new scar and Jude tells him about what Locke did to her the night before Taryn’s wedding. Buuuutt...some Jude mildly-nsfw (fluff) before he sees it because I had time so why not make it long-ish.

Cardan flopped into his bed, feeling drawn out after an intense day full of arguing with the lower courts. It’s only been two weeks since the High King split his throne in two; he was already wishing that he could go back to the carefree life he lived as a serpent.

“You should get out of your court clothes before you call asleep.” Jude was already in her closet so her words came out muffled.

As much as he loved sharing his room with her, Cardan didn’t love her completely valid ideas that required him to get back up from bed.

“I was hoping you could help me out of them, Your Majesty,” he called out to her.

She laughed from the other side of the room. “I could hear you snore during Lord Roiban’s proposal. I don’t think you have the energy for that tonight.”

Cardan didn’t bothering hiding the coy smile on his face. He felt a blush on his cheeks but his eyes were still sealed shut. The warm caress of sleep was already pulling him under. He heard her door open and close. She stepped towards him, still laughing at the High King of Elfhame falling asleep on their bed.

“Come,” she whispered, tugging at his arms.

Cardan felt her fingers curl around his. She gently pulled his upper body up. He sat up while still kept his eyes closed. He faked a loud snore and she kicked him but giggled at the sound. God, Cardan loved the sound of her laugh. For so long he thought he would never get to hear it and now he couldn't go an hour without trying to get her to smile at him.

“Hurry up. If you don’t change then you’ll ruin your ugly coat and be upset with yourself tomorrow.”

That did make him open his eyes. “You think my coat is ugly?” His question was already forgotten as he took one look at Jude.

The High Queen of Elfhame looked sinfully beautiful in her sleeping clothes. Mortal day clothes, or “pjs” as Jude had called them, were very different from Faerie ones. Jude wore different clothes to bed, some times Faerie day gowns, sometimes these black pants that she called “leggings”, and other times nothing at all. The latter was his favorite outfit of hers.

Tonight she wore a simple, over-sized white shirt that was clearly mortal in fit. It went down to her the middle of her thighs, allowing Cardan to admire her beautiful legs. Her hair was twisted into a messy knot at the base of her neck.

“No.” Jude swatted his hands away. “Go change.”

He groaned, extending his arms again to pull her waist closer to him. To his luck she let him draw her in this time. “Jude dear...”

“Yes?” Her hands were on top of his and she made eye contact with him without any hint of malice. Months as husband and wife and weeks of a true relationship yet Cardan still couldn’t believe that she was really his. And he was hers.

“I love you,” he whispered.

She smiled gently. Jude and gentle almost never belonged in a sentence together but he was her exception.

“I know,” she played with his fingers.

He chuckled. He knew that the smile on his face was probably too wide to be kingly but he didn’t care. “You love me, too. You said so yourself.”

“Really? I don’t remember saying that?”

He rolled his eyes. “Come here,” he begged, loving the way her mouth teased him with every word.

She obliged his request. Cardan tasted mint and the sweetness of happiness on her lips. His whole body started to wake up as her hands moved up his arms and buried themselves in his hair. Cardan’s own fingers danced under the hem of her shirt. She tugged on his curls and his fingers curled agains the material of shirt. He gasped when she surprised him by bitting his lower lip.

“Jude.”

“Somebody seems awake all of a sudden.” She played with his tail that twisted around her leg.

That drove him to the edge. He closed the little space between them by twisting their bodies so she was pressed against the plush mattress. He was in between her legs, feeling the slope of her stomach and the curves of her body under the shirt. She gasped under hime, her body arching at his touch.

“And somebody seems to be wearing far too many clothes,” he smirked and continued to push up her shirt to reveal all of her body to him.

“Not so fast, High King,” Jude shook her head. “You first.”

Cardan didn't even hesitant to yank off his coat and shirt, then his bottoms. She laughed at his rushed actions. He cut her laughter short with another heat-filled kiss. His lips ran down the length of her body until he reached her naval. She moaned once his mouth moved lower down. Then huffed as he skipped to the soft skin of her thighs. His hands brace the back of her knees, lifting them to position her better until his fingers feel the ragged skin of a scar.

Cardan froze at the feeling of an old puncture wound, one he didn’t remember from the first time he touched her. Cardan tried to remember if it was there the last few times they were together. It was possible that in the heat of the moment he’d never noticed it before but now that he had, he couldn’t ignore it.

“Jude?” his breathing was ragged and his voice deep but his head had cleared just enough for him to talk.

“What’s wrong?” she looked down at him, clearly confused.

“What is this?” He traced the edges of the scar again.

She paled, curling her legs into herself. “It’s nothing. An old scar.”

His eyes narrowed. He didn’t break eye contact with her as he sat on his knees. “No, it’s not. I don’t remember it being there before. Where did that come from?”

She gave him a frustrated sigh. “I have lots of scars, Cardan. Some old, some new. It’s really nothing.”

“I don’t believe you. If it was really nothing then you would have answered me the first time.”

Jude rolled her eyes. “Cardan-”

He took her hands from where they’d been resting at her lap. He brought her left hand up and kissed her ring finger. “You can tell me. Part of being husband and wife is sharing each other’s burdens.”

She watched him, not resisting his action. Finally she spoke, “It happened the night before Taryn’s wedding.”

The night before she was taken. Before Balekin and Orlagh got their hands on her. Before Balekin-

Cardan blocked the thoughts from his mind, trying to focus on Jude’s words instead of the ones he’d read in his brother’s handwriting. He still hadn’t worked up the courage to ask her about what he’d read.

“I was on my way to see Taryn when seven riders attacked me in the woods. It was dark and they caught me by surprise. Don’t worry, I left most of them with worse than a little scar,” she tried to brush off the attack.

“Seven riders? Faerie riders?”

“No, seven teletubby riders.”

“What?” Cardan had never heard of any faerie creatures by the name. After a beat he realized the deadpan nature of her words meant she was being sarcastic. “Oh, never mind.”

A small smile played at the edges of her cheeks. “Yes, faerie riders. I don’t know for sure if they were trying to kill me but they definitely wanted to make sure that I was scared.”

“Did Orlagh send them after you?” Cardan had never forgiven the Undersea Queen but if he knew that she’d somehow managed to hurt Jude in his own territory, he’d find a way to repay her for that crime as well.

“No...it was Locke.”

Cardan shook his head in disappointment. He wished he could say that it was a surprise. That he’d never suspected Locke to be capable of leaving such a nasty scar on his fierce wife. But he knew better than that. He knew that Locke was a cruel Master of Revel who relished in sadistic games. Of course he'd gone after Jude that night. She would have been too preoccupied with trying to keep Oak safe and Taryn happy for the wedding to truly protect herself. If Locke was still alive, he’d have had him strung to a tree by the points of his ears.

“Locke did this to you?”

“I’m not sure if it was his arrow but it was him and his rider friends. They chased me through the woods until I scared them away. Not before I could chop a few down with an axe.”

His jaw ticked in anger. “Who were the other riders?”

“I don’t know. It was dark so I couldn’t really see anything. The only reason I know for sure that it was Locke is because he took my wedding present for Taryn and gave it to her himself.”

“I don't understand,” the High King shook his head. “Why would he do that?”

Jude gave him a sad look. “There’s nothing to understand, Cardan. Locke was a bad man who enjoyed causing others pain. He hated me and probably you for loving me. I should have seen it coming.”

Cardan looked at her in disbelief. “No, this is my fault. I entertained his games far too long. I made him Master of Revel for God’s sake. I should have paid better attention. I should have drawn a line for him to stay behind. Instead I was too afraid of my own feelings to ever protect you.”

That sounded ridiculous even to himself. Jude was an unstoppable force. She was the rock that sharpened the sword, and the hand that wielded it, and the tip that pierced skin. She had protected him time and time again even after he'd failed her. But never again. There would never be another Locke or Valerian or Orlagh or Balekin. Not as long as he was alive.

“That was in the past. It’s over now. Besides, Taryn handled him well enough for the both of us.” Jude caressed his face.

“I know I can’t protect you the way that you’ve been there for me. But Jude I swear to you as long as I live no will ever leave another scar on your body and last through the night.”

Her smile was a bright as the morning sunrise. “How about you wait to make those kinds of threats until we’re able to pick up our training sessions again.”

Cardan groaned, throwing himself back on his back. “Please no more training. You’re High Queen now. I can’t handle your wrath anymore.”

He knew she was changing the subject on purpose but he didn’t mind. She’d opened up to him and that was enough. Tonight was just another reminder of how far they’d come together and how much Cardan and Jude still had to look forward to.

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lov3nerdstuff · 5 years

Text

Beautiful Imperfection

*Loki x reader*

Part: Oneshot (or possible part 2 of Beautiful Stranger)

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: none, only fluff and domestic Loki

Summary: Inspired by your artworks, Loki decides to try his own luck with drawing and painting… Yet, things don’t remotely go as planned and he ends up needing your help to learn how to surrender.

A.N.: Who could resist Loki making a mess and covering himself in paint? 😁 This is fun and fluffy and might or might not include Loki using you as a canvas 😉💗 enjoy! @daddys-littlewhitegirl

______________________________

“Loki, have you seen my pencil sharpener?” You called through the whole apartment in such a desperate voice that Loki had to bite his lip to keep from smirking as he lay on the couch with his legs crossed at the ankles, reading peacefully.

“Would you like me to help you find it?” He called back in his best attempt to keep the humor out of his voice. It wasn’t working too well.

“No, it’s all good, I found it! Thanks!”

“Too bad…” Loki sighed to himself, smiling as he flicked to the next page.

“What was that?” You asked lightly as you came walking into the room with bouncy steps that made Loki want to grin even more. Ever since he had met you, he hadn’t been able to stop wondering how he deserved such an enchanting creature… how he got to call you his, how he was granted to spend every single day with you.

“Oh, nothing, dear…” He mused with a smirk, looking at you for a second and then back to his book. That probably was one of the things he adored most… your incredible curiosity. And teasing you, that as well.

“C'mon Loki!” You laughed, standing in front of the couch and staring down at him for a moment before simply sitting down on his stomach. Since the whole couch was blocked by his long frame, you didn’t have any other choice… and you didn’t want one either. Loki was comfortable and warm and you knew that he secretly enjoyed it when you claimed him like that.

He pretended to groan under your weight for a second, then couldn’t help but chuckle. God, you really weighed nothing… to him at least, and honestly that’s all he cared about really. You, a lot, and himself, a little. Yet, he also had discovered a tendency within himself to care about the things you cared about… which could extend from paying the bills to saving the rainforest. It depended on the day, really.

“I said ‘too bad’, if you must know.” He finally answered honestly, enjoying your intense gaze as you looked down at him with an amused frown.

“Too bad… that what? That I found my pencil sharpener and can continue to colour the drawing?” You chuckled, rising an eyebrow at the absolutely insufferable man beneath you, who you just happened to love so very dearly.

“Indeed.” He smiled, humored. “All you did today was drawing… When am I going to get some attention?”

“Well, all YOU did today was reading, so I could ask you the very same thing!” You laughed, shaking your head to yourself.

“If you wanted my attention you just could’ve asked, darling…” He said with a small smirk, looking at you in the utmost adoration while you playfully smacked him in the chest. You really were absolutely incredible, perfectly imperfect. Loki didn’t like perfection. Perfection was boring, and you were VERY far from boring and so was your life with him. Loki would gladly give you everything you asked for and yet so much more.

“I’m almost done with the drawing…” You sighed, then grinned at him. “After that we can give each other some very much necessary attention, alright?”

“Sounds lovely. What are you drawing anyway?” He asked, sitting up once you had risen to your feet to collect your sketchpad from the desk on the other side of the room.

The apartment Loki and you shared was small, but Loki loved it nonetheless. He would gladly forgo every palace in existence for this little kingdom that was your home. You were his queen, and Loki your humble servant. As long as you were together, Loki was content. Happy, even, more than he was able to properly express.

“You.” You shrugged, chuckling as you made your way back to the couch to sit down next to him.

Loki snatched the sketchpad out of your hand before you could protest, looking at the partially coloured drawing in awe. “This… this is absolutely beautiful. I still have no idea how you can draw emotions and feelings like this. In every new piece you showcase a small piece of my soul.”

“Well, it’s not hard to draw something beautiful when the beauty is sitting right in front of you, reading all day.” You smirked, shoving him a little in the side as you took your work back and got comfortable in one corner of the couch.

“How many drawings of me do you have by now?” He asked with a smile as he handed you a blanket that was draped over the backrest of the couch on his end and watched you wrap it around yourself in amusement.

“Countless. Really, I have lost count and even lost the ABILITY to count them all.” You snorted, picking up your box with pens from the coffee table.

“If you want to draw true beauty, why don’t you ever draw a self portrait?” Loki rose an eyebrow at you as he sat down in the opposite corner of the couch more comfortably.

“Ha ha very funny.” You rolled your eyes, looking back to your drawing instead of him.

Loki pick up his book once more, flipping to the current page. He tried reading a part, and another… Yet, his mind wouldn’t take in on any of the words as it was too busy with his own thoughts, the letters on the page faded as he kept thinking of your drawing.

It had been a while now… a long while of you creating those stunning and breathtakingly expressive drawings of him. Sure, you did draw other things too, occasionally, but knowing that you did draw him oh so often and with such a joy made Loki both proud and desperate. Proud, because you knew and understood him so incredibly well and still chose to love him, and desperate because he felt so many things for you, knew and understood you too… and yet failed (in his eyes) to show it.

The urge within him to give you something back grew with every new piece you showed him, with every emotion caught on point and every perfect piece of his imperfection.

“Can I try?” He asked straight out, without giving himself the change to back out now. Drawing wasn’t something he had done all too often, but some basic sketching had been part of his education nonetheless. Yet, that had been decades ago and he wondered if he could still do it at all. But he wanted to try to express his emotions in a drawing, just like you did.

“What?” You asked in utter irritation, finally lifting your eyes to meet his.

“Can I try to draw you?” He asked with a sigh, unsure of what he’s just gotten himself into. “Since you refuse to draw yourself, I would like to try.”

Your lips parted in surprise as you started at Loki for a moment. Then you nodded strongly. “Uh, yeah… I mean yes, of course you can! Feel free to use whatever you need.”

“Thank you.” With another soft sigh Loki got up from the couch, placed his book on the coffee table and picked up an empty sketchpad and some pencils from the desk.

You watched him selecting his tools with care, smiling at the sight. Loki loved art, you had known that from the very first day, but he had never made an attempt to actually create something himself. Usually he would talk to you about your works, or fill in with some knowledge about art history while you were going to the museum. This new ambition was both intriguing and amusing. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he sat down on the ground instead of the couch, crossing his legs beneath himself and placing the papers on his thighs. An inevitable smile came to your lips… Loki just looked effortlessly gorgeous in absolutely every situation (which was kinda unfair, really). Even sitting on the ground in tracksuit bottoms and t-shirt, a deep frown on his face as he marked the page with some reluctant lines. The way the sharp edges of his face stood out even more when he concentrated on something was enough inspiration for you to let the colouring be for now and do some portrait sketches instead. Maybe Loki would one day believe you when you told him that he was amazing indeed. However many sketches and drawings that might take.

For quite some time the two of you stayed like that, listening to quiet music flowing around the apartment while drawing each other with the utmost care and attention to detail. Until finally, Loki decided that he was done. He didn’t like the outcome of his work at all, and after he had separated the drawn page from the rest, he looked at it for two more seconds, then at you… and ripped the page apart into tiny pieces.

“Loki!” You protested, dropping your own drawing supplies on the couch and moving to sit in front of him on the floor. “Why on earth did you rip it!?”

“I didn’t like it.” He said quietly, with a sharp edge to his voice, looking down at the small shreds of paper between you and him.

“But I wanted to see it nonetheless…” You said quietly, taking his hands in yours and gently caressing his knuckles. “I’m sure it wasn’t half as bad as you think it was.”

“It didn’t do you justice at all.” He stated in pure disappointment with himself. “You would’ve hated it.”

“I promise you I wouldn’t have.” You sighed, letting go of his hands to place your arms around his neck. With a low hum coming from the depth of his chest, Loki wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer until you were sitting in between his legs, comfortably wrapped around him.

“You’re too hard on yourself.” You whispered against his neck, playing with a few strands of his raven hair. “I love everything you do, and I love YOU very very much. You know that, right?”

“I know, darling. I really do… Do you really want to see the drawing?” He asked in an equally quiet voice and you nodded, brushing your lips against his soft skin in the process.

Loki leaned back a short moment later, unwrapping his arms from you, and thus allowing you to place your legs over his and around his hips to sit more comfortably, closer.

“Good for you that I can fix stuff with magic.” He mused with the tiniest smile as he held the good-as-new piece of paper out to you, his eyes locked with yours in the most serious expression.

Gently you took the drawing out of his hand and when you looked at it, your lips parted yet again.

“Are you trying to tease me?!” You finally managed to say as the corners of your mouth curled into a soft smile.

“Usually, yes. Right now, no.” He replied calmly and the expression on his face told you that he was being serious indeed.

“But… wow.” You were at a loss for words, staring down at the drawing in your hands incredulously. “Did you really draw this in the last thirty minutes? Without magic?”

“Yes.” He replied shortly, looking surprisingly flustered. “Sorry.”

“Why in any world would you apologize? This is absolutely gorgeous! It looks like a photo, seriously Loki, it’s absolutely perfect!” You rambled, staring down at what really looked like a photograph of yourself. How could he seriously think this was bad?!

“I don’t want perfect.” He sighed, resting his hands on the small of your back once again. “Perfect is boring. It’s vain, and cold and distant…”

“So is your problem that the drawing is perfect or that I am not?”

“You’re perfect for me, don’t ever doubt that! Yet you’re not universally perfect, which I am honestly very glad about. That would be awful… I’m a flawed being and you are too and that makes us our own kind of perfect.” He argued eloquently, making you smile at him fondly.

“And what bothers you so much about the drawing?” You inquire as you placed it on the coffee table before resting both your hands on his shoulders once more.

“It’s absolutely nothing like yours.” He shrugged.

“Well, it shouldn’t be. It’s your drawing, so it should be like you.”

“That’s not what I meant… See, your drawings speak to the viewer. They express emotions and soul… while mine is just a photograph. Perfect in technique but blind in emotions.” Loki sighed, suppressing the urge to yet again rip the drawing into pieces. He knew you’d be mad at him if he did, so he let it rest on the coffee table in one piece for now.

“Don’t be so upset about it, please. I’m absolutely amazed by your drawing and even more that you drew something at all! Just for me…” You whispered to him with a soft smile, placing a gentle kiss to his lips.

He hummed quietly against your lips in return, pulling your body closer to his as he deepened the kiss. If he failed to express his emotions in art and drawing, he might just have to show you the depth of his love, the core of his soul in another way. For now.

_______________

However as Loki lay in bed that night, your small frame curled around his and your head on his shoulder, he found himself thinking back to his 'failed’ attempt at drawing. He had come to accept the fact that he didn’t need to show you his emotions through art, as you had solemnly sworn that you knew indeed how much he loved you…

But Loki wouldn’t be Loki if he’d let the things go that he hadn’t been able to accomplish to his fullest contentment. And just because he didn’t NEED to express his emotions this way didn’t remotely mean that he didn’t WANT to indeed. It had become a challenge the moment he had tried and yet failed, and Loki wouldn’t ever back down from a good challenge.

So once you had gone to work on Monday morning, kissing him goodbye like you always did, Loki got out a piece of paper and a pencil and started sketching random objects around the apartment.

It started out small, with a bouquet of dried flowers… A glass bowl with your favorite candy… A bottle of Loki’s prefered wine. The graphite stood out against the white paper in a way that made the objects jump straight out of the page, realistic as ever, almost a grey scale photograph. Loki frowned to himself. This, again, is not remotely what he wanted, not remotely what he meant to draw.

So he switched out the medium. Until now, he had only tried graphite on white paper, which (as proven multiple times) led to him drawing a perfectly realistic photograph. He was quick to decide on using another pen, first of all. Surprisingly quickly, he did one drawing in black ink, which he soon realized he did not like at all, even less than the pencil. Sighing, he tried to get rid of the ink stains on his hands by rubbing his palms against his tracksuit bottoms. Didn’t work.

Thus, with a doubtful eye, reluctantly circling your drawing supplies like a wounded predator on the hunt, he scanned what other mediums were available to him. He really would need to get braver, bolder, to go bigger.

First, he tried charcoal. Needless to say, he ended up creating a huge, black and smudged mess on the livingroom floor and also on himself. But he actually, finally, ended up with something that looked less like a photograph and more like an actual drawing, which in this case was a step into the right direction. Yet, it still wasn’t what he was trying to get to, so the paper landed somewhere below the couch as he pushed it away angrily. How was it possible that he was so BAD at this?! Loki wasn’t used to being bad at something. At least not at something he was actually trying to be good at. And oh, he didn’t like it at all.

As he rose to his feet, pushing the long sleeves of his green t-shirt back over his elbows, he made his way through the mess of papers lying everywhere, back to the arsenal of materials.

Next, he settled for oil pastels. At least those were a little less messy than the charcoal… Loki wasn’t too fond of messy things, and even less of willingly creating a mess. But he HAD to get good at art, and he would go great lengths to get what he wanted. So he moved back to the only empty space on the floor in the middle of the livingroom, his bare feet leaving black footprints on the warm wood. Maybe he shouldn’t have stepped onto the charcoal drawings…

Surprisingly, Loki did like the oil pastels a lot. It was nice getting to blend colours a little, to work them together and get both crisp edges and soft blurs… yet, after filling pages upon pages with whatever motives he could think of or see around himself, he found that it wasn’t ideal either. It was getting better, yes, but it still wasn’t imperfect enough to be beautiful. He groaned to himself, running a hand through his hair and leaving small smudges of colour on his forehead.

By now the livingroom was an absolute mess and so was Loki. He was angry with himself, frustrated and just desperate enough to continue on nonetheless. So he pushed the enormous amount of paper around him further away, off to the side, wherever… Then he took the oil pastels back to your stash, restoring them to their original state with a subtle green light. He didn’t want to use up all your supplies, so he made sure to replace whatever he took. And while in the knowledge that he could very well clean up the living room in an instant, he just couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment. His mind was occupied with so many mixed emotions and somehow, the mess in the livingroom represented that fairly well. Also… he was getting closer. Closer to creating something imperfect enough to be ENOUGH at all.

He went for acrylic paints next, a step further, a step bigger… But he went with a random piece of cardboard that he tore off a box, instead of a canvas. In his mind, a canvas was for art. Not for whatever it was he was doing here.

So he slumped back down in his small circle in the middle of the room, frowning. What was he supposed to draw next, what could he try to give meaning to? With a single thought and a swoosh of green, he arranged all his previous drawings in multiple rows of circles around himself. There really was nothing he hadn’t tried to draw… nothing he hadn’t tried to wrap into emotions (and failed to express anything at all).

With a sigh, he decided to draw his old bedroom in the asgardian palace out of his memory, for once. It was the one place where he had spent the most time throughout his entire childhood and he could see it in front of him in every detail. It was a lot of gold, just like the rest of the palace, but also some green and beige tones… He spent quite a while painting, getting used to the acrylic paint and the brushes… creating even more of a mess of himself and his surroundings.

Maybe it was the painting, or the focus, the memory of a lost home or the general frustration of not getting it right anyway, no matter how hard he tried… but after he had covered the entire piece of cardboard in paint, he felt even more desperate than before. It was yet again closer to what he wanted his art to be, but still not quite right. With an angry frown he tossed the cardboard into any direction and lay down in his small empty circle, staring at the ceiling. Maybe his art was doomed to mirror himself in being a failure indeed.

_______________

When you returned home that afternoon, unlocking the door with a long sigh, you dropped your bag and jacket in the hallway and moved to find Loki. Usually he would either pick you up from work, or be waiting here for you with a decent enough excuse for why he didn’t come to pick you up in return.

Yet today, as you walked around a corner and your eyes fell upon the mess that was your livingroom, your lips parted and you gasped at the sight in front of you. Colour absolutely everywhere, drawings and paintings scattered all across the floor and the furniture, and right in the middle there was Loki. Even though he was lying on his back, you could tell that he was covered in all kinds of paint, his clothes, his hands and face… And a slow smirk spread on your lips that soon turned into a huge grin.

“Hey Loki.” You chuckled, standing in the doorframe and watching the artistic massacre in front of you. It really did look like Loki had fought a war with your art supplies and the thought alone almost made you snort.

“Hello darling.” He replied quietly, not once averting his eyes from the ceiling.

“Uhm… What exactly happened to the livingroom?” You asked, suppressing a laugh rather badly as your eyes scanned the absolutely incredible drawings strewn around.

“I’m a failure, Y/n…” He sighed deeply instead of answering your question. “I tried to art, and I failed.”

You tried really hard not to laugh at his overly dramatic demeanor as you took off your shoes and socks and tiptoed through the pagers on the ground, making your way towards Loki. The closer you got, the more you realized that he was seriously upset and not joking at all and that made your heart fall immediately.

Careful not to wrinkle any of the papers, you sat down next to Loki in the middle of the drawings and looked down at his paint smeared face with a soft smile. “C'mon, sit up and let me hug you. Please?”

Sighing, he did as you asked and you wrapped him into a tight hug, to which he responded by pulling you into his lap indeed.

“Hey…” You whispered, looking into his eyes with an encouraging expression.

“Hey.” He replied in a breath. “I apologize for creating a mess.”

“You’re pretty adorable when you’re covered in paint.” You chuckled, brushing through his tangled hair with your fingers.

“I am not adorable! I’m a god, I’m imposing and powerful and…”

“Covered in paint.” You chuckled again, causing Loki to roll his eyes. “May I look at your drawings?”

“If you have to… I’m not hindering you. But be aware of the fact that I despise every single thing in this room but you right now.” He sighed and you picked up the drawings you could reach without having to get up. They really were absolutely stunning, each one better than the previous, and you marveled at the detail and the colour choices and just everything really… It was impeccable.

“I know you won’t believe me when I say this, but these are absolutely gorgeous, Loki…” You sighed with a smile, looking at his deep frown.

“You’re right, I don’t believe you.” He replied with a chuckle, hugging you tighter to himself and pressing a kiss to your neck.

“You’re smudging paint all over me!” You laughed, trying to shove him away, but he wouldn’t let you and continued to shower your neck with tickling kisses until you were breathless from laughter.

“Am I really covered in paint all that much?” He asked after a while, pulling back to look at your face and to allow you to look at his.

“You most definitely are. But that’s no surprise when you paint and draw obsessively like you did today.” You smiled at him, brushing a strand of hair out of his face and thereby causing him to sigh a little. “What happened that made you create all this?”

“Yesterday I tried drawing emotions like you do, and I failed. Thus I had to try again today.”

“And why all the different mediums?”

“I was hoping that I simply needed to find the right tools to create something that would be beautiful. I assume I got a little better with the oil pastels and the acrylic paint, but it still does not express emotions, nor does it have soul.” He sighed, moving some papers over, towards you, so that you could see the minimal progress he’d made. It wasn’t like Loki would ever admit to anyone else that he had failed at something, or that he wasn’t good enough… but he had learned to trust you more than himself, and thus he had grown to share every thought with you in utmost honesty.

“So you have created all these amazing pieces of art in an attempt to create something that YOU can consider art?”

“Precisely.”

“Alright.” You sighed, sitting up a little straighter and placing the drawings back on the ground after you’d inspected them closely. “I DO consider all these pieces works of art, brilliant works of art even. But I understand that you are aiming for something else and I’ll help you get there. BUT…”

“But?” Loki asked suspiciously, both excited and embarrassed at the prospect of having your help in this. Yet, the embarrassment passed after a short moment, for even though Loki was a rather proud person, he was also smart. And that meant he knew when to accept help from a superior. You definitely were his superior, a higher being in every way and he loved it beyond measure.

“But! I’ll only help you if you allow me to keep everything you created today, intact and just like you drew it.” You grinned smugly, causing Loki to roll his eyes. “And I want you to stop trashtalking yourself and your art. What you do is beautiful and I need you to stop saying it’s not. If you can do that, I’ll help you create something you are trying for.”

“Alright.” He sighed. “You can keep everything and I will refrain from saying a bad word about it. Now, how exactly are you going to help me?”

“First, we need a little more space.” You smiled and a moment later the papers started moving around to create a neat pile in a corner of the room, leaving the livingroom floor visible once more. “Gosh, I love magic. Can’t you teach me that?”

“I can try, darling…” Loki chuckled deeply. “But right now we are teaching me how to art.”

You laughed, shaking your head to yourself. “I love how you say that… 'how to art’…”

Loki didn’t say anything and only looked at you expectantly, while you moved off his lap to sit in front of him with the box paints and brushes in between you.

“Now, you want to draw with emotions and soul, right?” You asked calmly.

“Yes.”

“Well, first of all you need to actually FEEL something in order to draw it. You need to allow yourself to feel things, and you need to allow your emotions to surface through the channel of art.” You looked at him intently, in the knowledge that honesty of feelings and Loki didn’t necessarily go together well.

He was quiet for a moment, looking at you as if he was contemplating existence. “I don’t want to draw my own emotions. You can draw mine perfectly well, or anyone else's… can’t I start with that?”

“See, that’s the first problem right there. I need to feel what someone else feels in order to draw it. It’s called empathy, Loki, I’m sure you’ve heard of it.” You chuckled, looking at him kindly. “But that’s another thing, so let’s focus on your own emotions first. That’s easier.”

“I don’t think I can do that, Y/n.” He replied quietly, looking down to the many colours spread out in between you.

“You can, and you will. I know you don’t like it when people see what’s going on in your mind, and…”

“I don’t mind when you see.” He interrupted you, eyes locked back with yours in all honesty. “I never minded that you know every part of me.”

Your smile widened at that. “I know. But I think I know a way to make it easier for you nonetheless.” With that you unzipped your hoodie, tossing it off to the side. Then you lifted your shirt over your head and Loki rose an eyebrow at you in amusement and suspicion.

“I am nowhere near complaining, but what are you doing, dear?” He asked, trying not to laugh.

“Giving you the right canvas. You’re gonna draw on my back.” You stated calmly, with such a certainty that Loki found himself obliging. With a smile you laid down on your stomach in front of him, resting your head on your arms, smiling. “This way you won’t have to worry about anyone ever seeing what you choose to create now. We can take a shower afterwards, and you can wash it off and all that will be left is you knowing that you completed your mission.”

Loki felt his heart swell with adoration as he looked down at your bare back, smiling to himself in the knowledge that you knew and loved him indeed, with a depth and intensity that no one ever had.

“Any more tips you can give me?” He asked. “About what I should draw? Or how to have better control over it?”

“See, Loki, the things is… You shouldn’t control your art, nor your motive. You need to let go, and allow the emotions to control you indeed. Surrender to the art, to the act of creating. Otherwise you will always end up with another photograph.” You mused, and Loki frowned.

“I’m not good at letting go of control.”

“I know!” You laughed, as goosebumps covered your body upon his cool touch on your skin. “But didn’t you say yourself that your drawings got better towards the end of your trying? That’s not because you practiced, but because, and I’m making an educated guess here, you grew frustrated and angry with yourself more and more and that anger took control over you. And that’s what I see in your latest drawings. Desperation and anger. And if you can let those emotions control you involuntarily, you can let positive ones lead you to a greater art.”

Your words echoed in Loki’s mind like a sharp and clear note sung in a cathedral and his lips parted slightly at the realization that you were right. He could do this, and he could let himself be vulnerable for once in this safe haven that was your love.

“Fine. I will paint something beautifully imperfect, and you will tell me about your day.” He smiled, picking up a colour at random and chuckling as you flinched upon the contact of the chilled brush and the wet paint on your back. “Alright, darling?”

“Sounds like a plan.” You smiled widely, enjoying the innocent intimacy of the moment.

And just like this, Loki finally created a true piece of art, one he was content with. A piece of beautiful imperfection.

________________________________

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allyvampirelass29 · 4 years

Text

When Good Fathers Take BAD Roads

When Good Fathers Take BAD Roads A NOS4A2 Review By: Allyssa J. Watkins

The Wraith screams, racing breakneck with demon speed A wicked black flash, gone and there like smoke Ferrying passengers three, wearing the faces of ghosts What shadows chase you, Charlie, accompanied by those you love the most? Are you going to kill your darlings On this, the Road of No Return? Tires squeal and rubber burns A pathway forms more nightmare than real A knife ripping through reality, tearing at the tragic seam The road to Christmasland is paved in screams Your daughter transformed, while you ignore your wife's haunting cry Hold on, Good Father, for the ride of your life.

HOLY SMASH, and MERRY FREAKING CHRISTMAS!!!!! "Good Father," was the ride, the MIND TRIP of my LIFE, as chilling, as it was thrilling, screaming unyielding into the drastic extreme, blinding light, and drowning darkness, happy and horrible, beautiful, and brutal, and it was a ride I only just barely survived. This is me, breathing heavy, adrenaline pumping, my legs giving out, kissing the ground, and yet, I have never felt this conflicted, torn up inside, about anything I've ever seen, drawn transfixed to the effervescence, the beckoning dream, and yet eviscerated by the looming, blood-dripping grin of the abject HORROR. What the HELL just happened!?

Okay, breathe, Ally...... So much to say, and yet my mind is a trembling mess of disparity, driven in the Wraith to the edge of madness itself!!! First off, can we just marvel at the enigmatic force, the sheer brilliance, and other worldly acting prowess that is possessed by our Mister Zachary Quinto!?!? I am CONVINCED he is an actual Strong Creative, and has graciously drawn us all in, in order to witness him build his inscape, and speak actual MAGIC!!! Besides being a catastrophic kind of handsome, the dark allure that you long to destroy you, striking your eyes, and stealing your heart, making you his happy, breathless victim, Zachary shifts effortlessly between dream and nightmare, being beautiful and terrifying, waltzing between both, with a passion that will leave you shell-shocked.

This episode is so hard to analyze, because it possesses both the brightest, happiest, most achingly euphoric scenes of the series, while also the creeping, darkest hours I have ever known. It begins like a splashy, champagne, Downton Daydream, Our Beloved Charles, delighting and igniting our passions, with his adorable antics, donning a pair of matchstick fangs, and we all heave a lovesick sigh, longing so to be the girl in his arms, that he's playfully pretending to bite. You will ALWAYS be My Nosferatu....... I whispered it along with her, watching the joy pierce through the calm dark of those perfect eyes, and all I want is to be her, his wife, Mrs. Manx. I was so excited, so impressed by this coy wink to NOS4A2's own parent material, the original 1922 silent film, “Nosferatu,” upon which our mad fever fantasy is based, that I broke into the biggest grin, shaking my head at the pure genius of it. Charles' distaste for the picture, and scoffing opinion, mocking it, calling it ridiculous, was a pure, tongue in cheek, joy, and I'm still trembling from when he said, "Love Bite." Ooooh, and the scene in the bedroom was so intimate and beautiful, as Charlie and Cassie share their dreams for the future, along with a dance and a passionate kiss, as some wonderous news is revealed. The family Manx is to become three, with a little sugar plum named Millie!!!

I wept when Charles held his daughter for the first time, as I realized THIS is where his obsession with Christmas began, as he received the greatest gift of them all. Every time he "saves," a new child, he gets to feel it all over again, in the glow of the coloured lights, and the tinkling bells of the music, what it's like to be a father, and to be loved, unconditionally by a child. He gazes at her with the purest, most profound love, even while his Father in Law, treats him perfectly horrid, openly degrades him, and yes, in one heart-stopping moment calls him a vampire!!! I was SPEECHLESS!!! His bond with his daughter is so powerful, and endearing, I sobbed, the most joyous tears ever I have shed, watching him tuck his beautiful little girl into bed, and soothe her fears in the flash of a lightning strike, both of them carefully constructing Christmasland in their minds, never knowing they would find it beyond the realm of lost dreams. I felt so happy I thought I could die, so moved by this tender scene, so oblivious as to what lay in wait......... as we twisted slowly around the corner.........

It was jarring enough, flashing between these idyllic Currier and Ives scenes, all luminous oil paintings come to life, to Charlie's decaying, autopsied, Frankenstein creature, shuffling, groaning, bleeding, through the living world. And yet, that was rather interesting, the ghastly contrast between Charlie's wonderful life, and the re-animated husk of his gruesome death. I especially loved his joyride in the stolen zebra print car!!! That was hilarious!!! However, the turn that I knew was coming, that I dreaded, was far more stomach-churning, and desperately frustrating than I could have ever prepared myself for.

Again, Zachary's acting was mesmerizing, every expression, every wild look in his eye, was so beautifully, and breathlessly performed, but for me, it was the writing itself, that went screaming off the rails. Charlie goes from the perfect husband, the most charming, and doting father, to difficult, suspicious, and accusing, for seemingly no reason at all. The way he spoke about his first wife in Parnassus, I expected to see her become the begrudging, bitter ball and chain he made her out clearly to be. But Cassie's sins are few and far between, and her punishments, and especially her disturbingly MORBID end, are unjustified. She tries to be practical by asking Charlie very politely if she should get a job, to which Charlie responds with unprovoked venom, with the same malice as if she'd revealed she'd been unfaithful. Thus begins, this odd new trend of Charlie continuously overreacting, entirely out of character, and blaming Cassie for everything going so wrong, actively wanting to hurt her, even selling off her mother's priceless heirlooms. My head hurt, my heart broke, and my GOD something was rotten in Christmasland!!! I realized then, that this whole episode has the faintest cyanide taste of audience manipulation.

"Good Father," seems to serve the single and sole purpose of turning the audience against Charlie Manx, and I could feel the force of the plot, trying to shift my mind in that unnatural direction. I could see the clever scheme at work, the writing on the wall, as they must have thought....... They love him too much........ Let's give Charlie his BITE back. Let's take this beautifully unique, nuanced, wounded, enigmatic, anti-hero, and make them love him even more, show him in all the tenderness, and affection they have so long craved, let them fall in love with him all over again, and then........ let's make them hate him, see that he is beyond saving, the incarnation of the purest evil. Let's ruin him, and that's how we'll ruin them. WHY!? This is the question that has kept me up in relentless frustration all week. WHY spend all this time, crafting this fascinating, deliciously intricate character, learning the pains and joys and hopes of his life, just to laugh it off, and say, oh no, Charlie Manx is a monster, and you're wrong for liking him!? To them I say, "If loving Charlie Manx is wrong....... I don't wanna be right." Because in spite of the blood curdling atrocities, and my tearful horror in the face of such plot, I can't not LOVE Charlie Manx.

What I have always loved about NOS4A2, is the way it flirts with the elements of horror, skirting teasingly around the sharp edge without fully going there. The final scene however screams full speed ahead into that sickening foray, and I was left trembling, terrified, sobbing stricken with just that. HORROR.

"Charlie, STOP, you're going to kill us all!!!"

"On that, My Dear, we are agreed."

While I was confused as to whether it was his intent to kill them all, drunkenly crashing his Wraith, or if he knew what terror would transpire on the way to Christmasland, this was a ride none of them were coming back from. Its gut-wrenching, frightening images, are matched only by its lack of even a semblance of sense. Charlie watches, excitedly, as his darling daughter's teeth fall out in a bloody display, absorbing her youth, her lifeforce, transforming her into a soulless vampire, and he doesn't so much as bat one of his gorgeous eyelashes, as his child kills and feasts on her mother's flesh. Yeah, I know........ MORBID. I was also bewildered as to how the car turned Charlie into a vampire of youth, and Millie into one of blood. Also, call me crazy, but....... Does not one first have to die to become a vampire?

But even more a glaring folly, no way in HELL would Charlie EVER kill his family, his sweet baby, no matter how bad things were with Cassie. Wouldn't it make SO much more sense for him to steal her back, and thus wouldn’t he come to see kidnapping synonymous with “saving,” a child, if Millie was the first one? Instead of having him try to kill them all, if that even was his dark intent, I would have had Cassie and Charlie fighting in the car, and Charlie, distracted by the quarrel, swerve, losing control, accidently crashing the Wraith. Cassie would be too far gone, but through his connection to the car, his Wraith would fight to save him, even if it meant borrowing a little siphon of his own daughter's youth.

Yeah, hey, let's talk for a quick sec about The Wraith. We know Charlie's life is connected to this mysterious car, but what we didn't know was how he acquired it........ until now. I don't know about you guys, but having Charlie simply purchase it, felt cheap to me, like it took away the magic of the fated knife, that he was always supposed to have. Bought. Sold. Done. NO. I didn't like it, and it never proved evident of the bond between Charlie and his Wraith. I would have had him find it, since he couldn't afford a new car on his own, a carcass, old, disused, rusted, and lovingly restore it, nurse it back to health, to life, until it shined. Charlie has a relationship with this car, a supernatural tie, and to me that would have been so much better, so much more meaningful than him pawning his wife's valuables to buy it. Meaning anybody could have done the same. One thing I LOVED about that scene, however, was seeing our dear Charles in his resplendent royal blue and blood red Chauffer's garb for the first time ever!!!! What a sneaking joy!!!

That's the thing about this episode, it's a dangerously mixed cocktail of anti-depressants and alcohol. There's so much to love, so much to hate, and so much to work over and over, trying to figure, until the point of insanity!!! I LOVED everything between our Miniature McQueen and young, hot, plaid clad Charlie, (HELLO SYLAR, am I right!?) and my heart STOPPED when I saw him over Wayne's shoulder, my pulse on pause, as they talked, and Charlie tutted disapproving, at the boy having never had a Christmas, not knowing who he was, who his mother was......... The suspense, the tension, was riveting.

I don't know how I feel about this impressive effort, trying to get me to despise Bing less, by having him say propaganda like, "I thought I was so big, because I had too much sad in me." That broke my heart, and it was infuriating, because I didn't want to feel any sympathy for him. No NOS4A2, you cannot try to turn me against My Magnificent Mister Manx, and in the same space, try to get me to like Bing CREEPER Partridge!!!! The scene in the graveyard was exceptionally well done, and I'm still shivering from the hushed thrill in Charlie's voice as he whispers. "He needs saving, Bing Partridge, don’t you agree?"

"Good Father," was an even more thrilling prospect as a title to me than, "Bad Mother," because I always knew it was true. Although, in retrospect, one is more inspired brilliance than the other. Can you still be a good father, and watch proudly as your young daughter becomes a monster, devouring her mother? Can you still be a good father, and leave your daughter, after she thought you were dead for eight years? Charlie is a good father, that went down a BAD road, and has forgotten the way back, although he still dons every surface appearance, as such. I did like when he made Millie apologize to his new charge, and curtsy with a begrudging welcome, spoken through her gritted teeth. That was adorably paternal, and one hundred percent Charlie!!!! However, as a whole, this episode persists as the mystery I can't solve, making me feel every emotion possible on the human spectrum, drinking in the dream, blissfully intoxicated, and sobbing uncontrollably, terrified out of my mind, the next.

Charlie may not be, "The Good Father," he once was, but a glimmer of it shines like a forgotten ember in his obsidian eyes, and despite the glaring conclusion this episode emphatically urges you to make, I still hold that there is good in Charlie, and that he can be saved. I also think it speaks revelations toward labels. Vic is no more a scarlet letter branded Bad Mother, than Charlie is a Good Father. There is good and bad, hero and villain, in all of us. It just depends what roads we're willing to take.

#nos4a2 review #charlie manx #vic mcqueen #bing partridge #millie manx #wayne mcqueen #good father #nos4a2

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