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xxwillowpotatox · 6 months

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They had their own space, Fearne had insisted on it when they were all settling in for the night. Curtained off and blanketed with magic, Laudna felt herself relax a timy bit more as each second passed.

No longer in Whitestone, no longer in the forest or in the tunnels, no longer standing there and watching as Ashton fell to pieces and reformed as a whole.

No longer running, hiding, wishing.

The feywild felt comfortable now, as strange as it could be, and even more so came the comfort of the person there with her.

Imogen had been a bit quiet with her, though she kept fairly close and hugged her or held her hand whenever she could, and it was a bit unsettling. Even so, just having her close enough to hear her breathing and feel her warmth did more to soothe Laudna than anything else.

It didn't stop the anxiety, though, didn't stop the roiling upset in her gut at the possibility of her being upset.

'Of course she's upset. You ran away like a frightened rabbit and then fled once more when you were nearly in her grasp.' A voice so like Delilah's echoed in her mind but it was warped, a facade of herself molded to fit the image. 'You also didn't make her a gift. Ashton got it all, your rage and fear, but also enough affection for a doll to be made. What about her?'

No, no, that was all wrong, all upside down. Imogen was important, Imogen was her heart, the pain of love was harsh but the warmth she provided soothed any ache.

"Imogen." Her name warbled out without thought, cautious and trembling. The moment it did, Imogen's head shot up from where she'd been focused on looking for something in her bag, brow creased with concern.

"You alright, Laudna?" As she asked, one hand reached out to cup Laudna's cheek, thumb brushing gently across her skin. She sank into the touch, turning so insistently towards her that she thought she might fall from where she sat on the bed. "Do you feel any better out here?"

"Hmm yes, I think I do." It wasn't a lie, not really, but she still felt fractured, fragile. Still that wasn't what she'd spoken for, so she shook her head, pulling away from the hand and ignoring the way her neck twitched. "Are you.. angry? I didn't mean to run, well I did but not from you, not really, I did but I didn't. I couldn't hurt you, never, but she.. I would have killed them and I don't know what.."

The statement ended in a whimper, mind warping and pulling back in the same moment her body did, curling into a ball as she closed her eyes.

"Laud, hey, darlin', I'm not mad at you, I promise." A promise made, not to be broken. Right? No, yes, she trusted Imogen. Her head twitched to the side, feeling warmth against her cheeks as hands cradled it. "I was worried, and scared, but not angry."

"I scared you?" Laudna's voice was so small, wobbling and cracking and making her feel as if she was just crawling out of the ruins of her old life again, like the scar on her neck still burned with each unnecessary breath.

"No! No, sweetheart, no, you don't scare me, I'll never be scared of you." The bed dipped as Imogen kneeled next to her, and Laudna immediately pitched to the side, shivering as arms wrapped tightly around her. A kiss pressed to her forehead and something slid home in her heart. "I was so scared you were gone, that I'd lost you or that you'd been hurt or.."

Taken over, dead, any number of things could have ended that statement but Imogen let it die on her tongue with a shiver.

"I'm sorry I didn't make you a doll. I thought... she said he was a child, I like children and dolls... they should have one, so I don't hurt them."

"It’s okay, Laud, I get it. Besides, you could make me a doll any time. I'm not goin anywhere." Another kiss, this one to the top of her head. "Come on, lets get comfortable, yea? I think we both could use some rest."

"But we just got here, the others... we should be out there too."

"Later. They can wait a bit, I don't care about anythin other than you right now." The truth in Imogen's statement was reflected in her eyes, solid and serious and caring. "Will you lay down with me? Is that alright?"

Oh it was her choice, always hers. No forced pushing her, no nudges or insistance or orders. Just Imogen, waiting and watching with an openness that said she would do whatever Laudna wanted, whatever she needed.

A part of her still wanted to kill him, to latch on and consume their life essence until they crumbled into dust. The larger part, the one that clung to Imogen and nodded, knew that what she truly needed was the opposite of violence and death.

So they lay, reclining onto the bed with Imogen pulling her close. It wasn’t enough, never enough, so Laudna crawled a little closer, curling up into a ball on top of her girlfriend with her head tucked up against her chest. A little huffed gasp left Imogen as she settled, surprised hands moving to catch her, always to catch her, so she could hold her without moving her too much.

A hand rubbed at her back as another kiss pressed to her head, the world condensing down into that moment, that spot, and maybe Laudna knew why love was so worth it again.

Literally love this so much omg.

It’s crazy how intense Imogen and Laudna’s relationship can be and yet it’s still extremely soft and light and warm despite Delilah and all the moon shit happening.

They are just two fucked up bitches who have both been emotionally manipulated by weird people in their heads (Delilah + Otohan and Lilliana and also kinda ludinus?) but they still have fallen in love and have one of the deepest connections I’ve seen in a while.

Of course laudna felt extremely betrayed by Ashton, all her life she’s had a voice in her head telling her to trust no one, and convincing her that everyone was going to betray her eventually so why talk to them in the first place. She put her trust in this group, finally realizing maybe not everyone would betray her. And yet he did. He betrayed the group. He betrayed her. He betrayed Fearne. And that hurts.

And of course she was worried that Imogen was mad. She ran off in the woods, she spent a whole night with Delilah.

But Imogen is soft with Laudna, she understands the thoughts in laudnas brain. She has such a deep connection with her in that they actively were listening to eachothers thoughts and speaking in eachothers minds all the time. So she understands how Laudna feels. And also when she immediately noticed Laudna was off (probably because she had been talking to Delilah a LOT-I noticed the small change in Laudna as well) just further proves how well Imogen knows her.

They are anchors for eachother, tethers to make sure neither of them float too far away, and their love is so beautifully constructed by all of the threads that intertwine their lives. AUGH I love them so much

#imogen temult #laudna #imodna #critical role #critical role campaign 3 #cr3 #cr Spoilers #Marisha ray #Laura Bailey #Imogen x laudna #Fearne Calloway #cr #bells hells #critical role spoilers #delilah briarwood #ashton greymoore

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harrowianthe · 1 year

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strange as angels | an Imodna fic

Rating: E Tags: Porn With Feelings, better yet: feelings lead to porn, misuse of dread, Imogen 'monsterfucker' Temult, the sexual implications of the telepathy (tm), porn with a little plot, body horror (not too extreme) Words: 3317

Also on AO3.

Sometimes after the run-in with Otohan, Laudna gets hurt again. Feelings run high. Imogen is a little desperate.

“Imogen…” Laudna tries to say.

Imogen doesn’t answer – she’s not looking at her, either. Uh. Her hands move nervously over Laudna’s bandages on her left shoulder, scars shining just a smidge, like she’s trying to summon some kind of healing power out of nothing. She tightens her jaw as no miracle comes out of her warm hands – no knitting of skin, no sudden relief from the low pulsing pain Laudna feels radiating from a slash in her flesh – and, instead, makes the black blood slowly wetting the bandages disappear with a flick of her hand. At least they won’t have to change them.

She tries again. “It’s fine, really.”

“It ain’t,” Imogen says, curtly. Her hands are now going over Laudna’s shoulder the way one would traces the dried wings of a pinned butterfly, gently, afraid of crumpling them, with the tip of her pointer finger barely brushing her skin. Laudna can feel her warmth even so, but she really wishes Imogen was looking at her. She’s sure she’s thinking it very loudly, too, but Imogen has closed her mind and (if the wrinkling of her eyebrows is any indication) she’s doing it on purpose and very carefully. Laudna hates it. From her vantage point, sitting up on the rock where Ashton had deposited her after she had come to, she could easily lift her hand and tangle it in Imogen’s hair, ask with touch – if not with thought – to see her eyes.

“Quit thinking so loud, Letters, I’m not mad at you,” Imogen snaps, turning her face at their companions. F.C.G. has been wheeling around anxiously ever since Laudna regained consciousness, wringing his little mechanical hands with an atrocious whirring sound. Ashton is next to them, half leaning against his hammer and looking at their little grouping with an impossible mix of fondness and exasperation.

So Imogen is only closing her mind to Laudna. Uh.

It’s not a good sensation. In fact, it hurts.

“Imogen, why –”

Imogen finally lifts her face to look at her. Her eyes are wet and rimmed with red, but not in the way her eyes usually are after crying, when she wakes up from a nightmare shaking with sobs and buries her face in the crook of Laudna’s neck so forcefully it feels like she wants to tuck herself in Laudna’s ribcage and stay there. Imogen holds her stare for a few seconds, chin jutting out in girlish, stubborn way that makes Laudna’s heart ache with tenderness. Laudna can tell: Imogen is being brave for her. Before she can say anything, before she can follow the natural inclination of her love for Imogen and soothe-comfort-distract, Imogen blinks forcefully a couple of times and looks away, hiding her pretty eyes.

“We gotta go, Laudna, can you stand up?” she asks, getting up.

Laudna is not sure.

Imogen takes her hands (Laudna flinches as her left hand is lifted and a new rush of ichor soaks the bandage) and brings them around her neck. “Like this, slowly. Put your weight on me.” Imogen’s sad eyes hover on the blackened bandages and she squeezes again, shaking her head slightly. Laudna pulls herself up, hanging from Imogen’s neck wobblingly, but she’s way too tall, so even when Imogen snakes her hands around Laudna’s waist to steady her, they end up swaying dangerously. Imogen tightens her grip on Laudna’s body and brings her closer. She’s always so warm, Imogen. Laudna, vision swimming a bit, rests her forehead on Imogen’s shoulder, breathing heavily even though she doesn’t need to. Her breath is cold like the rest of her, and she can feel Imogen’s skin raising with goose bumps.

“You’re doing great, Laud,” Imogen whispers (Laudna smiles in her neck because she knows she’s not) and then, louder: “Ashton, would you mind…?”

He mutters something under their breath about ‘witches with twigs for bones’ and Laudna half-chuckles with fondness as her limbs are disentangled from Imogen’s body and then Ashton is carrying her, bridal style. She feels a small tug on her right hand, and realises that, despite the fact that she’s now safe and sound in Ashton’s capable, strong arms, despite the fact that she won’t speak to her, won’t look at her and won’t let their minds become one, Imogen has intertwined their fingers together.

If Ashton finds it awkward, Imogen trailing half a step behind them, holding onto Laudna for dear life and forcing him to a slow, halting pace, they don’t say.

Laudna drifts back into unconsciousness.

(“We need to be more careful with magic energy. Especially those of us who have healing powers.”

“I could not have predicted…”

“I’m not mad. I’m just saying.”

“You sound remarkably mad for someone who insists they��re not.”

“I’m just not.”)

Waking up, lately, has been very much like coming back to life: one second she’s not and the second later she is, eyes opening wide and suddenly, her body taking a big intake of breath out of habit, as if to check if everything is fine, this body is here, it works. She wakes up in the dark, in a bed she doesn’t recognise, alone – no, that’s not right, she was alone the first time but the second time her friends were there, her friends and –

“Imogen,” she coughs up. Her shoulder hurts but it’s duller, like a phantom pain.

“I’m here, I’m here,” comes a voice next to her and then she’s being sat up against a couple of pillows and a cold glass of water is being pushed into her hand. “Drink up,” Imogen says.

Laudna obliges, takes a convulsing gulp as the cough subsides and gives the glass back to Imogen. In the cover of darkness, her face is softer, less guarded. She’s still wearing the clothes from today, spots of blood and everything, and she’s lying over the covers. Laudna shivers as the blanket slides from her body, realising she has been changed into a nightgown.

“Thanks,” Laudna says – for looking over me, goes unspoken, but she thinks Imogen hears it all the same.

“Are you okay? Letters will finish patching you in the morning, they – we all ran out,” Imogen is fussing over her shoulder again. The wound has not fully healed yet, but she has no more bandages. “We bought some potions on the way over.”

“Of course I’m fine, darling,” Laudna’s hands, horribly forward in the dark, carefully grab Imogen’s to hold them in the space between their bodies. “I mean, I’m getting the hang of being slashed by now.”

Imogen thins her lips. Her eyes flash white for a second and there it is again, the stubborn setting of her jaw. Laudna wants to trace the harsh line with her lips.

“On my behalf, you mean.” Imogen says, careful and stilted. She’s not looking at Laudna, her eyes fixed somewhere distant in front of her. Laudna shouldn’t have said that. She’s still holding Imogen’s hand but she feels so distant. Horrifying.

“My darling girl,” Laudna whispers, and thinks, as loud as she can LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME!. Imogen tenses like she’s been startled, but she doesn’t budge.

“Imogen, look at me,” Laudna tries again, aloud. “Don’t you know I’d die a thousand times over for you?”

Imogen’s shoulders start shaking. For a second Laudna thinks she’s sobbing. Her hands shoot up to reach for her (she ignores the faint ache in her left shoulder) but she stops, stupidly, in mid-air as she realises Imogen is laughing. Big, harsh gulps of hair and a bitter bitter laugh like she has never heard before from her.

She freezes for long, unchanging seconds while Imogen laughs and laughs and then she finally turns to look at her and her eyes are wide and a darker shade of purple. “That’s the problem exactly, don’t you realise?” Imogen laughs-sobs. “What happens if I can’t bring you back, Laudna? What happens when you’re not with me?”

Imogen shuffles so that she’s on her knees facing Laudna, bent slightly forward. Her hair is more voluminous somehow, like there’s static electricity in the hair. Laudna stands up straighter. She knows she must look scared. Imogen is always sight to behold, even when she has to subdue her feelings to keep her powers in check. Like this? She’s a masterpiece, a painting so beautiful it becomes terrifying. A privilege only for Laudna to witness. “Goddamn it, Laudna. Would you ever stop and think that maybe I would die for you? That nothing would make me happier?”

Laudna doesn’t know what to do. Out of instinct, she holds out her arms and – for her all righteous anger – Imogen can’t help it. She launches herself into Laudna’s body. She’s radiating heat. Something in the air crackles. Laudna holds Imogen, so tight the bones of her shoulders comically crack in unison. “Please, Laudna. You stubborn, selfless, idiot.” Imogen sobs into her shoulders, but there’s not bite, only some strange kind of defeated sadness. Laudna tightens her arms and now Imogen is sobbing directly into her throat. “I love you. Don’t you dare leave me alone.”

There’s a second that feels like an eternity – like the first time Imogen smiled at her, two years ago, and Laudna’s undead heart gave a beat so strong she felt her entire body shake; like that time she woke up with Imogen’s arm around her torso, and she looked at Imogen’s relaxed face, still asleep, and had to steady herself against the sudden instinct of tracing her lips with her thumb; or maybe like when Imogen hugged her while she was still in her other form, huge and hovering and full of sharp angles and she felt a sudden pit of hunger deep in her stomach.

Imogen looks at her. She’s clearly distraught, yet so lovely. If she had to describe Imogen, that’s the word she would use: lovely. No, that’s not good enough. Loveful. Impossible-not-to-love. Her guarded sweetness, the harsh poetry of her lips, her cold anger and flaming affection. Laudna hates that she’s upset her. Imogen deserves all the good things in the world.

“I’m sorry. I – I love you too. You deserve better than –”

“Stop that!” Imogen shrieks. It echoes, exhausted, in her mind Stop that! Stop that! Stop that!.

And then Laudna is being pushed further into their pillows, and there’s a weight in top of her and Imogen is kissing her. Her cold, stiff lips. The lips of a corpse. Against Imogen’s mouth, wet and warm. Imogen’s liveness is bright as lightning. Laudna feels it spread all over her body, her skin tingling. It’s like coming back to life a third time over. It’s like wanting to live.

Imogen, still crying, bites on her bottom lip, harsh enough to draw blood.

Oh.

Here’s yet more evidence she’s alive, the sudden and twisting warmth in her lower belly, the feeling of sinking at the pit of her stomach, like she’s looking down at a precipice. She’s going to fall. She wants to fall.

She raises both hands to grab a hold of Imogen’s lovely jaw, pulling into her, fighting off the notion that if she unhinged her jaw just right she could try and swallow her whole. But Imogen must sense it somewhere over their mental connection, tenuous but never severed, and sends back a feeling that has all the acrid smell of fear and the metallic aftertaste of excitement. Their teeth knock together and Imogen grabs at Laudna’s camisole, spreads her fingers all over Laudna’s jutting collarbones – has Imogen always been so strong, so warm, so alive?

“Imogen – “ she tries weakly, and Imogen kisses her again. Her thighs are on either side of Laudna’s bony hips, keeping her pinned to the bed. Something in Laudna’s mind registers that she couldn’t escape if she wanted to, but, honestly, why would Laudna ever want to be anywhere but here?

Imogen, darling, what are we – Imogen’s lips find Laudna’s neck and her thought dies there, short-circuited. Imogen chuckles. She’s stopped crying, but there trace of her tears remain on her cheeks, glistening. Laudna wants to lick them clean.

“What does it look like, Laud? I love you. I love you. Like a lover. I want you.”

“Ah,” Laudna says.

Imogen’s eyes are still ravenous but her voice is gentle. Underneath the panting, that is. A little bashful, too. She has no need. Laudna carefully puts her hand over Imogen’s, still on her collarbone. Laudna takes a deep breath in, even though she doesn’t need to. Imogen’s thumb is stroking the skin of her neck. It’s nice.

“You want… me? As a lover,” Laudna asks, very slowly. Her mind feels foggish, like she’s trying to piece together the most complicated puzzle she has even seen. Imogen’s thumb keeps going, up and down, up and down. She leaves fire.

“Yeah.”

Laudna gives a small push with her hips, testing. Imogen’s breath hitches in her throat, her hand curls against Laudna’s skin and she – honest to the Gods – whines, a high pitched little whine from the back of her throat and there it is again, the hunger, the warmth, the excitement. She’s unsure if it’s coming from Imogen or herself. Considering the new information she has acquired, it’s likely both of them.

“So I can touch you?” Laudna asks. Her mouth is dry. She swallows, licks her lips, and finds them wet from Imogen’s tears and her own ichor. Her hands, shaking, move to hover over Imogen’s hips, a hair’s breadth away from touching. Grabbing. Clawing.

“Laudna, my love.” Imogen is smiling, eyes closed. She grinds her hips on Laudna’s trembling body, once, twice, with a soft sigh. You’re welcome to eat me. She thinks in Laudna’s mind and there it is again, the image Laudna had tried to suppress, Laudna, the monster at the foot of the bed, jaw unhinged, only this time she’s lowering herself – it’s Imogen’s point of view, it’s Imogen’s fantasy, she realises, and it knocks the wind out of her. In their shared mind link, she watches as fantasy-Laudna positions her unnaturally wide mouth between Imogen’s legs and one of Imogen’s scarred hands comes to tangle into her long black hair and hold Laudna’s head firmly against her sex. A moan escapes her lips, hollow and guttural, and Imogen bucks her hips again, this time with more purpose.

Laudna’s hands finally roam over the plump flesh of Imogen’s thighs, her palms sliding reverently underneath her dress to find blessed, naked skin. She rests her talons on Imogen’s back and she pulls with whatever strength she has, accompanying the next jerk of Imogen’s body onto her hips, helping her slot their bodies together so that her nightgown rises and she can feel the coarse texture of Imogen’s shorts on her naked stomach. Imogen moans something that sounds like yes and Laudna, emboldened, lets her hands wander, caressing the heated skin underneath the dress. Imogen lowers her body to kiss Laudna again, sucking on the bottom lip like she’s apologising for hurting Laudna and then keeps kissing Laudna’s jaw feverishly, like she can’t believe she gets to do it. It makes something hot and tense grow in Laudna’s belly and she rubs her thighs together underneath Imogen’s body and Imogen moans in response, beautiful and wild.

“Shouldn’t we take our clothes off, darling?”

After, after. This, now. Imogen answers. Her mind is buzzing wildly, Laudna can barely make out the words. There’s another image in their minds, now, Laudna’s deft hands touching Imogen underneath her underclothes, her fingers crooked like branches and bent just right to fill Imogen deliciously, making her come in her shorts because she’s so desperate for it. Please, please, I’ve wanted this so long.

“Yes. Yes,” Laudna answers, out loud, for she has never been in the habit of denying Imogen Temult.

Yes. Imogen echoes, and her hands move to tear apart Laudna’s nightgown at the front. It sends a rush of wetness between Laudna’s hands and she stills for a moment as Imogen’s hands take possession of her cold skin, setting it on fire.

“This is incredible,” Laudna says, breathless. “I wonder why we haven’t done this sooner.”

“And you ain’t seen nothing yet, baby.” Imogen smiles and lowers her head to take a nipple into her mouth.

Laudna arches her back as a moan leaves her mouth. “Incredible,” she repeats and Imogen laughs against her skin, the sound divine, licking-sucking-nibbling at the sensitive skin of Laudna’s breasts as Laudna holds onto her pretty head for dear life, eyes closed. At one point, she feels a gentle, but insistent pressure against her closed lips and she opens her mouth wider than any human could, hungry for everything Imogen is giving her, and she lets Imogen rests her fingers on her open tongue, the taste of gunpowder bitter on her tongue.

“Do that thing with your tongue,” Imogen low voice orders. She’s back to focusing on her neck now. She bites at her pulse point experimentally, like she can get her heartbeat going through sex and sheer willpower. Laudna feels like she’s very close to succeeding.

Are you sure?

“Please, Laudna,” Imogen whines, and goes back to sucking her nipples with single-minded devotion. The fingers in Laudna’s mouth spread and Laudna lets her tongue grow and wrap around them, painting them black. “Yes, baby. Like that,” Imogen moans, hips accelerating, and Laudna hums around the fingers in her mouth. If she could spend the rest of her unlife like this, she gladly would. She’s soaked now, she’s pretty sure. Imogen’s hand, now engulfed in black, leaves her mouth to paint at her skin, her nipples. Imogen admires her handiwork. That ache, that hollow hole of desire is swelling through Laudna’s entire body and it’s entirely following that instinct that she lets her talons, now claws, rake over Imogen’s back (Yes. Yes. Gods. Yes.) and rest on the small of her back and her other hand snakes underneath Imogen’s shorts and grabs her thigh, slowing the wild pace of her hips for a second.

“Look at me, please.”

Imogen does, chest heaving, body bucking without a rhythm like random bursts of electricity, biting on her lower lip and pleading with her eyes. Her bloodied clothes. Hands fisting the sheets. Shivers running through her back. Hair big and wide. Mind absolutely blank except for the frenzied drums of desire.

“Keep looking at me.”

Imogen nods. And then her mouth opens silently, her eyes flutter but remain stubbornly open as Laudna finally finds her way underneath Imogen’s smallclothes, through the patch of curly hair and finally her hand cups her sex.

“You’re so wet, love,” Laudna whispers, reverently.

“Inside,” Imogen whines, arching her back.

Laudna doesn’t say anything as she slides one finger into Imogen’s cunt, then two, and starts pumping. Imogen’s sex is scalding hot and engulfing and Laudna can’t think about anything else, not with Imogen above her moaning and swearing, slamming her hips to meet Laudna’s movements.

At one point, Laudna’s finger change, bend and crook, elongate and Imogen screams while her mind sends a litany of so good baby more more i love you so so so good don’t stop, pleasepleaseplease, more and it’s blissfully, really, when Laudna slips a third finger inside her and moves her palm just so against Imogen’s clitoris and then Imogen gives a sob and starts shaking and her cunt tightens like she never wants Laudna outside of her again and then she’s coming, yes, yes, her back straightens and she’s coming, she’s coming, all over Laudna’s hand.

Imogen’s whole body collapses into Laudna’s, breathing heavily. Laudna gently pulls out of her, slowly, and Imogen whimpers breathily. They stay like that for a while.

“Darling?” Laudna asks when Imogen’s breathing has slowed.

“Yes, love?”

“Do you want to go again?”

“Oh, baby.” Imogen shakily props herself with her elbows, stamps a kiss on Laudna’s lips. “Thought you’d never ask.”

#cr3 #imodna #critical role #critical role fic #imogen temult #laudna #no betas we die like my dignity #my fics #this is who i am now nbd

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