#You can’t spell game of thrones without ME!

[chopper-witch]

Ritual 777: Dead Men Don’t Rape

Eddie Muson x female!reader; Jennifer’s Body!AU

Minors DNI. I will find and tell your parents or guardians.

Story title inspired by Ritual 777 by Temple Twins

Chapter title inspired by Dead Men Don’t Rape by 7 Year Bitch

I will have a full playlist soon. I swear. It’s almost done.

WC: 1,700+

Warnings: being really, really sick; attempted rape; reader you eat someone alive lmfao not sorry; you eat brains and a heart; something that could be considered fatphobia?; imo I underdescribed reader’s actions but y’all will be the judge of THAT; death (obviously), please do not read my shit if you can’t handle or shouldn’t be watching game of thrones/euphoria/etc.

A/N: This chapter has no Eddie in it at all (again). It deviates from Jennifer’s Body in several ways but it fits better to later plans. Finally, I have like,,, mad bad dyslexia so please forgive all mistakes I put this through grammarly and like regular spell check and did all the other techniques I was taught/

I also don’t really like this chapter, it feels incomplete despite from beginning to end it being all I want :(. 

Prior Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Do gods die? 

Demons?

You?

“I’ve got you.”

————

You don’t think you’ve ever been so sick in your life. 

Wednesday night blurs into Thursday blurs into Friday blurs into Saturday into Sunday. You have no idea if you did your homework or did that test in history or even made it to any of the council meetings or —

You’ve become ravenously hungry as well, but everything you eat or drink turns into the black sludge you vomited up before. 

With the little energy you have left on Sunday night, you go biking to the store almost twenty miles away as a last-ditch effort. They’re the only place in all of Roane County to have a watermelon slushie flavor and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. The only thing you might, might be able to stomach.

“No offense, but you look like you’re dying,” the cashier says in a monotone voice. 

You take the bag from him and just stare into his eyes which are just as dead as yours likely look. “I had no idea, thank you.” 

“No problem. Have a goodnight.” 

You sigh and shake your head as you walk away. “Yeah, you too.” 

The door slides open and a man leaning against the wall stands up straight. He was there when you went in, smoking, and still there now. You’ve learned there is usually a man lingering outside convenience stores surrounded only by forests, smoking. Good place to linger without being told to leave, you figure.

The cigarette lands at your feet and you keep walking. 

“What’re you doing out here so late? Not safe for a girl like you.”

Oh, Christ. Just one day without shit being like a punishment from the universe, please.

You ignore him, placing the bag and slushie in your basket and getting started on unlocking your bike. 

“I could drive you home. Be safer. Just ask you do a little something for me.”

Why are some men so fucking gross? And why is this lock stuck?

Right. Denied Cherie’s offer to get you a new one. Should have taken her up on it. Then maybe the guy wouldn’t be two feet from you and instead, you would already be halfway through the lot.

You are beginning to mount your bike, leg swinging over it when a pair of hands grab your shoulders and yank you back. 

“I was trying to talk to you, bitch!”

Long lost is your balance as the bike goes crashing to the ground, the slushie splattering all over the pavement. The man has you poorly balanced on one leg as he continues to pull you backward.

Your eyes shut. 

At least there will be my side. At least there will be proof. At least maybe that damn cashier will run out. 

His grip tights on one shoulder, the other wrapping around your neck. 

You gasp. 

You thrash. Actually thrash this time. There are no drugs to keep you physically down.

There are also no drugs to keep you partially numb, sedated, help you hallucinate through this. 

“I’ve got you.”

“Get off of me!” 

The man goes flying. 

Through the air. 

And with a loud and sick crunch, his skull hits against the edge of the sign’s corner.

You turn. He’s lying nearly forty feet away like a rag doll on the ground. Your feet are bringing you closer despite the bile creeping up your throat begging you to stay away. But you get to him regardless, peering over his bleeding-out body.

“Hey, are you okay?” You stupidly ask. “I didn’t mean to—” 

Your voice dies in your throat. 

Your mouth floods with saliva.

That ravenous hunger seems to have found its solution in the form of a cracked skull bleeding all over the pavement. 

You are leaning in and there is nothing you can do to stop it. Animalistic instincts are something you’ve understood but never comprehended, but this must be it. The feeling like there is a magnet yanking your mouth to the mess of blood on the ground in front of you, no thoughts guiding it there, just the pull. The weight.

There is a beat barely an inch above the pooling mess. A thought holds you back, a moment of hesitation. 

A moment of humanity.

Just a taste. That’s all.

Just one, tiny, itty bitty, little…

It’s sweeter than you imagined. Blood always had a metallic, tangy taste when you got a paper cut and stuck your finger in your mouth to calm it. It’s supposed to be tangy like that. Iron and all that jazz.

This is like honey on peaches. Sweet, a fruity kind of savory. 

You go back for another taste. 

“Get off of me!” The man gurgles, eyes barely blinking conscious for a second.

You pull back. Your head tilts as your eyes stare into his. 

He screams. 

And you go straight for his neck. 

Who cares when this guy tried to assault a teenage girl? 

Who cares when his fear flows into you, pumping the energy you’ve been missing into your veins, his blood and flesh? 

Who cares when a surge of power like you’ve never felt burns in your veins?

It must be the adrenaline or the cortisol or something that is making him slowly taste sweeter as his blood surges out even more. Fear hormones flooding his body, his blood, making it all the more delightful for you. 

All of this for you. 

Every ounce of fat ends spit out, an ever-growing pile of human fat now next to where his mutilated corpse lies. Organs are devoured at almost lightning speed and muscle? 

You don’t know how the cashier hasn’t walked into the scene with how much you are savoring the muscles. 

Stringy here and there, sure. Underdeveloped in some places, sure. But so full of... 

protein. 

What lies last is his heart, his lungs, his liver, and his absolute eviscerated brain. the lungs and liver you haven’t dared touch, one sniff and you knew they were bad. 

The brain is practically begging to be eaten. Already ground up for you, skull cracked open like a bowl. 

The first piece is... mushy. Wet. Tempting to spit out on texture alone. 

But the taste?

It tastes like heaven. What was that in your psychology class again? Neuro... neurotransmitters? They must have lit his brain up with fear when he died, when he saw you above him, and flooded him with the most delicious flavoring you have ever tasted in your life. 

So you slurp it all down, even scrape the edges of the skull and the concrete to make sure to brain matter is left uneaten. 

The heart. 

It disconnects easily, seeing as pretty much everything else around it but some muscle and connective tissue is gone. 

You hold his heart up to the light.. You’ve never seen one in real life, just the fake one in bio class. And a pig one, in bio class. For a muscle, it’s awfully gummy feeling. Not quite as stringy.

Your teeth sink into it with trepidation. 

It’s… chewy, sticky, 

perfect.

One small bite turns into two normal ones turns into three large ones until you are savagely shoving the muscle down your throat as fast as you can. 

The cashier impressively never comes out still. 

The world sings when you open your eyes again. 

Glows brighter than before. The parking lot lights are surrounded by a brilliant halo. The neon store sign pulses like it’s alive.

Something sings in the distance. Angelic in quality but completely indistinguishable. 

It’s so beautiful. 

Gentle. 

Fragile.

There’s still the shredded carcass of a man to your left, complete with a pile of fat and a lake of blood. 

The river is just over the road and down another a half-mile. A few weeks in there and it will just be an accident of some kind, consumed by animals.

No. No. 

Someone needs to see this. See what you did to this man. This man who tried to hurt you. 

Maybe the store employee when the store closes in twenty minutes or so. Then the cops. Then the local news. 

Then maybe regional and if it gains enough traction, national. 

That… that feels better. Feels right. 

Your hands search for his wallet. Someone needs to be able to identify this man who is no more than a shattered skeleton and pile of ground human at this point. 

Frank York. East Hawkins. 57. 

“You were a real asshole, Frank York.”

You snap the wallet close but keep the ID outside of it. Then you place both roughly where his heart should be. Easier to identify the mess that has become his body.

The blood wipes off fairly easily from your skin and onto wherever it isn’t on your clothes but the color still remains. Blood stains aren’t just for clothes, you suppose. Blood red looks good on your skin. Like it’s meant to match, destined to be sticking to you. 

You settle on your bike, ready to ride home through the woods instead of on the main roads. It’s not Halloween anymore. Looking like Carrie on a random Sunday will raise at least a little suspicion.

But wait. He has more to give, surely. 

You pick it back up, take the money (which is only a few dollars ultimately) out with your mostly blood-free hands, and place it back on top of him. He’s dead. It’s not like he’s gonna need it. 

Right?

Of course, you get called back one last time. Right about to mount your bike, something just drags you back.

Your finger swipes into a small pool of blood and you lean over where his ID is, carefully crossing out his name with the now quickly congealing substance.

Dead men don’t rape, but they do provide potentially a lucrative form of making money and an unbelievable rush of power. 

————

Freshly cleaned from the blood stains and sitting on your bed, you stare at the clothing gripped in your hands.

You should feel some kind of… emotion. Sadness. Anger. Concern. Anything. You should be having a Lady Macbeth moment. A moment so dramatic that the English teacher has to literally tell Cherie to get off the floor before she sends her to the office. 

Again.

Out damned spot, out I say! You should be shouting as you fall to the ground and rub your hands raw, Mrs. Jenkins telling you you can get up now, that’s enough. And you should be getting up with tears in your eyes after ten more minutes, acting like going is some great offense to your pain.

But you just feel…

Content. 

Peaceful.

Satiated. 

Yes, that’s it. Satiated. 

Instead of throwing the jumpsuit and jacket out as you should, or even burning them, you toss them into a box with some of the awards you’ve gotten over the years. 

The clothes settle nicely between a handful of perfect attendance awards from elementary and some academic honors whatever you got freshman year. 

First kill award!

Then you settle into bed, drifting off to a peaceful sleep for the first time in nearly a week. 

————

Prior Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #ritual 777 #jennifers body au #rape tw #tw rape #tw attempted rape #tw murder #murder tw #murder #rape

[alligatorjesie]

Aww shit. I’m sorry this took so long to reply to, I live my life outside fucking tumblr and this was all I was able to type out in between water and snack breaks from fucking @makemebehavelikeananimal ‘s mother.

It’s rich being told by a chucklefuck who can’t seem to shit out two sentences without a spelling or grammatical error that I’m not using the English language correctly. Are you a fucking grammar police? Are you going to shoot me because I told you fanfiction isn’t fucking new, that police kill people, and you’re a fucking moron? 

How ironic.

Meow I do admit what I type out is filled to the brim with expletives and a few run-ons but I think I’m getting my point across. I do understand when you have shit for brains and the attention span as long lived as a snowflakes drifting into the fucking hell shit nuggets like you all must crawl out of it’s tricky for you to do something as simple as fucking read, so let’s hold hands and take a walk through what I typed out just for you since you seem like you need the fucking  help.

 As you can see at this point of the conversation I’m talking about the entirely un-unique ideal of people taking things that were already known media having fans write fiction about it.

There’s a fucking word for that.

It’s called ‘Fanfiction’

And it’s been around since at least the 14th century. It’s not fucking new.

Now this point here I’m very clearly speaking to the point of ‘If you don’t like the thing it’s as simple as not interacting with it.’

Anti logic fucking baffles me. Why the fuck are you spending time on shit you don’t like? If you don’t enjoy, say, the new Game of Thrones series, then don’t interact with it. 

It‘s just that fucking simple.

I know I sure as flying fuck don’t after that absofuckinglutly disgusting pile of wet dog shit series finally.

Now having said that, lemme show you something:

This is my tumblr. As you can tell even though I have a strong opinion about GOT, I don’t post mindlessly hateful shit about it like it’s a fucking keystone personality trait in the Game of Thrones tag of all fucking places. I’ve never fucking posted in it once in fact, well I have now bit it’s more to make a point. 

Because I’m not a needlessly hateful fucking cunt.

I’m just a regular justified cunt. Because I’ve been in two fandoms now that have been consistently shit on by everyone around them for my entire lifespan. If we’re not dealing with actual nazis

In the Star Wars fandom to the point it’s a fucking trope

AND in the Furry Fandom.

And even though every single person I know in both of these fandoms is shouting at the top of their lungs for everyone to, you know, just stop and listen to the fact there are

Real

And actual racists

in these fandoms

and we’re dealing with actual attempts on our lives from these shit stains

the overall news media seems quite content to just sorta laugh like it’s fun.

It’s not fucking fun.

I don't fucking like you but I like you fucking less now that I see you dramatically flinging yourself over a fainting couch screaming about your incorrectly perceived racism and uhh transphobia? IDK were the fuck you’re even pulling that shit from but that’s an ass chewing for another time, because I mentioned that cops kill people and that you’re so fucking stupid you don’t understand that fanfiction has been a thing since humans could fucking write and just mind ya own fuckin’ business when I was actually awaken that faithful day in December back in 2014 while attending that very con at about 1 in the morning by hotel alarms and banging on our door that shit was going down right the fuck now and we need to GTFO. 

Only to learn the sick fuck set the bombs off in the stairwells, the only way to get out of the hotel because the elevators were disabled. So there was lots of people just sorta trapped.

Not the ones who did try to use the stairwell in all the confusion by the way,

those ones breathed in chlorine which isn’t fucking healthy surprise surprise.

Because we were just told to leave the hotel. No one said a fucking thing about the chlorine bomb set off in the fucking stairwells.

19 living breathing humans got sick from that attack. 

Many are still dealing with real life long term effects of what happened to them psychologically.

Some of them are dealing with real life long term effects of what happened to them Physically. Not to mention that this shit happened in the middle of December in Chicago. Everyone was evacuated outside, you know the ones who could actually get outside.

 At 1 in the morning. 

And told they couldn’t go back inside for many hours.

You know, just standing outside in their pajamas in the freezing Chicago winter. Only to be laughed at the next morning by almost every other fucking news channel out there.

You know, at the con that was chlorine bombed by a hateful fuck. 

Someone kinda like you.

I have literally been closer to death in that instance and every single fucking day just by living were I do and being in the fandoms I’m in. My heart doesn't exactly fucking bleed for you because you got upsetty that cops in a country you don’t even fucking live in kill a lot of people and that statement is fucking triggering to you.

I don’t give a fucking shit.

Be fucking mad about it, but don’t be mad at Me about it. I’m not a fucking cop. I’m not even a racist POS like you want me to be. I’m just a furry and a reylo who wants you to leave the fucking reylo tag if you’re gonna be a prick about it.

We were chlorine bombed at a furry con because people like you hate people like me.

You know what’s triggering to me? 

Assholes in my fandom spaces.

I fucking tired of assholes.

I’m fucking tired of anti shit stains who think it’s alright to hate the shit I love and think they can just openly mock fandom they don’t like to the point people in it have killed themselves from y’all’s harassment.

I’m going to happily spend every moment I’m alive telling you fucking pricks you’re not fucking welcome and to fuck off. And if I have to write a fucking mini novel to do it I fucking will.

I’m excited to watch that high horse you’re sitting on buck you off.

So the next thing I talk about here is how Tumblr’s ‘based on your likes’ algorithm works against you because you’re so fucking stupid you can’t figure out why reylo shit keeps showing up on your fucking feed. This one is actually pretty straight forward, but I’ll explain it simpler just for you:

Don’t want fandom shit you don’t like showing up on your dashboard?

Don’t interact with the fandom.

It’s just that fucking easy.

I don’t like the Naruto fandom and I don’t want to see the content show up on my dash. It’s just as easy for me to fucking avoid it.

Now this next part! My favorite part!

The part were I watched a whole person take their head and ram it so thoroughly up their own anus they’ve created a singularity that is now wildly spinning out of control, sucking every fuckwad who thinks it’s alright to send ‘kill yourself’ anons to fucking anyone at fucking all in close proximity right into it. So lemme ask what part here you read that implied I was sending you a death threat? Was it this part?

Naw probably not. I don’t see anywhere I typed something like ‘I hope’ or ‘I wish’ In fact I believe the wording is ‘You Could’

The line ’You could die tomorrow’ isn’t a fucking death threat you daffy fuck. ‘Could’ is an implication that life is fucking fleeting and it can all get taken away tofuckingmorrow. Learn to fucking read for fuck’s sake how do you even use this site? You COULD walk out your door and get plastered by a drunk driver. You COULD sit down to enjoy a nice dinner and choke to death. You COULD walk down the street and find a black bear riding a unicycle handing out candy. But probably not. 

None of these are fucking death threats. It’s not my fucking fault you can’t read one single sentence and fucking understand it, that shit don’t make me a racist that makes you a fucking moron.

‘Could’ isn’t a fucking wish or desire. ‘Could’ is a fucking probability.

 I don’t want anyone to be shot by a cop. Like I don’t want anyone to be chlorine bombed at their own con.

But my talking about either of these things dose not fucking automatically imply I wish them on people, how the ever loving fuck does your warped fucking mind work? 

Do you fly off the handle like this every time someone plays ‘What if’ with you?

Do you throw yourself in to a diaper shitting baby tantrum every time someone tells you something you don’t wanna hear? Is this your fucking life? 

How fucking tiring living with you must be.

Life isn’t a fucking guarantee. That shit can get taken away from you any fucking second, not by my fucking hands that for fucking sure. I just want you to fuck off out of a fandom tag you’re being a useless fucking prick in. I don’t want to fucking see you ever again.

But since you wanna make a big fucking deal about police brutality, let’s check something out here real quick @makemebehavelikeananimal

Oh, so you’re in the UK?

Well I’m glad reading literacy is just as fucking bad there as it is in America. Maybe the reason all these fanfictions getting turned into movies is so frightful to you is because you can’t fucking read and just assumed the movies have to be read too? Because you understand that’s not how that fucking works right?

Hey, lets check something out here:

Oh my sweet mother of fucking Christ sailing across the fucking Nile. You’re making 10 shades of shit out of someone pointing out one of the over 1,000 deaths by cops in the US alone in 2021 and turning that shit into some kinda race dig when YOU live in a country that saw 3 fucking deaths by cops in that same year?

What in the Kentucky Fried Fuck.

I have been to a furry con that was Chlorine bombed and live in a country that has had over one fucking thousand police killings in 2021 alone and I’m less of a fucking brainless preachy twat about death than you. I literally have higher odds of dying by cop and I make less a fucking stink about this shit when someone brings it up. I want people to bring this shit up. This shit is fucking appalling, like your reading comprehension.

I’m not fucking sure how you hear someone mention police brutality and the ever fucking fleeting fragility of life and automatically go ‘well they must be being racist at me’ like I ain’t the one actually living this horseshit every fucking day. What kind of special moron are you? You’re going to be spending more time being dead than you ever will alive. You’re just going to have to come to fucking terms with that goddamn shit however someone as fucking stupid as you can, but boy fuckin’ howdy I ain’t gonna sit here and let some ignorant fuck like you tell me I’m racist for simply bringing up death.

Death is a part of life. We all gonna die one fuckin’ day ya dumb slut.

You’re not immune, I’m not immune, your dear sweet mother whom I have been fucking with a healthy vigor every single waking moment since I met you isn’t immune.

I don’t fucking have to wish death on people. Death is just standing aside waiting for one of us to twist an ankle while walking down the non-fucking-exsistant sidewalks we have here in the US because some dicks for brains decided back in the 40s/50s that everyone should have cars and fuck pedestrians which will cause us to inevitably get stuck by a car traveling over 60 miles per hour next to us. Death is just waiting for you to stand too close unmasked to someone with Covid. Death is just vibrating with excitement as some stupid pricks light another gender reveal explosive in a field that hasn't seen rain in 4 months.

I don’t wish death on people. I make a point of that. I’ve been being told to go fuck off and die because I draw furries since I was a child. I know what it’s like to be told to go die. It’s not fucking fun.

I don’t send death threats on this shit stain site, not when I have useless fucking bell ends like ya’ll sending them to me all the time. We’re past the count of 18 by the way, 4 of them have been from your crew. Congratulations, your online friends are just as fucking trash humans as you are. I’ll be honest with you, I want you to live a long miserable life. I want you to survive until you’re a practically immobile shriveled festering lump of bitter old fuck that is just as dead on the inside as your cold fucking heart. I want you to die at an impossibly long age an old bitter cunt surrounded by people you hate and who hate you in kind since you’ve made every personal slight into issues that don’t even fucking involve you because that’s all your myopic world view can work with. I hope one day very far from now you die a very old lonely miserable person because you’re a fucking cunt who never made a single ounce of meaningful human contact in all your long lived years since you’re such a cantankerous stupid fuck who’s physically and emotionally repulsed any person that might have loved and cared for you in your last long moments. Fuck you OP. I don’t give a shit that your a POC. I care that you’re a fucking tasteless cunt spewing needlessly mean shit in a tag you don’t fucking like.

Now dick off.

#Anti talk #reylo #hate talk #death threats #nazis #furry fandom #tumblr has a lot shit tier people on it #not all #for sure #but a lot #who think it's fine to send anon death threats #that's not fucking fine what the flying fuck is wrong with you? #@makemebehavelikeananimal is a fucking monster #And also racist lets throw that one in there too for good measure #I'm going to take a page out of @makemebehavelikeananimal 's book and just start throwing insults out until one of them sticks

[kelyon]

Congrats on the completion of Dark Mistress. I have been on this journey the last year with Belle and Rumpelstiltskin and can’t wait to read it again! What’s next?

I'm so glad you asked!

Allow me to take a moment to introduce Kelyon's

Summer!

Of!

WIPs!!!!

I'm taking a break from my major fics in order to tie up some loose ends, work on some one-shots (or at least I hope they will stay one shots) and update installments of longer projects that have gone too long without new material. Let me show you what I mean!

Multi-chapter fics that are so close to being finished:

Live Wire Belle is a ghost haunting the electronics of Gold's house. In chapter 3, Gold introduced himself. The forth and final chapter will be Belle rejoicing in the fact that she's not alone anymore. This is my currently open Google doc and the next thing I'm going to post.

Hot Cocoa and Stolen Kisses Lacey very slowly wins Gold's heart with various flavors of hot chocolate. The last chapter was them realizing they were basically soul mates, the next two chapters will be them figuring out what that actually means.

One shots that I want to get out of my head

The Beasts: A Golden Cuffs Story The Golden Cuffs universe is great for scenarios where one party can say "Hey, do you want to try a weird sex thing?" and the other party will be like, "Absolutely I do." In this story (based on a 'give me a title and I'll make up a fic about it' ask game) Rumple performs a duplication spell that creates many, many copies of himself, and Belle is very excited to try them out.

Contract A brief little Storybrooke AU where Belle and Gold negotiate their new BDSM relationship.

Solstice Every winter, I say I'm gonna write this story where Belle and Rumple in the Dark Castle share a sweet little moment together on the night of the winter solstice. I might not post this until December, but by God, I'm going to write it this summer.

New installments of long-neglected fics

Nephila The spider, the myth, the legend returns! This chapter will be more about Emma and spider-Neal and teenage Killian thinking that Milah is a MILF. (Maybe you can see why I've been putting this off for two years, but I have to move forward to get to the Rumbelle stuff.)

Begging On His Bended Knees This was a one-shot with an open ending, so I'm finally getting to part two, Flirting With The Condiments. After Gold discovers that the Dominatrix he hired is actually the tenant that he has a mild crush on, she asks him out on a date! Belle and Rumple go to Granny's to figure out what kind of relationship they can have and if it might possibly involve sexual contact. (Spoilers! Yes it will.)

On The House My pseudo-Victorian AU where Belle is a prostitute in Cora's brothel. Gold spent one night with this innocent whore, and he can't get her out of his mind. Will hiring her again make things better? But how can he do that when Belle explicitly asked him not to? Maybe he'll just show up at a masquerade ball where he knows she'll be doing business and see where things go from there. What could possibly go wrong?

Non-Rumbelle fics that will probably be multi-chapter but I'm not sure

Urges Some 1991 Beauty and the Beast smut with feelings. After the Beast remarks on how Belle smells "desirous," Belle sneaks into the West Wing and asks the Beast to, ahem, help her with those desires. This results in some very confusing and intense emotions from all parties involved--including the servants.

Unnamed Little Mermaid Filth This one might never see the light of day, but I might as well talk about it. In this story, Ursula wins the throne of Atlantica and chooses to take Ariel as her bride. My hesitation with this story is not the core premise of "BBW evil tentacle lesbian does terrible things to spitfire princess," but just... where would it go from there? I don't want to have a complete downer ending where Ariel ends up broken in spirit and body, but I don't really want to go the Golden Cuffs route and have Ursula have a secret heart of gold. Splitting those options down the middle would leave Ariel as maybe more comfortable with the life she's been forced into, basically transforming into her own type of kinky villainess, with eyeliner and black mer-leather. I'm not against that idea. But the whole thing needs a bit more workshopping before I can commit to it. (Maybe I'll just make an OC. Someone who can appreciate Ursula as she is and knows to say "Yes please" like a good girl.)

Speaking of unhealthy relationships with an element of Kink! You'll know the Summer of WIPs is winding down when I start talking about...

Courtship: A Golden Rings Story The heartwarming love story of a barely-legal troubled girl with nothing, and the fifty-year-old millionaire who demands everything. Lacey French and Mr. Gold, a match made in cursed Storybrooke. I'm rooting for these kids, I think they'll be good for each other.

Regina: A Golden Rings Story A big problem of making Regina absolutely irredeemable is that it really throws off any Season 2 AU (which is what Golden Love is going to be). This fic will be filling in some of the gaps of that premise, getting most readers on the same page before the fic proper starts. The story itself will be the major players in Storybrooke (Emma, Snow and David, Archie, Belle and Rumple) trying to figure out what they can possibly do with an unrepentant and homicidal Destroyer of Worlds.

And finally, my next major fic:

Golden Love After the curse breaks, Rumple and Belle set off to find Baelfire in the Land Without Magic. Tragedy strikes when Belle loses her memory and reverts back to her old persona of Mrs. Gold. Since there's no more waiting for the curse to break, Rumple realizes that the only way to get Belle back is to give Lacey Gold True Love's Kiss.

Depending on how the rest of 2023 goes, this will probably start posting in January of 2024. Stay tuned for more updates.

#tmi tuesday #summer of wips #golden cuffs #golden rings #nephila #flirting with the condiments #on the house

[the-blind-geisha]

An Empty Heart Full of Memories - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Momonga sighed, reclining back on the mighty throne on the Tenth Floor. It was always a sad thing to be reminded of the past and all that had come and gone. So many members of Ainz Ooal Gown had left. At least, that was what he was to assume at this point as so many had given him their armor and valuables to keep.

Thinking back on Demona and how he was shocked she even logged in, his temptation got the better of him and he brought up the NPC roster, which listed all NPCs of Nazarick. His bony finger tapped away at the list, scrolling not too far to find Cheshire’s character sheet and attributes.

Name: Cheshire

Level: 100

Epithet: Soul Devouring Menace

Alignment: Extreme Evil

Sense of Justice: -500

Racial Level: Imp (10) |  Hell Beast (5) | Other (20)

Job Level: Soul Devourer (15) | Demonic Essence (5) | Shapeshifter (10) | Soul Guard (10) | Guardian (10) | Other (15)

Passive Abilities: Fire resistance | immune to charm spells

HP: 100

MP: 50

Physical Attack: 80

Physical Defense: 95

Agility: 35

Magic Attack: 25

Magic Defense: 90

Resistance: 100

Special: 80

Biography

A large, grotesque demon with many fiendish maws, the hell beast used to devour the souls of the many in the pits of hell. It takes on the appearance of a seemingly normal feline to stalk whatever new prey is on its list. If its Creator, Demona, sees the soul worthy of redemption, she will allow it to be set free from her hellish pet’s belly. Very few are worthy of this grace in the feline’s eyes, sometimes devouring gluttonously without her say.

Even if it was the angel herself who has kept him caged, he acts not as her inferior but as her guardian in return—often offering advice with good graces he only intends to give her alone.

Momonga knew the true appearance of the demon cat. It was so large it could practically double as a mount for Demona. The cat would appear with a rather large maw with an unnaturally long tongue to use as a lance at times to spear the enemies he wished to collect the souls from. But the mouths appeared all over him in that form. On the side of his neck, under his belly, and even on his back left leg. Constantly, they would interchange on his figure. The face of the feline would tear into an unnaturally longer expression with the fur and skin peeling back to expose the bones underneath just below his eyes.

Tabula had assisted her in creating the most unassuming creature to the best of his ability that would fit her tastes.

I’m a bit surprised he didn't encourage her to write something longer, he thought playfully to himself, knowing it took Tabula forever to come up with his three NPC’s backstories.

Momonga hesitated for a moment, debating on whether or not to open up Demiurge’s information. He had already fought off temptation not too long ago, shortly after Ulbert’s ominous last words to him so many months ago.

“You don't plan on returning?” Momonga remembered asking Ulbert.

“I don't know. Maybe.” Ulbert looked up at the gear he offered over to Momonga to keep locked away if he ever were to need it for something. “I have… there are other things I need to do, really. The game can’t take up all my time.” He tried to laugh off something in his words. Momonga could tell.

“What about Demona? She still plays.”

Ulbert went quiet for a moment, making the guild leader worry he said something wrong. “Yeah. And that makes me worried.”

“Eh?”

#this makes me hella sad to write lol #i've been there where guilds were once omg so excited to be in #and then suddenly they deteriorate #ainz ooal gown #momonga #overlord #overlord fanfic #overlord anime #anime overlord #overlord oc: demona #original character #angst #drama #oc: demona #mywriting #oreana writes #demiurge #demiurge x oc

[lynnedwardswrites]

Find the Word

Thank you @writernopal!

Tagging: @vcaudley @rhikasa @gwendolinequinn @melusinewrites @radiowrites

My words: melancholy, opaque, repeat, mixture, spell

Your words: song, math, climate, responsibility, charity

All from The Hare and the Jackal, Draft 10 unless I say otherwise - first couple chapters currently up on Royal Road.

melancholy

I could only find this one in Draft 7, but the tone of the scene has since changed (POV Creed, D7,Ch2):

Once, a long time ago, Isabella used this song to splinter the Wolfguard’s shackles on my body and my mind. It has a melancholy echo in this dark crypt that makes me suddenly grateful—on more than one account—that she was here to save me today. 

repeat

(POV Luther, Chapter 5)

I lean over the desk. “You’re promising half the Kinshold’s most arable land. What will be left?” [Mary] rolls her eyes. “The Glory of the Gods, father, and pride in a mother who knew humanity’s place in this world.” My fist cracks against the desktop. “Damn the Gods! For cursing me with such wasteful daughters!” Her left hand flies to the saber at her hip, and she falls a half-step back, reddening. “May They curse you again for your arrogance!” “Arrogance?” I repeat, dumbfounded, pushing myself back off the desk. “Arrogance? Fifty years I’ve spent on this throne, waltzing aristocrats and bishops into submission, shoring up power and support, so that one day my children and their children could rule with the benefits of an ordered house and bounteous vitality. And what thanks am I given? You’ll turn Morgenhaus into a temple so large the people will have to sleep in Castilar!” Her knuckles tighten around the scabbard. “I’ll turn Morgenhaus into the Kingdom of Heaven while you’re busy sleeping in hell!”

mixture

(POV Isabella, Chapter 9)

I bite my lip, but can’t help struggling slightly. My arms are trapped under his. “I think we need to go pay the Slippers a visit tonight, don’t you?” “No, I don’t think that at all,” he murmurs, tracing the tip of his nose along my cheek. He’s so heavy. “Creed!” I complain, pushing against him. He grins, shifting his weight to the side so I can breathe, but doesn’t let me escape. I’m glowering at him, inhaling unevenly, trying not to smile at his stupid, sexy face. “You brought this on yourself, you know,” he says. “Oh did I?” I ask, daring him to continue. Despite the rocky start, I can feel a thrill starting to build at this game. An odd mixture of discomfort and excitement. “You tricked me! You promised me a kiss earlier and I have yet to get one.” He’s leaning towards me as if he’s waiting, that impish smile still playing just beneath the surface.

spell

(POV Luther, Chapter 5)

I harden, remembering the real reason she left all those years ago. “Yes, you’re still only interested in dipping from an empire’s coffers without paying an empire’s price, selfish girl. Your greed will spell the death of the nation if I don’t keep it in check!” [Isabella] stands abruptly, the chair shrieking as it’s shoved back across the floor. She’s livid. “Vortigen raise your rotted corpse!” she says, and then she’s striding towards the closed door, about to scurry off to hide alone in her ill-gotten burrow.

opaque

Likewise, have could only find this in a snippet from Draft 3, which is still written in third person (Chapter 33 - with Spoilers!):

“Hey, now, friend,” Creed interrupted, shaking the man a little too hard. “We don’t want to kill you. We’re just looking out for the Lady Prince. If you change sides, help us prove the Governor is guilty of treason, we’ll let you go. You’ll live. How does that sound?” The man met Creed’s eyes, hope dawning. He started nodding. “Yes! Yes! Please don’t kill me! I’ll help! I’ll… I’ll testify!” “Good man. Good man,” Creed smiled reassuringly. “Now, are you sure the Governor doesn’t know where the Lady Prince is? He doesn’t have a single clue? We have to be sure, to keep her safe, you understand?” The man nodded, almost dazed by the shift of luck. “Yes. We don’t have a single lead. The Governor’s starting to get worried that she snuck aboard a ship, and we missed her.” He seemed earnest. Internally, Creed sighed in relief. Isabella was still safe. The Wolfguard had primed the pump in their favor, for once. “There you are!” Firat huffed, rounding the corner. Creed dropped the agent. He stumbled forward half a step, and Isabella killed him with a lightning bolt. “Got him!” Isabella-now-Passi said to Firat in a bright voice, sighing in relief. “Now no one knows Shapour survived!” Creed blinked disorientedly for a moment, watching Isabella’s face for some clue about what she was feeling under the layers and layers of disguises and personas, but she was opaque, even for him. She rushed towards Firat, hovering her hand over Shapour and making a show of dropping more vitality into the charred form. Some of the flesh started to regrow on her face where the vitality entered, but there were no other visible signs of healing. Creed was honestly surprised the seele took, but Shapour was apparently still clinging to life. 

#the hare and the jackal #tag game #oc: creed #oc: luther #writeblr

[coffeeandfaeries]

Zodiac Academy: Ruthless Fae/The Reckoning - A book review

C. Peckham and S. Valenti

I’m gonna be honest, I’m liking this series less and less with each book. My memory is a bit fuzzy and I barely remember what happened in this one. I remember that in this book they finally took those mid-term exams, the so-called “Reckoning”. The thing that actually bothers me the most is that they definitely will get together with one of the heirs and the professor. Okay, I kinda do like the professor. I'll be honest and I think that he and Darcy are cute together. Not exactly a healthy relationship, but it’s fiction so I’ll let it slide.

Okay so I know I should’ve expected it because it’s a bully romance, but in my defense, I didn’t see that before I started reading the series. It’s kinda obvious that Darcy will end up with Orion and Tori will end up with Darius. At first I was like hell yeah they’re gonna kill the Heirs and take over the throne, but uhh that ain’t happening apparently.

Tori and Darius have a weird ass relationship, one moment they are torturing each other. He made her believe he was gonna kill her and she set his room on fire and stole his stuff. They keep fighting and undermining each other, and then all of a sudden he takes care of her when she gets drunk and blacks out.

He was sweet in that one chapter, I’ll give him that. But honestly, their relationship makes no sense to me at all. I don’t see why they should trust each other, and how are you supposed to date someone you can’t trust?

Either in this book, or the next one we learn about soulmates, and apparently every Fae has one, but it’s up to them to decide if they will be with their soulmate. If they decide they want each other they will not be able to stay away from each other, but if they decide against it, they will not be able to try again no matter how hard they try. I’m guessing that Darius and Orion are supposed to be their soulmates.

The writers kinda forgot to give the other male characters any personality so I’m pretty sure my guess is correct. On top of that Darius’ father has put some kind of spell on Orion and Darius that bonds them. Because of that bond, Orion can feel Darius’ pain and feels the need to protect him. Definitely hasn’t been done so that the four of them have a reason to be together without the other three heirs.

Max, Seth, and Caleb are once again almost completely forgotten. Caleb and Tori are having regular sex and Seth accidentally made Darcy his omega, so they get a bit of attention every now and then, but Max is so irrelevant they might as well kill him off. This time we got to see the story from Caleb’s POV a couple of times, but the only thing he thinks about is Tori, so it’s not like we learned anything about him anyway.

I have just realized that I have no idea what happened in Book 2 and what happened in Book 3, so I’m gonna make this the review about both of the books oh God.

So, not only is Tori regularly screwing Caleb, but Darcy has also decided to make the relationship with Orion official, obviously this is a secret. And while they’re fucking their literal enemies who want them dead, they’re also pulling harmless pranks as if that’s gonna scare the Heirs into submission. Yeah, you sure showed them when you spread the rumor that Caleb likes Pegasuses, gave Seth flies, and put griffin shit in Max’s suit. Technically I suppose you set Darius’ room on fire and made him doubt all his friendships, humiliated Caleb, ruined Seth’s reputation and drove his pack away, and made Max lose the game of whatever your magical sport is called, but all of that is so irrelevant, and most importantly TEMPORARY.

Thankfully, by the end of the second book the girls FINALLY got a hang of their powers and blasted the nymphs with some badass blue fire, scaring the heirs in the process, and passed the Reckoning proving their worth.

Now by the end of book 3, the girls, Darius and Orion get kidnapped by Mr Acrux (Darius’ dad) who uses the twins to summon the fifth element, which is (I think) darkness. While he did this the girls' Order emerged, and they were phoenixes. A rare order that was extinct for over a thousand years, making them unbelievably powerful since no fire (including dragon fire) can harm them, but they can easily kill dragons with their own fire, which is the only fire that can harm a dragon. (of course, they’re stronger than their enemy, how shocking)

Now this gives Darius, Orion, and the twins a reason to work together, since they now have a common enemy - Mr Acrux. Very predictable, yeah I know, but honestly I didn’t expect much from the book series that markets itself as “Hogwarts if Voldemort was the headmaster” and calls itself a “bully romance”. I wasn’t expecting a literary masterpiece. It’s entertaining, funny, and sexy. If I want something profound I’ll read classic literature.

Rating : ⛤⛤

#bookworm #booklr #books #books & libraries #reading #books and reading #booklover #readingblr #book review

[swiftieunicat]

Hi guess who’s back from the exams absolutely no one wanted? It’s me :D I found this picture in my IPad and I think it’s been there since forever so I’m gonna post it now. It’s supposed to be book!Cat of The Canals but I sorta based her off show!Arya because she’s cute and I like to draw her outfit. I just constantly think about how Arya is supposed to be a cat friend in the book but never got to see that in the show :( But anyway I hope you like this ♡

#Arya Stark #arya #valyrianscrolls #valyrian scrolls #game of thrones #asoiaf #got #A Song of Ice and Fire #swiftieunicat #You can’t spell game of thrones without ME! #cat of the canals #art #Fanart #asoiaf fan art #got fan art #game of thrones fanart

[hobidreams]

november 1869.

to remember what has been lost; to protect what still remains.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: drama. words: 2.4k contains: descriptions of blood/death, a reckoning.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 26. start from the beginning?

Before Queen Jeonghui’s tomb, you stand with hands bowed in reverence, mind laden with warm memories as sticks of incense burn above your fingertips.

“We all miss you, daebi-mama. I hope you are resting well,” you murmur, letting the smoke mingle with your breath in the air as you bow, deeply. “Happy birthday.”

A little ways away, the single guard that accompanies you is also offering his thoughts to the raised, grassy mound that the queen lies beneath. You’re glad it’s Myungho to come with you today. He’s a good man, one who allows you as much freedom as possible. He understands your need to escape sometimes. Nearby, the horses you rode here are grazing on the field, quietly snorting as their tails swish from side to side.

As you look upon the tomb, you wonder wistfully if mother has found the queen in the spirit world. If they’re playing the game of janggi they so loved in life, when both could find the rare time to continue their decade-long (friendly) rivalry while indulging in cups of strong, dark tea. The thought brings a smile to your face even as fresh tears fall at the remembrance.

In your peripheral vision, you see a swish of fabric, the sign of someone approaching. You give one last bow and slot your incense in the traditional tray, realizing it must be time to leave before it gets too cold and your limbs begin to freeze even under the layers of clothes. You must go back eventually, you know it, but that doesn’t make it easier.

But when you turn, the man that stands beside you wears royal robes — the scarlet fabric and golden dragons unmistakable.

“Jeonha?”

The king’s face holds only sorrow as he holds matching incense in his hands. Staring straight ahead, he bends into a bow, dipping his head repeatedly low, low, lower until he’s almost on the dying, waterlogged grass with it, the lit grey tips flickering in the wind as they are nearly doused from the force of his movements. He bites his lip hard, so hard he draws blood as he punishes his own legs with the bows but he doesn’t stop.

You watch him with emotion clinging to your throat, but you swallow the questions you want to ask as you swipe at your wet cheeks. Why are you here? Why did you change your mind? How are you? Are you okay? All these impertinent questions are for you, to satisfy your own curiosity, and that’s not what he needs right now.

Quietly, steadily, you wait until he has finally stuck in the incense in the memorial ash. You wait until he opens his eyes, red-rimmed as they are, and finds your gaze.

“I… decided at the last moment,” he murmurs. “You… were right. I had to see her.”

You nod. Think you understand everything else he means as well, even if he’s left it unspoken. “Me too.”

“She would have liked that you’re here.”

That simple sentence threatens another wave of nostalgia and longing. You let it pull you under. Sink yourself into it. The mourning, the grief. And the love. The love that was there. The love that still remains, the traces of it held in you both. Your fingers twitch with a sudden, daring want to take his hand. To meet your palms and find the warmth and the life pulse that beats so closely, so resolutely just beneath the surface despite all this pain and all this loss. If you could just reach out. If you could just take another risk…

“Jeonha, run!”

The scream comes from the hill behind you. You both whirl.

The head of the royal guard comes running over with his sword drawn. His teeth are grit, hair blown from the wind that sweeps through the grass, rippling. His blade is already stained with a color that makes your stomach lurch at the implication.

“Hoseok— What’s going on?” The king yells back.

“Rebels! An ambush. We don’t have enough men!”

These few seconds are all the warning you get.

An incredible roar of voices comes exploding up and then you see them. The thick crowd of men that come surging over the hill, fighting their way towards you. The unforgettable clatter of metal on metal desecrates this once-sacred ground. Your legs go soft as you panic, scrambling. You’re trying not to watch as guards and rebels alike are cut down, but the enemies are steadily advancing still. What should you do? Where should you go?

“Myungho, get the horses!” The king barks out. But one look at the steeds tells you that they’re frightened, rearing back as men descend upon them. They’re off, running away on instinct to preserve their own lives while damning yours.

“Jeonha, what are your orders?” Myungho’s grip on his weapon is tight.

“Go. Help Hoseok.”

“Yes, jeonha!”

But as the battle wears on, the dread in you only grows. The king’s men are skilled, but it seems there were only a few to begin with. They are overwhelmed by sheer numbers, yelling for jeonha to escape but he doesn’t move. You don’t know what to do. You are at a complete loss, standing beside him with fingers growing steadily numb. You have to do something. You— You can’t just let it end here, at the hands of these men bellowing with violence and anger and pain.

“Jeonha, w-we have to run,” you stutter, forcing yourself to move, tugging at the fabric of his robes. But when you look back at the opposite side, your only escape route, a throng of rebels come scattering across the grass. Cutting you off; rendering you helpless.

“Myungho, cover the rear!” Hoseok spits out as he takes down another three by himself, the quick whip of his blade reflecting a beam of sun. But even he, with two other guards in front, cannot hold all of them off, though there are less of the rebels now that remain standing.

Caught in the middle, you can only watch your allies strain and sweat. In your heart, you promise desperately that you heal them in the end, if only they will hold on now.

With an awful cry, one of the guards hits the ground and a rebel uses that chance. Breaks through the line of defense and charges right towards you both.

“Fuck the king!” He yells, his face smeared with dirt, his sword raised as his bare feet trip upon the grass but he just keeps coming somehow and you have no weapons and you have no shields but the very first instinct, the most primal one you have is to throw yourself in front of the king and take his pain for him and—

Hoseok dispatches the rebel from behind just as you move a single step forward.

“You…” The king’s voice is hoarse. His eyes are wide with shock as he stares at you, at what you just did. Then he’s shoving you aside and stooping to pick up the abandoned sword from the ground.

You realize what he means when he sweeps up his sleeves, adjusts his grip on the worn handle. “Wait, no, jeonha, you cannot—”

“Stay behind me.”

“I cannot allow you to—”

“Do not argue with me.”

Again, he leaves you with no choice but to watch his back.

Fear pounds away in your body like a thousand drums, thunder booming through the pulse of your clenched heart in your ears as the king takes a first brutal swing at an enemy. Somewhat out of practice against the towering man, he’s shoved back by the sheer force of the clash, feet skidding across the wet grass but he refuses to yield. Stubborn as he always is, he rushes in again only to be pushed back. Again.

The king tilts his blade, slices it quick only to have one sent right back at him, barely missing his shoulder by an inch. He doesn’t even flinch as he stands firm. Adapts in the moment and tries a new strategy, a new tactic that has him spinning, robes fluttering in the winter air as his shuddering breath comes out in a puff of white and ends in a fury of red. And again. And again until finally, finally, only the strongest of the rebels remain standing with the few allies you left, along with your brutal, bloodied king.

Before you, all the men are panting, open mouthed, every last one of them desperate for a victory that spells the doom of the other.

“Come on then,” the king goads, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in a show of nonchalance even though he’s obviously fatigued. “Attack.”

“You little shit!”

This man is enormous, easily a head above the king and he’s strong, muscles bulging from his torn tunic as he thrusts the sword ahead with surprising speed. The quick rush of air slices through two layers of robes, splitting the dirtied fabric open as the king narrowly escapes without a new scar. But his return stab doesn’t meet a mark and he’s slow on the rebound, steps lost some of the agility he had at the start.

Please. Please, you beg to whatever god may be listening, don’t let him die. But that rebel seems to have an endless strength as he forces the king back, meets him blow for blow for blow and you are so worried, terrified you’re going to see his last moments like this. Like this you will have been with him until the end just like you once stupidly wished. You’re so caught up you don’t realize what’s going on behind you.

“Su-uinyeo-nim! Watch out!” Myungho’s voice cracks as he cries your name, but you turn too slow. Myungho’s on the ground and the rebel that beat him is sprinting towards you, savagery in his scowl, his crude axe already suspended in mid-swing, just a few more steps, just one more shove to land right across your heart and you, you who has never held a weapon before in her life, you who has lived to heal and mend instead of hurt, what can you do right now but die?

“No!”

The scream is hoarse, a furious sound matched with a rush of robes that whip past your own.

You peel open your eyes in time to watch the king take the axe blow meant for you with his left arm. Despite his bark of pain, he swings with his right in exchange and it’s enough. The rebel falls, his axe plummeting uselessly beside him. Then the king falters too, sword clattering down as he finally drops to his knees.

“Jeonha!” You scramble to him. “Oh god, oh god, jeonha, why did you do that— Jeonha, how could you do such a thing? Jeonha!” You part the stained robes, stomach churning at the raw sight of his sacrifice. “We need to fetch you help. You need medicine, oh god, oh god.” This is panic like you’ve never felt it before as you look around, as if some miracle could occur, as if it hasn’t already occurred by the fact that you’re both still alive.

To one side, Hoseok is alone, gasping hard with the enormous rebel lying prone beside him, evidently having finished him off. Myungho has a gash running down his side, but he’s crawling towards you both still with a hand pressed to his wound for pressure. There is no one else. You have to do this on your own. You have to calm the hell down.

Using the nearby sword, you force yourself to focus and stop shaking as you cut strips of the inner layer of your skirt. You have to save his arm even as nausea swims in your mind, nerves making you want to empty your stomach.

“Hah...” The king’s chest lurches as he struggles for air. His eyes are hazy but he manages to fix them on you, as if to ground himself. “You’re… safe?”

Nodding frantically, you start to wrap the cloth around him, willing your fingers not to slip. “I-It’s deep, jeonha. Your wound is so deep.” You’re quietly sobbing as you tie the makeshift bandage to stop the worst of the bleeding. How could he be thinking of you at a time like this? It must hurt excruciatingly so, yet he is still trying to be strong.

Beside you, Hoseok is carrying Myungho’s weight, using the extra cloth to help his ally with his limited medical training.

“…Hoseok.” The king sucks in another long breath. “They… Those rebels were peasants, weren’t they?”

“Yes, jeonha… I think they were.”

He accepts this knowledge silently as you finish your preliminary treatment, but lack the resources to do anything else. You stare at the fresh red seeping through the flimsy cloth and hope desperately that it will be enough for now, until one of you can return to the palace and gather reinforcements to take you home. Feeling your fingers stop, he immediately tries to move his arm but winces, bites his lip at the sudden jolt.

“Don’t move, please,” you instantly say.

The king huffs a long, exhausted sigh as he sinks into the ground. Lets the tension seep out of him, though likely not by choice. His dark eyes flicker to the tomb briefly before they slide closed, the scar ever slashed startlingly crimson across the right side. Despite his best attempts, he is still winded, depleted. Human, after all. After all of this.

You brush matted strands of light hair away from his forehead, and pat at the drops of sweat that linger and prove how hard he pushed himself to fight. He shifts into your touch like a stray animal, allowing you take care of him for once without argument until his breaths even some, settling only in your arms.

“It seems it’s been a long time,” he says softly after a moment, his eyes remaining shut.

“Since?”

“Since I’ve protected someone.”

Your pulse catches. Blood thrums through you as you whisper, “but you did.” Your voice is viscous with relief, and gratitude. “You did.”

Only now do you dare to reach for his hand, to lend him some of your strength, even though you have seen again just how much of it he already holds in himself.

Wrapped in your warmth, he squeezes back just the once. Lets you know he is here, he is here, he is here with you still.

a/n: because i could never forget the way he wielded that sword in the mv. so... how you feel about our king now?

#ficswithluv #btsghostie #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts angst #yoongi angst #historical au #moonlit throne #rain writes #things only continue to shift don't they?

[gripefroot]

A Court of Dusk and Shadows ❲1❳

The throne was white. 

No - it was every color of a sunset. With the descending sun blazing behind it, it turned gold and orange and pink and purple. New shades spreading across with each passing minute as night crept on. And beneath it - shadows lengthened and spread from the carved base, wild and free. 

The throne beckoned. Come sit, it said to me. Come take your place. 

Beyond the throne were marble pillars that stretched proudly into the sky, woven with vines of moonflowers and orchids. I could not see any roof - dusky clouds obscured the view. And below, far, far below - the sea rippled in shining waves, beating against the island in shimmering hues. Boats with bone-white sails seemed to drift forever. Distantly I could hear voices: voices laughing and talking and teasing and bargaining. The calls of animals, the hammer of forges. 

And everything smelled of salt and fragrant flowers and lemon. 

But I could feel, rather than see, what was making my heart wrench away from the lovely sight. A hand outstretched in front of that throne, leading up to a smiling face clear of sorrow and fear. 

A scarred hand. Extended from the dark, and I knew that between us was where light and shadow met.

Come sit, he said, echoing the throne. Come take your place, and I’ll be at your side forever.

⚘ ⚘ ⚘

The night was an inky black shield dotted with silver and gold. Velaris far below, the stars above and only the whistling wind and thump of his own heart for company: Azriel’s gaze honed in on the House of Wind as he descended, and hoped that none would question his tardiness. 

His boots landed silently on an upper balcony.

Halls were unlit, creeping with silence. The shadows that came with him curled around his neck and ears, whispering that nearly everyone was asleep. There would be no interrogation that night, at least - though breakfast might be another matter. But that would be for the morning. He slipped into his bedroom and closed the door behind him, resting his forehead against the wood panels for several heartbeats before turning wearily away to find his rest. 

A cozy fire had flickered itself to life, the wrought-iron window springing open to let in more of that sweet night air. He lingered only to unstrap himself of weapons, setting them on the table beside his bed as his thoughts skittered and bit at him like hungry wolves. 

Azriel had been gnawed for so long he wondered how they found any part of him left to devour. 

Truth-Teller shone like a void in the light as he pulled it from its sheath, if only to look at it. Scarred thumb tracing over the hilt - with a sigh he shoved it back in, and put it aside. 

The knock on his door was so quiet that he might not have heard it, had the shadows spreading from him not trembled in response. They slithered up the door to turn the knob, his head lifting in a jerk as he scented his visitor - the sweet, heady jasmine that wore itself on her skin like a blessing. Or a spell. 

A click behind her. The door was closed. 

The wolves barked. Azriel turned, hand lifting to rub the back of his neck in an unconscious gesture as he forced himself, as he always had, to keep his expression even. To betray nothing. Even though the sight of her lace robe over a silken, lilac gown that displayed her creamy throat so well was enough to move him to his knees. To say nothing of the loose curls hanging down her back - wanting to be touched. Wanting him to bury his face there and breathe her in until she lived beneath his skin - 

“You were missed,” Elain said. 

“I was occupied,” Azriel said shortly. Her head tilted slightly to the side, and at his glower the shadows that crept curiously around the hem of her nightgown scattered, leaving her free to glow in the golden light of the fire. 

“Why don’t you come to family dinners anymore?” she asked, her voice softer than rain. 

He swallowed. A tremor went through his wings, and he stretched them out slightly to ease the tautness. Her eyes flitted to them over his shoulders. He saw the bob of her throat. “You know why,” Azriel told her in a hoarse, harsh voice. 

Elain lifted her chin, though the expression in her lovely eyes shimmered. “If it’s me you’re avoiding, I’ll stop going,” she said.

“No.”

“You should be with your family. They miss you.” 

“No,” Azriel said again.

“I don’t know how much longer I can attend, pretending that nothing’s wrong with me,” Elain said. “That my heart doesn’t hurt more each time you don’t appear. Azriel,” she breathed, and his spine stiffened as if brushed with a tender finger from root to tip. “I - I don’t want to go anymore. I don’t want the reminder that you - that you don’t want to see me.” 

Secrets were best whispered alone in the night: Azriel had always known that. Known that honesty could burst out at the right moments, if prodded enough, uncaring of the consequences it could bring.

As for him - the consequence was like a poisoned knife between his ribs, where he felt the emptiest. 

“The best solution is for you to go instead of me,” Elain went on in his silence. “I’ll be happier knowing you are.” 

“I’m not happy,” Azriel said. But she merely lifted her slender shoulders, the lace rustling against the silk. As if she didn’t care to wonder why he’d said it; the extent of what he’d meant. His honesty was kept deeper down and further back. Where it couldn’t hurt anyone who could hurt him. 

“I’m not going to go to family dinners anymore,” she told him. As if her mind was made up. “I hope you do.” 

“You’re hurt when I’m not there,” he said. “No different than I am at your absence.” 

It was all the game. It had to be. The repeating, the declarations, the anguish: pushing at the walls each of them had built around the other, as if looking for weak spots. To crumble, or to build back better. Azriel didn’t know. Something in him was howling. 

Elain’s eyes began to glitter. The shift of the firelight against her hair, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed - 

Something clattered from elsewhere in the house. Azriel stiffened, wings snapping in as his gaze darted to the door behind her. He ground out between his teeth, “You shouldn’t be here.” 

“I want to be,” she whispered. “I can’t stay away.” 

The jasmine - he realized her scent wasn’t fresh and blooming. He’d noticed it when she first came in. It was heady. Like it had been scorching under the summer sun, begging for water; thirst to be parched, or the petals to be plucked and treasured - 

Azriel’s head spun. The wolves that ate at him yipped and scratched and whined. They wanted. They wanted. 

“If you’re looking for release,” he said in a low growl, fingers clenching into fists at his side. Cracking a whip at himself to quiet the wolves, but still they snarled.  “Lucien Vanserra can be summoned.” 

“I don’t want Lucien,” Elain said sharply. The color was high in her cheeks as she tucked a curl behind one of her delicate ears, the simple motion drawing his attention like a drawn bowstring. “I want you.” 

His next words were difficult, but he forced them out: “Rhys has...commanded that we stay apart.”

“Rhysand isn't my High Lord. I’ve sworn no oath to him.” Her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips. “He can't command me.”

“He commands me,” Azriel said. 

“Then tell him I coerced you. Whatever you need.” The lightness in her voice was pleading. Begging. Her slender hands trembled, eyelashes stark against her skin as she blinked furiously. Desperate. 

“No. I won't let you face censure, or - or punishment - ”

“Not being with you is punishment every day,” Elain cut him off, and Azriel nearly swallowed his own tongue as he saw the glitter in her eyes escape to trail a silver path down her flushed cheeks. “Lucien is punishment for me, isn't he? I was given to someone I don't love. Someone I don’t want. While you are denied to me. Is this not punishment?”

Every fiber in his body wanted to cross the space between them: to reach out, to dry the tears and to hold her in his arms until she stopped trembling. Until that gaping wound beneath his ribs was whole and glowing again - 

Azriel didn’t smile, though the irony wasn’t lost on him. “It feels like it.” 

Her bottom lip quivered. Then, “Please,” in a yearning whisper that started unthreading him from his very bones. The wolves purred as he took a step closer to her. 

“Elain,” he murmured, and she trembled at her name, eyes closing briefly as if to savor it. “They’ll know. It...it can’t be hidden. I’d leave my scent all over you. And you on me. And I’d never, ever want to wash it off.” 

“It’ll wear off,” she said. 

“In days? Weeks? How long will we hide?” 

Elain didn’t answer, and he took another step closer, unclenching his fists as he breathed slowly through his nose. 

“It's not just that, either,” Azriel said, and her head was tilting upwards to watch him, hungry and hot as he towered over her. “Once I have you...I won't be able to stop wanting to have you. Over and over again, in every way imaginable. I don't want to live another day on this earth without tasting you on my tongue. Smelling you on my skin. Feeling you. I would…” 

He trailed off, realizing that the night had somehow wrung more honesty from him than he’d ever intended. Her eyes blazed up at him, and daring, he lifted a hand to rest his scarred fingertips on the lace at her breast, beneath which he could feel the rapid pulse of her heartbeat. 

“I would want to be here, inside of you.” 

“Please,” Elain whispered again, barely more than a warm breath that brushed against his face like a shadow - but those stayed back. “Please, Azriel. I'm not afraid. Not of Rhys, not of Lucien. I'm afraid....of what my life will be without you. I'm afraid of wanting you for the rest of my life with no hope of having you.”

Her fingers curled over his on her breast, cool to the touch and he shivered head to toe as her thumb stroked along a rippled, white scar. Not even noticing it, with her eyes melting so intently as she stared at him. Lips slightly parted, only a few inches from his and ready to be tasted, and savored and worshipped. 

“Even if you refuse,” she went on, pressing his hand tighter to the skin-warmed lace. “You’ll always be here, where you always have been." 

“There’s nothing in me that can deny you,” Azriel said. Swallowed. “Elain.”

“Azriel…” 

“You could ask me to tear down Ramiel with my bare hands and I would,” he breathed. “I would tear apart any part of this world. If you asked me to carve out my own heart, I would.”

“I’m not asking for that,” Elain said gently. Mirror of him, her slender hand brushed up his chest - a shudder enough to cause an earthquake ripped through him. Without armor, only a dark shirt of cotton was between their skin. He could feel the warmth of her flesh as her palm splayed over his heart. “I’m only asking for you.” 

The drumming in his head must be his heartbeat. A warning, perhaps - or fate zeroed in on this moment. Where a future was held taut between them. A question between souls. Dark and light, as they’d always been. His dark, her light: she offered it freely. 

Will you have me?

Will you risk it all?

He could see in her shining eyes. I would risk it all for you.

“You want me,” Azriel said. Half a question. She’d already said it. At the dip of her head in assent, he closed the remaining distance between them with a step. The slight gasp between her lips warmed his face, but he didn’t give her the kiss she wanted - the kiss she’d asked for long ago - the kiss that he’d dreamt of until his soul was used up and dry. No, three more strides backed her against the wall as he heard her heart flutter madly beneath his hand. Closer still: he braced his opposite hand above her head, feeling the pattern of the wallpaper as his knee came between her legs. Trapping her. Pinning her. 

She trembled. But it wasn’t the acrid scent of her fear that was making her eyes bright. 

It was want. 

“I’m dangerous,” he growled in a low voice. Still Elain didn’t tear her eyes from his, even as her fingers balls into a fist with his shirt between them. “This is dangerous. You and me.” 

“I don’t care.” Not the breathy tone he’d expected. Something thornier, stonier, as she lifted her chin to face him more fully. But it just exposed more of that creamy, unblemished throat to him. An invitation. 

Azriel tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. Hair hung in his face, and her fingers softly brushed it aside. Jasmine. Jasmine. Jasmine. Summer, heady, hot flowers; slow-dripping honey - 

Chest to chest, pressing closer as if their skin would fall away and they’d be just one person from then on. His leg lifted slightly, the rustle of lace and silk - and he felt her, through the layers, as her dark lashes closed, lips parting in an uneven breath and he heard, more with his heart than his ears,

“Oh - ”

He’d rather be boiled by the Cauldron than face Rhys after this. 

And it would still be worth it. To watch the rose-pink deepen in her cheeks as her eyes fluttered open again. On his thigh she throbbed, and if he tried to push her away, he knew she’d rip his shirt apart, so tightly was she clinging to him. 

“Are you scared, Elain?” Azriel whispered. 

“No.” 

Her eyes had glazed slightly. Like she’d gone drunk at a sip of wine, yet stared down the bottle ready to drink it to the last drop. But he was the bottle, and the wine, and the drinker. Sucking in a breath, holding her quivering body in place, he lowered his head, tilting it to the side. 

His lips met her skin at a sensitive spot beneath her ear. He felt her tremble. Brushed downward to the base of her neck, savoring every inch of her as she whimpered a strain of incoherent noises he knew would play in his dreams until he was a corpse in the ground. Then, tilting his head again, he stared at the glistening hollow of her throat. Where her scent was the thickest. Richest. Sweetest. 

Azriel paused long enough to take her wrists in his hands, lifting them above her head as her chest rose and fell against him. His chin was nearly between her breasts, and though they wanted his attention and he wanted to give it to them - he kept his eyes instead on her throat. 

Elain was squirming. Not to get away, but to get closer. The frantic bucking of her hips against him - not close enough. He pressed harder with his leg until he could feel the grind of her bone against him, and his tongue darted out to that hollow to taste it the moment her moan rose beneath it. 

“There,” he breathed. Again she rubbed herself against him. He could smell the growing headiness from there, and the jasmine coating his tongue. He licked again, and again as she moved more frantically. 

His wings unfurled as he growled deep in his throat, talons reaching to dig into the wall - the house would repair itself later - and shreds of wallpaper fluttered to the ground as he steadied himself. And Elain. The way she was pulling him in, giving of herself so freely, wanting him - chasing pleasure he could give her, scant as it was...as if this would be all she was ever given. A drop of water before starvation. 

Azriel fastened his lips to one jutted collarbone, and sucked. Immediately he clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her cry. Sweat was dampening her nightgown - more than sweat - and it was the most intoxicating thing he’d ever smelled. He tore his mouth from her skin to say in a hoarse voice, 

“Quiet. Don’t make a sound.” 

Slowly he removed his hand, then, and lifted his head enough to see the perspiration dotting her forehead. Eyes squeezed shut as her fingers dug into his shoulders, now. 

“Good,” Azriel rasped. “Keep going, Elain. Use me however you need.”

“Touch me.” Her plea was broken and wavering. “Please - Azriel - ”

He snarled. Gripping her hips between his hands, helping her to move against him. Guiding each undulation as her heart beat faster and faster and faster - her breasts were at his eye level, so high he was holding her off the ground - and he allowed himself one more luxury: he rested his forehead against her sternum, feeling each bob of her breasts on either side of his face. The slight snag of a hardened nipple. 

If she didn’t come soon, he would. 

But it was a mere moment later that she came: breathless and noiseless, like he’d commanded, but he felt the clench of her even on his thigh. The desperate throbbing, wanting to be filled but still cresting. Deeper breaths from her parted lips, a night-song of indescribable beauty. 

Azriel wanted her. He wanted her so badly he thought he’d die from it. 

Elain went lax, and he caught her ‘round the waist before she toppled over. Her head against his shoulder, wings still shrouding them - his nose really was in her glorious mass of hair, now, and because he knew this shouldn’t happen again, he breathed in the scent of her curls, over and over and over again - 

“Azriel,” she half-panted, half-sobbed. It made his heart wrench. The wolves in his head still prowled, still snarled - wanted to pounce, to stroke, to take - but no. No. No. He wouldn’t. 

Talons unhooked themselves from the wall, wings folding delicately back in as he lowered her to the ground. A moment of unsteadiness before she could stand, blinking up at him like the sweetest fawn on a spring day. Cheeks flushed red, eyes glittering, throat damp. A faint bruise was left there from him - it would heal by morning. He hoped. 

His trousers were unbearably tight. He could barely stand. But he did, and held Elain’s gaze as if it were a lifeline offered to his dying soul. 

Which very well could be the truth.

“Azriel,” she said again. Tucked curls behind her ear. But he merely bowed, instead of throwing her onto the bed to devour her until Summer Solstice as he wanted to do with every fiber of his being, and said, 

“I hope you’re feeling better, Elain.” 

Something like hurt passed over her face. Mouth pressed together in a thin line as she tugged the lace robe to lay straight over her breasts and shoulders. Azriel didn’t look. 

A single breath, drawn out like a keening wail of grief: Elain turned and swept away to the door, yanking it open to disappear into the blackness as shadows reappeared, gently closing the door to keep it from making a noise and alerting the sleeping inhabitants of the house. Azriel stared after her for a moment, fists clenched and empty and her scent all over him like a thick, woollen blanket. 

He hadn’t even kissed her. 

He stomped to the fireplace, tearing at the laces of his trousers to yank them off each of his feet. Threw the Elain-soaked pants into the fire. 

As if knowing his intention, knowing his agony: the house ate up the leather quickly, turning it to blackened, crumbling ashes that fell among the cracked logs. He still smelled of her, he knew it. He’d smell her even if he did manage to wash her off. His leg, his hands, his chest where she’d touched him, his face - she was everywhere. Everywhere. 

Almost everywhere. 

Azriel ached. He ached between his legs, almost like he’d been kicked with a spiked boot. Hurt so bad even without trousers that he didn’t want to touch himself. Instead he stared at the flames, and then the embers as they burned down and the shadows crept closer to swallow him whole. Still his heart beat on, a steady, unceasing rhythm that chanted with each pulse of blood - 

Elain. Elain. Elain.

TO BE CONTINUED

#elriel #pro elriel #elain archeron #elain x azriel #acotar

[chamomileteainabuttercup]

beboots

How about Jangobi, with 4, 16, 36, 37?

Thanks for playing!  This one is a little bit of a challenge because, as I noted before, this is a ship I don’t really think about unless a particular gifset reappears on my dash and then I think about it for like fifteen minutes.  Getting it to work requires changing the plot quite a lot, of course, and I prefer to get the changes going from the very start of their interaction. 

4.  First impression of each other? Was it love at first sight?

Temuera Morrison has noted that at the beginning of the scene, his “hospitable Māori” impulse was to offer Obi-Wan a cup of tea, but since he wasn’t sure they have cups of tea in space he decided to just stick to the script.  

So in my version, he does offer him a cup of tea and Obi-Wan accepts and so they sit down with their tea and it’s all rather disarming.  Obi-Wan is still highly suspicious of Jango (which is only sensible) and Jango is still playing everything very close to the chest, but the mood is slightly softened by the sharing of tea - and if they’re feeling lavish, biscuits too.  Obi-Wan’s head is full of questions, like “What sort of man is this?  Ruthless bastard, or perhaps not totally ruthless, given the little boy?  Was he involved in an assassination attempt on a rather good friend of mine?  What can I find out about all this cloning business from him without letting him know how little I knew in the first place?” while Jango has two main questions, “How much does he know?” and “Am I going to have to do something about him?”  And he’d rather not have to do something about him, because he likes the look of him and this kind of cagey verbal game-playing is his idea of a bit of light fun.  Then again, he is a Jedi and they generally spell trouble - but there’s no reason not to enjoy being around him while the opportunity lasts. 

Oh, and while this conversation is going on, Boba is sitting on the floor nearby playing with his space Lego and every time Obi-Wan glances that way he’s looking daggers of suspicion at him.  Obi-Wan actually finds it rather amusing to be glared at like that by a cute little kid (he’s like an angry kitten) so he just smiles back and twinkles his eyes at him (Boba looks disgusted), and asks Jango how old his son is, and they agree that eleven’s a very nice age, before all the teen angst begins. 

Jango says calmly, “I’m not expecting to have much trouble with Boba,” and Obi-Wan replies, “Ha!  I wasn’t expecting to have this much trouble with Anakin,” so that gets them onto the difficulties and rewards of bringing up a bright and adventurous boy, whether as his dad or as a sort of older brother figure, and sharing stories about things Boba and Anakin have said and done, and before Obi-Wan knows it they’ve been chatting for an hour and he’s got completely side-tracked from finding out about clone skulduggery and has slipped into flirting with Jango fairly shamelessly.  Which doesn’t necessarily mean anything, Obi-Wan will flirt with more or less anything that can talk back, but he’s realising that there’s an awful lot of charisma about Jango and he’s beginning to feel fascinated. 

So no love at first sight, but in later years (because they do have later years together, Jango doesn’t lose his head) Obi-Wan likes to say, “You had me at ‘cuppa tea?’”

(but he really sealed the deal when he offered him a Tim Tam)

16.  Do they keep secrets? Lie? Cheat?

To start out, Jango is keeping all sorts of secrets and lies freely whenever he considers it necessary, or just convenient.  It’s only gradually, as he grows to like Obi-Wan personally more and more, that he begins to want to be honest with him.  For a while they have one of those “frenemies who encounter one another occasionally and engage in flirtatious banter and/or homoerotic combat” type relationships, but over the course of the Clone Wars as they meet again and again they get into situations where they need to trust and help each other, and Jango has cut ties with the Separatists because he prefers to be a free agent, and Obi-Wan begins to hope that if he had a strong enough personal reason, Jango might want to lay off the shady business and... and there he runs up against the fact that he shouldn’t be thinking in these terms, he can’t have that sort of relationship with Jango any more than he could with Satine, he just really really wants to.  And at least Jango doesn’t have a philosophical or ethical problem with violence. 

Obi-Wan isn’t actually celibate, he squares it with himself that his flirtations and anonymous hook-ups aren’t deep attachments or possessive relationships and therefore they are within the letter if not entirely the spirit of the rules, and the first few times it happens with Jango that justification works, but it starts to wear thin when he realises how much he misses him after he leaves.  When Jango, thinking he’ll surprise Obi-Wan when he unexpectedly sees him in a bar, walks in on one such hook-up, he’s angry and upset and Obi-Wan is rather shocked and thrilled to realise Jango considers this cheating, that he cares  enough to have hurt feelings about it.  He’d been thinking of himself as emotionally compromised without quite realising Jango couldn’t just take or leave him.  That’s really the “Oh” moment for Obi-Wan. 

So after a while they’re not keeping secrets from each other, but Obi-Wan is working very hard to keep the relationship a secret from the other Jedi, including his closest friends, and telling a lot of lies in the process (there is at least one comedy episode wherein Obi-Wan is trying to sneak away to see Jango and Anakin is trying to sneak away to see Padmé and each keeps getting in the other’s way without ever realising there is sneakiness on the other side). 

Not to mention keeping it a secret from all the clones.  Boy, is that a weird situation. 

36.  What’s their greatest strength as a couple? Their weakness?

They have excellent chemistry and both love sparking off each other, verbally and/or more physically.  They always find each other exciting and interesting.  Not so much a weakness as an obstacle is the fact that Boba still really doesn’t like Obi-Wan and doesn’t need a stepdad and thinks he has stupid hair (that part really stings).  He’s always been the apple of his father’s eye and never had to share his attention with anyone else he really cared about, so his dad actually falling in love with someone makes him feel insecure and jealous and grumpy.  Obi-Wan’s attempts to win him over are complicated by the fact that he can’t actually explain to anyone else why he’s trying so hard to be nice to snotty teen bounty hunting prodigy Boba Fett.  Boba really enjoys holding this over his head - but will never actually drop the blade because, as little as he likes his dad’s boyfriend, he is just grown-up enough to realise it would really hurt his dad if he spoiled things for them, and he doesn’t want to go that far.

37.  How much would they be willing to sacrifice for the other? Any lines they refuse to cross?

That’s the big problem, isn’t it?  Crossing lines.  Obi-Wan has a very strong moral, religious and cultural code, and he can’t sacrifice that without undoing his whole sense of identity.  He can be dangerously complacent about the rightness of the Jedi Order and the Republic it defends and persists in believing that if Jango only understood more about the Jedi he would accept that rightness.  From his perspective it often appears as if Jango doesn’t have a moral code at all. 

From Jango’s point of view, yes he does, but it’s very pragmatic and based more on principles of loyalty and personal integrity than on adherence to any laws or rules.  If he’s true to himself and to the small circle of people he cares about, that’s all that matters.  He cannot and will not compromise on his duty to Boba as a father, and that comes before even all those complicated issues of Mandalorian politics - but those issues will inevitably cause problems for them too, particularly given that even if he’s been able to get over his romantic feelings for Satine as his feelings for Jango grew, she’s still one of Obi-Wan’s oldest and dearest friends and he doesn’t want her to be overthrown.  And of course Jango is far from the only person who might want to overthrow her. 

Somehow all this is going to eventually involve a lightsaber/Darksaber duel between Maul and Jango in the Mandalorian throne room.  Holy shit that would be cool.  Fuck yeah!

uhhhh I don’t know whether or how any of this gets resolved but there’ll be ANGST and STURM UND DRANG and other German words for heavy shit.

#ask box meme #jangobi #meanwhile Anakin is fucking up his life elsewhere I'm not concerned with making that fit #Maul: KENOBIIIIIIIII #Jango: does this guy know you or something #long post (apologetic)

[bxllafanficc]

Lady of mischief- Part five

Pairing: Loki x Greek!goddess f!reader

Summary: Asgard is having a change of power so there are several events Loki has to get right before he can announce victory against his brother as the next king. But one lady’s approval will change the whole outcome if the stakes are right. That lady is you, intended heir to the throne of Olympus but tied down to a marriage of convenience with one of the princes of Asgard. The prince you choose to marry will be the next king but you refuse to let yourself be a pawn in this game for power. Loki, with his intentions to take you as his queen has far greater reason to marry you than just for the reason of being king. You however, would rather cut off your left arm than exposing yourself for the fact that there’s another purpose besides Loki getting a throne to sit on.

One week later and you found yourself at a sea cliff on Asgard’s largest known bay. You’d brought Henna with you, just like every other day since you got officially banished. Now you couldn’t stand being in the castle and spent almost every waking hour in the city, avoiding the royal family at all cost. Odin even demanded you ate breakfast with them since you were an honored guest but of course you never showed.

Zeus left the day after the banquet and not a word from your parents. They probably didn’t even blink the second he told them their daughter had been locked in with an entire castle of self-centered gods.

“Gods are assholes!” You threw a rock at the size of a basketball into the water and glared at the splash, secretly hoping your father Poseidon would sense it and feel guilt. That was impossible, of course. A Greek god holds no power at the realm of Norse gods.

“My lady, you’re a god.” Henna stayed seated at a comfy rock she found the first day coming to the cliff. She said it was the perfect fit for her to relax her always perfect posture without sloping. You always told her you don’t care if she sloped at non-formal occasions.

“Yes, Henna. Me included.” You were just surprised she didn’t faint because you used such a mundane word, a thing you picked up from the humans on a visit once.

“I can’t stop thinking about what I said to the prince. It was a decade ago, yes, but he still remembers it. Probably thinks about it every time he sees me!” You tried to concentrate on the real reason you were here. To practice. You’d never win anyone’s respect if you couldn’t control your powers. You started with the hardest, the sea; a force that doesn’t want to be tamed.

A pulsing body of water drove up from the sea and flew in front of you. The goal was to force it into a perfect shaped globe, forcing the sea to obey so thoroughly. To your luck the liquid started obeying your wish when you put all your concentration to use. Almost a solid globe. You’d only need a few more seconds to-

“And I’ve already said you should apologize to him. Who knows, you two might hug it out and the next thing you know you wake up naked in his chambers the next day.”

The almost globe burst into millions of droplets and salt burned in your eyes at the shock. Your vision blurred out and you coughed on the water that went down your airways. Heat went to your cheeks and you looked down at your soaked clothes.

“Goodness, Henna! You’ve spent too much time with the Asgardian maids.

You can’t say stuff like that!” Your voice was still faint from the couching as you scolded her. You had to put your focus to use once again to extract the water into fine droplets hanging midair in front of you. The dress was far too pretty to get stained with saltwater. The jewelry looked surreal in the light the dress radiated. Every thread of the fabric seemed to be created of pure shining starlight or liquid diamond. The dress held the beauty of a thousand stars.

No one knew where it appeared from, however. You had your own guess, of course. It laid neatly folded on your work desk one afternoon and if it was the first born prince, he would’ve left some grand note with it as well. The dress just laid there in absence of anyone claiming the rights. An apology for sure.

“Well, you said asshole if I’m not mistaken.” There it was. Henna cleared her throat as a sign to drop the subject but you knew she had a big smirk on her lips. You didn’t want to turn around to confirm it.

“Let’s try again, my lady. Why don’t you try claiming the entire wave coming right there?”

You analyzed the wave and realized what Henna was asking. The size of it was huge and it would surely crash into the cliff side underneath you. Your job was to stop that impact and lift it up to your level.

It was dead silent as you waited for the wave to arrive. With a last big engaging try you felt the power of the sea surging through you. Blocking the impact of the wave lashing itself forwards was similar feeling to getting that same wave right in the face like a wall of bricks. But it was not in vain. The water started to rise to the cliff you stood on and you had to replace your feet for a better stance. Every second the sea threatened to leash out of your hold.

“How mighty.” A soothing voice, yet laced with viciousness, appeared only a hot breath away from your ear and you screamed.

The scent of new books hit you too late and the wave had already been unleashed on the threat behind you. The water had devided around your frame, covering Henna and Loki from head to toe in seawater without showing mercy. The sea held no mercy. Right…

A moment of silence and Loki still had his eyes tightly shut, his entire body frozen in place. He’d been less than an inch from you and you hadn’t noticed. He was still less than an inch from your bodies touching.

He slowly went to wipe one of his eyes clean of water and tasted the layer of salt glancing his lips. You cursed yourself for noticing the shameful way his tongue swiped across his bottom lip. Did he take the warm weather with him somehow or why was it suddenly growing hot again? And why did he look so different with the drenched clothes hugging his frame, hair slicked back. The dripping from the each strand fell and caressed the heavy outline of his collarbones.

What were you even thinking about. He must’ve done something. A spell of some sort.

“That was unnecessary.” He said it as simple as ever and it made you grit your teeth.

Stop staring at his abs, dammit!, you thought.

It had to be a spell. This couldn’t be real.

“Why are you here?” You weren’t prepared for this. He was supposed to be on a mandatory meeting right now. Did he just right up ditch that?

“You’re no fun… I came with a proposition.”

“Of what sorts?” You eyed him with careful detail, trying to sense a trick of some sort. His gaze lingered on your appearance a little too long from what seemed appropriate. It was a thorough scan up and down and the soul behind the eyes held a strange glow. Of course he was shocked you wore the dress he bought.

“We can teach each other things. You tell me stories and history of the Ancient Greece, your kind’s gracious era and I teach you illusion magic.” He could tell your raised eyebrow was a sense of confusion. “Like, combining water and light into something entirely new. I’ll teach you how to conjure spells-“

“Like the one you’re doing now?” It just slipped out of you and it was too late to ignore. It was now his turn to look confused. The tip of his tongue came out once again to wipe off some salt and you looked away.

“What?” He asked.

“Whaaat?” You repeated along with a dumb giggle you had no idea where it came from. The already tight fabric of Loki’s shirt was riding up from the wet fabric rolling itself up. You really did try not to think about how the pearls of droplets looked like glitter in the sun on his toned stomach, but realized that you already failed. You swallowed a hot lump of dryness that caught in your throat.

So no spell then?

Loki sighed and cracked a tense muscle in his neck, a green light drying him and his clothes from bottom and up in a matter of a second (Henna remained drenched).

“Just say no quickly, there’s no reason to drag it out. I’ll leave you be when you’ve answered.” You bit your bottom lip and actually took a moment to think about it.

“Actually, it doesn’t sound too awful. But don’t you already know everything about my realm there is to know?” That earned a genuine smile from him and you thought about how that was a rare sight.

“You’d be surprised of how understocked Asgard’s library is when it comes to your history, your highness.”

“And stop calling me that! It’s weird. You never did it before so why do it now?”

“I thought you disliked me being informal.”

“Oh do shut up!”

Loki laughed and nodded in agreement. It was just then you realized how you were still inappropriately close to him and how his breath smelled of something sweet. Something brushed past your hand and Loki retracted his own with a flinch and an apologetic look.

“I’m s-“ Loki started but Henna’s loud cough and pointed glare.

“Wait!”

“Yes?”

“I don’t… I don’t find you disgusting.” You watched his expression and expected him to get upset but nothing in his body language seemed tense. If anything, his jaw and shoulders seemingly dropped.

“That’s like the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” His chuckle was bright but your gut still twisted in shame.

“No but like, I don’t find your touch disgusting. I never did, actually-“ The amount of truth you entrusted this man with was almost too much. The words were so tense on the way out that you started coughing.

“Then why did you-“

“I don’t know! No more questions though. All I know is that it was far from unpleasant and that’s all you need to know for now.” Loki raised his eyebrow, lips slightly parted. You understood you’d talked before your brain caught up with you again.

“No, that came out wrong. But you know what I mean!” Your hands fiddled on the edges of the dress, only to flatten out the fabric right after. The dry lump just couldn’t seem to go down.

“Oh I sure do… And I agree with you on how we speak to each other. I hate speaking to you formally! It doesn’t sit right for me especially. Then I wouldn’t be able to say the stuff I actually want.”

“Like what?” You regretted asking immediately but couldn’t bring yourself to step back as he leaned in.

Lips brushed against your earlobe and his scent was all up in your world, along with the surreal warmth that always seemed to follow him.

“That dress looks absolutely ravishing on you, (Y/n). I never thought you’d wear it to be honest. We’re you really planning on fleeing the castle on such an occasion and not letting me see any of the beauty?” His voice turned low again and the always present rasp seemed extra present today.

The dry lump finally went down.

“You could’ve gifted it to someone else if you wanted to see the dress on an actual body instead of a hanger.”

A low rumbling came from his chest and erupted in his throat. It took you a moment to realize that the sound was a chuckle.

“See, I don’t think that’s true. Yes, any person could wear it, but I can’t think of anyone else who could wear one of the most beautiful things crafted ever and the most beautiful thing in the room would still remain the person in it.”

You couldn’t move your body. It was frozen in place even though the blood in your veins was literally boiling. You were almost thankful that he was so close. That way he wouldn’t see your red cheeks.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Why would I lie about it? Meet me in the library tomorrow after breakfast. I look forward to our time together.”

(A/N: Hi! Don’t hesitate to comment on each chapter what you thought about it/if you liked it since that keeps me motivated to keep writing. Also reblog so my story reaches a wider audience, if you really liked it! Your support is much appreciated. Also let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this series. Have a good day, lovelies!)

Find the other parts in my MASTERLIST

Tag list: @liffydaze

@queen-of-mischief

@girl-obsessed-with-things

@obsessivelysearching

@reverse-iak

@perpetually-exhausted-and-tired

#inspiration #marvel imagine #marvel #fanfiction #loki of asgard #loki odinson #loki x y/n #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #loki laufeyson #loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x you #loki imagine #loki series #loki x reader #mcu loki #thor of asgard #thor x reader #marvel x you #marvel x reader #marvel characters

[laurentspup]

New B*tch (Sugar B*by Laurent AU) 

Me: I’m gonna start plotting this AU

also me: here is more horny drabbles wooooohhh!!

--

“Jokaste is coming today?” Laurent asks as he casually walks in Damianos’ office. He doesn’t knock despite being Damianos’ subordinate. He is, first and foremost, his baby.

Damianos looks up at him and gives an effortful smile despite the grimace that paints his face. He welcomes seeing Laurent, not so much the news that he brings. He looks grim, Laurent notices, but still delicious as ever. His suit jacket is discarded on the coat rack behind him, leaving him in his maroon dress shirt, buttons almost popping off his chest. His beefy biceps scream to be set free as he puts down the pen he is holding, every movement Laurent watches carefully, licking his lips. He badly wants those biceps around him, not now though, now isn’t the time to be horny… yet.

“Yeah… she’s now Kastor’s secretary, so it can’t be helped.” He rubs his face exasperatedly as he explains to Laurent.

He feels pity for Damianos. Jokaste truly hurt him with her decision to be a backstabbing liar and cheater. According to the news outlets, they had been dating since Damianos was pronounced heir of Ios Corp. five years ago, but she was an ambitious woman, thus, she decided to double her chances with Kastor. If only she didn’t get caught.

Damianos just wants to move on, but everywhere he goes the world throws her back at him. As he said though, it can’t be helped. Jokaste becoming his half-brother’s fiancée truly made the family dinners more awkward. Her constant presence looms at him like a buzzing fly that won’t leave. Laurent badly wishes he can slap that fly dead. He hates that they have to keep seeing her and her cheating face, but that’s just how this game was played. 

Since Laurent’s job encompasses more than his secretary duties, he puts down the iPad that holds Damianos’ schedule and walks behind his desk. He automatically pulls back to give Laurent space to sit on his lap. It came naturally to them now, Damianos accepting the fact that Laurent will do whatever he wants. If what he wants is to sit on him in his office, then Laurent will be given whatever he desires. Laurent knows it, that Damianos is wrapped around his fingers like the diamond-studded ring he has given him. Though he isn’t quite sure why, he’d rather gracefully accept gifts than exhaust himself to find out.

Laurent straddles Damianos lap and wiggles over his cock that reacts a little too quickly. 

“Baby.” Damianos warns, putting his hands on his waist and squeezing. God, Laurent loves how those hands grip his waist. Pushing Damianos’ buttons always results in a really good time for him. 

Still, he ceases wiggling on Damianos’ lap. He understands the unspoken command and gives in right away. He can be good when he wants. As a reward, Damianos’ right hand gently touches his cheek and caresses it with his thumb. Immediately, he melts with the touch. Really, whether Damianos is soft or rough on him, he gets turned on. 

“You look so pretty today, baby.” Damianos tells him.

“I know.” Laurent answers, never letting his eyes stray from Damianos’ own.

“Your neck’s a little empty, though.” Damianos’ hand moves to his neck, gentle fingers sliding over his throat.

“It is.”

“Let’s fix that.” He reaches over him to get something on the table. Laurent’s head is now beside his neck, so he licks it. “Behave.” He complies. 

Damianos leans back to his position, not showing what he got for Laurent yet. No matter what it is, Laurent is excited. He loves anything Damianos gives him, especially since he knows it is never short of a thousand dollars.

“I had this custom made for you.” He says as he raises his hands and fits a choker over Laurent’s neck. He reaches over the desk again to grab a mirror, one he readied for Laurent.

“Daddy.” Laurent says when he sees his reflection. He touches the choker. It’s a simple, thin, gold band with a crown pendant. It feels heavy and expensive. “It’s beautiful.” 

“It’s real gold.” Laurent expects nothing less. 

“I love it.” He says, then he leans in to kiss Damianos. He adores this man. Where else will he find anyone who will give him anything he wants just because. Damianos knows he likes jewelry, likes being pretty, and he gives Laurent’s all the finest things so he can be just that. 

“I’m glad you like it.” Damianos says as he leans back and touches the crown pendant. Laurent looks at him like he gave him the moon. If he asks for it, he knows Damianos will give it. “I can have them make you more.” 

Laurent leans in again and kisses Damianos savagely. He runs his hands through his hair and goes back to grinding his hips. Damianos groans. Lust starts to consume him. This time, he lets Laurent grind on him, hands on his hips guiding, instead of stopping. He bites Laurent’s bottom lip which makes him moan. 

“Quiet, baby.” Damianos commands, gripping his ass. He lets out a moan again. Damianos kisses him harder. 

They continue to breathe in each other, forgetting the space they are in. Damianos is the boss anyway, no one should enter without telling his secretary first. Luckily, his secretary isn’t even out there.

Laurent starts to unbutton Damianos’ shirt when someone knocks on the door. Hesitantly, Damianos pulls away from him. He pants while touching Laurent’s forehead with his own. His thumbs massage over Laurent’s hips.

“It’s your two o’clock.” Laurent whispers, eyes closed. He’s still grinding on Damianos. He can feel both of their hard cocks. He wonders how much it will take for one of them to lose control.

“My secretary should tell her to come in.”

“Hm. He should.” Laurent leans back in, not caring at all that there is someone waiting outside.

Damianos kisses him back while chuckling. She knocks again. 

They pull apart once more, Laurent fitting his head in the crook of Damianos’ neck. He’s still grinding his hips, trying to find friction and release. He doesn’t leave his lap. Damianos doesn’t make him. He doesn’t even still Laurent’s grinding. He is hard too, just as desperate as Laurent. 

“We really should let her in.” Damianos says, not moving to do anything.

“You’re right.” Still in the heat of the moment, an idea pops into Laurent’s head. He raises his head so his mouth can get close to Damianos’ ear. “I’m going to do something.”

Again, Damianos just lets him. Slowly, he slides off his lap and kneels on the floor. He’s in between Damianos’ legs under his desk. He looks up at him and winks. He doesn’t look away as he leans his head close to Damianos’ erection. His eyes grow wide when Laurent kisses over the fabric.

“Laurent—“ Damianos puts his hand on Laurent’s head.

“Shh.” Laurent starts touching his still clothed erection while kissing it. “This is my thank you for the necklace.”

Damianos’ office phone buzzes. “I’m here.” An irritated voice announces.

“Tell her to come in.” Laurent instructs, lips on Damianos’ cock, tongue poking out to tease. He wants to unzip it. He craves the warmth and girth of Damianos’ cock in his mouth. If only Jokaste isn’t here to interrupt.

Damianos, under Laurent’s spell, as if Laurent is the boss here and not him, immediately complies. He clicks a button on the phone. “Come in.” His voice is hoarse.

Jokaste opens the door angrily. “You have a shitty secretary.” 

The secretary mentioned immediately stops stroking Damianos’ cock, then slowly and gracefully stands up from the ground. He faces Jokaste and with a straight face, swallows, licks his lips, and wipes it sensually, heavily implying what he just did— even though he didn’t, but she doesn’t need to know that. She stops walking. He brushes dust off his knees. 

“Oh? But didn’t you quit and sucked off his brother’s dick?” Laurent comments. Damianos coughs his laugh. 

Jokaste doesn’t react. She leisurely walks, acting like she still owns this place. “So you’re his replacement cocksucker?”

“Yes. His previous one didn’t satisfy him.” She doesn’t bother Laurent. She can start a fight all she wants, Damianos isn’t hers anymore.

“Am I interrupting something, then?” She asks, sitting on his couch. The center too, as if she is a queen on her rightful throne. It’s fine. Laurent’s throne is Damianos’ lap. She can’t reclaim that. “By all means, continue.”

“And give you a free show of the dick you gave up? No, thank you.” Laurent sits on Damianos’ lap again. He looks at his daddy who watches them both quietly. He is a man caught in a stand-off between two vipers. “Sorry about that, daddy.”

Damianos looks at him and smiles kindly.  He touches Laurent’s cheek. Laurent isn’t sure if he’s just putting an act in front of Jokaste. “That’s alright, baby. I had a good time.”

“I have to go now. Your two o’clock is waiting.” Laurent kisses Damianos’ cheek. 

“I thought you weren’t giving me a show?” Says the two o’clock. They didn’t spare her a glance.

“I’ll see you later, baby.” Damianos kisses Laurent again as he stands up.

“Buzz if she starts something.” Laurent says as he walks to the door. 

“I will.” 

Laurent looks at Jokaste one last time before going out. She’s staring at him too. 

“I’m sorry that Kastor’s dick doesn’t satisfy you, that's why you have to keep showing up here.” He steps out and lets the door close on its own, not bothering to hear her reply.

***

Hope you liked it!

#someday im gonna start at chapter 1 for this au #that day is not today #look i am a simple woman #i have ideas i write i post #bcs i am insane impatient no self control #sugar baby laurent au #modern lamen #modern lamen au #Captive Prince #damen x laurent #laurent x damen #if you guys have any ideas feel free to message me #let us be think insane thoughts together lolol #also censoring glucose infant bcs i am tired of bots

[masterhandss]

Personally I don't see what you see in Geordo. He seems like such a scumbag to me and is the least likable charater in the whole series. He is always trying to get her alone to push her into things of a sexual/ more romantic nature without taking how she really feels into consideration. Like he "really wants her" and thats enough for him without caring what she really wants. Honestly he is the borderline non-con villian in my mind.

I mean, it's okay if you feel like that. To each their own.

Hmmm when I think about Geordo being sexually aggressive towards Katarina, I only really just think of the anime. The manga is a much more moe-fied and toned down version of the novels, and the novels does an okay job at balancing his desires for Katarina in all aspects. I'm not saying he doesn't have that trait in the other two mediums, I just think that they aren't as intense as the anime, so as someone who consumes all three versions I just tilt my head and go "huh." Of course I'm sure there are people who read the manga and novels that still feel uncomfortable about his behavior and that's valid too.

-> light novel spoilers ahead <-

tldr, there is a lot more going on to him than just someone who offers sweet words and questionable invitations to Katarina's ears, this may not be noticeable or acceptable to some people but we get to know more about how he thinks whenever the novels puts us in his point of view. You're free to dislike him as much as you want, but I like him & don't see him as a scumbag; and here's why:

I at least find it okay that Geordo is very serious about his pursuits for her because he is aware that she is dense and will not get it until you spell it in the sky. Everyone is just walking eggshells around Katarina hoping that the girl would just develop feelings for one of them to win the harem olympics. He knows that being dealt with a good card isn't enough, so he's actively taking action in order to win her heart. I mean I don't always agree with his methods either, like the "fait accompli" line or constantly inviting her to his room alone, but really, how much of that is something he really means to do vs how much of that is his excessive flirting + our minds assuming that he really means to claim her in that way?

Lines like that are really popular with japanese fans because it makes Geordo look "sexy" and "forward", which they enjoy in their fictional stories. He knows that his position gives him an advantage so he'll try to play his cards right and use it to increase his chances in victory.

It actually reminds me of a scene from the Hamefura StoryMe game, (don't really know how canon it is but I remember the JP ver. was advertised by @/hamhura) where Geordo indirectly asked Katarina how to woo a girl he really likes, and Katarina thinking he was referring to Maria, gives all the things he usually does in order to win her heart (visit her home, give her gift, dance with her in parties, be really forward about your feelings etc). I'm not saying Katarina approves of the ways Geordo attempts to win her heart, but there's some hilarity in knowing that Geordo already had and is constantly trying all the known ways to win over a girl in the world from a young age, and still has nothing to show for it. Like no awareness, much less any *feelings* lmao. So trying to make it obvious that he is interested in her romantically and sexually seems like the next logical step to him. I mean if you go by Geordo's logic and considering the time period this takes place in, he's pretty confident that he can get Katarina to love him back and they are engaged anyways so in his head he's in safe waters to attempt to make teases about such advancements if it gives him the smallest chance that Katarina would become at least aware of him through it.

Of course I know that stuff like that won't fly here in the real world, but maybe that's why I'm so lenient personally when it comes to his (debatably) sexual teases and advances, because it's a fictional story for a japanese audience. Doesn't mean I would approve any advances like that if it happens to me, it's just that it's hard to take his actions seriously when Katarina or the story doesn't take them seriously. Like, the girl would be pushed down to a bed by RufuSora and gives her a hickey and she still thinks the man is out for her blood.

He wouldn't even be entirely wrong, knowing the identities of the characters who Katarina knows has romantic interest in her in the novels, actions does speak louder than words when it comes to her. Like I said, whether or not Geordo really means what he says when the story teases the readers with sexual implications in his words and action depends on the reader in my opinion. They are there, I wont pretend they don't but I'd argue about the level of intent depending on what scene you're talking about.

The only scenes on the top of my head where he is very abrasive towards Katarina is the "fait accompli" scene, the Book scene form the anime (S1 EP8), saying he wants to lock her in his room (LN6) and the multiple times Geordo had invited her in his room at night alone (LN6 and LN8, i think).

I've already explained why I am okay with both Keith and Geordo's Book scenes from episode 8 of the first season because they are accurate representations of an exaggerated and unhinged versions of their desires towards Katarina so I won't bore you with those details again.

He mentioned in Volume 6 that he wants to lock Katarina in his room forever and keep her light to himself, which alarmed a few people when the book came out, but he said that in a moment where he feels super grateful and loving towards her because she knew how tired he was despite his fake face and without even saying anything. It was a moment where he felt so infatuated towards her that he wished the moment where he gets to rest in her arms would last forever, thus he made such a comment. I make it sound more dramatic than it was in Volume 6, it was just a quick comment honestly lmao.

For people who don't read the novels, that last part looks very sus and raises a few red flags I know, but to be fair we can't definitively say what his intentions are because Katarina never commits to those visits. Katarina has actually become wary of those invitations, because Keith and Mary have warned her that Geordo's intentions are sexual, but I'm not really trusting the word of the two people who are most distrustful and antagonistic to Geordo. They could be right, of course, but who can really say? We assume that they are correct because they care about Katarina and are wary of Geordo, but hamefura('s novels) is full of unreliable narrators anyways, it's not like Keith or Mary would consider the possibility of it being anything else because when it comes to the third prince they always fear the worst case scenario.

If you think about it, Geordo is probably aware that winning her over with a "fait accompli" won't work at all because it'll put him in a position that will make other people push him for the throne (which he doesn't want) or could ruin his reputation in high society if Katarina or her family react to it negatively. I'm not Geordo though, so I can't really say if he even have such fears and doubts in the first place, that's just my assessment based on the obstacles he has. On the outside he is really sure of himself and confident (which he arguably deserves) and on the inside he is very careful and insecure when it comes to Katarina.

Also like, spoilers but for someone who is very forward when it comes to his physical advances, Geordo is super weak when he is in the receiving end of those touches. He gets super embarrassed and easily flustered when its Katarina who is touching him, as if implying that to some extent that he's all just talk lmao.

I don't really agree that Geordo doesn't care about what Katarina feels at all, in fact his inner dilemma in the novels is that he doesn't know what to do because in every step he takes he might do something that could ruin his image in Katarina's eyes, be it pursuing or abandoning the throne or looking like a monster in front of her. He even halts his plans to make advances towards her during the Keith Kidnapping Arc, but threw it away because he knows how much finding Keith means to Katarina. He puts what Katarina want and doesn't want as his priority, so when what she feels is unclear that's when he acts on his own intuition. The only reason Geordo feels so confident to advance towards her sexually is because Katarina never rejected him before (because she doesn't know what they mean, and all of this is for the sake of simply making her aware in the first place)

I'm not trying to make anyone think that one has to read all the books in order to understand him, I think the manga does okay at conveying his feelings too. The anime really prioritizes on making him look "sexy" for the japanese female audience, so anything he does is sprinkled with spice whether we like it or not.

I'm sorry if it seems like I'm overanalyzing all his actions just to justify them, everyone has the right to be uncomfortable with his advances if it seems too much for you. It's just that his actions, while over the top and unnecessary, are done to please the type of audience that hamefura caters to, and it's hard to take him completely seriously when the story doesn't either in my opinion. Doesn't mean he's right or that any of it is okay, but it's his method of trying to put a dent on Katarina's bakashield. When you're in a race versus your friends who Katarina all loves equally, he's gonna use whatever card he can get in order to win.

I like Geordo; I like how much of his feelings for Katarina forces him to reexamine himself and realize that he isn't a perfect prince at all, that he has lots of problems and flaws that he needs to work out in order to be someone worthy of her. I like the way he falls more and more in love with her in every interaction they have because he finally gets to have a genuinely and caring interaction with someone. I like how Geordo wants to do better and be better for Katarina and the people around him, and he wants to be able to thank Katarina directly for that through being able to show his love. I like that despite how much of a chad he acts in front of her, he's a blushing mess at the thought of Katarina returning his feelings. I find it funny when his "sexual advances" fails and gets thwarted because he's trying them on the densest person and most protected lady to ever live. I like how Geordo is so head-over-heals in love with her and how much comfort and warmth she brings to him by simply being her caring and bubbly self.

I guess it's just a matter of different perspectives. If you find him unlikeable or a villain, then you do you. I try to explain why I personally excuse his actions, but I know it wont fly with everyone. We all see each character differently and absorb the material in different ways. In fact it's probably a bad idea for me to defend him with material that isn't the anime nor manga yet lmao. I mean I'm not that much of a fan of Mary anymore, and I'm kinda scared and wary of her, but I know people don't see her the way I do and I'm okay with that.

Maybe its just me, who is the kind of person who just goes with the flow and doesn't think too hard because it's all fiction anyways

It's hard to tell all this from simply watching the anime, so I laid all my feelings down in hopes that someone out there would understand why I like him so much.

Thank you for the ask, you can ask more questions or call me out if I said anything insensitive or wrong, I know a lot of this is me overanalyzing things which might look like I'm jus stretching. As someone who is aware of the things to come in Hamefura X, I can say that I am both excited and nervous as to how everyone will react for the direction of Geordo's character.

#mh ask #hamefura #my next life as a villainess #geordo stuart #katarina claes #geokata #for some reason tumblr wont type the letter E #anyways there are my thoughts please dont hate me lmao #if you dont like Geordo then thats fine #im not forcing anyone to like him #i just wanna explain my own perspective thats all #DONT THROW FIRE AT ME #bakarina #destruction flag otome #hamehura #hamefura spoilers

[fanartfunart]

More Time & Time Again/ OoT Timeloop. (I think this is just a multichapter fic now) Link is helping his younger self out when the boy asks about his own adventure. Link recalls how he failed to change the future. (Tw for death mentions/implied death, fire/destruction, injury and angst.)

Time & Time Again & Part 2

Ao3

-

"How do you know all this?" The Kid asked, holding the Megaton Hammer uncertainly.

Link just smiled, "I went on a journey like yours a while ago....In retrospect, the hammer wasn't too hard to use compared to this one sword that was like, twice my height at the time."

The Kid glanced at Navi with wide, excited eyes. She frowned, "No."

"If I found a sword that big though-"

"Stick to the hammer right now," Navi sighed, giving Link a side eye.

He restrained a chuckle and leaned over to his younger self. In a low whisper he said "I'll give you a tip to getting a sword from Biggeron when she isn't watching."

The Kid pumped a fist and Navi zipped over to gently bop Link's head. "Don't give him ideas."

Link laughed, "I'm not! The idea is all his!"

Navi glared. Probably internally cursing the technicalities of them being the same person.

"Actually though, can you tell me about your adventure?" The Kid asked, tilting his head.

Link frowned. (He was small again, placing the Master Sword back in it’s pedestal. His legs still felt shaky from finally, finally having defeated Ganon.) "Maybe later. ...Besides, you still need to practice with that hammer. You do not want to pull a muscle using that thing... Trust me."

The Kid hummed, and shifted back into a readied stance with the hammer. He grinned "If I win will you tell me?"

"Who said anything about winning? It's practice, not a game."

"Sounds like you're scared you'll loseee, Grasshopper."

Link's eyes narrowed and he grinned, "Oh its on Shrimp."

"Wha- We're the same height!"

-

Link could’ve sworn he’d rigged this game so he wouldn’t lose. Link guesses he’s always had a habit of succeeding despite all logical odds out of sheer determination. He also blames the fact that Navi was helping Little Link and that was just unfair. He sighed as he stared up at his younger self’s near manic grin, laying on the ground.

“Story time!” the Kid said, putting the hammer down and holding out a hand to help him up.

Link accepted the boy-teen’s hand, defeated. He walked over to a nearby crate and hopped up to sit on the edge. The Kid followed and plopped himself in the grass, watching attentively.

He couldn’t tell the Kid his actual story, so he’d have to make up something. He hummed, “...Where should I start?”

“The beginning?” The Kid offered, laughing.

The beginning of his real story was complicated. Was it when the Great Deku Tree sent Navi to him? Or, with that adventure a closed book, was it when he returned to his time, to grow up as he was supposed to?

“Right... Well, when I was younger, I knew a princess in Termina... She saw that an evil man... uh, her uncle, would be king soon and no one believed her... She had asked me to help her.”

-

He skidded to a halt as he spotted the King and...Ganondorf. His heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the Greudo King. Images of his beastly transformation overlapped with the man currently in front of him.

Link dashed forward, past the guards and into the castle itself. He heaved his breaths as he took the most obvious path to the main hall. He didn't even stop to admire the original architecture of the building that would be transformed into Ganon's Castle.

"Who let this boy in?" The King asked, gesturing at him. "This is a private meeting."

Link swallowed, "Where’s Zelda?"

"Are you one of her playmates? Are you lost?"

He shook his head. He stared at the man, balling his hands into the skirt of his tunic.

"He appears overwhelmed," Ganondorf said, oddly soft, "Let him gather his thoughts."

-

Link shrunk away from Ganondorf’s full attention. He partly expected Navi to start speaking for him... The silence of her absence echoed like the quiet before Ganon burst from the rubble of the castle. His heart began a drum beat of “Danger, danger, danger,” in his ears.

He ran. Link ran past the crackle of fire echoing in his mind and behind his eyelids. The distressed shrieks from Zelda, unable to help, ringing in his ears.

“I stood in front of the current King, with evidence of the man’s plans in hand, and explained what I knew...” Link said, wishing that had been true.

“What? Already? You didn’t even get the big sword yet!”

“Oh, but you see...The King didn’t believe me. Put under a curse by the evil man. He was merely a puppet... But the evil man wanted more than the throne.”

-

He took in panting breaths as he stood in front of Zelda. The royal garden a soft earthy type of quiet. The twitter of birds promising calm. He closed his eyes briefly.

"Link? You're back already?"

He nodded and gasped for breath, "Ganondorf... is going to... get into the Sacred Realm."

Zelda's eyes widened, "Are you sure.... Oh... The Ocarina?"

With a nod, he let gravity take him and he plopped onto the ground.

"We must stop him then!" Zelda announced with determination.

Link smiled warily.

They had sat for hours. Zelda planned out how to deal with Ganondorf with the little information Link had been able to provide the words to explain. Exhaustion catching up with him, Link eventually fell asleep. His head on her shoulder. Her voice guiding him to kinder dreams than he'd had in a while. Even before starting his quest.

-

“The princess allowed me to sleep in one of the rooms in the castle. Although she probably didn’t need to since I usually ended up sleeping outside anyway... Got used to it. Sleeping in the big bed just felt too strange.”

“The princess seems really nice.”

Link nodded, “She is....” he sighed, “But, before we could implement our plan-”

-

He woke up to a muffled thunk. Link sat up and groggily wandered to the noise. He hadn’t thought about picking up his sword. He faltered as he noticed Ganondorf and a Gerudo woman bringing in a set of barrels.

Ganondorf turned to look at him and raised a brow. "Child. What are you doing up?"

He pointed to the barrels, brows furrowed.

"Ah, they are a gift to your King."

"It's night," Link forced out. Voice raspy. His glare strengthening.

The Gerudo King walked over to him, dramatic strides intimidating and imposing. Link scrambled to stay out of arms reach of the man. Ganondorf halted. "I get the sense you and the Princess don't like me too much."

Link distinctly regretted not grabbing his sword. His hand itched for something to hold, to protect him. "You're going to hurt people." He said in a harsh whisper, curling his fist.

"You sound so sure.... Why?"

Link looked away and took a step back.

"I don't intend to harm you, child."

"You killed the Great Deku Tree." Link hissed, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

"Ah. I didn't expect one of you to come out of that forest. Do you plan on speaking to the king? Tell him I killed a tree? I don't think he'll quite believe that... And if he did, it was one tree, do you think he'll care?"

"I'm not going to let you get into the Sacred Realm! You won't get Zelda or I to open the doors for you-"

"The Princess can open the doors?" Ganondorf grinned, "Thank you, young one, for that insight. I would have thought that particular goal lost without the Kokiri Emerald.... Now I can simply move on."

Link's eyes widened, he turned to run to Zelda. To get his sword. To do something. Ganondorf was fast. Especially so now that Link was small again. He never hated being small before this moment. He writhed against Ganondorf's grasp on his arm. He yelled and twisted and kicked.

"Stop it. You'll wake everyone up." Ganondorf snarled. He huffed, "I do hate doing this to a child but you give me no choice." He spoke in a language Link didn't understand. With a sharp jolt in the back of his head, he felt the energy sapped from him. He dropped to the ground. He felt wooden. Like a doll.

Ganondorf picked him up with ease. Dropping him over his shoulder. "It shouldn't kill you. Don't be alarmed. It took significantly more work to kill the Great Deku Tree."

Link's eyes widened. He hit Ganondorf weakly, struggling with the rest of his might. Ganondorf gave him a curious look, seemingly surprised he had even this much fight in him.

He was deposited in the bedroom the princess had given him. "Do try to get some rest, boy.... You'll need it." The door shut and locked.

Slowly, everything went dark.

-

"He cursed you?!"

Link nodded, "I later would realize that the reason I managed to stay awake as long as I did was because I had my own magic.... I had learned some spells before, but found out I could no longer do them."

The Kid frowned, "That's terrible!"

"I learned more later, it didn't entirely sap my aptitude for magic." Link glanced at his own hands. "I don't know... I don't need them as much anymore."

-

Zelda shook him awake. She shoved him to the floor in her urgency.

She pulled him up and before he was truly aware of his surroundings, he was being lifted by hands much stronger than Zelda. Link squirmed, the sleepiness draining from him quickly.

"Link wake up! Please!"

He groggily reached out to her. She gasped "Oh thank the Goddesses."

"Impa!" Zelda cried out. "My father! Where is he?"

"We don't have any more time to spare. I'm sorry Princess. We must leave. Now."

Link gasped. No no, this shouldn't be happening. It shouldn't be happening at all.

Impa ran. She remained surprisingly dexterous and agile despite carrying both children.

Link watched over Impa's shoulder as Ganondorf appeared from the door. His sword was stained red. He grinned and took large, striding steps after them. Impa threw Zelda up onto a horse. Link squirmed out of her grasp before she could toss him up with her.

"Link!" Zelda shrieked, "What are you doing?"

He took out his sword and gestured towards the gates.

"You can't!" She cried, reaching towards him. "You... you could-"

Impa spurred the horse on before she could finish. Link closed his eyes to dash out the image of Zelda's panicked face.

-

"I... never saw the Princess again for a long time after that."

Link nodded, "Eventually."

The Kid stared at him with a deep sadness. He knew he probably resonated too deeply into truth. He would have to change more in his story.

"But you did see her again. Right?"

-

Link tumbled to the ground, ignored. Ganondorf grabbed his own horse. Link roared in fury and made a leaping strike.

Zelda's scream echoed in the distance as Ganondorf clashed against his sword, creating a slash across Link's arm.

Ganondorf pushed him back before he could complete his attack. Knocking him several feet back. He scoffed, "I don't have time for you, child."

Link winced as he scrambled to a stand, listening to the clop clop of hooves. Legs shaking, he raced to the Temple of Time. He knew Ganondorf would be back. He hid behind a pillar, and waited. He could still stop it. He would just have to stop his past self from opening the doors! That could work.

-

"I ran to get the King's Mask before the evil man could. With that, he could rule the kingdom as he saw fit. Masks have great power in Termina, as symbols and sometimes magical items." He explained.

"Oh cool." The Kid leaned forward, "I wonder if any of the masks I had as a kid would be important to people in Termina..."

-

Link looked down with a soft smile, "Some of them, maybe. But anyway.... the mask was... gone, by the time I got there."

The boy ran in just as he expected, the Ocarina of Time still gripped in one hand. Link attempted to dash after him, only to he grabbed from behind. A large hand muffled him. He kicked and squirmed and bit. All it got him was a tighter hold.

“I should’ve known the royal family would send someone through time to stop me.” Ganondorf whispered to him, “I didn’t expect a child. Although, perhaps that’s all they have left.”

Link growled and knocked his head back, hitting Ganondorf’s chin. He was dropped unceremoniously. Scrambling to a stand, Link readied his sword, glancing at the spiritual stones in their places.

“Really?” Ganondorf huffed, “You think that little tumbtack will stop me?”

Link glared.

-

Ganondorf summoned his magic and Link dodged out of the way. “Hm, you learned. Good to know.” Ganondorf walked past him, and Link ran forward to attack, but was yet again thrown back by a dismissive smack. Everything after that was a hazy blur.

Link woke up to the crackle of fire and a burning sensation on his left hand.

Link was quiet for a moment, feeling the oppressive smoke and heat suffocating him. Imagery of Castle Town on fire flickering behind every blink.

The Kid frowned at him, "Are you okay?" He whispered.

Link nodded, tracing the shape of the triforce of courage on his hand. He didn't quite know how the time travel worked with the sacred relic. He glanced at his younger self. He had it too, didn't he?

"Grasshopper?"

Link took in a breath and straightened his posture, "Right. Right. I'm fine. But um. Can we finish this another time?"

The Kid nodded. He stood and stretched. "...Um, quick question... If you don't mind... Why did you leave Termina? You grew up there. And you said it's doing fine now-"

"I was looking for an old friend... Now I just want to help people here."

"Oh. You're a nice person." The Kid concluded.

"...I've been told that." Link said softly. He ruffled the Kid's hair because he knew it would annoy him. "But! It's getting dark and if you don't go back home and rest, I'm gonna go find Sheik and he'll make you sleep."

The Kid gasped in indignation. Then blinked. "Wait you can find Sheik? Really? How!?"

"Oh my Goddesses, go sleep!"

"Is he here!? Is he following me or is he just going to places I need to be before me?"

"Forget Sheik, I will drag you to the forest."

The Kid laughed, "Okay, okay."

#tw death mention #tw injury #loz #legend of zelda #ocarina of time #loz link #loz zelda #loz ganondorf #fanarts fanfic #loz au #loz angst #im gonna go back and add it to ao3 later because rn im on my phone so i have to copy by paragraph >_<

[thecolordemon]

Hello! I hope you're having a great day!! ✨✨ I was wondering if I could ask for the brothers (and maybe the undateables too if you want!) reacting to s/o mc that absolutely adores them? MC always calls them things like "cute" or "adorable" or pet names because they just love them so much!

Such a sweet request! Thank you for the idea!😊😘 @rosierades

*Lucifer*:

MC calls him "Sir" or "My love"

MC: "My love, can we eat dinner together?"

he won't show it infront of his brothers but he really thinks it's cute

keeps his pet name a secret

otherwise Mammon would tease him 24/7

thinks MC is so adorable...

as the avatar of pride...that's exactly what he likes: constant, positive attention

treasures this little secret deep in his heart

gives MC a lot of kisses on the forehead

*Mammon*:

MC calls him "Cutie"

MC: "Aww Mammon, you're such a cutie! Thanks for the new sunglasses!"

turns into a blushing mess

"I-I'm not cute-shut up-"

secretly he loves it

hugs MC tightly from behind

buries his face in the crook of their neck

"Say it again..."

can't hear it often enough

*Leviathan*:

Mc calls him "sweetheart"

MC: "Sweetheart, you need to eat something. I know the new game is fascinating but it has been three days now..."

drops the controller

"W-what was that?"

blush intensifies when MC repeats it

will get up immediately to get some food

'They called me sweetheart-sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart-'

takes them by their hand to pull them with him

stutters when Asmo asks why he's so red

*Satan*:

MC calls him "my darling"

MC: "Shhh my darling, calm down...I'm here...No need to freak out."

this will calm him down!

it's like MC casts a spell on him with this words

"Well that's new..."

hugs MC protectively

loves the constant attention

feels worthy and powerful with MC adoring him so much

*Asmodeus*:

MC calls him "babe" or "baby"

MC: "Babe, can I please brush your hair? Pleaaaase baby!"

loves it

"Of course hun, go on!"

likes all the touches and being so close to his MC

pulls them on his lap and they start kissing (for a very long time)

he adores all the attention MC pays to him

adores them just as much and showers them with affection

*Beelzebub*:

MC calls him "honey" or "big boy"

MC: "Honey do you want some more? I'm already full. You can have mine."

those are literally the most romantic words you could ever say

Are you ready to get married?

pulls MC on his lap and strokes their stomach while eating the rest of their food

likes it when they run their fingers through his hair

purrs like a big cat lion

"How is it possible to be so perfect, MC?"

*Belphie*:

MC calls him "adorable"

MC: "You look so adorable when you sleep..."

stares at them

"I-what?"

gets a little bit flustered and pulls them closer to his chest

loves the cuddles

lot of power naps because this is the key to his heart (and Beel too)

kisses their neck when he's the big spoon

"You can't describe a demon with a human word..."

MC: "Well I just did."

The undatables:

*Lord Diavolo*:

MC calls him "my king"

"My king, this new crown looks stunning!"

he is not king yet but that doesn't stop you

it makes him very proud bevause he feels like he can do everything

pulls MC twoards him and cups their cheeks

"And you would be a wonderful queen/king."

kisses them pretty passionately

this nickname kinda turns him on

prepare for some action on his throne

*Barbatos*:

MC calls him "my hero"

"Oh what would I do without you, my hero..."

loves the thought that he safes them

kisses MC's hands

"My love, you spoil me."

it's so refreshing to get so much attention

usually he is the one who has to do this all the time (Diavolo etc.)

he can relax around his MC and it feels so good

*Solomon*:

MC calls him "my favorite"

MC: "Aww c'mon Solomon, you know you're my favorite!"

sometimes he feels like it's very hard to compete with the demons

but not when MC is with him

smiles softly when MC calls him their favorite

"Thanks, little one. I knew I could count on you."

kisses on the cheek

likes that they massages his back everytime he sits down somewhere

*Simeon*:

MC calls him "my dear" or "angel"

"Angel/ Dear? Can we cuddle now?"

Yes he really is an angel but he thinks it's adorable

let's MC take care of his wings

holds their hand all the time

shields MC from the rain with his wings

loves how much love MC has

"Are you sure that you're a human. You could be an angel as well."

would like to be their guardian angel when MC goes back to the human world

*Luke*:

MC calls him "little brother"

"You're like a little brother to me. You're part of our family too."

no romantic feelings

platonic

cares deeply about MC's wellbeing

thinks of MC as a sister/brother as well

their words touch him and he finally feels welcome

#obey me leviathan #obey me masters #obey me shall we date #obey me otome #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me luke #obey me lord diavolo #obey me shitpost #obey me requests #request #requests are open #send requests #obey me headcanons #headcanon #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphie #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me satan

[laurenandloki]

Author’s note: I’ve been thinking about how Loki would act at a meet and greet, especially if he was a giant and what would happen if he met a tiny fan-...so here ya go!! Enjoy!😊

Oh! And before I forget to tell you all, this story is super long! I just couldn’t help myself ☺️

_______________________________________________

~“You’re a Fan of Mine?”~

The 2nd Annual Avengers Meet and Greet had started at last!

The team had decided to start this event when Thor and Loki returned to Earth after Asgard was destroyed. More specifically, it was for the sake of Loki’s reputation. He wasn’t popular whatsoever among the humans, especially not after the New York attack back in 2012, but Loki really was trying to become a better person. Didn’t anyone ever hear of the phrase ‘people change’?

Loki just didn’t see the need of being in a room full of tiny mortals to show that he had turned over a new leaf. That’s right. Tiny mortals.

His body grew in size, letting him stand at 90 feet tall. No one was sure why Loki had grown to be a giant, but Loki did. He believed it was because of Odin’s death. The spell that Odin had put on Loki centuries ago when he found him as a baby must have weakened. Loki had grown to the size he was meant to be as a Frost Giant. Since he was the rightful heir to the throne of Jotunheim, he surpassed the rest of the Jötuns’ height by miles.

A room designed and built was given to him in the Avengers Tower. It was a library fit for a giant-..well, fit for Loki, in this case. Book shelves covered the walls with novels that towered over humans, but fit perfectly in Loki’s grasp. He even had his own personal desk and, of course, a bed that was covered in silk green sheets. The meet and greets were always held in Loki’s room only because it was the biggest spot in the entire tower.

After the first successful year of meeting the team’s lovely fans, more and more people found out about it and showed up this year. It wasn’t successful for Loki, though. The previous year, Stark had all of the fans stay out in the common area. So it was up in the air for anyone to go see Loki. He stayed in his room the entire time, waiting to see if one brave soul would enter his bedroom and attempt to talk to him, but no one did. The whole point of the event was for Loki to talk with at least one person!

At the moment, Loki was sitting at his desk in his room, staring down at Tony Stark, who was decked out in friendship brackets and necklaces that the children had made him. Loki rolled his eyes just looking at how pathetic he looked.

The rest of the team was spread out throughout the whole room. Fans were practically everywhere. Most of the fans were little kids and teenagers. The simple sight of the younglings made Loki’s head spin. He was practically glued to his chair, not wanting to get up and accidentally hurt someone.

If Loki had to guess, he’d say there were about 300 kids there and still, not one of them came over to greet him.

“Stark, I really don’t see what all the fuss is about. I mean, what even is the purpose of this ‘Meet and Greet’ you speak of?”, questioned Loki.

“Quiet, reindeer games. You know why we started the meet and greet. Just smile and wave at everyone. Even if you don’t want to be nice, just fake it. And don’t purposefully scare the kids! I can’t deal with a parent scolding me about how a giant god with raven black rock n’ roll hair made their kid cry just by smirking at them. That was a nightmare last year”, said Tony rubbing his eyes.

Loki scoffed. “Well it wasn’t my fault the child walked into my chambers when I was reading. Who would interrupt someone during a Shakespeare reading session?” Tony laughed at how sarcastic Loki sounded. “That must have been a real good Shakespeare book if you brought the kid to tears. Let’s see-..was it Hamlet?”, asked Tony.

Loki grinned. “No, I read that last week. It was Coriolanus”, said Loki, chuckling, as he looked down at Tony, who started to join in on the laughter.

After the laughing died down, there was a pause between the two of them. “Obviously nobody was interested in meeting me anyways. Not one mortal came in here last year to talk with me”, said Loki sadly. He didn’t want to admit it, but Loki really wished that he had a fan. At this point, he didn’t even mind if his fan was a mortal. Loki wanted someone who admired him for who he was and the good that he has been doing with the rest of the Avengers. He didn’t want to be known as the Asgardian who tried to take over the world anymore. He wanted to be known as someone’s hero.

“Loki, listen to me. I bet you one of these kids are gonna come up to you and say hi”, said Tony with a reassuring smile on his face. Loki began to fiddle with his fingers, uncertain if he should believe the small human in front of him. “And what if one doesn’t? Then what am I left to do? Sulk around and remember that no one in this city likes me?”, he asked sounding even more sad than before.

Tony sighed. “Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself. The event just started! Just be yourself, Loki. And I promise you that you’ll meet someone today”, he said. Loki was about to contradict what Stark had just said, but a group of kids that were standing on Loki’s bed started to chant the name, ‘Ironman’.

Loki and Tony looked over towards everyone. “Well, I guess I should get over there, huh?”, asked Tony. He looked up at Loki, who simply nodded at him and waved him off. Tony smiled and said, “I promise. This is the year you meet a fan of yours.” And with that, Tony walked over to the edge of the desk and tapped his arc reactor two times. He was wearing his suit in a matter of seconds thanks to the nano tech he had invented.

Loki watched as Tony flew over to all the kids, getting hugs from each and everyone one of them. ‘I need a miracle to get that kind of attention’, thought Loki to himself. He was back to square one. Loki was all alone again.

‘I knew this was a terrible idea’, thought Loki to himself as he watched the Avengers interacting with all of their fans. They all made it look so easy. ‘Why can’t one of these mortals at least say hi to me? It can’t be that hard’, thought Loki to himself.

Little did Loki know, a human girl named Y/n, who was around the age of fifteen, was watching him from afar on the large bed that was next to the desk that Loki sat at.

Rather than joining the other kids in awing at Ironman flying around, trying to learn fighting combinations from Natasha, or even learning how to properly hold a bow with the help of Clint, she was standing by herself, trying to muster up the courage to go over to Loki and talk to him.

She was a nervous wreck just thinking about what the conversation would be like. Instead of fiddling with her fingers like Loki was doing before, she clenched the hand-made plush of the God of Mischief she held in her shaky grasp. Y/n had decided to make it when she heard that the Avengers were doing a second meet and greet. Y/n finally had the opportunity to speak with Loki! She wanted to show him her gratitude for protecting New York with the Avengers and to tell him that he was her favorite amongst the group. So, what better gift to give Loki than a plush of himself!

She could have written something in a ‘thank you’ card or even decorated a poster, but Y/n wanted to make him something special that took time to put together and this plush toy was perfect.

The plush stood at about 1 foot tall and it was very adorable. Although Y/n didn’t sew on a green cape like she wanted to, she had gotten her hands on a piece of yellow fabric and turned it into a horned helmet. Loki was, without a doubt, going to love it, but Y/n kept on hesitating on whether or not she should give it to him.

‘Oh gosh. What if he laughs at me when I hand it to him? ’, thought Y/n to herself. She couldn’t stop shaking. Her legs were barely holding her up anymore. Y/n just pictured herself standing on the desk in front of Loki and how small she would look compared to him.

“Hello little one! Why aren’t you with the others?”, said a voice from behind Y/n. She jumped, dropping the hand-made plush onto the mattress below her.

She spun around to find out who had snuck up behind her and startled her. Y/n’s eyes widened as she looked up at the tall, blonde haired man. “M-Mr. Thor! I-It’s a pleasure to meet you!”, said Y/n excitedly. Her face instantly turned red. Y/n was very shy around other people, so her burst of energy she got made her backpedal into her shell. She knows for a fact that she’ll be stuttering if she gets to talk to Loki.

Thor chuckled loudly. “It is an honor to meet you as well, little one. Apologies for scaring you.” His eyes trailed down at what Y/n had dropped. His mouth dropped open in awe. He bent down and picked the plush up before Y/n had the chance to hide it.

As Thor held the plush toy in front of him, he admired the precision of the details and traced his fingers along the lines of the stitches. When Thor realized who the plush represented, he gasped.

“Young one, is this-...is this Loki?”, asked Thor, astonished that he was holding a hand-made toy of his brother. Y/n lowered her head down, embarrassed about the whole situation that was happening. “Y-Yes, sir”, she said timidly.

Thor stared at the small girl in front of him and then looked back at the plush. “This is absolutely incredible, young one! Did you make this?”, Thor asked as he stared at the plush toy, looking at it in amazement. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it! Y/n nodded, too nervous to say anything else.

“We must get this to Loki right away! Oh, he’s going to love this! Let me go call him over here for you”, said Thor cheerfully.

Y/n’s heart stopped at the mention of Loki coming towards her. She wasn’t ready to meet him yet. In fact, she wasn’t ever going to be ready! “N-No Mr. Thor p-please! D-Don’t!”, exclaimed Y/n.

Thor stopped jumping up and down, a frown replacing the happy smile he had on. “Whatever do you mean, small one? Don’t you want to give your gift to him?”, asked Thor. He was highly confused as to why the child didn’t want to meet Loki.

“I-I’d love to, b-but-...I’m scared that h-he won’t like it. A-And that he w-won’t like me”, Y/n said sadly. “I-..”, started Y/n. She stopped before she could say anything else. Y/n was afraid that she would start crying. Thor knelt down in front of Y/n, giving her a look that mentally told her to continue on with what she was going to say.

“I don’t have m-many friends. A-Actually, I don’t have any f-friends at all. Loki is the one person that I look up to and-...I just wanted to let him know how much of an impact he’s had in my life”, said Y/n. She bit her lower lip, forcing herself to not shed a single tear in front of Thor. “But I’m too scared to talk to him. I don’t want to look dumb in front of the Loki. I-I’ll be a stuttering mess. I’m not scared of him, his size is just really intimidating.”

Thor didn’t say a word. All he did do, however, was sigh and hand back the plush toy back to Y/n, who immediately hugged it close to her.

He gently put his hand on her shoulder, causing Y/n to look up at him. “My brother needs to know about this, little one. I’m going to have him sit right here-...”, said Thor as he turned towards the edge of the bed and pointed at the vacant space where Loki would be standing soon. Y/n’s eyes became watery just imagining Loki looking down at her.

“I’ll only be a moment”, said Thor. And with that, he summoned Mjölnir and flew off to fetch Loki. As his feet left the bed, he heard Y/n begging him to stop. Thor did feel bad for getting Y/n all shaken up, but he knew in his heart that Y/n needed to meet Loki and Loki needed to meet Y/n. It was time that the two of them finally made a friend.

Loki sat at his desk with his one arm propped up on its elbow resting on the table as his chin laid in the palm of his hand while the other hand flicked through a few pages of a book. Loki was not interested in the meet and greet anymore. He was going to make sure that he informed Tony that he isn’t going to be a part of the 3rd event next year. Loki couldn’t handle not getting talked to for a third time.

Loki had somehow tuned out the noise that was coming from all around the room and focused on the book in front of him. That was until Thor landed on the page that Loki had just started to read. “Hello Loki!”, said Thor as he waved to his gigantic brother.

Loki rolled his eyes. When he said he wanted someone to talk to him, he was hoping that Thor would be the last to come over here. “What do you want, Thor? Have you come to gloat? To mock? Tell me about all the fans you’ve met in the span of one hour?”, chided Loki.

“As much as I would love to tell you about the fans I’ve met, I’ve come to inform you about something”, said Thor, trying to hide the excitement he was feeling so that Loki didn’t suspect anything.

Thor stood there practically bouncing up and down. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Loki’s face when he told him about Y/n. Loki, however, was getting annoyed at the anticipation that was building up inside him. “Oh by Odin, just spit it out Thor”, he said.

“You have a fan that wants to meet you!”, exclaimed Thor. He was more than happy at the moment, jumping up and down like a thrilled, little puppy on a sugar rush. Loki’s eyes widened when Thor revealed the news. “I do?”, he asked with hope in his voice. Thor nodded vigorously and said, “You do, brother! I am so happy for you! She’s standing right over there on your bed near the pillow closest to us.” Thor pointed over to where Y/n stood clutching onto the plush toy.

Thor couldn’t wait any longer to witness the interaction between Loki and Y/n. He was for sure going to ask Stark to take pictures just so he could remember this moment.

Loki slowly turned his head to where Thor had said the small girl was standing. Almost instantaneously, Loki made eye contact with the small, mortal child.

‘I do have a fan..”, thought Loki to himself.

She was staring at him with wide eyes. That’s when Loki realized something. ‘The poor child is visibly shaking’, thought Loki to himself. He looked back at Thor and asked, “Brother, are you sure that she wants to speak with me? She looks frightened.”

Thor laughed off what Loki had just said. “Loki, believe me. She has been meaning to meet you for awhile now. And she even made you a gift!”, exclaimed Thor.

Loki’s eyebrows raised. He wanted to believe Thor, but his conscience just wouldn’t let him trust the fact that someone came to this event to meet him.

Loki looked back at the tiny girl on his bed. Without taking his eyes off of her, he asked Thor, “What’s the little one’s name?” Thor smiled, loving how Loki was practically speechless. “Her name is Y/n.”

“Y/n-...”, said Loki under his breath. He wanted to hear how the little mortal’s name sounded when he said it, finding the name a perfect fit for the little one.

He went to get up from his desk, but looked back at Thor to see if he should go over to her. Thor smiled at him and said, “Go on, brother. Go meet your fan.” Loki partially smiled, afraid that he would scare the poor girl. But he desired to meet her, so he got up from his seat and made his way over towards her.

Y/n felt as if she was going to have a heart attack. Meeting someone you admired wasn’t easy. I mean, just picture meeting Loki. And now picture him being over 90 feet tall. You would be a nervous wreck as well, right?

She watched as Loki lowered himself down to her eye level, kneeling down so that he could see her properly.

Loki rested his hand next to Y/n and began to inch it closer to her. He desired to just hold her in his palm and see how tiny she was, but he froze when he saw her flinch back. “My apologies. I-..”, Loki stopped dead in his track and sighed, closing his eyes so he could concentrate. He wouldn’t be able to make any progress with the small mortal if a mere movement of his hand scared her, so what would be the point in continuing to try and earn her trust?

Loki retracted his hand back and let it hang at his side, offering a gentle smile. “How about if I head back to my desk and leave you be? I could see that you are too scared to talk, little one”, said Loki as he looked down at Y/n. Normally, Loki would have been laughing his head off by scaring such a small being, basking in their fear, but Loki felt horrible knowing that a small child was afraid of him. “I’m very sorry for frightening you, little Y/n”, said Loki softly.

Y/n watched as Loki began to push himself up off the floor to stand up. Her only chance of speaking with Loki was ending quickly. Y/n had dreamed of meeting him and she made him believe that she was scared of him! Y/n had to let him know how much he had changed her life and most importantly, she had to give him her hand-made gift. “W-Wait!!”, Y/n cried out.

Loki became as stiff as a board. He didn’t think that something so little could have such a loud voice. He stared down at her, waiting for a response.

Y/n’s breathing hitched, but she shook her head. She couldn’t let her nerves get in the way of this anymore. “I-I’m star-struck. N-Not scared”, she said shyly. Loki’s mouth hung open just a tad. He was incredibly happy that Y/n had started talking and found it absolutely adorable how she was stuttering when she spoke.

It took Loki a second to process what Y/n had just said to him. ‘Did she just say she’s star-struck?’, asked Loki to himself. “Star-struck, you say?”, asked Loki as he knelt back down in front of Y/n. Surely she couldn’t be referring to him, right?

Loki’s doubtful thoughts were wiped out of his mind when she nodded her head. “Y-Yes. I um-...I-I wanted to come last year and m-meet you, but-..I was too n-nervous”, said Y/n smiling diffidently.

His eyebrows raised at hearing that she was his fan. ‘Thor was telling the truth’, Loki thought to himself. He leaned forward a bit to get a better look at Y/n and asked in astonishment, “You’re a fan of mine?”

Y/n laughed quietly at how Loki wouldn’t believe the fact that someone was his fan. “Y-Yes, sir. I have been f-for a while n-now.”

“What is your name, child?”, asked Loki. He already knew what her name was thanks to Thor, but remember, Loki was a part of a royal family. Manners meant everything to him.

“M-My name is Y-Y/n, sir”, she said, stuttering through her words. Loki beamed at the tiny mortal and awed our loud. Her nervousness was quite entertaining and very cute. “It is lovely to meet you, little Y/n. I am Loki”, he said, still smiling.

Y/n returned the smiled. “I-It’s lovely to meet you as well, s-sir.” Loki’s eyebrows furrowed. ‘Why does she keep calling me that? She does know she could call me by my name, does she not?’, Loki asked himself.

He decided to tell her, “You do not have to be so formal with me, small one. Just call me Loki. I won’t mind.” Loki gently ruffled her hair with his index finger, laughing at the way she giggled when he did so.

Loki was surprised with what was happening in front of his very eyes. Someone actually was a fan of his. Loki was brought out of his shocked state when he noticed that Y/n was holding something firmly against her chest.

“What have you got there, little one?, he asked. He thought that it must be a stuffed toy that Midguardian children carry around, but Y/n spoke up immediately about the item she held in her grasp.

“Oh! I-..I-I have something f-for you”, said Y/n as she held up the plush toy so Loki could see it.

Loki squinted his eyes, trying to even out his vision so he could see the tiny item that his little fan was holding, but he just couldn’t make out what it was. He wanted to rest his head on the mattress in front of Y/n, but he didn’t want to scare her. “I’m afraid I can’t see it that well from up here, little one. Is-..Is that alright if I pick you up?”, asked Loki, nervous to hold a mortal child. She seemed so incredibly fragile from his perspective.

Y/n’s eyes widened. ‘P-Pick me up?’, she thought to herself. She would be extremely high off the ground if she said yes, but this was her shot to finally show Loki the plush she had worked on for weeks now.

Loki saw the immediate change in her facial expressions. “I will be very gentle with my movements, little one. And you won’t fall or anything like that. I promise”, said Loki softly. He wanted to come off as kind as he possibly could so Y/n could relax.

“O-Okay-..”, she said nervously. Loki rested his hand on the mattress next to Y/n, palm facing up, waiting for her to climb on.

Y/n walked over to Loki’s hand and as much as her mind was screaming at her to not go through with it, she boarded the huge hand and made her way to the center of it. She sat down, waiting to be lifted up high off the bed.

Loki smiles at the small girl and raised her up to his face, staring down at her with his large, green eyes.

Y/n was definitely scared at first, but she calmed herself down. She slowly stood up in the center of Loki’s palm, looking around at how tiny she really was compared to him. She had to tilt her head up just a little bit so she could see the tips of his fingers that loomed behind her.

“Now, what were you trying to show me, my dear?”, asked Loki as he held Y/n in front of his eyes. She was so tiny, not even reaching the height of his thumb.

Y/n held up the plush again so that Loki could see it.

“I-...I made th-this plush toy for you. W-Whenever I had the f-free time to work on it, I did. I-I know it’s sm-small, but I worked r-really hard on it and I wanted to show you my ap-appreciation for everything that you’ve done”, said Y/n. She kept her eyes locked on Loki’s green orbs

Loki admired the small gift that Y/n held. The first thing he noticed were the yellow horns and the fabric armor it wore. Suddenly, a lightbulb went off it Loki’s mind. “Is-..Is that me?”, asked Loki, bewildered.

Y/n hesitatingly nodded her head yes, shuffling her feet around nervously as she waited for Loki’s response.

“May I hold it?”, he asked, holding out two fingers on his opposite hand. Loki hoped that he didn’t ruin such a wonderful gift. He didn’t want to hurt Y/n’s feelings by accidentally ripping the fabric apart with his large fingers.

“Of course y-you can!”, said Y/n as her eyes lit up with excitement. She was more than happy that Loki wanted to see his gift.

Y/n watched as Loki’s other hand approached her. The forefinger and thumb reached out for the plush toy and she happily obliged in handing it over. The two fingers grabbed onto either side of the plush toy and ferried it away from Y/n.

Loki laid the plush toy in the center of his other palm and raised it up to his eyes. He slightly touched it with the pad of his thumb, moving it around to get a better look at it. The whole time he did this, Loki was beaming a wide smile. He looked up from the plush toy and at the small girl who was staring at him with wide, blue eyes. ‘Such an innocent child-..’, thought Loki to himself as he smiled down at her.

“That is very kind of you. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. Truly. You do not know how much of an honor it is for me to receive such an extraordinary gift. Thank you, little Y/n”, said Loki.

“You-..You like it?”, asked Y/n, astonished that he liked the present she had put so much effort into making sure it looked similar to Loki.

“I don’t like it, I love it! You have an incredible talent, young one. I could never start from scratch with fabric and a few needles to create such a masterpiece”, said Loki as he ruffled Y/n’s hair gently.

Y/n and Loki spent the rest of the event taking to each other. They had moved back over to Loki’s desk for a bit of privacy. The children that were on the bed were all starting to get Loki annoyed. Every time Y/n would go to say something, she was interrupted by noise from the others her age. So, Loki had carried her back to his desk while the plush toy sat safely tucked away in his shirt pocket.

Out of now where, a feminine voice exclaimed Y/n’s name. “Y/n! Sweetie! It’s time to go home!”

Loki’s eyebrows slightly furrowed together, looking for the human that had called out to his tiny friend. He looked down to see a woman looking up towards the hand that held Y/n, who was holding onto Loki’s finger tips as she peered over the edge.

“Hi mom!”, shouted Y/n as she waved at her mother. Loki’s eyes softened at the adorable sight. He looked at Y/n’s mother and, of course, introduced himself.

“Hello ma’am. It is lovely to meet your acquaintance”, said Loki as he bowed his head. Y/n’s mother smiled up at Loki.

“I’m sorry to cut things short here, but Y/n, we have to head home now honey. It’s getting late”, said her mother.

“B-But..”, Y/n’s mother gave her a certain look to know she meant business.

“Okay.” Y/n turn towards Loki with sadness written all over her face. “I-I..I guess I have to go now. I just want to say thank you. I-I’ve dreamed of meeting m-my idol for a long time and this is by far the b-best day of my life.”

“I’m your-...idol?”, asked Loki. His heart had fully melted into a puddle when she nodded her head yes. Loki could see tears glistening in his little friend’s eyes, for she knew that they probably wouldn’t ever see each other once she exits his room. “I’ll m-miss you, L-Loki.” Y/n broke down at this point. She used the backs of her hands to wipe away the tears.

“Oh my little dove, do not cry. It’s okay. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon”, said Loki.

He held Y/n close to his chest as he tenderly caressed her back. Maybe they would see each other again, but-..what was the probability of that? Loki came to the realization that they most likely would never see each other anymore. He’s constantly here in the tower and is permitted to always stick around his room. “I-…I’ll miss you as well, my little dove.”

“Oh for heavens sake you two!”, exclaimed a voice. Loki’s gaze shot upwards to find that Tony Stark was hovering way above the desk.

“Always with the perfect timing, Stark”, said Loki angrily. He held out the palm that cupped Y/n protectively and allowed Stark to land right next to her.

“Kid listen. The amount of joy that you’ve brought Loki in a span of two hours is unbelievable. He has been the worst debbie downer for the past few weeks, but you put a smile on the big guy’s face in a matter of seconds”, said Tony as he smiled at Y/n.

“Please, get to the point”, said Loki. He poked Tony in the back, causing him to stumble forward. Tony laughed it off.

“She can come visit you whenever she wants. Here, take this, kid-…”, Tony gave Y/n a card with a number on it. “This here is my phone number. Now whenever you want to come up to the tower and see Loki, you just call me up so I can let him know, okay? I’ll even have a limo sent to your house if you’d like”, said Tony.

Y/n couldn’t take her eyes off of the card. She was in complete shock. “Th-Thank you so much!”, she said happily. “No problem, kid. And no more tears, alright? Loki here looked like he was about to start crying himself”, said Tony sarcastically. He glanced up at Loki, smirking away.

Loki was about to retaliate, but kept quiet because he knew Tony was right. He probably would have started crying if Stark hadn’t come over to them. “Alright, I’ll let you say your farewells to each other”, said Tony as he flew over to the bed.

“L-Loki, could I come see you tomorrow? If that’s okay with you o-of course”, asked Y/n nervously. She really hoped that Loki would say yes because she had so much more to tell him about how she became a fan of his.

“Absolutely, sweetheart”, said Loki. He lightly tickled her stomach, causing Y/n to laugh.

After Y/n had left with her mother, Loki looked down at the plush toy in his palm. “This will never leave my side. Ever. I cannot wait to see my little friend again tomorrow”, said Loki.

Loki stayed true to his word as he as he slept later that night. Next to Loki’s sleeping form was the plush toy Y/n had gifted to him. It sat upright against Loki’s green pillow and sometime during the night in his sleep, Loki reached over and grabbed a hold of the plush toy, drawing it near him. He held it close to his chest, subconsciously smiling to himself.

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Author’s note:

This is probably my longest story I’ve ever written! I hope you all liked it!! Do you guys mind if I post long stories like this? Or do you prefer short ones?? Let me know what you think!❤️

Also, here’s what the Loki plush looks like😊:

I bought this lil’ cutie off of Etsy! I’m so happy I finally got to include him into one of the stories somehow. The seller’s name is “MythfitCreatures” and they have different characters as well!

#this story is-... #I promise...there’s a lot of fluff #Loki has a little fan🥺 #loki #marvel #tom hiddleston #loki laufeyson #mcu loki #loki g/t #g/t marvel #giant!loki