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cleo-fox · 2 months

Text

Conquer

Part 1 of 3

Summary: The king intends to take a bride.

You just never thought it would be you.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex (fem receiving), teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: I’m kind of fascinated by the concept of a soulmate AU where Loki wins and this is just another take on that thought. If you've read my fic Surrender, this one is a different universe (an AU of an AU? Is that a thing?)

I am indebted to @infinitystoner, who was kind enough to talk me through some of my doubts about this fic. This one is for you, K. (Also, everyone should go read her work, it's fabulous).

The king intends to take a bride.

At first you think it’s just a stupid rumor, but with time, it becomes clear that it’s not merely a stupid rumor, but a true rumor about a stupid plan. He hasn’t found his soulmate; the speculation is that this is about producing an heir or something similar. Which is also stupid because he’s the one who took over your fucking planet. He can make new rules for succession if he wants to. He doesn’t have to make other people suffer.

You, like most people, still harbor a lot of anger and resentment toward Loki.

You don’t know who he’s going to rope into this plan, but you feel bad for her already. Imagine not only having to be married to that monster, but being in this weird second place to whoever is unfortunate enough to be his soulmate. Imagine having to fuck him, to try and have his kid, all the while knowing you’ll be discarded once he finds his soulmate. Imagine having to go along with all of this and never being able to say what you really think.

The only person you feel sorrier for is whoever turns out to be his soulmate.

Later, all of this will strike you as absurdly ironic.

But you don’t know any of that yet.

You took a job at the hotel because you needed a change of pace after Loki took over. It was just a front desk job—you checked people in and out, answered questions, and said “let me get my manager” whenever there was a serious problem with a guest. It wasn’t glamorous or fun, but it was straightforward and you never had to bring work home with you.

The one thing that you never really considered was whether you were inadvertently choosing a job that would bring you into closer proximity to the man you were trying so desperately hard to not think about at all.

You probably should have considered it—you knew when you took the job that he did a fair amount of travel. You never really understood why—he conquered the entire fucking planet, you think he’d be content to just chill in his palace or whatever. But no. He was constantly on the move, constantly showing up and demanding to be accommodated, and people put up with it because what else are they supposed to do? You can’t exactly persona non grata the guy that successfully took over your planet and made himself king. If that worked, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.

You kind of assumed that he wouldn’t show up to your hotel—it wasn’t conveniently located to anything useful and while it technically had a five star rating, you didn’t think it offered the same caliber of accommodations as the places he was known to stay.

As it turns out, you were wrong on all counts. Hilariously wrong. Because now his steward is here in your hotel lobby. Or his…emissary? You’re not sure what this guy’s official title is. You recognize him from the news—he can often be spotted in the entourage of guards and staff that accompany Loki everywhere, but you don’t know his name. He is rattling off a monologue of sorts—the king requires accommodations, only the finest rooms, and so on. You feel as though you are having an out of body experience as you click through the booking software and confirm that the penthouse is available. You breathe an inner sigh of relief—it would have been manageable to evict whichever rich person had booked it, but it would have fucked up the cleaning crew’s scheduling for at least the next week and you know that corporate is already up Marisol’s ass about your location’s overtime.

You don’t really expect him to show up during this transaction. If you had, you would have said “let me get my manager” and washed your hands of it—you don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with self-proclaimed kings. But as you are booking the room (who the fuck are you supposed to list as the guarantor on the invoice? This wasn’t covered in your training), Loki storms in, followed by a cadre of guards.

You’re not really prepared to see him in person—that’s partly why you freeze. He’s so tall and well…real. It sounds stupid, but it’s jarring seeing him in front of you instead of on a screen or in a picture. He’s not exactly more frightening, but looking at him makes your pulse quicken.

He’s scolding the steward (emissary?) about something—you’re so distracted that you miss exactly what it is that has him so annoyed.

And then you realize that the mark on your left wrist is burning.

You swallow hard. No. Not him.

Loki looks up and his eyes lock with yours.

Fucking hell.

The wedding is a spectacle, to say the least.

Your dress is fucking ridiculous. Instead of the traditional white, you are draped in yards of green fabric covered in thousands of emeralds and diamonds and painstakingly embroidered with thread made of real gold and silver. It is very much a statement about who you are and who you belong to. You don’t care for it, but you don’t really have a choice—the details of the ceremony have been largely left to other people to decide. Part of you thinks they must have been planning for this for years, based on the number of things that are already prepared. Or maybe having access to magic negates the need for planning ahead.

You are much too angry to actually ask Loki about any of this. Not that you see much of him before the ceremony anyway.

You go through the motions of the ceremony, trying to keep your cool. It’s only been a week since he found you at the hotel, so the fact that you haven’t consummated your soulbond is more akin to an annoying itch than anything more disruptive, but when he kisses you at the conclusion of the ceremony, it's…intense, to say the least. The mild ache that settled itself between your thighs last week seems to swell, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core. When he slides his tongue past your lips, all you want to do is release a wanton moan directly into his mouth and rub yourself shamelessly against him. The fact that you’re standing on a platform while the entire world looks on is really the only thing that stops you.

The fact that this is your immediate reaction scares you a bit. You know it’s biology—soulbonds are meant to be consummated isn’t just a saying—but there’s part of you that feels like you should have a stronger handle on that impulse. You are mad at him, you remind yourself. He took over your entire planet, installed himself as king, and then had the audacity to be your soulmate. Focus. Be angry.

You wonder if your family and friends are watching. Your phone ran out of battery the night after he found you and you haven’t had the heart to charge it. You’re barely managing your own emotional reaction—you’re not ready to invite anyone else into it just yet.

The rest of your wedding day is a blur. You meet a bunch of important people and retain exactly none of their names or roles. There is an elaborate multi-course feast and you manage to eat without spilling food on your dress, which feels like a small miracle. You meet more important people and somehow retain even less information. You dance—a few dances with important people whose names you’ve forgotten, but mostly with Loki. The sun sets. They bring out an elaborate dessert course. You dance again. Loki’s hand on your waist fans the flames of desire that you’re trying so hard to ignore.

Finally, you’re whisked away to prepare for bed. It took three people to get you into your dress, and it takes just as many to get you out. They help you into a nightgown that you also didn’t get to pick out—and in fact, it’s the first time you’re seeing it at all. It’s almost too pretty to sleep in, though you suppose that’s the point—you’re supposed to fall asleep naked and sated in the arms of your new husband (god, it’s so weird that you have a husband). You’re not so sure that this is the specific fate that’s in your cards, but you anticipate the nightgown will be coming off at some point this evening. In the interim, you look stereotypically virginal in white lace and chiffon, a glittering emerald pendant resting in your cleavage.

You’ve been staying in a guest suite since he found you, but tonight, they bring you to his rooms. Your rooms, you suppose. Somehow, you doubt he’s the sort who believes that husbands and wives should sleep separately.

The lights are on, but it’s quiet. You wonder if he’s even here.

You approach the couch that sits in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. You can see fireworks and twinkling lights of different celebrations and your stomach clenches like a fist. It’s supposed to be in honor of you. Earth’s new queen. A title that shouldn’t even exist, let alone belong to you.

You turn away from the window and sit down on the couch. You stare at the wall, hands twisting the delicate fabric of your nightgown in your lap.

You hear a sound in the other room—his study, you think—and your heart leaps to your throat, practically buzzing with an emotion that feels like the strange cousin of anxiety and anticipation.

You keep your eyes locked on the wall as you listen to his footsteps draw closer.

“It’s customary to announce yourself when you enter someone’s quarters, you know.”

You pause for a moment before letting your gaze trail to him. It’s a conscious, obnoxious power play on your part—you are trying to show him that you still have agency, that he has not yet won your respect or admiration.

You’re not even sure that it registers, which only serves to irritate you further.

He is still wearing most of his wedding clothes, though he’s taken off the fine surcoat from the ceremony, exposing the soft tunic he was wearing underneath. He is smirking—that seems to be his expression of choice, you’ve noticed.

“Aren’t these my rooms too?” you ask. “Is it customary to announce myself in my own space?”

You are trying to be rude, but it doesn’t seem to matter: he simply laughs.

“You are spirited,” he says, looking you over appreciatively, stirring a wild and burning need in your hips, slickness collecting in the lacy white underwear that had been chosen for you.

“And you intend to break me, is that it?” you snap with more venom than is perhaps wise.

“Of course not.” His answer surprises you, though you are determined to not let that show in your face. “Your will is part of your appeal. I’d no sooner crush a rose beneath my boot.”

You are skeptical of this claim given the amount of damage he did to New York City, but your traitorous cunt throbs at his words nonetheless.

“I’m not happy about any of this, you know,” you say, hoping that your anger will act like roiling floodwaters on the firestorm of lust that’s continuing to build in your hips.

It doesn’t, of course. What’s worse: he laughs. Again.

“I’d gathered,” he says. “You are wonderfully unsubtle when you’re angry.”

“I mean, are you surprised?” you say irritably. “I didn’t even get to pick out my own wedding dress, for fuck’s sake.”

“This is the burden of the office, I’m afraid,” he says. “Your wants and desires are often secondary to the needs of the crown.”

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from screaming at him. “I think you’re missing the point.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not.”

You let out one long breath. “Are you trying to irritate me?”

Another smirk. “I’m afraid I simply have a gift for it.”

You finally give in and scowl. “Great. This is going about as well as I had expected.”

His eyes drift down the column of your throat to the emerald pendant resting in your cleavage and then to the bodice of your nightgown. “Perhaps it’s time we concern ourselves with activities that require less talking.” He licks his lips and brings his gaze back up to yours.

“I’m not entirely convinced anything would stop you from talking,” you say.

“I suspect letting me bury my tongue in your cunt might do the trick.”

For the first time today, you are entirely speechless. The fire burning low in your hips roars into an inferno, like someone has poured accelerant along your nerves and Loki has struck a match. You take in one shaky breath, your heart thrumming in your throat.

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a dark sort of smugness. “To bed, wife.”

You steadfastly ignore the way your stomach jumps when he calls you ‘wife.’ Why is that hot? It shouldn’t be hot.

You’re tempted to argue with him some more—you don’t like giving him even the vaguest impression that you’re following his orders or anything like that—but one smoldering look from him has your heart pounding and another wave of fresh arousal flooding between your legs. You follow him to the bed, trying to keep your expression neutral and indifferent.

He pulls you firmly against him and you wonder if he can feel your heart pounding in your chest. There’s no space between you—you can feel his stomach muscles expand and contract with every slow intake of breath, the press of his slowly hardening cock against your stomach.

He tilts your face up to his and claims your mouth in a devouring kiss, and this time, the moan that you’d held back during the ceremony slips from your lips almost immediately. He makes a low growling noise in return, his hands sliding to the row of small pearl buttons that hold up the back of your nightgown.

You suspect that beyond aesthetic and functional value, the purpose of these buttons is to facilitate a slow, sexy reveal; Loki undoes exactly two and a half buttons before roughly pulling the edges of the fabric apart, the remaining buttons snapping from their threads and pinging against the floor.

You pull away from him, immediately annoyed. “Do you make a habit of ruining other people’s things? What if I wanted to wear that again?”

He laughs, tugging the fabric off your shoulders. “Perhaps you forget the extraordinary powers I have at my command,” he says, staring greedily at your breasts as he tugs the nightgown down your waist, pulling it off your hips so it falls to the floor. “I could tear this gown off you every night and remake it every morning with no more than a click of my fingers.”

Fucking magic powers undercutting your goddamn fucking point.

“Yeah, well, you’re still a jackass,” you say sourly, unwilling to concede the point any further.

His smile is sharp in a way that makes you shiver and he slips his hand into your underwear, his smile growing as he feels how slick you are. “It doesn’t seem to bother you all that much, does it?”

You try to keep your expression stern, but his fingers find your clit and you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips.

“Your sweet cunt is so ready to come.” He slides a finger into you and you whimper. “It’s obscene how wet you are for me.”

You bite back a plea and kiss him instead. His mouth is rough on yours, teeth nipping at your lower lip, tongue plundering your mouth. He slides a second finger into you and you keen.

“Yes,” he groans against your mouth. “Take it like a good girl.”

You clench around his fingers and your hands seek purchase in his hair. You tug on it lightly and he growls with pleasure before he pulls away, his hands moving to the waistband of your underwear and tugging it off your hips.

“Get on the bed.” His tone brooks no arguments. “Now.”

It’s tempting to talk back, tempting to resist. You are still angry about every aspect of this relationship and this stupid fucking wedding. But you know you need this—the dull ache in your hips is only growing more pronounced with every passing moment and the brief feeling of his fingers on your clit was nothing short of heaven. Soulbonds are meant to be consummated and your body seems to be doing everything it can to propel you toward that end.

You kick your underwear the rest of the way off before sitting down on the bed and lying back on the pillows.

He pauses for a moment to look you over, his gaze trailing lazily over your bare skin, his hand absently moving to palm his cock through his trousers. “Spread your legs,” he says. You do and you catch a breath of a groan from him as he stares at you. Your cunt throbs in response and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whimpering.

He allows himself one moment before he crawls on the bed to join you. He kneels between your legs, staring greedily at your exposed cunt, running a thumb along the edge of your folds. Your hips rock upward involuntarily, chasing his hand, seeking friction.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he murmurs. “So soaking wet, so desperately needy for my touch.” He pauses again, licking his lips. “I think I might need a taste.”

Your breath stutters in your chest and he kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly licking and sucking his way upward in a tantalizing preview of what’s to come. You’re already soaking and you can feel yourself growing wetter as his sinful mouth draws closer and closer to your aching need.

You’re not entirely sure whether it’s a moan or a whine that passes your lips when he finally licks that first long, lazy stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit. He groans low and wanting against your cunt, his tongue rolling over your clit once more before he catches it between his lips and slowly begins to suck.

There is no getting around it: Loki is a pro at eating pussy.

It would be easier if he wasn’t, you find yourself thinking somewhere in the haze between orgasms. If he were mediocre, it would make it so much easier to be angry at him, to resent your current situation. This is not to say that you’ve abandoned your anger at all—you are still mad. But your anger feels so much less effective when he’s spent a solid ninety minutes with his head between your legs and you’ve lost track of the number of times he’s made you come.

He is—predictably—infuriatingly smug about all of this.

Your first orgasm arrives so quickly that it seems to take you both by surprise. And indeed, he lifts his head moments later, already smirking.

“That was awfully quick, wife,” he says. The glint in his eye tells you that he absolutely noticed how you reacted to that name earlier and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from scowling.

“Maybe you’re out of practice,” you say. Even as you say it, it doesn’t sound convincing (it doesn’t even make sense when you think about it later) and Loki laughs outright.

“I think not,” he says, carefully sliding one long index finger inside of you. “I think your poor cunt has been sorely neglected, either by you or some subpar lover you took to ease the ache of missing me.” He adds a second finger and you bite your lip to keep in a moan. “I think you’ll be begging for me before the night is out.” His fingertips press teasingly against that spot inside you and you take in a sharp breath.

He starts lazily moving his fingers in and out of you and while it feels good, you know it’s not going to be enough to get you there. You suspect, from the way that he’s smirking, that he knows this, too.

“Do you want my mouth again? I don’t think you’re done.”

“You’re trying to be a jerk and I don’t like it,” you say.

He laughs and draws his thumb briefly over your clit. “Darling, I only want you to tell me what you want.”

Your eyes narrow. “Why?”

“I think you can understand the appeal of hearing a beautiful woman beg for your touch.”

His compliment immediately clashes with the suggestion that you begging for him is a possibility.

He smiles, catlike, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“You need my mouth again,” he says, fingers curling inside you. “You need more. I can feel how wet you are, sweet thing.” His thumb presses against your clit and retreats as soon as your breath hitches.

“I could keep you like this for hours. Days, even,” he says, lazily stroking his fingers inside you. “I could keep you right on the edge, begging for your release. But I don’t think you want that. Even I don’t want that. I think you want to come again right now and I think you want my mouth.”

“I’m not begging you for it,” you say.

“I’ve only asked you to tell me what you want,” he says. “I’ve merely expressed that I find the idea of you begging very appealing.”

You want to smack him. With your luck, though, that would turn out to be one of his kinks and then you’ll really be in for it. Your fingers flex against the sheets.

“Do you want to come, darling? Do you want my mouth again?” he asks with a feigned innocence that suggests it’s not a loaded question, even as the glint in his eyes tells you it is.

You’re silent for a beat and then his thumb returns to your clit, pressing and stroking as his fingers curl inside of you. Your hips rock with his hand and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning aloud when he stops a few seconds later, his eyebrows raised like he’s expecting your answer.

This exchange repeats four more times. On the fifth, you finally break.

“Please,” you whimper. You sound more desperate than you would prefer, but your overwhelming need to come has quickly superseded whatever shreds of decency you have left.

“Please what?” he asks, radiating smugness.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl, which he only laughs at.

“I’m waiting…” he says, his fingers curling in a teasing way.

You know there’s no getting around this. “I need to come.”

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, like he’s expecting more.

You resist the urge to sigh. “I need your mouth. Please.”

He barely spares a second for a wicked grin and a growl of praise that only elevates your need before he’s lowering his mouth again to your clit.

Your second orgasm is somehow even quicker than the first, only this time, you’re already whimpering for the next one as soon as you catch your breath.

Mercifully, he doesn’t lift his mouth from your cunt this time, though he does give you a wicked look that more or less says the same thing.

His fingers are wonderful, but you know they’re no substitute for his cock. And while he has made you come so many times already, the need to have him inside of you continues to grow, settling into a dull ache in your hips.

“I need you to fuck me,” you finally breathe as the aftershocks of your latest orgasm fade back to that ache.

He lifts his head for a minute. “I intend to, but I don’t think you’re done yet.”

Your eyes widen as he seals his lips back around your clit.

“I mean, I’ve just—fuck—I’ve just had more…c-consecutive orgasms than I’ve ever had before in my life, you’re—oh my god, yes—you’re not exactly leaving me wanting—oh fuck.”

He stays silent, but it’s because his tongue is working over your clit. You, on the other hand, are in the process of undercutting your own point. A few more strokes of his tongue and you are coming again, your hips jerking hard against his mouth.

He doesn’t stop after that, either—he draws more orgasms from you, groaning into your cunt when you pull on his hair.

Your pleas for him to fuck you become increasingly desperate with every orgasm, until he finally lifts his head.

“What was it that you wanted?” he asks with a smirk that tells you he needs absolutely no clarification whatsoever.

“Fuck me, please. I need to be fucked, I need your cock,” you say. You feel restless and desperate, the ache inside you growing with every passing second.

“Oh, darling, all you needed to do was ask,” he says, his tone overly cloying.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl. “I have been asking. Repeatedly.”

He laughs and begins to undress. You suspect he’s doing this to torture you—you know he could remove his clothes in one go if he wanted to.

He peels his shirt off first and your lips part involuntarily as you take in the firm expanse of muscle of his chest and abdomen, your fingertips itching with the need to touch him. You grip the sheets instead in the vain hope that it might make a difference (it doesn’t).

But even the enticing expanse of his chest is no match for what’s to come.

He removes his trousers with achingly precise slowness. You expect him to be hard; what you’re not expecting is the primal response that it invokes in you. His cock is long, thick, and hard, the head already slick with pre-come. It’s not just for you—it’s because of you.

You swallow hard as he turns to face you fully. You’re so distracted by his cock that you almost miss the smug smirk, which he makes no attempt to hide. He knows he’s hot, he knows he has a beautiful cock, and he knows that you are absolutely aching for him. It is profoundly irritating.

He wraps his hand around his cock, wetting his lips as he casually strokes himself once. “Do you want me?” he asks with the sort of tone and expression that tells you he absolutely knows the answer.

You could yell at him. The prospect is certainly tempting. But you’re not sure that it’s worth it, not with the way your cunt is throbbing with the need to be filled with his beautiful, thick cock.

“Loki, please.” It comes out as more of a whine than you’d like, but you decide that you can live with it.

You are treated to a particularly wolfish grin before he starts stalking towards you.

There’s a large part of you that expects him to flip you over and take you from behind, rough and fast and impersonal. But instead, he climbs on top of you and draws you into a kiss. It’s deep and slow and heightened by the heavy weight of his bare cock pressing against your belly, drops of pre-come smearing against your skin.

Your back arches and your right leg snakes around his waist, trying to pull him closer, urging him to finally ease the ache inside of you. But he takes his time, kissing you slowly, running his hands over your breasts and hips, rocking his cock against you, but not inside of you.

You don’t like begging—it feels too much like offering up a vulnerability—but it becomes increasingly difficult not to give into the urge the longer he stays on top of you like this.

“Loki,” you finally say when he starts peppering sharp, sucking kisses against your throat.

“What is it, my love?” he asks with a faux confusion that you can see through right away.

“You know what I want,” you say as evenly as you can manage.

“Mmm, let me hear you say it just once more,” he says.

“Please fuck me.”

You’re expecting another negotiation, another battle of wits, but instead, he gives you a rather sharp grin and adjusts his hips so he can rub the tip of his cock up and down the length of your cunt. And then, to your surprise, he lines his cock up at your entrance and slowly begins to ease inside of you.

There’s a part of you—a large part of you—that’s surprised by how careful he is. He’s gentle, slowly pressing into you, giving you time to adjust, his movements careful. He does this all in such a way that you might not notice if you didn’t think to look—he wants you to think that he’s not doing any of what he’s doing. He wants you to think he’s not thinking of you when he is, that the care and precision of his movements are merely a pleasant coincidence. You’re not sure how you know this, but you feel certain.

He waits to kiss you until he’s pressed fully inside you, and you realize this is another illusion, another cover so you don’t realize that he’s giving you another moment to adjust to him.

It’s oddly considerate—irritatingly so. The coals of your anger still burn bright in your heart, but they flicker for just a moment.

But then he begins to move and coherent thoughts flee your mind entirely.

He feels so good. You’re not sure if it’s the soulbond itself, the dopamine and serotonin, or if he just knows the perfect way to move, but the first thrust has your toes curling and that warm heat stirring in your belly. You’ve already come so many times tonight that it feels impossible that your body should be capable of more, but you know immediately that he’s going to bring you right back over the edge if he keeps moving the way he is.

And he’s showing no signs of stopping, either.

“Norns,” he breathes, pressing a kiss against your neck, “you feel perfect. So warm and tight.”

You shiver, your cunt clenching reflexively around his slowly stroking cock. He grins and presses his lips up against your ear.

“Do you like hearing how your snug little cunt fits me like a glove?”

You would prefer to be able to lie in this particular moment—instead, your body immediately betrays you and your legs tighten around his waist as your cunt shudders around him.

You can practically feel his sharp, hungry smile as he nips at your earlobe. “I can feel how much you do,” he murmurs. A devastating swivel of his hips has you uttering a gasping whine that you are not at all proud of.

“That’s it.” He’s swiveling his hips on every other thrust now and you know the moment he switches to that exclusively, it’s all over. “You’re so close,” he purrs with confidence that annoys you just a little, even in your pre-orgasmic stupor.

But then he swivels his hips again and you shudder before you can hide it and he notices…and does it again.

And again.

Fuck.

Your orgasm starts barreling toward you at an impossibly fast pace and his eyes glitter because he knows.

“You’re going to come for me.” It’s not even a command—it’s just a statement as he rolls his hips in those devastating thrusts.

You whimper, your back arching.

“Give into it. Let me feel you.”

One more push of his cock against that sweet spot inside you and you can’t fight it any more. Your muscles tense one last time and you cry out as you come hard on his cock.

“Oh, beautiful,” he groans, his eyes closing as he fucks you through it.

It seems to last a long time, drawn out every time the head of his cock drags against that sensitive spot that sent you over the edge in the first place. He pauses briefly to bring your legs up over his shoulders, which makes his cock hit a spot even deeper inside you that feels so good it pulls a strangled sob from your throat.

Loki groans, his pace increasing, one hand falling between your legs to rub at your clit. It’s so much, but it feels better than anything. You feel another orgasm rising in your hips and you whimper.

“Good girl, fucking take it,” he slurs. You can tell that he’s getting close from the way his thrusting is becoming more frantic, how he tips his head back and grips your hips even harder.

“Come for me,” he growls. “I’m going to fill your lovely cunt with my seed. Come for me.”

Your vision whites out and your back arches as you come. If you were capable of rational thought, you would be angry that your body simply obeyed this simple directive; as it is, it’s hard for you to process anything other than how good he feels inside of you.

You can tell he’s approaching his end and he’s utterly captivating to watch. His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed and lips parted as he lets out a low groan that makes your toes curl.

His eyes open in the final throes and he surges forward to kiss you. He moans softly into your mouth as he comes, his whole body shuddering.

You feel dreamy and sated as he slows to a halt, lowering his head to the crook of your neck. The restless ache inside you is finally quiet—at least for now.

You expect him to roll off you and fall asleep—the portrait of a cliche. Instead, he stays with you, the warm heat of his breath ghosting over your shoulder. You can feel his cock still throbbing inside of you.

You should push him away, reclaim the distance between you. You’re angry at him, after all.

But also…it feels nice.

It’s just the endorphins, you tell yourself. It’s hormones. It doesn’t mean anything.

You can feel the lie prickling at the edges of the thought, sharp and needling, like ground glass pressing against bare skin. It means a lot of things; you just wish it didn’t.

Be angry.

His lips brush against your shoulder. More of your muscles relax. It’s nice.

Be angry.

You’re tired though. It’s been a really long day and the bed is soft and the weight of Loki on top of you is oddly reassuring.

Maybe just for tonight. Maybe just this once you’ll allow yourself to fall asleep in his bed.

“I’m still mad at you,” you say. It feels too sharp, too strident. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. He doesn’t know you, though, not really, and so you can only hope that he misses the subtle catch in your voice, that little note of uncertainty.

“I’d expect nothing less.” His voice is slightly muffled against your shoulder.

Goddammit, why does this have to be so comfortable?

He shifts slightly, easing out of you. You feel the resulting mess vanish before it even hits your thigh. At least he’s considerate.

You scowl at the thought.

“Sleep,” he says after a moment. “You’ll need your strength to rage at me in the morning.”

“I can rage at you in my sleep,” you say as your eyes slide shut.

“I’m sure you can,” he says. “Sleep.”

And despite all your complicated feelings—your anger, the inherent feeling of ease you get from his embrace, your unease with your new title, your homesickness—you find that the pull of sleep is too tempting to resist and the world slowly fades away.

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson smut

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mugentakeda · 5 months

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i saw fanart for this age old unfinished fic and was so interested by the premise that i simply HAD to give the concept my own spin.... Ill put my notes under the cut cus it got kinda long lol

-FIRST OF ALL. i headcanon lu ten as a powerful firebender (like, lightning bending powerful. not an expert at it yet, but can generate it at will. only recently picked it up before the siege.) that can Also use a weapon. he picked it up for funsies and ended up taking it seriously and then excelling. he learned under piandao and in turn later introduced him to zuko. His weapon that he made with piandao was a more traditional jogekama yari, which he had on him when he was captured. long feng destroyed it and had a new jogekama yari made for lu ten in a more sleek earth kingdom style, with longer and more savage blades. **ALSO: lu tens jogekama yari is based on saras yari from samurai champloo!!!! i just made the side blades curved in opposite directions (which made it a jogekama instead of saras type of yari) -lu ten does not interact with the other agents. whether brainwashed or amnesic in this, hes not even one of the secret police that go around arresting people. hes a lone agent that works Directly under long feng and is more of an assassin and spy thats permitted in and out of ba sing se for the missions and jobs long feng sends him on, unlike the rest of the agents. as a gift for his (made up) birthday, long feng gave him a hand carved stone earring. Yes, its a tracker. yes, lu ten knows that. No, he doesn't care and wears it anyway. his boss can do what he wants, and he trusts his boss with his life (lol). the other dai li agents know of lu tens existence, less have seen him with their own eyes, none are permitted to speak to him if they do. they dont know hes a "nonbender". -i havent decided on whether or not i want lu ten brainwashed in this or simply amnesic?? it would be neat if he was the brainwash soft launch since the ba sing se conspiracy brainwashing only started After the siege. lu ten is a firebender, has that fn royalty brand iron willpower, so youd think thats hard to brainwash especially if he was the soft launch, but if long feng kept up the sessions regularly over the course of 6-ish years (and as their brainwashing techniques improved), id doubt it would rub off. its a seven layer salad of brainwashing. and even if he was amnesic rather than brainwashed, theyd still need to do some adjustments in lu tens head to TOTALLY wipe out any idea of firebending, on top of regular chi blocking. -as for the amnesic part, i read a theory that introduced the idea that lu ten being killed was an inside job orchestrated by ozai. which i dont think would be canon, but it would be pretty cool?? like especially considering how FAST he jumped on azulon about heirs. very suspicious indeed. and all too convenient: have a group of moles set in irohs army, once lu ten moves out away from iroh then corner him, kill him, make it look like the earth army did it, sneak back to the fire nation, ozai gets the crown. easy as pie. -and to combine one of MY OWN aus with the above, aka the one where zhao and lu ten were both taught together under jeong jeong, the first time that zhao REALLY made a big move into ozais pocket was offering to be the head mole in irohs army. it made perfect sense to ozai, and he gladly sent zhao on his way- him being close rivals with him will catch him off guard and make the job far easier. and if zhao succeeds, and KEEPS succeeding, when ozai undoubtedly snatches the crown, he will grant zhao all the rewards and titles he could ever want until the cows come home. snazzy deal.

so whichever one of those you guys find cooler will be the one i go with because frankly both of them have the same amount of fun angst and drama idk......................

-as for lu tens face and arm, i base that off how i think lu ten died, not even gna lie. in the case where he is dead i think half his skull got crushed open and his arm was blown right off from the bicep. the stitches are just for aesthetic purposes. i was inspired by how scars are drawn in one piece, and because they give a "frankensteins monster" type look, which i found fitting, since this is a 'came back wrong' trope/winter soldier-esque au. the bandages covering his face was a suggestion from an anxious long feng to hide his face in public, while the ba sing se conspiracy was still fresh and the citizens might recognize the spawn of the dragon of the west if they looked long enough.

-as for lu ten and long fengs relationship, i havent thought about it enough, but im definitely imagining smthn along the lines of "you were always working for me, i picked you up and trained you when you had nothing, you owe me your life and loyalty", mixed with some gentle stockholm syndrome. like, a combination of "the king and his most loyal guard dog", a very strange psuedo father-son relationship??? (which was honestly accidental on long fengs part. but he kept it up because he found the irony amusing. yes he will try and rub that in irohs face. yes iroh will beat his skull in for it. its chill)

-this has nothing to do with the au but please see iroh and zukos body language in the third panel of the comic... i love to portray them as protective of each other... zukos blade placed before iroh, irohs arm switching from shoulder to shoulder as zuko turns, always placed between him and whatever is approaching... Heurghhh (GRIPS HEAD

#BUT YEAH I HOPE U GUYS LIKE TJIS ... if that ends up being the case maybe ill talk abt it more and expand a bit further...#BUT ONLY IF U GUYS LIKE IT I PROMISE.#yes this woudl probably change the outcome of book 2 thats a whole other can of beans #lu ten #iroh #zuko #long feng #atla #avatar the last airbender #alicias art

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vinelark · 4 months

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in return for the fic recs i got last month, here are a few fics i read recently that i want to absolutely yell about from the rooftops:

Iron, Fire, Mirror-Glass by PurpleSoot: an early batman days AU where, while slowly healing from a spine-shattering injury, bruce finds an old book about the fae. in a fit of desperation he attempts a Summoning to try to heal his spine. enter: robin.

this story is fantastic—the kind of longfic with a plot so good and satisfying that finishing it leaves you on a reading high for at least a week. one of the best early days bruce fics i’ve ever read, with honorable mentions to excellent alfred and clark and jim and selina characterizations—but robin (dick) really takes the cake here. the balance of chilling, otherworldly, not-quite-human vs. playful, earnest, Still Just a Child…chef’s kiss. the way robin’s character arc drags bruce kicking and screaming through his own emotional growth is so well-paced and well-wrought that i already want to reread just so i can experience it again. this is one of those god-tier longfics that i can’t believe i got to read for free on the internet.

mid-reading testimonial:

The Lone Ranger Never Had to Deal with Bruce Wayne by @theskeptileptic: a tim-joins-the-family-early fic in which tim decides to do everyone (his parents) a solid by faking his own death and running away to canada, except his weirdo neighbor bruce wayne keeps butting in and messing up his plans.

this is one of the rare stories where tim doesn’t know batman’s identity yet, and even rarer stories where that somehow makes the whole thing even more compelling. this fic has two of my favorite things: small, lonely, moderately unhinged tim drake pov, and really good pangs—pangs that are expertly teased out through flashbacks that add context to the present action at exactly the right moments. also, a very fun cameo near the end. i had a blast reading this one, physically clutched my chest more than once, and am already looking forward to rereading.

mid-reading testimonial (feat. @cairoscene):

equivalent exchange by scribblemetimbers (wip): an au set during tim’s robin days in which tim discovers 1) crossroads demons are a thing and 2) people can make deals with them. deals that include bringing people back from the dead, so long as you’re willing to pay the price with your own life.

this fic is so…🤌‼️ it feels like everything i want in a fic so far, down to two incredibly specific concepts i love (bruce, in his grief, saying something harsh to robin!tim with disastrous consequences later + tim making a big secret sacrifice gambit) which are both done so so well, within a larger plot that is also done so so well. the way this fic cuts in and out of scenes at the exact right moments for max tension feels like a masterclass in causing me to tear my hair out (in the best way), and instead of assorted pangs reading it is just one big Pang. it currently leaves off on an agonizing cliffhanger but, again, in the best way. highly recommend. (thank you again @owlbats for the rec!)

exchange between me and my friend after i sent the link, which about sums it up:

and to cut this angst with some humor:

IRIS Log #1548 by @deadchannelradio: a night on patrol as recorded by the bats’ audio logs, centering around red hood getting flung into a ditch and everyone, eventually, getting home safe.

one of the top ten funniest things i’ve ever read—spiritually up there with send to all (and if you’ve seen my fic rec tag you’ll know what a compliment that is). this makes use of the audio log format SO well. the dialogue shines, the jokes land with excellent timing, and it moves at such a clip that it’s pretty much impossible to stop reading once you’ve started. every character shines in this, and i’ve randomly choked on laughter remembering the phrase ‘good god he got thrown like a corn hole beanbag’ like twenty times in the past few weeks.

mid-reading testimonial:

#every time i sit down to do a general reclist it gets so long and i get overwhelmed because i want to write an essay for each one #i had a rec thread going on twitter for a while and it was also getting so long even though i stopped months ago #i should do these monthly. there are so many fics i would love to yell from the rooftops about #anyway these rock!! happy reading!!!#batfam #fic rec

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

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AITA for headcanoning deadnames for trans characters for symbolism purposes?

im a trans guy (minor if it matters) who's been a fan of this one show for a little over a year. none of the characters are canonically trans, but there's a lot of trans allegories to be drawn from the material if you're me or my mutuals at least. the two main characters are both male and i ended up developing an au where they're both explicitly transmasc as a way for me to just explore trans themes in an alternate narrative. i haven't begun writing it yet but definitely plan to once i feel like it's solidly locked in my brain, and i've been sharing snippets & concepts every so often.

part of this was thinking of how they would've chosen their current names, and name symbolism got me considering what they would've changed them away from as well. one character i thought could've initially been named after his mother so i can draw contrasts between the two, and the name i decided on for her has a meaning that highlights her relationship with her father (and the character's relationship with his father in turn); it's also the name of the character's daughter figure in the show. a lot of the other main character's backstory kind of revolves around his dead sister, so i thought by making his deadname that sister's name then i could turn that into an allegory about transness and childhood and sibling death (and sororicide but we don't have time to unpack all that). i don't plan on ever explicitly referring to the characters by their deadname in the narration, except maybe in an ironic tone, but i think it would be cool to sort of sprinkle in references as subtext to just give the readers something more to chew on.

the thing is i've seen posts around talking about how nice it is to make trans characters/headcanons without once considering their deadnames, or how weird it is for people to consider them, and i definitely agree with the sentiment; one of the biggest goals for many trans people is for their past selves to be completely irrelevant, and i feel a bit guilty for perpetuating something so painful for the general community.

but i still don't think i'm an asshole in any way since these are literally just characters and obviously i'm not going around talking about real people's deadnames or anything. i just don't want to make people uncomfortable/trigger dysphoria if they find someone talking about deadnames for a trans charactsr they're attached to (i've definitely had that happen myself when reading trans fics, enough that i had to stop reading, and i don't know how you'd even tag for something like that). if the general gut reaction to this ask is negative then i'll probably consider just not talking about the deadnames unless someone asks about it, since they're not crucial to the plot at all, just some uhh not so fun tidbits.

anyway sorry this is so long for something i feel like might be a non-issue that i'm overthinking. if you somehow guessed the fandom have a chocolate 🫀 if you're one of my few mutuals who knows who i am from the details of the au then um pretend you didnt see this post.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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onbearfeet · 2 months

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Kat watches Moon Knight

Okay, so with the encouragement of several people on here and the emotional support of my roommate, I have finally (in February 2024) started watching Moon Knight, a show whose basic concept scares the shit out of me.

Context: I had an adopted older brother with DID. Note that I said "had". That's past tense because life treated him so appallingly poorly that he died (horribly, in prison) when I was 19. Part of that abuse was enabled by pop-culture depictions of DID in the 1980s and 90s that convinced everyone who knew about his condition (including the court system) that he was a walking time bomb.

One of my earliest memories is of my brother as a young adult, playing Super Mario Bros with my toddler self. Another is of him patiently teaching me how to make friends with a large dog. I never met any of his alters, afaik; I was small and cute and safe for him to be himself with, so he probably didn't need them around me. He was a profoundly gentle man when he was allowed, and it hurt like hell to see him turned into a monster in movies and on TV. I've turned off a lot of "psychological thrillers" in sorrow and disgust.

Ironically, I loved Moon Knight comics as a kid in the 90s, BEFORE he was retconned to have DID circa the mid-2000s. Because those comics came out right after my brother died in 2002 and leaned HARD into making people with DID seem like violently unstable monsters (for reference, see the cover of Moon Knight: God and Country), I stopped reading them around 2008, when I couldn't take being poked in the trauma by a comfort character anymore.

But I do love Werewolf By Night, and there's been a lot of good fic mashing Jack up with Moon Knight without dehumanizing anyone, and several people have encouraged me to try the show. So this post will be a place for my thoughts as I try to work my way through with my Essential Editions in one hand and my memories of my brother in the other. I'll add to it as I watch.

If this entertains the Moon Knight fandom or provides useful fic reference, so be it. Just don't be jerks on my post.

Also, anyone who chooses to be shitty about my brother will be eaten by bears. I don't make the rules.

Episode 1

Okay, we open with Steven as our POV character, and he's...convinced he's a sleepwalker. All right, not terrible. Steven is now a bumbling nerd, which is probably an improvement; good luck making a billionaire playboy sympathetic in the 2020s. Jake would be the logical everyman POV from the comics, but I understand from fic that he's got a different role now. I'm confused about the accent, but it's only episode 1, and Steven clearly doesn't yet know who Khonshu is, or that Marc exists, so obviously there's a ways to go here. (Is Marc ... undercover inside Steven? Ugh, this is a trope I have seen and do not like.)

Did Marc kill Steven's fish? Did Khonshu kill Steven's fish? I'm baffled by the fish. Which is a nice break from the larger anxiety. I'm gonna try to worry more about the fish.

The bits with Steven losing time and finding himself in odd situations were distressingly close to the old tropes, but both of those happened to my brother, so I'm not going to bitch about them quite yet. I want to be as fair as I can.

Oh, hey, I recognize Harrow from the comics. What up, dude. How's the cult biz treating you?

The end of the episode, with the jackal thing chasing Steven into the bathroom, came RIGHT up to the line for me. I realized that what I was most afraid of was that the story would assign "good" and "bad" labels to the alters--make Steven the sweet, innocent one and Marc (or maybe Jake, I guess) the monstrous killer. The early flashes of Steven covered in blood didn't really help allay that anxiety. And now Marc is demanding that Steven let him have control in a pretty threatening manner. But so far, it seems like the contrast between Marc and Steven is one of competence--Marc is better at fighting and Steven is better at ... panicking? Unclear. At least Oscar Isaac is playing the protagonist, so his character(s) might remain sympathetic. Nobody has been monsterized quite yet.

I finished the episode with every muscle in my body locked up, waiting for the emotional punch in the face. But I did finish it, and I think I'm gonna try episode two.

#kat watches moon knight #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #i guess I'm processing trauma again #hello trauma my old friend

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vesta-ria · 2 years

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No escape; Genshin x Reader SAGAU (Part 1; reader focus)

Hi everyone, how are you? It’s my first post and I tried to be poetic and deep but I’m pretty sure it was not good :(

GN reader (no pronouns mentioned; at least I don’t think)

Sagau imposter au, angst, hurt/no comfort

Fic below the cut!

⇨ 𝕀 𝕕𝕠 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕕𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤 ⇦

You were wounded, tired, starving. But they still won't stop chasing you. You have no idea what you did wrong. As for how you ended up in this situation... you have no idea either.

It has been 7... 8? Days? Weeks? You've lost all concept of time, all you knew was to run, to hide, to find any scrap of food that you can.

Let's rewind a bit.

Some time ago, you were isekai'd into the world of Genshin Impact. Before all this, Genshin Impact was your favorite game, your escape from reality. It's ironic how your escape from reality became your nightmarish reality.

The last memory you have of your actual reality was of you scrolling on your phone before dozing off. When you woke up, you were in the middle of nowhere.

You've read fanfiction before, of course, you have. You've been obsessed with this game for ages. Would you call yourself a whale? Probably not, but other people certainly will. The point is, you were familiar with the SAGAU genre of fanfiction. You knew how much danger you were in, and you also knew that the land of Teyvat will cater to your every need

You may not have regretted spending money on the game at that time, but that was you in the past. You've been chased all through the land of Teyvat. The nations of Monstadt, Liyue, and Inazuma all have you as their most wanted criminal. You're grateful - no, extremely thankful that Sumeru has not joined in on the hunt. If you ever make it back home, you'll make sure the Sumeru characters have the best weapons and artifacts.

You hoped to get some rest along the river, and as usual, the land of Teyvat catered to your every need. The tree you were leaning on leaned forward to provide some shade, and a cool breeze washed upon you as a sunsettia fruit fell from the tree. You picked it up and began eating, enjoying the rare moment of peace.

Sadly, all good things come to an end. Your rare moment of peace came to an end when you were spotted by the Monstadt army led by the Acting Grand Master. And so, you were back to running.

You ran, and ran, and ran. Where could you possibly go? There were people in the 3 nations that are willing to help you, but their leaders didn't. Sumeru was too far away there was no way you could go there. And even if you did, it's unlikely they would help you, what would they do? Say you're not an imposter and declare war with the 3 nations?

You had nowhere else to go, they had already informed Liyue and Inazuma of your location, and they were circling you.

This is the end, isn't it? You had nowhere else to run, Teyvat can't help you now. You knew there was no escape from this, but still, you hoped at the bottom of your heart that you were able to summon the help of the many creatures of Teyvat to save you, to let you live for another day. And just maybe, in that extra day, you could be teleported back to your reality.

No matter how much Teyvat tried to save you from your impending doom, they were no match for the 3 archons filled with determination to kill you.

You gave up, there was no other choice. They had found you, and they captured you, you didn't struggle, you didn't fight, you didn't attempt to flee.

There are five stages of accepting the inevitable.

Denial; "This couldn't be happening, I- I mean, those were fiction, they were supposed to be fiction..." is what you would tell yourself most nights when they stopped chasing you.

Anger; "How could you do this? I spent so much money on you, I DEDICATED MY ENTIRE LIFE TO YOU" is what you once yelled at them when you were almost caught.

Bargaining; "This is just a dream, a really bad dream. I'm going to wake up, soon. Soon enough..." you tried to convince yourself, but you knew it wasn't true.

Depression; You cried your eyes out, a lot. You saw no reason to continue. But you still carried on, with that faint hope that it would all be over soon.

Acceptance; "Fine, you got me. I won't fight anymore. Kill me, or do whatever you want. I'm done with this world, just get me out of here" is what you told them before being dragged out to your execution.

"Today we are here to execute the perpetrator of the worst crime that can be committed, impersonating our divine creator." You heard the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing - Ningguang announce to her people. You guessed the execution is taking place in Liyue, you don't remember the landscape anymore, you don't want to remember.

"The divine creator has not been in contact with us ever since the imposter has been sighted within the lands of Teyvat. It is only reasonable that we assume the imposter had something to do with the divine creator's disappearance." This time it was Jean speaking, but it didn't matter. No matter who was speaking, the content is the same. You were an imposter.

They put you through every torture method possible, they broke your bones and blinded you. You still couldn't die.

Why? Why must this happen to you?

It had gone on for so long that you no longer felt pain, it was numb, everything was numb. You can barely hear anything. When they finally pierced a polearm through your heart, you didn't feel anything. Just the same numbness.

The voice in your head got quieter, and quieter. Until it was completely silent.

Finally, at last.

Peace.

HI EVERYONE, feel free to request some ideas. I have 2 other parts of this fanfic planned I just don’t know when I’d post it so stay tuned if you enjoy reading this :)

#genshin #genshin impact #sagau #imposter au #imposter!au #sagau imposter #sagau impostor au #angst #genshin angst #sagau creator #sagau creator au #genshin sagau

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prince-kallisto · 7 months

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Crowley deserved to be in the Glorious Masquerade event 🤧🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛ The outfit was inspired by a lot of different things: Malleus’s costume, plague doctors, nuns (lmao), forget-me-not flowers, and the ceremonial robes. He already has a mask…but I think it would be funny if he wore a second mask on top that looked like a plague doctors 😭 I plan to design more event costumes for him in the future!

I’d like to make a nice painting of the second image too, but I’m not feeling very well today -v- I must have caught something…how ironic that I get sick when designing a plague doctor inspired outfit 😷

I talk more about the concept designs under the cut \(//∇//)\

Crowley’s design was initially like, a copy paste of Malleus’s outfit. I’m actually working on a fic where Crowley went to Noble Bell College instead of Malleus, which is why I started with this idea! But it didn’t feel right, because I wanted Crowley’s design to be unique. I picked out the design elements I liked the most, like the dark colors, feathers, and a draping cape. Although somehow I feel like Crowley’s costume turned out more like a mash up of TWST’s Halloween/New Year outfits…but oh well (´∀｀*) The ideas I have for those events costumes will look very different to make up for it haha

With this and Crowley’s bird mask, I immediately thought of basing his look off a plague doctors, thus the long skirt, buttons, and hat. But I REALLY REALLY love puffy sleeves, especially ones with sheer fabric -v-

Shout out to Japhers (whose both on Twitter and tumblr), because their incredible costume designs helped me out a lot with Crowley’s design 👉👈 I feel like any time I was trouble with an outfit design, I just have to examine their costume design haha for inspiration haha, it’s so amazing! please check them out, their character designs are the most gorgeous things I’ve ever seen

Anyway, I got really torn from here. As you can probably see from the sketches, I had all the elements of his costume, but it was how they would fit together is what gave me some problems. The plague doctor cape covering his arms suited him, but I wanted the puffy sleeves ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡ As a compromise, he has puffy sleeves and sheer fabric on his chest underneath the coat because I’m a down-bad simp for Crowley 🧎 He’s also wearing thigh high boots under there because I say so

I wasn’t able to paint it well (I’m not experienced with painting), but he has these…swords on his heels? Yes, they’re a real thing. It’s incredibly gaudy and I love it, Crowley would absolutely wear little golden swords on his heels. The corset is very, VERY loosely rib cage inspired but since the corset is at his waist, it doesn’t really work -v- oh well, I just wanted some pretty chains. His costume comes with a lot of forget-me-not motifs because symbolism lmao (Levan haunts me 24/7) and because of their pretty blue color (*^o^*)

If you read this far, thank you for listening to my rambles 🧎 I’m so excited to work on more event designs for Crowley because I’m really sad the staff members don’t get designs like these! I also want to make card illustrations with these costumes, but I need to take a little break 😷 a break from art, that is lmao. As long as I’m still kicking I shall be on the Crowley posting grind 💪

#twst #twst fanart #twst glorious masquerade #twisted wonderland #twst dire Crowley #twst Crowley #dire Crowley #twst headmage #my art #traditional art #KallistoPost #outfit concept

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caelum-in-the-avatarverse · 4 months

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ive been a fan of ATLA since it came out, and I think I stopped reading fic for it once Korra came out. So (luckily?), I escaped Embers, but im curious to know what is its influence in fanon. Do you know any examples off the top of your head?

Whoa, that's impressive that you managed to skip it if you've been a fan that long. It started in 2009.

And yeah, I do. Admittedly I do not read ATLA fic often these days, so I'm probably behind on current trends. But if you know what you're looking at it's pretty obvious that lots of Zuko-focused fic is influenced by Embers. Granted, oftentimes the writer may not realize they were influenced by Embers--they may have been inspired by a fic that was inspired by a fic that was inspired by Embers. The fic is 14 years old, and the rabbithole runs deep.

So the effects Embers has had, off the top of my head:

The Wani. Zuko's ship does not have a canonical name, but so many writers have used Vathara's name for it that people are surprised when they learn it's not canon. Even I'm guilty of this one, it's such deeply-entrenched fanon that I figured I might as well use it in a throwaway line (tho I'm seriously considering going in and editing it out of the one fic I mentioned it in).

Dragon!Zuko. If Zuko or Fire Nation people are turning into dragons, that idea probably came from Embers; I don't recall ever seeing that trope in ATLA fic before Embers made it a thing.

Certain Aang-critical readings of canon. There are multiple ways people criticize Aang (fans have complained about him not killing Ozai since the finale aired, and shippers have their own gripes), but there are certain arguments that either originated with Embers or were popularized by it. The concept of "Aang told Zuko he'd come with him if he left the SWT alone, then Aang escaped, therefore he broke his word and lied and he's lucky Zuko is such a good person that he didn't turn around and burn the village to the ground because he totally would've been within his rights to do so" is an Embers original. Then there's the "Aang has totally killed people and is therefore a hypocrite and/or idiot who doesn't realize he kills people" criticism, which may have existed before Embers brought it up, but Embers definitely popularized it. (Canonically Aang has done things that would definitely result in people dying, but also canonically we never saw the bodies so the narrative didn't confirm or even acknowledge it, therefore there's plenty of room to interpret Aang's kill count and still be canon-compliant. I'll admit this is a pedantic argument if everyone else admits that some fans are overeager to give Aang a kill count and call him an idiotic mass murderer, especially when they point at the Siege of the North, where the only people he would've killed were enemy combatants). And apparently now there are stories where Zuko is very knowledgeable about Air Nomad culture and teaches Aang about it, or preaches to him about patience or maturity or morality--I reblogged a post about this recently. That entire mentality definitely came from Embers.

Hyper-competent Zuko. This is not solely Embers's doing, but let me explain. Zuko is the fandom's favorite, we love him, he ticks off a lot of boxes people love to see in a character. It is perfectly normal for a fandom to heap all sorts of awesomeness on their fave, and in fanon they become a super-competent badass who puts up with so much and fights so hard despite the odds, they are knowledgeable and intelligent and strategic, they are confident and compassionate and have iron-clad morals. (am I still describing Zuko or Obi-Wan Kenobi? lol) So this version of Zuko probably would've become a thing eventually; Embers was just the starting point. But things have to start somewhere, and in this case, it started with Embers showing off just how to make Zuko a hyper-competent badass. And Zuko is indeed a badass, but canon gave no indication that he'd actually be good at, like, politics, aside from the narrative implying it by saying he was the best person to become Fire Lord. There are takes on Zuko where he's politically astute, spiritually attuned, brilliantly strategic, extremely knowledgeable about all sorts of random things--none of which have much basis in canon, but they aren't necessarily contradicted by canon either. And again, this is just regular fandom behavior--but in the ATLA fandom these takes were sparked by Embers basically laying the foundation and creating the template for how to write Zuko.

Well-researched fic. Like the previous point, this is not solely Embers's doing. Researching stuff for fanfic has been a thing since forever. But Embers was huge, and Vathara talked a lot about the things she knew and the books she'd read, and people were very impressed and praised her for it, and it inspired them to do and show their own research for their fics, too. Unlike the other things on this list, this actually isn't something that annoys me--even I was inspired by this aspect of Embers, in conjunction with the racebending movement and cultural misappropriation criticism, to make research an important part of my own fic. I'd looked up information for my writing before, but Embers really showed how research could make a fic incredible. And frankly, I'm glad for it, because looking up stuff for my fics has proven to be a fun and rewarding pastime, and I love sharing my research with my own readers (tho I really hope my own author's notes aren't as condescending as Vathara's). Now, granted, given some of the opinions in her author's notes and things she's said elsewhere, I consider all of Vathara's information and reading recommendations to be suspect. But I'm glad it's inspired other people to do lots of great research and share it.

And that's all I can think of, off the top of my head. I'm sure there's more, but I haven't read Embers in years, and I don't read much ATLA fic in general these days, so if there's more I'm unaware. If anyone else can think of anything, please do chime in!

#caelum rambles #meta #fandom #fandom history #zuko #aang

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tachibubu · 1 year

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Sincerely, from your Friend.

∆ PAIRING ; Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!Reader/OC/Self-Insert

∆ SUMMARY ; In which you, the reader, saw your best friend Aemond marry another woman while being in an unrequited love with him.

∆ WARNINGS ; angst no comfort at all, if you don’t like little dialogues then I do not suggest this fic as it only focuses on the mc’s emotions throughout the whole ordeal with few dialogues. Alys Rivers is not a bastard here in this AU, she is referred to as Alys Strong instead. OOC?

NOTE ; Inspired by love, rosie and the other woman cover of lana del rey. I Also Made A Playlist! It’s a short read but I hope you can enjoy the music as well. If you would prefer one song as you read this fanfic I suggest High Hopes by Kodaline as the song is where it is heavily and mostly based on! I really suggest listening to the playlist or that song while you read this.

I am kinda 50/50 with this fic. I ironically like writing it but I just wished I could’ve wrote it better! It was supposed to be based on Charles and Diana’s arguement at the TV series though I scratched it even if I have already wrote a whole draft of it. So I wish you can enjoy this read!

A friendship is supposed to last; that is what you keep telling yourself.

Aemond and you were two of the closest people in the castle. You two struggled through the difficult times together. There were a couple times when you two argued, such as when you didn't agree with how he claimed Vhagar, but these disagreements were quickly resolved because you two couldn't stand to be apart from one another.

Your family will always be a Lannister, and your father, Tyland Lannister, entered the small council when Lord Corlys left to embark on war, and he kept his seat warm by holding the position of Master of Ships. He was permitted to stay at Kingslanding with his family as part of the arrangement, and this was fulfilled. You first encountered Aemond as he observed the Godswood while absorbed in his thoughts. Although the prince indicated he was fine when you asked him if he was, you insisted on making him happy when his expression and actions stated otherwise.

It started out slowly, with him initially being offended by your advances and considering them to be a pity. However, you were quick to disagree and dubbed it "being closer to someone of your age." Though one occurrence altered it all, you noticed him wandering through the corridors and into an unoccupied region. You crept up behind them, curiosity lingering, until you heard a single whimper and noticed his shoulders gradually begin to rise. You hurried over to him without hesitating, and when you did, he finally gave in and embraced you while he sobbed uncontrollably.

He would acknowledge your presence when you appeared in his presence by nodding; as a result, there was a mutual connection; and soon, small talk about subjects that only the two of you could dance about would begin. You will never forget the way his eyes lit up and how his normally firm lips rose their corners in fits of laughter the very day he laughed at your humor. That was the day you discovered you weren't just intrigued by the prince by simply wishing to be his friend; you were also gradually falling in love with him.

You welcomed the concept—the possibility—of having the surname Targaryen. You adored the way it resonated, and you soon began to think that little oddities in his behavior were very endearing. You enjoyed how his eyes would enlarge when he was earnest, his obsession with honing his swordsmanship, and the way his face would light up every time he saw you at the library as you both discussed the contents of the book you had just begun.

You love it all, even his eccentricities and his lowest points. Though things typically come to an end, when Alys Strong came into the picture, yours did as well.

Your pleasant interactions with Aemond eventually drifted to him gushing about the new lady that came into the Keep. Though it was difficult to overlook her frequent appearances as you and Aemond sauntered around the castle, you initially didn't bat an eye at it.

She would engage in the bonding activities you had with the prince. You were initially ok with her interruptions as you observed how Aemond would go from a man who typically pays attention to what you have to say to someone who would start speaking about topics you had never even heard of before when Alys would join.

Although you felt stiff, you were relieved that Aemond and Alys didn't notice it. How could they when they were attracted to one another? You two, along with one of Alys' closest friends, were invited to the castle for a modest gathering—a tea party. The very first time you had seen Aemond flush and stammer aloud was when he sat down on the chair that Alys gave and the way her hands lingered on his shoulder. He had never done that before, not to you or to anybody else.

It was unfair; she was gorgeous, intelligent, and intrigued by peculiar things. All of the activities and interests that Aemond loved. You understood you were holding back their development for one another at that point. You then excused yourself out of self-pity.

"You haven't even sat down." Aemond became suspicious when he noticed that you were suddenly acting differently and said, "How are you fairing?"

You laughed nervously, shaking your head as you placed one hand over it. "Yes," you answered too hastily, though you will soon regret it, "I meant no. Apologies, my mind is foggy, and I'm not feeling good at all."

Alys frowned as she spoke, "Oh dear, take your time and rest."

You added, "Well, I apologize for this hasty departure, and I shall now excuse myself, my ladies, and my prince." You had never regarded them by their titles before, but as you ran out the doors, you were overcome by your feelings. You gulped for air; unaware that you hadn't been breathing for the entire meeting, you were relieved to receive a break. You hurried to your room to get ready for the rest of the day as your eyes started to swell up.

Everything persisted, and your excuses increased significantly in frequency. While you were away, Alys became progressively closer to Aemond, and your connection with him deteriorated. Your heart would soar when Aemond would visit, giving you the impression that he had chosen you, even if the way he spoke when Alys was around was different. He would tell about how he bonded with the lovely girl, and even though it was just a wish, you hoped he had done the same for you.

Then it happened.

You wished you hadn't seen the invitation letter, but that can only be accomplished by going back in time or being blind, which Aemond wouldn't approve of. But there it is, opened and intact, the contents in sight as your head pounded.

Tomorrow night, Aemond and Alys are scheduled to propose marriage, as stated in the letter of invitation.

Your personal maid was waiting for your notice while your dress, which Aemond constantly complimented, was placed on your bed. Your heart began to race as the following day approached so quickly. Even as handmaidens assisted you with your attire and makeup, you divulged yourself in your thoughts to soothe your racing heart. Someone knocked on the door just as you were beginning to forget the incident. The someone being the one you'd hoped to avoid spending the entire evening with.

His pleasant voice, filled with honesty, was expressing, "You look beautiful, Y/N," and you will miss hearing it. You chuckled, then looked back at him and peered into his eyes.

You returned, "You look handsome as well, my prince," and you accompanied him out through the door. "I wish you wouldn't call me that, though," he said, his face seeming rather somber as his eyes continued to watch your every movement.

You lifted an eyebrow, "Call you what?"

"My title," he continued, with pursed lips as he gave you a knowing look. Was your distance really that significant, or had it gotten out of hand? He continued after clearing his throat to get your attention when you didn't respond, "We have been friends for so long; we are comfortable with each other, are we not?"

Your breath hitched, and you felt your eyes fill. "Of course, Aemond." Aemond caught a glimpse of it and hugged you. You blame yourself for being too conceited, and you appreciated his embrace by clutching a little too firmly onto his garment around his back, "I'm going to miss you."

Aemond rested his palm on your cheek and brushed your tears away, ending the hug with a chuckle that seemed to be in bewilderment. His face was so close to yours that if someone had seen it, they may well have thought it was immoral. "There's no need to; nothing will change. We will see each other again just like usual."

"Oh," were you expecting too much? Perhaps you are, and perhaps you should stop. You took a quick breath, refocused, and then steadied yourself.

"Of course," you both approached the banquet hall as you murmured with a somber smile and your hand accepting his outstretched arm.

There were too many people for you to appreciate, and your normal seat adjacent to the man you love was warm as it had already been claimed by someone else. Your gaze never left the pair, their fits of laughter after a few too many drinks, and the way they held hands when guests attended their proposal feast. Yes, you were resentful, but could you really blame yourself? Would you not be upset if the man you have loved for a very long time chose someone else instead of you?

The feast was lavish, with many tables set across from each other to precisely frame the couple. There were several chandeliers lit up especially for the event. You chuckled as you recalled asking Aemond when you were younger how it was done and his only response being that the stars did it. The guests who crowded the room were happy, which indicated that it was warm, but your side of it remained frigid.

Truth be told, your parents only recently decided to focus on your personal engagement a mere few weeks ago, and Cregan Stark, the young Lord of House Winterfell, offered his hand to you. Your parents have put a stop to all endeavors for all these years as they have witnessed your friendship with the prince, perhaps expecting that you two would soon find comfort in one another. How stupid you were, and now that you're old enough, the letters have become fewer and farther between, but you still hold out hope that you and Aemond will mend fences and become much more. A stupid idea, really.

Even though you were present, most of the speakers and toast-raisers were people you had never met before or who made fun of your relationship with Aemond. Although this gave you time to ponder, a true friend would congratulate your friend on their engagement. Although you weren't very adept at expressing your emotions, with the help of ail, it allowed you to become the kind of good friend you would imagine yourself to be. With your glass rising and a smile on your face, you sprang up and turned to face the engaged pair.

"I also," you cleared your throat while your hand trembled at the amount of attention you had gathered by your sudden outburst. Aemond gave a comforting nod at you, you almost laughed at yourself, even at this moment of time he is always so worried and supportive of you, "want to raise a toast."

You could hear the cheers of people, beckoning you to continue. "I would like to thank the Gods for how they introduced both of this loving couple to one another," you gazed at Alys with a warm heart; although with a tinge of envy, you couldn't help but see her blooming with beauty at the current moment.

"When Alys was first introduced, I knew instantly that Aemond would love her truly," Alys chuckled, placing her head on Aemond's shoulder while she smiled warmly at you.

Your smile fell, though your composure didn't, as you continued, your gaze hardening, "Choosing the one that you want to share your entire life with is a gift, something some of us will never get to experience."

"Your friendship and love have brought many things; some would say they can even see colors when both of you unite. Something I wish I could've seen as well, though the gods play a different game," A couple of people laughed as you joined their fits though yours were grave.

"They demonstrated to us that even if you don't view something as others may, you can still perceive it that way." You shifted your eyes on Aemond as you noticed him getting tense on his seat while you gnawed your lip in fear. If he wasn't conscious of your feelings at the time, perhaps he is now.

"Because I know I love you, no matter where you are, what you were doing, or whoever you loved. I will always be there, loving you as much as I can." The room fell still as low, astonished whispers from a few people emerged.

Aemond's jaw opened and his eyes widened as his hold on Alys loosened. It appeared as though he was about to say something but restrained himself. Alys' attention flickered between you two, from confusion to acknowledgement, but you guessed it just as such because you were too exhausted to really absorb anything before realizing how awkward the environment had become.

"As a friend," you laughed uncomfortably, correcting yourself. Your other hand, which was concealed below the table, would scratch its own skin with its overgrown nails; you know it would bleed, but the embarrassment is far more frightening than a simple blood spill. Alys appeared comforted as you turned back to glance at Aemond, who was left to his own thoughts while his gaze was still focused on you.

You continued, however your nerves were still there, "Though I am not alone now, and I am grateful that she provides you with things I couldn't provide."

"So let us raise our cups once more to my favorite friends." You raised your cup higher and placed a beaming smile on your face, saying, "Congratulations on your betrothal; may your marriage flourish and never end."

"Sincerly, from your friend."

While the audience applauded in unison and some even screamed accolades at you after your speech, it didn't help that after you sat in your seat, you felt yourself continue to merge with it as your eyes began to wet a little. Though it didn't stop there, Alys stood up, raising her own cup with a beautiful smile and saying, "Thank you, my dear friend. I also want to raise a toast to you about your engagement."

No, not like this. Your eyes became wide, nearly making you desire for her to cease, though she continued. Her smile widened, though it held no sincerity. "To Cregan Stark."

Aemond and you locked gaze once again. "I wish both of you a healthy engagement as well," the female added before coyly kissing her fiance's cheek. The expression he exhibited was a complex one, but you were too busy being humiliated to understand the message behind it.

Following the ceremony, there was a dance as people chatted among themselves. You could have thought it was an opportunity to introduce yourself, but instead you stood next to a pillar and listened to a woman talk to you about things you couldn't even fixate on. Only Aemond's potential current feelings toward you—possibly disgust—can impair your judgment. Even though your little encounter was swiftly over, you noticed Aemond peeking your way amongst the joyful crowd, seemingly hoping to strike up a conversation. Before turning to face you, he had excused himself from a Lord during his short conversation with the elder.

Your lips quivered as you reflected, 'No, not this way.'

You again excused yourself before Aemond could get to you. Avoiding a potential conversation between you two is the one thing you have ever been excellent at. You abandoned your glass and walked out of the overcrowded room as the lady nodded in understanding but seemed baffled. Missing the way Aemond had called out for your attention but was dismissed by your abrupt choice of action.

Your knees gave out as you attempted to stand in front of the tree, the exact godswood where you and Aemond first met, and tears began to flow from your eyes. You begged for prayers, pleading with your wounded heart to cease whatever it was doing and demanding that it carry you far from where you stood. You have suffered for too long; you have finally realized that, and you have acknowledged that the very God you were praying to is harsh and cruel. As you cradled yourself in your sobs, you yanked at the soil with rage, your forehead meeting the tip of it, as wails could be heard throughout the entire space, not caring if someone would eavesdrop.

You thought of vows that could have been ensued if you were only tough enough to conjure and confess your feelings to him, as well as the numerous ‘what ifs’ that might have followed.

Of all the people your heart has chosen to love, it chose a man who loves another. And most of all, you wept, wishing he had chosen you instead of her.

TAGS: @maymay456 ; @kalmado ; @ml0103 ; @justsumtuffstuff ; @zverea ; @parizparis

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cuffmeinblack · 30 days

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Alright I'm sick of the vagueposting because apparently some of you can't talk about how they really feel to people. You know, like adults.

First point. If you actually think I purposely plagiarised a fic idea, honestly just block me and fuck off so I never have to see you again. I've put far too much mental and emotional energy into this fandom to be disrespected like that, especially to then have my character attacked in such a ironically sly way on a public forum. Coming from people who have previously admonished others for vagueposting, that's pretty fucking hypocritical. I don't care enough to try to fix any sort of relationship I had with the person, since they made it pretty clear what they thought of me.

I'm a generally good person and I'm not going to let some random on the internet tell me otherwise.

In the interest of clearing up the plagiarism allegation whatever the fuck that's about, I'll say that I've never actually read the so-called plagiarised fic, and barely interacted with any public posts about it's conception. I actually do not want to, especially since I have many, many ideas and headcanons for Azkaban and HP/HL in general having been a Wizarding World fan for literally most of my life and that's what I'm interested in writing about. I don't tend to crowdsource my ideas and rarely post about what I'm writing about. As far as I can tell the only crossover is Azkaban and a degree of angst, and if that's actually it then you need to re-evaluate why the hell you're even in a fandom.

Amazingly since we're drawing on common source material there will no doubt be overlap. I'm also not going to wait months for the other fic to be finished because...why? It's not a fucking competition. If you must know, mine was loosely based on an idea I had for Garrinis which also involved Azkaban and a dark MC, which I had last Summer.

There's been so much drama in this fandom lately it's quite honestly ridiculous, and nobody seems to be able to talk to anyone else without public bashing. If you don't like what someone else is doing or saying, shutup and move on or talk to them. An incredible concept, I know. I had a disagreement a couple of weeks ago, I talked to the person, and we're totally fine and she's one of my favourite people in this fandom.

I'm aware this post might just crash and burn my reputation as much as the bullshit allegations but you know what I do not care anymore. Yes I'm aware that I'm not exactly helping with this post but my god I'm just angry and some things just need saying. I don't make a habit of doing stuff like this and am generally quite nonconfrontational.

Sometimes I do wonder why I'm still here and have concluded that it's probably a sunk cost fallacy, yet I'm here because I'm stubborn and despite all this shit I still love the characters enough to want to tell stories about them. Writing brings (brought) me a lot of joy, and I've finally decided to try doing it 'properly' but my god this toxicity needs to stop because this is exactly what stifles creativity, drives people away and kills fandoms.

#ok bye

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ro-is-struggling · 2 years

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Just Friends || Bellamy Blake x Reader

Summary: Trapped in space, alone and heartbroken, Bellamy and Y/N find solace in each other. As time passes, feelings begin to flutter between them. The only problem is that everyone seems to notice but them.

I suck at summaries, it's cute I promise!

Warnings: set sometime between season 4 and season 5 (yk when Bellamy and the rest are on space), friends to lovers, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, fluff so much fluff, a little angst (Bellamy and the reader miss their friends on earth), Fem!reader (she/her pronouns)

English is not my first language

Word count: 4000+

Notes: I wrote this a long time ago and I completely forgot about it until a few days ago. I reread it and thought the concept was very cute and it was a shame that I never shared it with anyone. I asked you guys if you would like to read it and you said yes so here we are! I have a couple more fics that are almost ready to post so you might see more Bellamy on my blog.

Also my requests are open for the 100 if you guys have any ideas you would like to see. For now I only write for Bellamy, but we’ll see if that changes

Y/N walked through the dark corridors of the spaceship in silence. She was upset. She had spent the last few hours tossing and turning in her bed trying to fall asleep but it was impossible. Her brain refused to shut up. It wasn't the first time this had happened to her. Ever since they had returned to space escaping the second nuclear apocalypse Y/N had started having trouble sleeping. Ironically, living there once again was much more peaceful and safe than her time on Earth. For the first time in years she could close her eyes without fear of being attacked by an enemy. But now what kept her awake was not the fear or guilt, but the uncertainty. There was so much she didn't know—when they would be able to return to Earth, how their friends were doing down there, what they would find when they got back—that she found it impossible to stop thinking about it. When the lights went out and she was left alone in the silence of what was now her room, all her brain did was think. And that night was no exception.

Tired of tossing and turning and frustrated at not being able to sleep, Y/N decided it would be best to get up and try to clear her head. On Earth she probably would have taken the opportunity to go for a walk in the woods, letting the gentle breeze of air hit her body and clear her mind. He couldn't do that now, but over the course of days she discovered that looking out the ship's windows into space had a similar effect. So every night she settled in for a couple of hours to watch Earth from a distance and made a silent promise that she would return for her friends someday.

This time when she arrived at her special place she discovered that someone else was already there. Bellamy was standing in front of the window with his hands inside his pants pockets. His eyes were fixed on Earth, but when Y/N approached she noticed his gaze was lost, probably immersed in his own destructive thoughts. She placed a hand on his back to let him know she was there causing him to turn for a moment to look at her.

"You can't sleep either, huh?" she said breaking the silence as she settled into her usual corner. Bellamy simply shook his head. "The thoughts that emerge when you're alone are the worst."

"Is that why you come here almost every night?" Bellamy finally spoke. His voice sounded deeper than usual and for a moment Y/N wondered if he had been crying.

"Yes," she admitted. "For some reason it makes me feel better. It's like they're a little closer to me even though they're not really."

"Doesn't it make you feel worse?" he asked, sitting down next to her. "Knowing they're there and we're here and there's nothing we can do about it?"

"Sometimes." She shrugged. "I miss them and I'm worried about them, but I know they're strong and they'll be okay. So when I feel bad I just look down to Earth and promise them I'll see them again." She admitted and Bellamy looked at her with a tired smile, amazed at her positivity.

"I wish it were that easy."

"It's not, but it's all I can do for now so I can get a couple of hours of sleep."

The room fell silent. They both stared into the space in front of them again, lost in their own thoughts, reflecting on the situation and how much they missed their friends. Bellamy appreciated Y/N's words. While they didn't ease the heaviness he felt in his chest, they gave him a different, more positive outlook, and helped him not feel so alone.

Without saying a word, Y/N rested his head on Bellamy's shoulder. Her eyes were still glued to the window, her gaze lost in the distance as she let out a slight sigh. Bellamy leaned in to look at her for a moment, before leaning his head back against hers in a subtle gesture of support.

"This will pass. We'll be back on Earth and everyone will be safe and sound wondering what took us so long." She broke the silence, resting a hand on his leg in an attempt to reassure her friend. Y/N knew exactly what kind of thoughts were going through his head because she had those same thoughts herself, but they had to stay strong. And she also knew that it was difficult for Bellamy to process those thoughts and emotions in a healthy way. He was a natural leader and a very empathetic person, so his instinct was to care about others before himself. He spent his days encouraging others, making sure they stayed positive, when he was struggling with that too and had no one to talk to.

"You will see Octavia again and you'll hug one more time. This is not the end. Raven will find a way to get us back to Earth, you'll see."

Bellamy didn't respond with words because he feared that he would end up crying if he did. He simply smiled and put an arm around her to pull her closer to his body. She snuggled into his chest, giving him gentle soothing caresses to which he responded by depositing a kiss on the top of her head. Y/N understood what he wanted to tell her even though he had not used words. Over time she had learned to read Bellamy as if he were her favorite book—and in a way he was.

They stayed there, entangled in each other's arms and enjoying the warmth their bodies radiated for longer than they should have. Without either of them anticipating it, their eyes began to feel heavy. The exhaustion of the day was finally winning them over. The pose they were in was not the most comfortable for sleeping, and if they were in that situation with anyone else they would probably not be able to fall asleep. But there was something strangely comforting about being snuggled together like this, they just couldn't help but relax. Y/N was the first to fall asleep. The warmth Bellamy provided and the rhythmic beating of his heart was all she needed to finally be able to close her eyes and rest. Her breathing slowly stabilized and by the time Bellamy realized it, his eyes were already closing from exhaustion.

They were discovered by Raven and Emori the next day, who woke them up with cheeky smiles on their faces. Y/N was puzzled by their expression, but after joining the others for breakfast she understood the reason behind their smiles. Everyone teased them and looked at them funny for the rest of the day, singing childish songs about how they were in love and making heart shapes with their hands every time they were together. It was pretty annoying, but neither Bellamy nor Y/N said anything about it. It was the first time since they had been back in space that they saw their friends genuinely laugh. They didn't mind having to endure a couple of harmless jokes if it meant their friends could clear their minds even for a little while.

"What's with you and Bellamy?" Raven asked nonchalantly, taking Y/N by surprise.

"I thought I was here for you to teach me something useful." The young woman replied, trying to evade the question.

"And I will, but we can chat in the meantime."

Y/N looked at her blankly and rolled her eyes. It had been kind of nice to see everyone focus on something fun and lighthearted for once, but things were starting to get out of control. It had been weeks since that incident and she was still dealing with the consequences. She understood that the days on the ship were boring, but the constant comments from Raven, Emori and Harper especially were starting to get to her. She and Bellamy were good friends, but now she had to make sure none of them were in the room before approaching him unless she wanted to have to endure the stares of the girls pinned to her back.

"I prefer to work in silence, it helps me concentrate." Y/N muttered without much encouragement and this time it was Raven's turn to roll her eyes.

"Oh, come on, don't be mean. I just want to know."

"There's nothing you need to know because there's nothing between us, Raven. How many times do I have to repeat myself?"

"I can understand if you don't want to tell me, but at least don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying to you."

"Come on, Y/N, we're not stupid." Emori spoke. "We know there's something between you."

"We're just friends." Y/N interrupted her before she could continue.

"Friends who sleep together every night?" Raven asked sarcastically. "I always see you two getting up together in the mornings and the other night I saw you sneaking into his room when you thought no one saw you."

"It's not what you think. We just stay up talking when we can't sleep." She excused herself, feeling the blood all over her body pool in her cheeks. She understood that that could be misinterpreted, but there was really nothing going on between them. They were just two friends finding solace in each other. Bellamy trusted her enough to open up about his feelings, and if there was anyone who needed a shoulder to lean on, it was Bellamy. Their talks were important to both of them, falling asleep together was just an accident that ended up happening. It wasn't her fault that in his arms she found the comfort and peace she needed to fall asleep. It didn't mean anything, did it? They were just really good friends.

"Yeah, right." Raven let out a sarcastic laugh.

"I'm telling you the truth, it's not my fault you don't want to believe me."

"Let me get this straight, you're telling me that you guys spend all day together, you even sleep together, you act like idiots when you're around each other, but you're just friends?" The engineer asked, looking at her friend with a raised eyebrow.

"We don't act like idiots when we're together!" Y/N complained. What was that supposed to mean anyway?

"Girls, leave her alone," Harper said, finally joining the conversation.

"Thank you! Finally someone who's on my side."

"Clearly she hasn't realized she has feelings for Bellamy yet. When she's ready to face it she'll tell us."

"Wait, what?" exclaimed Y/N in surprise. She definitely wasn't expecting that to come from her friend's lips. "I thought you were on my side!"

"And I am, but I can't deny what I see. It's pretty obvious when you're together, the way you look at each other says it all. You may be in denial now, but when you accept it I suggest you talk it over with Bellamy because it's obvious he has feelings for you too."

"I'm not in love with Bellamy and he's not in love with me! How many times do I have to say it? We're just friends."

"So you wouldn't mind if I asked him out?" Echo asked, suddenly joining the conversation. She looked at Y/N with a raised eyebrow, analyzing her body language as she waited for a response. The young woman opened her mouth to speak, but closed it almost immediately as a knot formed in her stomach. For some reason the idea of Echo and Bellamy together bothered her. But still that didn't mean she was in love with him, did it?

"No, of course not!" she rushed to reply as soon as she found her voice. She hoped that was enough to convince them, though the look on Echo's face told her otherwise.

"Why did you hesitate?" Raven pressed her with a smile on her face, fully aware that her friend was about to hit her to force her to shut up.

"Oh for god's sake, would you just give it up already!" Y/N exclaimed, exhausted.

"Okay, okay!" Raven laughed and put her hands up in defeat. She then went on to explain what she would be teaching him today, but no matter how hard Y/N tried she wasn't able to pay attention. All she could think about was Harper's words, echoing in her mind without giving her rest. Fortunately for her, Emori was paying attention and was able to follow Raven's lesson without her noticing her distraction.

For the rest of the day her mind continued to be distracted, too wrapped up in her own thoughts to focus on the world around her. And what made her situation even worse was that she couldn't even look Bellamy in the eyes without remembering Harper's voice and Raven's looks. He noticed something was wrong with her, he was always able to tell when something was bothering her. Y/N saw it in his gaze, which was why she decided to lock herself in her room for the remainder of the day. She knew Bellamy would ask her what was wrong sooner or later and since she wasn't in a position to answer him at the moment, she made sure she had some time to clear her thoughts.

After much debate with herself in the solitude of her room she came to the conclusion that Harper's words were ridiculous. It was impossible for her friend to know how she really felt about Bellamy before she herself realized it. That whole conversation had been ridiculous. They were just bored and looking for something to entertain themselves with.

But then she remembered the strange feeling that coursed through her body at the very idea of someone else starting a relationship with Bellamy.

'It wasn't just anyone, it was Echo', a voice in her mind said. 'It just bothered you because you don't know her that well and Bellamy is your friend. It's a normal reaction from a friend who cares about her friend and nothing more', continuó, en un intento por convencerse a sí misma de que ese comentario no había despertado celos dentro de ella.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone entering her room. Y/N didn't even have to look up to know who it was. Bellamy walked over to her and in a whisper asked her if she was awake, something they always did when they would walk into each other's room unexpectedly. She answered him and moved aside to make room on the bed for him to lie down. Soon she ended up cuddled by Bellamy's body heat with her head resting on his bare torso as he stroked her back. That relaxed her, the tension she hadn't realized was building up in her shoulders soon disappeared. A smile formed on her face at the irony that he was the only one who could calm her in that situation.

"Are you okay?" Bellamy asked her in a whisper. "I noticed you were acting strange today and then you just disappeared."

"Yeah, I'm fine." She assured him. "I just had a lot on my mind, but I'm fine now."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. At least not for now." She murmured against his chest, not daring to look into his eyes fearing he would be able to read in them the thoughts that were going through her mind. "Why are you here? I feel like you didn't come just to ask me about my mood."

"And you'd be right." He admitted letting out a sigh. "I couldn't sleep."

"The dreams again?"

"Yeah, only this time Clarke showed up too."

"You need to stop blaming yourself for that. It was her decision and we both know damn well we couldn't have changed her mind. We were all going to die there and she would never let that happen."

"No, but we did let her die."

"Bellamy..." Y/N whispered. It hurt her to talk about it as much as it hurt him, but for some reason it hurt more to know that he was having those horrible thoughts and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"I know, I'm sorry." He interrupted her, letting out a tired sigh as he ran his free hand through his long hair. "You're right about everything, I know, but that doesn't make it any easier."

"I know how hard it is. I miss her too, but this is what she wanted. She saved us and now it's up to us to live our lives honoring her sacrifice and her memory."

A comfortable silence formed in the room as they both enjoyed each other's company and tried to clear their minds. Y/N concentrated on the rhythmic beating of Bellamy's heart and the gentle caresses his fingers traced over her back, drawing imaginary figures on her skin. For a moment she forgot everything that had been bothering her during the day. The comments of her friends that had had her so anxious, faded out of her mind. It was as if all of a sudden everyone else had ceased to exist, as if the universe around them had disappeared and the only thing that continued to exist were the two of them. That was the special effect Bellamy had on her. He was able to bring her peace just with a simple hug or just a look.

"Thank you" Bellamy murmured, catching Y/N's attention.

"Why?" the young woman asked. She lifted her head to look at him, resting her chin on his chest as her curious eyes rested on his.

"For always being there for me when I needed it."

"You don't have to thank me, I'd do anything for you, Bell, you know that."

"I know, but I still want to. You have no idea how much you helped me with all this stuff we're going through. I honestly don't know what would happen to me without you by my side."

"You'd be fine because you're strong, Bellamy. You're a survivor."

"I don't know, after everything we went through I don't think I could have made it this far without you," Bellamy said, his voice cracking. Y/N's heart squeezed in her chest. "If I had lost you there too I wouldn't have been able to continue.... I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm glad you're here with me."

"Oh, Bellamy" Y/N whispered, deeply touched by her friend's words. She cupped one of his cheeks in her hand, gently stroking the skin with her thumb. He leaned his head over her hand and closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the feeling of calm and happiness that the touch of Y/N's fingers awakened in him. When he opened them again he met his friend's intense gaze, charged with love and tenderness. Then, without realizing what was happening, they shortened the distance that separated them and joined their lips in a kiss.

It was tentative at first. They had both let themselves be carried away by what they felt deep inside, and were testing whether it was a good idea or not. Y/N thought she would feel strange kissing him, that as soon as their lips brushed a feeling of awkwardness would run through her body and force her to pull away. But, much to her surprise, she felt quite the opposite. Their lips moved in perfect harmony, fitting together as if they had been created to be joined together.

A tingling sensation spread throughout her entire body, starting at her lips and going to the tips of her toes, as Bellamy intensified the kiss. He pulled her closer to his body and she ended up sitting on top of him, one leg on either side of his waist. He cupped Y/N's face and deepened the union of their lips, their tongues caressing each other curiously. With his free hand, he explored every inch of skin within reach, arousing waves of electricity that coursed down Y/N's spine. Her skin felt like it was on fire, but despite that she couldn't tear herself away from Bellamy. His growing beard felt rough against the sensitive skin of her face, but the strange tingle only added a new sensation that mingled deliciously with the pleasure of the passionate kiss.

They kissed like they were desperate to feel each other's company. Like they were afraid of vanishing into thin air if they were separated. Like it was their last day left to live and this was the only chance they had to feel their soft lips together.

They kissed with the desperation that came with having hidden —consciously or unconsciously— what they felt for each other. They needed to feel their lips together. They needed to feel the warmth of their bodies pressed together, the delicate touch of skin against skin awakening a flame inside them. They needed each other. They had spent too long pretending they were nothing more than friends to be able to control themselves now.

They only separated when the need for air forced them. Their breathing was rapid and their hearts were pounding in their chests. They rejoined their lips once more in a short, sloppy kiss before they had to separate once more. Only this time it was not because of shortness of breath, but because of the giggles Y/N was unable to control. She hid her face in Bellamy's neck in an attempt to calm down, taking the opportunity to deposit a couple of kisses there in between giggles.

"What's so funny?" Bellamy asked, puzzled by Y/N's sudden change in attitude.

"Nothing, its just that today I almost beat Raven to get her to stop insisting that there was something between us that we weren't telling her." She murmured against his neck. This time it was Bellamy's turn to let out a laugh.

"I guess everyone figured it out before we did."

"She won't stop teasing us when she finds out," Y/N groaned, figuring her friend wouldn't stop reminding them that she was right from now on.

"Probably, but it's worth putting up with his comments from time to time, isn't it?" Bellamy inquired, hiding in his words what he really wanted to ask her.

Was it worth risking it all to bet on a relationship?

He was more than willing to do it. Now that he finally understood—and accepted—his feelings he would do anything to be with her.

Y/N understood the true message behind his words as soon as she heard him utter them. By now they knew each other so well that they were able to understand each other without even speaking. She pulled her head out of its hiding place in Bellamy's neck and sat up to look at him. His eyes watched her intently, waiting for the answer to her implied question. Y/N noticed a special sparkle in them, one she hadn't seen in him in a while. His eyes were shining with happiness. That put a smile on her face. Nothing made her feel better than seeing Bellamy happy. She reached out one of her arms to gently caress his cheek, sliding her thumb back and forth over the soft skin. He responded to her gesture by resting his hands on her waist, delicately touching the exposed skin her shirt didn't cover. Each brush of his fingers awakened a new tingle inside her. She could not understand how such a simple act could provoke such a reaction from her body. She had never experienced anything like that before. Only he had that effect on her.

"Of course it's worth it!" assured Y/N. "I'm willing to put up with Raven teasing me for the rest of my life if it means I can kiss you again."

Bellamy smiled and was quick to rejoin their lips. It was a slower kiss than the last, much sweeter and more sensual. They had no reason to rush things anymore, they knew they both felt something more than friendship. They would have plenty of time to be together and memorize every corner of each other's bodies. It was better to go slowly, to enjoy every moment together, every caress, every kiss, as if it were the first. Find out exactly how they felt about each other and whether their relationship would have a future. Although judging by the way her body reacted to every slight touch of Bellamy's hands, Y/N was confident that they would be together for a long time.

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