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jemmo · 3 months

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Making sense of love for love's sake: the game

Despite all the things i absolutely adore about how the plot unravels and expands in love by love's sake, upon first watch, there's some things i couldn't piece together, which @lurkingshan echoes in their post:

'The way the author was messing with Myungha and forcing cruel choices on him really does not track with a desire to help him find happiness.'

And to preface, this is not something i fully get yet either. I think i'll need a good month and a sizeable reading list of relevant resources to understand just what/who this author/sunbae is and what his role is and how he is associated with myungha. But as always with the best shows for meta (aka bad buddy), as a plot unfolds, you can always find a better understanding by looking backwards and re-contextualising what you've already seen. so i watched ep 1, specifically the scene between myungha and his sunbae at the bar. And i will talk about how everything said in this scene has a whole new meaning now we know the full story, but for now i wanna focus on that question that they keep coming back to; "Then... will you change it for him?".

When you watch the show for the first time, your brain follows the simplest, most obvious version of the story you're being told, one where myungha has been pulled into the world of his sunbae's novel that's being turned into a game and given the opportunity to fix the thing he didn't like about it; making yeowoon happy, and thus you just think the rules of the game are imposed by the author, and so when these cruel choices first come up, you see them as the difficult roadblocks that are nevertheless necessary to any kind of game, forcing the player to make an impossible choice so that the game can continue in a certain direction and its only after that you learn whether it was the right choice or not, or there is no right choice, it simply changes the game you are playing.

And when its revealed what this game actually is, at first i tried to interpret these cruel choices, namely the choice between yeonwoon and myungha's grandma, and at best i could come up with the concept of this being a choice between staying stuck to the past aka choosing his grandma, even though he knows that choice doesn't mean she's safe bc he knows the future where he loses here, its an inevitability, but thats the small happiness he knew before it was taken away and thus that happiness is known and safe, theres no risk, versus choosing to pursue a new happiness, a love of yeowoon and thus himself, which he doesn't know, he hasn't experienced yet, and could be risky. Its a happiness that isn't guaranteed like his grandma, but its a happiness that looks to the future and has hope in it that he can find a new happiness to pursue despite what has happened in his past.

And that fits nice, okayish. But then i watched ep 1 and heard that question "Then... will you change it for him?" And watching through the rest of the eps, we come back to this scene at the bar and each time we get a new run up to the author asking this question, either new dialogue is added or we hear a different piece of the conversation entirely. It starts at the beginning of ep 1 as:

"Because Cha Yeowoon is the only one who's miserable." "It can't be helped that some people's lives are like that" "The fact that some people are destined to live that kind of life is what's vile."

Then a bit later in ep 1 we go back and its expanded.

"It can't be helped that some people's lives are like that" "The fact that some people are destined to live that kind of life is what's vile." "Why? Do you think you'd write it differently?" "Yes, definately. Someone like Cha Yeowoon, or someone like me with an awful life, can also be happy."

And then all the way on in ep 6, we get this new dialogue.

"I don't like talking about destiny." "Why?" "Because it means everything is predestined." "Then do you not believe in fate?" "Fate and destiny are the same. My grandma likes to say that. She said life is like a written book, and how you'll live and die are written in it. (...)I don't like things like this. Even if fate is already destined, I think it can still be changed. Otherwise, there's no point in trying." "Really? Then Myungha..."

And while we don't hear the author ask the same question, I feel like him getting cut off like that insinuates that the conversation leads to that same ending point. All that is to say, every time we hear this question being asked, its like we learn more and more about what this whole thing is, what the game is, what myungha is saying he will do by agreeing to do what the author asks. And every time, we see myungha being more defiant against the idea of yeowoon being resigned to his miserable ending. He starts off thinking that kind of life is destined, and while it's miserable, its not something he can fight. Then he says he'd want to write the story differently, bc yeowoon, or even him, could be happy. He challenges the idea that yeowoon, and thus himself, is fated to be miserable, and opens up the possibility for happiness for them both, but doesn't yet have the means or resolve to do it, its like he knows its possible on a fundamental level, but doesn't see it as something he can actually achieve. But then we circle back to the idea of destiny and books, both of which came up in the previous quote, and seems incredibly pertinent seen as this whole thing is about a novel this author has written. Myungha talks about how he hates the idea that life is a book where everything written is predestined to happen, from the moment you live to the moment you die. He says "Even if fate is already destined, I think it can still be changed. Otherwise, there's no point in trying." That vile way of life he described before that he said was destined, he is now saying it can be changed, and that possibility is now something he's holding onto, its what he sees hope in so that he can keep trying, bc now he finally is trying, he has the resolve, he's trying to realise this thing, this impossibility of rewriting the life he thought was destined through the way he loves yeowoon.

And coming back to those cruel choices, given this fresh context, it made me think. bc this isn't actually a game that myungha has been put into where the rules are dictated by an author completely separate from him. He said himself, he'd rewrite it, he'd change things for yeowoon. And when you start to think of it less as him fighting against a rigid, removed system and more like him being a character in a story he is trying to rewrite himself, that has both the author and his own limitations, or just his own if you're in the school of thought that the author is some figment or part of myungha himself or his conciousness, then you can start to see where these cruel choices might come from. They could be myungha, the author making edits to this new story, imposing his own doubts and limitations on himself. When he says he has to pick between Yeowoon and his grandma, what if that's the new author myungha seeing this story unfold and thinking no this isn't right, he can't have it all, i'm not deserving of this much happiness.

And what makes me like this idea even more is that when we get that second choice between ending after 14 days or getting 100 days back at the cost of resetting Yeowoon's affection to 0, that whole conversation happens in what I think the bar actually is which is this frozen moment in time where myungha is in the water with this extension of a voice in his head that is talking through these things. That conversation in itself needs its own post, but when you look at it both as a decision to break up or not or a decision to hold onto life or not, you can see how the author is just this soundboard relaying the decisions myungha is going through in his head. The author's voice is his own, weighing up his decisions. And if he is the author here, it only reinforces that the person making the rules of this game is him. You can even extend it further to the idea of the debuffs, where he puts in place this thing that makes it so he causes harm to yeowoon when he's around, and its only by garnering affection that he can prevent it. He gives himself a reason from the get go to stay away from yeowoon and reason it as him doing it for yeowoon's safety, when in fact the only way to make yeowoon safe is to increase his affection, which he can only do by being near him. Its a system that at first gives myungha a reason to stay away aka not like himself, but ultimately says the only way you're going to make yeowoon like you, or the only way you can like yourself, is if you accept risk. And that in itself screams to me of a myungha writing in these game systems that are trying to encourage his own-self love while falling at the hurdle of his own lack of self-worth.

The idea is still messy in my head even for me, but i just really like the idea that myungha could be trying to fix this thing both as a character and game master, and that both these versions of him have these flaws that manifest in their different ways to cause the events we see. It kinda is the definition of being your own worst enemy, the idea that in order to work towards loving yourself, the biggest obstacle you have to encounter is yourself, bc we are the ones holding ourselves back, making all these rules that make it harder to like ourselves and pursue our own happiness. The voices in our head telling us that we aren't good enough and aren't deserving are our own, and while the things that happen to us can inform what they say, we're the one's reinforcing those words. And what this show teaches us is that, if we're the one holding that pen all along, we can choose to change what those words are. If we make the rules, you don't have to create a game with concrete ultimatums, you can create a game where rules don't control you. Instead, you make the decisions, and you can make the ones that make you happy.

#wow look at me writing actual kinda thought out meta #also something something about how the pen being in his pocket wasnt a pen given to him by the author its a pen that was his the whole time #look even if this isnt the right interpretation as intended by the author i just kinda adore this headcanon ive come up with and i cant wai #to rewatch the show again through this lens and see if it holds up #i just adore the idea of this whole thing being this manifestation of a flawed doubtful person trying to navigate through their own messy #nonsensical thoughts to find their own happiness #bc yes thats what triggered me thinking of this whole thing. me seeing that post and thinking yeah that doesnt make sense7 #but then again when you tell yourself things an put your own mental blocks in the way they dont make sense either but you still have to fin #the ways to work around them in order to find happiness #like those things dont go away we just find the loopholes or the ways to overcome them that mean we can be happy #the game is your own mind - deal with your own existential crisis as you wish #anyway this is only part 1 in what i hope will be a very extensive meta analysis of this show - stay tuned #love for love's sake

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surlifen · 10 months

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new sona ref at long last! and I named him finally (sort of) (was stuck between two so I've uploaded different versions of the ref in different places LMAO)

just in time for artfight teehee

#character design #am i allowed to say i listen to mcr if its literally exclusively danger days #god tumblr when i tell you i struggled HARD with names.#i like finlo because it can be nicknamed fin‚ it's irish‚ and it means fair haired sun god #and im blond. and im suncoded. and im irish #but i also love salt because it's weird‚ i like the sound better‚ and it has more of a furry name vibe #obviously both have beachy vibes because “fin” and seasalt #so idk maybe finlo is his Real Name and fin and salt are nicknames i just worry i cant communicate that clearly lol #BUT ANYWAY. HES ME. i traced pics of myself as studies for this #its cool to have a sona w my actual body type that i really like! not that i have a particularly stigmatized body type not even close but #IDK. FURRIES ARE LIKE TWIGS USUALLY and i am STOUT #real bleedy ink pen

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graedari · 8 days

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Indulgent doodle page of Fin-Tastic Aquarium :)

#graedari doodles #dishonored #dh #Fin-tastic Aquarium AU #daud (dishonored)#thomas the whaler #custis pendleton #morgan pendleton #aramis stilton #grim alex #alexandria hypatia #emily kaldwin #corvo attano #digital art #ipad #apple pen #procreate #there are so many layers to the first two drawings ashdoaha im sorry anyone who wants context #custy im gaykissing you for endearing me to the twins and opening my third eye to how funny they are <3333 #hydria gaykissing you for endearing me to alex and hypatia and vasco i will draw vasco soon enough for you to rb too prommy <333 #the aquarium/modern au ive made can be so important to me #don't worry about the drastic difference in how i draw daud now #i did a face study and realized i was drawing his entire face shape wrong asdkasjdals #but ask me about the fin-tastic aquarium au #your fav probably has a spot in it somewhere #im working through most of the cast now that ive played quite a bit of dh2 #graedari dh #graedari loves queue

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zuala-bear · 5 months

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Happy belated Birthday to our first cryo dude!

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tinybubble330 · 10 months

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Come and see him! This was my final art project, working with our own theme, and I chose (speculative)biology. I had tons of fun coming up with Fin Fin’s anatomy, and writing about the planet TEO. Most of the information was made up, but I also referenced the Fin Fin websites for stuff like his diet, the other wildlife, and the habitats. My handwriting is a bit messy because the pen was bleeding, but otherwise I like this piece.

#fin fin #fin fin come and see him #fin fin on teo the magic planet #fujitsu #teo the magic planet #speculative biology #spec bio #posca pens #anatomy

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sapphire-writes · 11 months

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Lessons (modern!HOTD)

Second installment of Teacher's Pet

pairing: professor!Aemond x student!Reader

summary: After your rendezvous with your former professor, you haven't heard from him. Desperate times lead to desperate measures.

word count: 4.2k

rating: Explicit (detailed warning under the cut)

Warnings: mature themes, power imbalance, pussy slapping, face-fucking, slight degradation, edging, begging, oral f-receiving, fingering, anal fingering, p in v, creampie, cock warming

note: felt silly and wrote a long-awaited part 2!! hope you enjoy it loves!!

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

It’d been a few weeks since your office encounter with Aemond Targaryen. You don’t know what you were expecting, a text, a phone call? It wasn’t like you had exchanged numbers after accidentally flirting with him at the bar.

No. He made it clear that he was in a position of power, and that what happened between you should be a one-time thing.

Should be.

The phrase you’d been pondering since he fucked you silly. He could have easily told you it wouldn’t happen again, giving you a definitive answer.

But he didn’t.

So you held onto that hope as you made your way through the last leg of your semester. You’d seen him around campus a few times, spared some pleasantries that left your stomach fluttering, and your cheeks flushed. But nothing more than that. Still, it was enough to keep you hopeful. You just needed to find the right opportunity again.

Well, maybe after your final for Social and Cultural Perspectives on Witchcraft and Sorcery. Dr. Rivers was one of your favorite professors, and this elective was clearly where her passions lay. But her weekly quizzes preparing you for your final were about to kill you.

You sighed, making your way to the lecture hall, removing your AirPods. You nearly trip when you see Aemond standing next to your professor outside of your classroom. You force a smile on your face and continue.

“Dr. Rivers,” you greet your professor and glance at Aemond who stands at the front of the door, handing out papers, “Professor Targaryen.”

Professor Alys Rivers smiles kindly at you, as Aemond hands you a packet. He says nothing, just nods to acknowledge you. It sends a jab of pain slicing through you, the ease at which he ignores you.

“Professor Targaryen has kindly agreed to proctor this quiz while I attend an important meeting,” Dr. Rivers tells you, placing a manicured hand on his forearm. You glance at her expression, the sly smile she gives him.

“Fuck me eyes, girl, don’t forget what they look like ever again,” is what Sara had said to you when you’d call her spilling all the details about your dirty rendezvous in Aemond’s office.

Dr. Rivers was definitely giving Professor Targaryen that look. You found yourself pulling your shoulders back as you took the paper from him, his fingers barely brushing against yours. Dr. Rivers is a beautiful, older woman; tall with flowing dark hair that matches her eyes. She always looks her best when teaching, red bottom Louboutins making her appear even more graceful.

She’s wearing a form-fitting forest green dress today accentuating her curves. She’s got that perfect Marilyn Monroe hourglass shape; Aliandrawould be foaming at the mouth and calling her mommy if she saw her. I mean, you’re practically on your knees as well, but the feelings of jealousy suppress your adoration for her.

You move your gaze to Aemond. He briefly meets your gaze, before smiling politely, lifting his hand to usher you into the classroom. You flick an eyebrow up at his dismissive behavior. Aemond’s face remains neutral, and Dr. Rivers glances at you, as though you’ve been standing there too long.

“You’ll do fine, Ms. Y/L/N,” she encourages, assuming you’re nervous about the quiz.

You force a smile back at her, adjusting your bag before heading inside the classroom, brushing by Aemond. You move to your seat and drop your bag, reaching for a pen. So he’s ignoring you now? How typical of a man who finally gets some pussy.

The door slams shut as Aemond walks down the aisle; you can’t help but admire the suave way he saunters between the desks toward the desk at the front. You’re barely listening as he instructs what to do when you’ve finished the quiz, eyes trained on the curve of his lips, the definition of his jaw. The veins on the back of his hand as he writes on the whiteboard.

Fuck.

You wish he didn’t fuck so well, didn’t dress so well, wasn’t so smooth, and easy to talk to. You shake your head before beginning your quiz. Aemond Targaryen was not going to distract you anymore today.

Fucking liar.

You wish you dressed up and wore a sexy little skirt like you did that day in his office. You glance up from your desk. Aemond is mindlessly flipping through papers, tongue darting out to wet his forefinger as he turns a page. His attention is focused on the task at hand. Annoyance creeps up your spine at his indifference.

Had you known he would be here you would’ve taken more time picking an outfit. You had pulled your hair out of your face, utilizing a claw clip, and had settled on a spacious, baggy sweatshirt. At least you wore shorts so you could show some leg, but that’s doing little good right now. You nervously chew the back of your pen, cracking your neck as you attempt to focus on the questions in front of you.

Your eyes flicker back to him. He doesn’t spare you a fucking glance.

Your annoyance quickly turns to irritation, liquid fire burning through you at his indifference. You can feel your face heating up, becoming almost uncomfortably hot when an idea strikes. You place your pen on the desk. You grab the edge of your sweatshirt, pulling it slowly over your head, revealing the skimpy tank top you have on underneath. You didn’t wear a bra with it, you hadn’t planned on removing your sweatshirt at all.

The cool air flowing from the vents causes goosebumps to appear on your arms and you fight the urge to shiver. You let the sweatshirt drop with a thump on top of your backpack. Aemond glances up at the noise, eyes trained on your discarded sweatshirt, not looking at you. He lets his gaze rest there a moment before returning it to his papers.

You lean back in your seat, nipples hardening in the cool air, straining through the thin material of your top. Oscar Tully sits beside you at a neighboring desk, propped on his elbow leaning his face against his hand. His eyes widen as you reach for your claw clip, shaking your hair loose. Oscar’s jaw slacks slightly as you cross your legs, raising your arms over your head in an exaggerated stretch.

You glance at him, noticing the auburn-haired guy staring at you, awarding him a small smile. At least someone’s paying attention. Oscar gives you a lazy smile, eyes falling to shamelessly look at your chest. You run a hand over your hair, twirling some around your finger while reaching for your pen once more. You can’t help yourself and let your eyes glance at Aemond.

He’s looking at you now.

Violet and blue eyes stare back at you as you place the back of the pen in between your lips, gently nibbling on the tip. You tilt your head to the side, before leaning forward, making sure to rest your chest on your forearm, letting the top of your cleavage spill, before returning to your quiz.

Oscar Tully’s mouth has fallen open in a wide grin as he appreciates the sight in front of him; his eyes trained on your chest that rises and falls with each breath. You answer the next question before glancing at Oscar again. He’s handsome, in a frat boy way. You recall hearing he once signed up for this class because he’s into crystal girls. You give him a sultry smile, running a finger down the side of your neck, over your collarbone and the top of your breast. Oscar raises an eyebrow at you and you stifle a giggle.

“Ahem,” Aemond’s voice flows from the front of the classroom.

To make a point, you don’t look at him, letting your gaze fall from Oscar back to your quiz. You finish early, grabbing your things and bringing them to the front of the classroom, depositing the quiz in front of Aemond. He doesn’t say anything, just glances up at you as you turn away, heading for the door. And yes, make sure you swing your hips as you do so. Maybe that will get his attention.

“You did not,” Aliandra Martell snickers as you tell her about your shenanigans from earlier that day.

You were happily seated in your shared apartment, splitting a copious amount of Chinese takeaway with Aliandra as you recounted the tale. You’d been friends with Aliandra since freshman year and had to fill her in on your scandalous hookup with Professor Targaryen.

“And look,” you tell her, showing her your phone, “Oscar Tully has been messaging me all afternoon.”

Aliandra inspects the messages before clicking on his profile. You grab a crab rangoon, biting into it as she squeals with delight.

“He wants to meet up!” she says, handing you back your phone.

Still chewing, you read the message Oscar just sent.

“Drinks,” you say nodding, “Yeah, I could do drinks.”

Aliandra can see through you easily, and she frowns at your lackluster reaction.

“Girl, he’s cute!” she encourages, “And it’s just drinks, you don’t have to suck him off of anything.”

“Ali!” you scold, but she merely shrugs.

“Look, all I’m saying is you’re hot, you’re funny, and you’re all-around awesome. If Professor Orgasm can’t see it, then find someone who will,” she finishes, reaching for the spring rolls.

“Professor Orgasm?” you ask, “Not your best work in the nickname department.”

“I’ll work on it,” she assures, “But, how many times was it again?”

A shiver rolls through you at the memory, all the way down your body and straight to your clit.

“Like four times?” you recall, cheeks blazing red.

Aliandra’s eyes are wide.

“Damn. I think I’d be dick-whipped too then,” she tells you.

“I’m not dick-whipped,” you tell her.

“Then prove it,” she challenges, eyeing your phone.

Though your stomach flips and flops, you respond to Oscar’s messages, telling him you’d meet him at the Silk Street Tavern in an hour. Plenty of time to get dolled up.

You go for something simple and sexy; a little black dress to do the trick. You fix your makeup and hair just the way you like it and settle on your best heels for the occasion. You look good. And Aliandra is totally right, you’re hot and deserve the attention.

You tell Aliandra goodbye; she’s wrapped up in blankets on the couch preparing for a much-needed night in, as you leave the apartment.

As you make your way out of the apartment and down the front steps you notice a familiar sleek black car parked outside. You slow your steps, as Aemond exits the car walking around to the passenger side. He’s still wearing his button-down, but a dark jacket has been paired over it, matching his slacks. You release a small, breathy laugh as he watches you.

“Are you following me?” you ask, cocking your head to the side.

“Thought you might want to go for a drive,” Aemond tells you, leaning against his car.

You fold your arms across your chest, jutting your hip out at him. Your heart beats erratically in your chest as you force yourself to stare back at him.

“I have a date.”

He opens the passenger side of his Mercedes before walking to the driver’s side.

“Get in the car,” he instructs, not turning around.

His tone suggests he will not ask again. You glance at your phone, greeted by an excited message from Oscar that makes you wince. You look up at Aemond, who waits with the driver-side door open.

Sorry Oscar.

The drive to Aemond’s apartment took little to no time at all, he flies down the streets like a man possessed, going well over the speed limit. His right arm lays lazily on your lap, fingers curled into the meat of your thigh as though he’s worried you’ll leap from the vehicle.

He lives further into the city, pulling in front of a tall skyscraper, a doorman standing in front. Aemond throws the car in park, holding out his key.

“Fiftieth floor. Number 531,” he tells you, voice a low growl, “Go inside and wait for me.”

You look at the key he holds out to you, then back at his face.

“What should-”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he cuts you off, “You’re a smart girl. Figure it out.”

You swallow the lump forming in your throat, take the key, and exit the car. Aemond speeds around the corner, presumably parking his car. You walk toward the building on shaky legs, not meeting the doorman’s eyes as he holds the door open for you.

You walk through the lobby and towards the elevators, heart in your throat. You barely register the time it takes you to get upstairs, finding his door. Nervous anticipation curls in your belly as you walk into his apartment.

It’s as you expected; clean, and modest, with sleek black furniture and stainless steel appliances in the large kitchen. A black marble counter that matches the modern fireplace in the living room. It’s dangerous, yet inviting, much like Aemond himself. You take a few steps inside when you hear a loud hiss.

Glancing down the hallway you spot an old large tabby cat, with its tail completely poofed out in anger, ears flattened against its head.

“Don’t mind Vhagar,” Aemond tells you, appearing from behind and shutting the door, “She’s an old grump.”

“I like cats,” you tell him softly, and Vhagar hisses again, showing all her pointy teeth.

Aemond hums, moving to stand directly behind you. He brings a hand to your arm, letting his fingertips trail a path up toward your shoulder. Your breath catches in your throat.

“You live here?” you ask, wetting your lips.

Aemond hums in confirmation. His long fingers play with the thin strap of your dress, slipping underneath. You can feel his breath on the side of your neck, and smell his cologne. It's dizzying having him this close to you. He brings his free hand to rest against your waist as he presses a soft kiss to the crook of your neck. Your eyes flutter shut at the sweet gesture.

“That’s the only kindness you’ll get from me tonight,” he murmurs against your neck.

Goosebumps break out across your skin and your eyes snap open in confusion. You turn your head slightly to look at him, feeling his grip on your waist tightens. There’s a dangerous glint in his violet eye, as his lip tugs upward into a small, satisfied smirk.

“You think you can behave like that, and be rewarded?” he asks, before tutting softly, “We could have had a lovely night together, a little continuation of our last encounter.”

Aemond spins you to face him, bringing his hands to cup your cheeks. Eyes wide you stare at him, lips parted in shock.

“But someone is a bit greedy, isn’t she?” he asks.

You don’t answer, feeling as though your heart may burst from the confines of your ribs.

“I asked you a question,” he tells you, “It’s rude not to answer.”

You swallow, lower lip beginning to tremble.

“Yes,” you answer quietly, “Yes I was greedy.”

“Hmm, and what do you think happens to greedy little girls?” he asks, letting his thumbs stroke your cheeks.

Holy shit. Is this really happening? You can feel yourself growing wetter with every word he speaks, the ache between your thighs becoming almost unbearable. You shift on your feet, lashes fluttering against your cheek as you avert your eyes from his.

“They need to be taught a lesson,” you answer him, beginning to chew on your lower lip.

“And I’m a good teacher, aren’t I?” he asks, bringing his thumb to your lip, releasing it from between your teeth.

You raise your eyes to meet his once more.

“Yes professor,” you tell him, face set in a pout.

Aemond squeezes your chin before releasing you, dropping his hands to his belt.

“On your knees,” he instructs while unbuttoning his pants.

You sink to your knees in front of him, reaching up to assist him with his undressing. Aemond swats your hands away. You frown but wait for him as he removes his hard cock from his trousers. Your mouth waters at the sight of him; long and thick, slightly curved, and just as pale as the rest of him with a tuft of silver curls around the base. He strokes himself a few times, enjoying the sight of you on your knees before him.

Aemond brings his hand to the back of your head, fisting it in your hair and tugging harshly. Your head snaps back and Aemond taps the head of his cock against your bottom lip.

“You want to act like a little slut, I’ll treat you like one,” he says, shifting his hips, “Open up.”

You widen your mouth as he eases his cock in, trying to remind yourself to breathe through your nose as you gag around his length. Your eyes water as he rocks his hips, thrusting himself down your throat.

“Fuck that's good,” he says, the grip on your head unrelenting with each roll of his hips.

Saliva pools in your mouth, dribbling out the corners and down your chin.

“Look at you making a mess,” Aemond comments and you hum around him.

You try to move your head, but it's hard with how tight his grip is. He’s completely controlling the pace, relentlessly fucking your mouth for his pleasure. You bring your hand up to cup his heavy balls, rolling them in your palm and squeezing gently.

You’re rewarded with a throaty moan, as Aemond’s jaw slacks with pleasure. You look up at him through tear-soaked lashes, admiring his expression hazed with pleasure. His eye is on you, watching his cock slide in and out between your lips, watching as your throat constricts every time he thrusts in.

“There’s my good girl,” he murmurs, cock twitching in your throat.

You choke around him as you feel his release; warm and salty down the back of your throat. He pulls out suddenly, leaving a string of cum and saliva dangling from your lips and his cock.

“So pretty like this,” Aemond comments, doing nothing but admire the sight of your swollen lips.

He helps you to a standing position, before lifting you up and seating you on the counter. Aemond’s hands disappear under your dress, looping around your panties and dragging them down your legs. He leaves your heels on as he discards them, pushing your dress up to your waist.

You lean back against the counter on your elbows, breathing ragged as he spreads your legs.

“You think that silly little boy could satisfy this pussy?” Aemond asks, pinching your inner thigh when you don’t respond, “Answer me.”

“No,” you breathe.

“No, what?”

You bite your lip, earning a sharp slap to your throbbing center.

“No sir,” you tell him, barely a squeak.

Aemond hums at your words letting his long fingers part your soaked folds. He tilts his head to the side, admiring your glistening sex before delivering another harsh slap. You can’t help but cry out, abdominal muscles contracting together painfully.

“No sir,” he mimics, shaking his head, “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Aemond sinks two of his long fingers into your tight, wet heat curling them upwards toward your sweet spot. Fire pools in your belly, every curl of his fingers bringing you closer and closer toward the precipice of your orgasm.

“Please,” you beg, “Please sir, please-”

“Already?” he mocks, “That didn’t take long at all, you can do better than that.”

Aemond removes his fingers, the sudden emptiness causing tears to form in your eyes. You whimper pathetically, feeling him spread your juices lower, toward your puckered hole.

“Have you been touched here?” he asks, swirling his forefinger over the ridges of your asshole.

You nod slightly. You’d explored anal fingering before with other partners, and by yourself.

“Yes,” you tell him, “Yes sir please.”

Aemond presses his lubricated finger gently into your tight hole, easing into you slowly and with care. No matter what he said earlier, he’s being gentle, making sure you can take what he gives you. Your belly tightens as he leans forward, pressing his mouth against your soaked cunt, as your ass completely takes his finger.

“G-gods,” you stutter as his tongue flicks against your sensitive clit, “Oh my gods.”

The words come out as barely a squeak as Aemond dips his tongue into your dripping center, finger fucking your ass in tandem with his tongue. It’s so fucking good, your hands bury themselves in his hair, nails digging into his scalp hard enough to draw blood.

Aemond moans against you as he continues his movements.

“Please sir, please I need to come,” you tell him, and that’s all he needs to slow his movements.

You cry out in desperation, begging him not to stop though he continues to do so, easing his finger from your ass and peppering your soaked mound with feather-light kisses. You flinch at each kiss he presses against you, far too overstimulated.

“I knooow,” he murmurs, condescendingly, before rising from between your legs and heading toward the kitchen.

You hear the water of the sink and turn your head, watching as he washes his hands. Aemond turns to look at you.

“Have you learned your lesson?” he asks, shutting off the water and drying his hands.

You frantically nod, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes.

“Please,” you beg, voice cracking with desperation, “Please sir, please!”

Aemond tilts his head to the side and appears convinced by your broken cry, the way you tremble on his countertop. He walks over to you, moving some hair from your face before lifting you into his arms, and cradling you against his chest. You nuzzle into him desperately as he walks down the hallway and into his bedroom.

He deposits you on the soft silk bed sheets, discarding his pants, and unbuttoning his shirt. You rise from the bed, hurriedly removing your dress with shaky limbs. Aemond sinks to his knees before you, undoing the straps of the heel on your right foot, then your left. He places kisses up the side of your calf as he makes his way back to a standing position, finally letting his mouth meet yours.

You’d missed kissing him, moaning into his mouth as his tongue slips past your lips. His thumbs tease the hardened peaks of your nipples, before tugging on them, sending more wetness pooling between your legs. His arms then wrap around you, pulling you onto the bed with him.

Aemond lays on his back, motioning for you to straddle him. Eagerly you climb onto him, legs on either side of his slim waist. The head of his cock nudges your slick folds and you lift your hips before sinking down on top of him. You throw your head back, crying out at the delicious stretch as he bottoms out in your warm pussy. Fuck his cock is perfect, it's not fair truly.

You roll your hips, nails digging into his pectorals as you begin to ride him, chasing the high he denied you so far. Aemond’s hands rest comfortably on your hips, his eye never leaving your face. He soon grows tired of your languid pace, placing his feet against the mattress and thrusting upwards, meeting you as you slap back down onto his thick cock.

Wet slapping noises fill the room along with steady whimpers and moans you are unable to silence.

“Please,” you beg, desperately grinding your clit against him, “Please professor I need to cum, please let me cum, make me cum-”

You continue to babble as you ride him, warm pleasure leaking into your limbs, but never quite enough to let you reach your peak.

“You’re going to behave now, aren’t you?” Aemond taunts, laughing slightly as you nod, eyes squeezed tightly shut, “Let me take care of you, baby.”

You open your eyes as Aemond flips you onto your back, his cock never leaving you. He slings your leg over his shoulder and pounds into you desperately. The fire in your belly ignites, abs tightening, toes curling from pleasure.

“Cum all over my cock pretty girl,” Aemond tells you, snapping his hips furiously against you.

The coil inside you snaps and your pussy tightens around him, constricting him as your orgasm shatters through you. Aemond fucks you through it, prolonging your pleasure until he finds his release inside of you. He doesn’t pull out, simply lays beside you, with his cock inside your warmth.

“I think I’m going to keep you,” he murmurs, lips ghosting across your cheek, “Keep you right here, would you like that?”

“Yes,” you breathe, drunk with pleasure and wanting nothing more than to stay right in the position you’re in.

Aemond hums, pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder.

“What kind of breakfast do you enjoy?” he asks, after a moment of comfortable silence.

“You’re letting me stay the night?” you ask.

Aemond’s arms tighten around you.

“I said I’d like to keep you,” he tells you, chuckling.

You snuggle closer to him, keeping a leg wrapped around him so he can stay inside you as long as possible.

A meow comes from the doorway, causing you to lift your head. Vhagar watches you, less defensive than before. Perhaps she’s warming up to you as well.

note: as always, likes, reblogs, and comments are GREATLY appreciated (but never expected) though you will receive an internet kiss on the forehead from me if you do so, okay love you bye!!

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kryptonitejelly · 7 months

Text

nick amaro x reader // law and order SVU

yes, we are going there - what have i done 😭 no plot, really. just a moment.

The last thing Nick had expected to find when walking back into the SVU bullpen was you; and yet, here he was, eyes fixed on you as his strides quickened. He notices Fin’s smirk that finds itself aimed his way as he weaves his way between Amanda and Liv to get to you, but he ignores it.

He lets his gaze drag itself over your form, head down on his desk, the lamp on his desk casting a soft glow around your features; the extra suit jacket he leaves hanging on the back of his chair draped over your shoulders. You have a laptop open in front of you, a case file and note pad within reach, all topped off by an uncapped pen lying caged between your curled fingers. He sees the pair of heels which you had shed, one standing, one lying on its side peeking out from under his desk. A dip of his gaze reveals the deep green of the dress which you had on, one of his favourite dresses on you - one that he knew you had worn in to work today in anticipation of Friday having supposed to be date night.

Nick slows his pace as he approaches you, content in the few seconds to allow himself to watch the gentle rise and fall of your shoulders. The sight stirs a mix of emotions in his chest - the swell of emotion that came rushing in whenever he set his eyes on you, and a heavy tinge of guilt. Guilt that he had to cancel the first date night you both had managed to plan after weeks of clashing schedules, guilt that you taken it so well, and guilt that you had somehow found your way here, to the SVU bullpen so that you could both head home together.

Nick drops to a knee, bringing himself to eye level with your face. He raises his hand to cup the side of your face gently. His touch on your skin is light, soft, but it makes you stir immediately.

“Hey,” Nick’s voice grounds you as you let your mind grind to a start, your surroundings shifting into focus. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought we could go home together,” your lips furl up into a gentle smile, voice soft, your eyes, still hazy with sleep, locked onto Nick’s. You forget your bearings for a moment until you hear a cough from behind Nick as various footsteps shuffle into the bullpen. You straighten up slowly, blinking the sleep from your eyes, legs stretching out beneath you as you offer a wave to the rest of the team trudging in.

“An ADA slumming it at Amaro’s desk?” Fin muses, voice joking and light.

“What would Barba say,” Munch follows, expression deadpan.

“Unbecoming isn’t it?” Liv continues with a quirk of one end of her lip.

“What can I say,” you play along, “not all of us have Barba’s flair.”

“Clearly,” Amanda states, looking pointedly at Nick which earns a series of chuckles from the rest of the team and yourself.

“Yeah, yeah,” Nick waves a hand in the air dismissively, but his gaze doesn’t leave you. You tilt your body downward slightly, hands reaching for your discarded heels. Nick notices and he is back on a knee in one fluid motion.

“Nick,” you protest as he places a hand along your calf, his other propping your heel up, helping you back into your heels. You hazard a glance behind your boyfriend, only to find the rest of the team, tactfully busying themselves with their desks. “I’m not Cinderalla,” you state, but with no real protest as you let him guide your other heel back on.

“I’m not your Prince Charming?” He teases, not caring who else heard, giving your calf a gentle squeeze before winking at you and straightening back into a stand.

“I’ll get back to you on that,” you pull a face as you turn to gather your belongings, making quick work of shoving them into your bag with Nick’s help.

“Way to hurt a man,” he places a hand on his chest as you shrug his spare jacket off your shoulders; Nick takes it from you, hanging it back on his chair.

“She could hurt you more” Fin cuts in again with a sing-song voice. It makes you chuckle, as you catch a wink Amanda throws in your direction.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be Detective Tutuola,” Nick asks all while shrugging off the jacket on his shoulders to place it over yours, letting it hang off your frame. He flicks off the light switch on his desk and picks your bag up.

“If I say no, will you let me tag along?”

Your yes comes at the same time as Nick’s absolutely not, and it earns you another series of chuckles around the room.

“Don’t call me till Monday,” Nick calls out, while threading his fingers through yours as he starts to guide you towards the lift. You barely manage to call out a goodbye, before the lift doors shut on you both.

“I didn’t-” your protest is cut short by Nick’s lips on yours, his free hand circling your waist, going over the fabric of his jacket on your shoulders. You let yourself sink into the kiss, hand sliding up his shoulder and behind his neck as the lift descends to the parking garage.

“I’m sorry I had to cancel today,” he says, forehead resting against yours as he breaks the kiss. His eyes are closed, but you flicker yours open as you run your hand from the back of his neck to cup the side of his jaw.

“You have nothing to apologise for Detective Amaro,” you end with the professional term of address in attempt to diffuse some of the guilt you see in his eyes. “Work,” you continue with a light shrug - Nick was a victim of you cancelling on him as well, and you understood.

“I was really looking forward to tonight,” he says, still apologetic as he finally opens his eyes while leaning his face into your palm.

“I can think of a few ways you can spend the rest of the weekend making it up to me,” you say, dropping your voice to a lower, almost sultry tone as you lean into him, pressing the front of your body into his. Nick responds by pulling you in closer, his hand dipping down the hem of his jacket on your shoulders to slide down onto the curve of your ass.

“Take me home Detective Amaro,” you say as the lift door dings open.

“Your wish is my command,” Nick says in response, taking the opportunity to sear another quick kiss onto your lips before tugging you out of the lift.

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marlynnofmany · 6 months

Text

Seeing Faces

It’s rare when we get a shipment to deliver that’s not packaged somehow — either in Earth-standard boxes, another world’s version of shipping crates, or a livestock pen of some kind. Even that bunch of alien trees had been thoroughly wrapped at the bottom. But this collection of machinery parts didn’t have so much as a layer of cling-wrap on it. I guess the owners figured these things were sturdy enough not to need it.

They were probably right. The metal chunks were heavy. I tried to guess what they were made for as Blip and Blop muscled the biggest ones onto a hover sled, clearing the way for Paint and me to gather up the smaller pieces. Captain Sunlight bid the customer farewell and shut the cargo bay door.

“I think these look like vertebrae,” I said to Paint. “Greasy vertebra. Ew. I’m going to need a new shirt.” The offworld engine oil of whatever didn’t seem acidic at least, so that was nice. I sighed about the black smears.

“Strange vertebrae,” Paint said, juggling her own armload of odd shapes that didn’t seem to be rubbing off on her orange scales. Not that I was jealous or anything. “There would need to be a dual spinal cord.” She tapped a claw on one of the holes.

“Hm, yeah. There are probably animals like that,” I said. “Or robots, as the case may be.”

Ahead of us, Captain Sunlight opened the door to the appropriate storage hold, then headed off on captainly business. It was impressive how different a vibe she gave off compared to Paint, for all their physical similarities. Both were little lizardy people, but one strode with her lemon-yellow head held high, every inch the authority figure, while the other was Paint. She somehow bounced when she walked, even when weighted down by unwieldy metal things.

“I’ll bet these stack really well,” Paint said. “They look like they interlock. We could probably build a spinal column without them falling over.”

“We probably could,” I agreed. “But I don’t want to be the one responsible for bending one of the flanges because we wanted to test it out.”

“Hm. Yep yep yep. But I maintain that we could.”

“We could.”

The two of us entered the storage hold to find Blip and Blop racing to see who could unload the sled faster. It’s not that the Frillian twins were overly competitive, but they were twins. They’d apparently hatched at the same time, and had been in a low-key competition to see who was better at life ever since. But they smiled while they did it.

“Done!” Blip declared, setting down a lump of metal big enough for Paint to hide behind. She raised her hands in triumph, fins fluttering.

“Doesn’t count,” Blop said as he put down his own piece. “You didn’t line them up right. Mine are tidier.”

They squabbled about this while Paint and I unloaded our metal chunks nearby. I had to kneel to keep from dropping the things. It would be just my luck if they did warp on impact, or bounce off each other and whack me in the shin.

The Frillians took their debate out the door before I finished. They’d already moved on to who could steer the hoversled with the minimum of touching.

“Ha,” Paint said. “They do stack.”

I turned to see only one of the things set on top of another, with Paint ready to catch it if it slid. She took it down before I could say anything.

I just nodded and arranged my own into a reasonable huddle, then wiped my hands on my shirt. It was only when I moved toward the door, with a look back at the big pieces, that I got a good look at the one that Blop had set on its side.

This was the logical place to put it, not sticking out past the rest, but the thing that caught my attention was the shape when seen from this angle. Those two holes could have been eyes, and the flanges were shaped like stubby arms. There were even a couple slots in the middle like nostrils.

I burst out laughing.

“What?” Paint demanded.

“It looks like Zhee!” I said, pointing. “Big bug eyes and everything!”

“What does?” Paint asked. She came to stand next to me, following my arm, but just looked confused. “Where are the eyes?”

“These!” I said, stepping closer and pointing at the holes. “And those are the arms. Isn’t it perfect?”

Paint cocked her head as if slightly tilted vision could unlock the answers. “Arms?”

I repeated myself, but she still looked lost, so I found a notepad and pencil in a storage cupboard —reliable even when the batteries all run out — and sketched what I saw.

“Ohh, I get what you mean now,” Paint said when I showed her. “Those parts are lifted like pincher arms, and those are roughly the same proportion as Mesmer eyes.”

“Yeah, it’s uncanny,” I said.

Paint took the notepad to study it closer. “How did you even notice that?”

“It was pretty easy,” I told her. “It just jumped out at me when I looked from the right direction. Like seeing faces in clouds, you know?”

Paint’s blank expression said that she didn’t know.

“Do you not do that? Find patterns of familiar shapes in random things?”

“No?” she replied. “Is that a thing I’m supposed to be doing?”

“You don’t have to! It’s just something that everybody does on Earth, ever since we’re kids. It’s probably from a long history of watching for camouflaged predators in the bushes. You’ve got camouflage on your planet, right? You must.”

“Yeah, sure,” Paint said easily. “But I guess not that much. I’ve never seen a face in a cloud; that sounds terrifying.”

“Not really; it’s more like feeling smart for spotting something. Well,” I amended. “It could be a little unsettling if you see a skull or something. But that’s rare. There are whole systems of divination about this sort of thing.”

Paint looked like she was about to ask a million questions, but right then the sound of familiar clicking footsteps tapped down the hall.

“Zhee!” Paint called, whirling with the notebook in her hand. “Zhee, look what Robin saw!”

Zhee came into view looking just as eyecatching and purple as usual, halting at the doorway while Paint eagerly explained the conversation we’d just had. Quickly and enthusiastically. With lots of waving the sketch around, and pointing back at the machine part.

I felt like apologizing as he stared with an unreadable alien expression. His antennae weren’t even moving; I couldn’t tell what he thought of it all.

Finally Paint finished talking. “She says it’s probably because her species watches for predators in the bushes. Isn’t that amazing?”

Zhee made a point of looking slowly from the sketch to the metal thing, then to me. I braced myself for judgement.

Instead, Zhee raised his pincher arms into the same pose and declared, “I am the danger that lurks in the bushes.” Then he slunk out of sight, many legs scuttling in a quickstep way that he knew darn well I found creepy.

Paint blinked at the empty doorway, still holding the notebook.

“Aw, man,” I said. “He’s picking things up from Trrili.”

Paint immediately closed the notebook. “We definitely shouldn’t show her.”

“Agreed!” I said.

After a moment of thought, Paint tore the page out and handed it to me, then took the notebook back to the cupboard. I pocketed it with a final glance at the metal vertebra that looked remarkably like a cartoonish Mesmer squaring up for battle.

Someone had left a roll of no-residue marking tape on a box nearby. I grabbed a strip and stuck it onto the metal, with the ends curved up.

Now the thing had a goofy grin that possibly no one would recognize. But if there were any humans on the receiving end of this delivery, they ought to get a good laugh out of it.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

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thegoatsongs · 7 months

Text

Though critics generally read Lucy as a frivolous naif, there is far more to her than the sweetness her beaux enthuse over. (26) Her nerve and intelligence come through in her diary entries and in the remarkably lucid memorandum she pens just before her death, when she realizes the importance of giving "an exact record of what took place" so that "no one may by chance get into any trouble through me" (130). Lucy, like Ibsen's Nora Helmer, is a shrewd performer of naivety. An astute observer of character, she analyzes Dr. Seward, even as she detects him trying to analyze her as if she were one of his patients. Whereas Seward never sees beyond the frivolous femininity that he finds so enchanting, Lucy discerns the nervous personality that underlies Seward's apparent calm. She notes how he fiddles with his lancet and nearly sits on his hat as he works up the nerve to propose marriage to her. Her tears silenced his unwelcome proposal, she gaily reports to Mina, noting how his hands trembled as she wept. She ventriloquizes Quincey Morris's Americanisms, observing that he indulges in them only when he is around her and "there was no one to be shocked" (59).

Lucy is a free spirit. She enjoys using slang and doesn't mind who hears her. Though she's wealthy, she finds fashion "a bore" and dismisses "Town" as "pleasant," with barely a mention of the galleries and parks she visits (56-57). [...] in her conversations with Dr. Seward, she analyzes the analyst. She has the audacity to admit, not only to Mina but also to her would-be husbands, that she loves a man who has not yet declared his love for her. Though she does not say that she had to "do the proposing" to Arthur Holmwood, her vague description--"all so confused"--of the meeting that settled their marriage allows for that possibility. [...] I agree that Stoker endows Lucy with a sensuality perhaps offensive to Victorian convention, just as he endows her with intelligence and initiative, but, as I will argue, the novel works on the whole to endorse rather than condemn unconventional traits in women.

Winstead, Karen A. 2020 Mrs. Harker and Dr. Van Helsing: Dracula, Fin-de-Siecle Feminisms, and the New Wo/Man.

#dracula daily #lucy westenra #jack seward #quincey morris #arthur holmwood

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gabessquishytum · 2 months

Note

This fin dom AU has me by the throat okay so consider: inexperienced fin dom Hob! Who’s also a masters/phd student just for funsies

Hob is so used to having to pinch pennies to afford tuition and food that he has to keep reminding himself that he has money now. Like yes it’s a given that he makes Dream pay his tuition and housing and bills and food, but it doesn’t occur to him just how much he could ask for (Dream thinks it’s kinda cute)

He doesn’t ask Dream for luxury watches and designer clothes- when Dream takes him shopping it’s to the local department store, but Hob doesn’t confine himself to the sale rack. He buys Hob all the books on his to read list, in hardcover. Goes to the movies on weekends instead of waiting for value night.

Dream of course wants to spoil Hob with fine jewelry and designer clothes and expensive dinners out, but he soon realizes that what makes his dom happiest is getting the things he genuinely wants but previously couldn’t afford, and he’s all about making Hob happy.

Now that he doesn’t have to worry about making ends meet, Hob throws himself into his degree, he even studies abroad- Dream of course comes along and pays for it all, including weekend getaways for the two of them. Dream also may or may not have almost come in his pants when Hob walks across the stage to get his diploma- his money helped put that look of beaming pride in his work and happiness on Hob’s face.

As time goes on Hob does start to get greedier. He works as an adjunct professor for funsies and to keep himself busy, but he starts demanding more of Dream, and Dream loves it. Less material items, more concert tickets, VIP packages to Broadway or west end shows, exotic vacations. And of course there’s sex, lots of sex, lots of fantastic sex

This is actually so cute, you are a genius for making findom so wholesome!!!

It always puts Dream on edge when they go shopping together because he never knows what Hob is going to ask for. And the thing is, Dream has realised that it’s not the expensiveness of the thing that gets him off - it’s how satisfied Hob seems with a purchase. So they go around the mall popping into vinyl stores where Hob gets all his favourite albums to play on the gorgeous record player Dream bought for him. And they go to get new underwear for Hob, and it’s nice and comfortable and really good quality, and Dream is squirming because Hob looks so pleased. And then they hit the stationery store which is maybe Hob’s one little weakness; he loves a good pen, and he really does get use out of them! Dream is so horny watching Hob browse, knowing that his beloved will probably come out with a midrange fountain pen - not the most expensive, but the one that makes him smile the most.

They probably don’t make it out of the parking garage without Dream begging to suck Hob’s cock in the back of the car - and Hob is never going to say no! His sub has been so good and generous, and he let Hob get exactly what he wanted without interfering - a very good boy indeed. Hob loves him so so much <3

#aralezinspace #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw findom

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apompkwrites · 9 months

Text

the ashengrotto's friend || azul ashengrotto

masterlist characters: azul (platonic), ocs :D genre: fluff (just a regular lore part) contains: very quick chapter to establish something, azul's dad (mentioned once), oc introduction (can't wait to talk about them more :D) summary: a single spell can lead to a new adventure. notes: oh wow hi again I'm not dead :). um just fell out of writing for a good while but guess who's starting their second college term in like 3 weeks :D wooo. anyway, just a quick chapter so I can introduce someone :)) parts: [og post] | [previous] | [next]

the voice was soft and airy, akin to your brother's when he was first waking up in the morning or your mother's when she wasn't in her work mode (which was very rare at this point). when you looked up, you were greeted with another cecaelia.

their skin was dark, almost pitch black. their tentacles had bright blue tips that seemed to glow in the water. however, as opposed to your tentacles, theirs were connected with thin webbing. their hair was a rusty red color, their curls bobbing in the water and covering their right eye. the one eye you could see was crystal blue, wide and full of curiosity just like your brother. two fins stuck out from their curls, drooping a bit to their sea floor.

"how'd you do that?" they repeated, pointing at the water that swirled in towards the paper.

you couldn't say anything at first. be it because you were afraid of interaction or because you genuinely had no idea what you just did, you weren't sure. but, no matter the cause, your silence seemed to only stoke the flames of the cecaelia's curiosity.

"i've never seen magic like that..." they muttered, drifting down to the seafloor in front of you. they settled down, their tentacles resting on the sand. "what was it?"

"um..." you managed to utter, your hand shakily reaching out to grab your pen. "i-i don't... um..."

"can you do it again?" they asked, seemingly unphased by your stammering. they stared at you, their single blue eye that you could see wide with amazement. "please?"

you could only nod and grab another spare piece of paper. you flipped it over, brushing it off as a simple contract draft your mother had written in her spare time, and began scribbling on the paper again. you made the same sigil, an s surrounded by arrows and a single, large circle.

immediately, the same reaction occurred. a vortex formed, swirling about and dragging the water and seaweed closer to the paper. the cecaelia beamed from fin to fin, clapping their hands excitedly like a child.

"your magic is so cool!" they cheered, their eye seemingly sparkling as they stared at you.

"th...thank you..." you mutter under your breath. the cecaelia smiled softly at you, finally noticing your nervousness.

"i'm hemming." they introduced, holding out their hand. "it's nice to meet you!"

"...(name)." you whispered, slowly and shakily taking their hand in yours. "nice to... meet you, too..."

hemming was nice. and curious. you liked that about them. with your brother slowly drifting away from you in favor of his magical studies and the tweels, hemming somehow filled his place in your heart. they reminded you of azul with their wide-eyed fascination for all things in the world.

hemming's visits motivated you to work harder, as well. it seems both you and azul got your hard-working diligence from your mother. each time hemming swam their way over to you, you would have a new sigil to show them. and, no matter how small and mundane the spell was, hemming rewarded you with amazed cheers and genuine cries of awe.

however, you did wonder where exactly hemming came from. you had seen plenty of merpeople come and go, but you never knew where they went when the time for two to part came.

"hemming." you called to them one day. "where do you live? is it far?"

"mm, a bit..." hemming hummed, their voice trailing off near the end. "...promise you won't freak out?"

"i promise."

hemming paused once more. they were nervous, maybe just as nervous as you were when you first met them. they took a quick glance around as if making sure no one was listening.

they looked back at you.

then took one more glance around.

"...the abyss." hemming whispers. the moment that name leaves their lips, a chill runs down through your tentacles.

your mother had only mentioned the abyss once. it was where your father would move to once the divorce was finalized.

hemming fidgeted under your gaze. and the longer you stared, the more they trembled.

"i'm sorry... i... i'll go--"

"no!" you don't know what compelled you to cry out or to grab their wrist. but you did. and hemming stared back at you with wide eyes. and the next words that fell from your lips shocked you more than they did hemming.

"can i visit?"

hemming swam home that night pleasantly surprised. they had tried to make friends before, but never once did they find one that was willing to go to the abyss. they were certain that the moment the question of where they lived came up, they were bound to lose a friend again.

but not this time.

and so, as they swam home, their thoughts had a single cecaelia floating about. a single, magical cecaelia.

"hemming?" ah, they hadn't realized they were home already.

their brother stood above them, towering over them as he always did. his thin and frail-looking tentacles floated beneath him, dragging across the endless floor of black. their hair fell in front of their face in long strands, framing their frail face.

"what's got your head in the seas today?" his brother asked quietly.

"oh, nothing." hemming grinned. "i just... made a really good friend."

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writing-house-of-m · 10 months

Text

It's Jeff

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Talks of experimenting on people/animals

Word count: 1485

Summary: You and Wanda bond with an unlikely new acquaintance

A/N: Hello! To keep my streak alive I have fulfilled this request. To be honest, this was a long time coming because I've been wanting to get an ongoing Jeff series going with Wanda and R. Consider this the first of many for this little group - if you have any ideas for any future parts please send them in! This isn't as good as I'd have liked it to be because this is probably the quickest I've written a fic. Regardless, I hope you like it and share any thoughts you have 🙂

After getting back from a single person two day mission away you now find yourself in the medbay not knowing where else you should have gone.

A check-up was imminent, not for yourself, you were fine, it was for… something else.

Otherwise, normally, you would have gone straight to Wanda to show you were back and safe.

Wanda would understand why. Until you remember the nickname you have for her - 'Wanda the Worrier'.

You mentally shake your head. She'll be fine with this.

Totally fine…

Hopefully.

Currently you are standing beside something you found in what seemed to be a research lab. It wasn't your intention to bring it- him home but the pout and sad eyes he gave you before passing out had you carrying the creature out with you before you knew it.

By now a total of three different types of doctor had looked at him, all as perplexed as the previous.

"I've never seen anything like it," Dr Cho concluded after a few minutes of looking him over, using her pen to push at the fin behind his head. She made her way into the room voluntarily when she overheard some rumors of something that could only be described as vicious with big teeth and claws.

"Jeff," you say, seemingly randomly getting Dr Cho to snap her head up at you quizzically.

"His name, I mean," you pause looking back at the still sleeping shark looking animal on the table. "It's Jeff." Dr Cho then squints her eyes wondering how you would know that. "That's what I've been calling him at least. There was a cage in the room I found him in with a code on it - J344."

Before Dr Cho can speak again, both of your attentions are pulled to the door as Wanda barges into the room, the worry on her face dissipating when she sees that you are okay.

As she makes her way to you, taking your face in her hands while she looks you over she expresses what is on her mind, "I thought you were just getting checked, why are you taking so long? You look fine."

Wordlessly, you look to your side for Wanda to follow your gaze, "I found this little guy."

Wanda gasps at the lump of what she thinks is an animal. She would have thought it was a dead shark if not for the steady rise and fall of his body and the limbs protruding his torso, "What is that?" Her accent peeks out from her sudden reaction.

"I saw something on a clipboard that said 'land-shark'. I guess that explains the legs and how he's able to breathe," you reply. You begin to wonder if he can breathe underwater too. Does he need to be kept in water?

Before anyone can question anything further, the landshark begins to stir. The sound of a whine coming from his direction.

He rolls onto his back, not knowing he has an audience, stretching. When he is done he rolls over so that he lands on his feet, your arm protectively goes around Wanda as you step forward while the other two in the room take a step back alarmed.

"Jeff?" You experiment.

You see his head tilt and hear a confused exclamation before he turns on his feet. When he sees three sets of unfamiliar eyes on him he stumbles two steps back landing on his butt with wide eyes, mouth agape in surprise.

When you see his frightened face you take a slow step forward with your hand out in front of you, speaking slowly, "It's okay, buddy. We're not going to hurt you."

Wanda is gripping onto your arm not wanting you to get closer but you whisper that it is okay before turning your head back to the animal.

Jeff's resolve softens when he realises it is you. The one he saw before he knocked out.

His head tilts again, mouth opening wide in a smile, his tongue falling out of the corner.

You furrow your eyebrows at the action, confused as to why he hasn't pounced or attacked anyone in the room. The closer you get, the more the ladies behind you tense, "I think he can understand us."

Finally, your hand lands on his head. You hear the sighs of relief from behind you. As you rub his smooth skin he vibrates excitedly. You scoff at the reaction, "Aww, you just want a friend, little buddy?" He replies by laying on his back so you can rub his belly making you chuckle. "He's cute."

Apprehensively, the other two occupants move closer to make their own assessments of the little shark wiggling around.

You prompt the witch and the doctor to try if they want to. They giggle too after they hear a long satisfied cry when they take over petting him.

Dr Cho stops after a little while saying she may know someone who specialises in animals and how they might be able to help. She leaves the room after fiddling with her phone to make a call.

When Wanda pulls her hand back, you notice the grin on her face. It grows into a smile when Jeff sits again with his tongue out panting, "You like him," you extend your words teasing her.

"Yes, he is very cute," Wanda smiles, glancing at you. She goes to pet his head this time, her thumb rubbing in circles as she coos at him, asking if he knows how cute he is.

Without Wanda meaning too, she gets a peek into Jeff's mind. Flashes of his history pass in her mind in quick succession.

In the next second you see Jeff frown looking upset. You are about to ask him what is wrong when you hear Wanda speak up from next to you, "Y/n…" she says, sadly with tears in her eyes.

When you see the red dissipate from her natural green you realise what happened. "What did you see?"

Wanda turns her head back to the shark, she moves her hand to scratch beneath his chin to cheer him up.

When she feels him begin to vibrate again she asks if he wants to explore the room, he nods his head and the two of you watch him as Wanda explains with a teary expression. "They experimented on him."

She goes on to talk about different tests and serums several doctors tried on him. All the poking and prodding he went through took Wanda back when she was a prisoner of theirs.

It took a long time to convince Wanda she was a prisoner, and not a volunteer, held by Hydra.

When Dr Cho returns you relay the information to her. She talks about how her contact is busy and they will not be able to come for a few weeks.

"The question remains; What do we do with him?" Dr Cho finishes.

The three of you turn to him, seeing him attack a stethoscope, his paws holding it in place as he chews on the rubber section in the middle.

"We have cages big enough somewhere in storage. I guess I could fish one out," Dr Cho thinks aloud.

"No!" Both you and Wanda say in unison, hearing a 'mrr?' from the side getting the attention of Jeff. When you smile at him he goes back to his previous activity.

You then look at each other and you speak first, "Are you okay with him staying in our room?" Wanda simply nods, eyes welling up again remembering what she saw.

After a bit more small talk with the doctor, you go through a plan of keeping him until at least next week. You confirm with Wanda you will introduce him to the rest of the team in the morning. Once that is all sorted you let Wanda call for Jeff, asking if he would like to see where he will stay for a while.

He nods his head happily then trots over to you.

There is a lot to learn about the little land shark like; what he can eat, if he needs to be regularly exposed to water, how he sleeps but you figure you will take it one step at a time.

While Wanda gets Jeff accustomed to the room you find some spare blankets to set up a corner for his bed.

But when night-time rolls around neither you or Wanda can turn Jeff away from your bed. Before the two of you can even confirm to him that it is okay for him to be settled between you, he is already asleep snoring away.

Looking up in Wanda's direction you see her already smiling at you. You scoff and easily smile back as your hands meet on top of Jeff, intertwining your fingers.

You figure you can remind him where his bed is another time.

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lokiprompts · 1 year

Text

Appropriate - Chp 1

"Introductions"

Summary: Loki x Female reader; Loki is banished to Midgard and he has to live an average life as penance...and you, a social worker, is there to help him along the way. Rom Com vibes. Pinning; emotional edging until we can't take it anymore.

Words: 5k (it's a doozy, but an important start).

Warnings: Some swearing, but otherwise fluffy, some angst.

Song to listen to while reading: Maestro

AN: I don't offer taglists anymore. Remember to reblog if you like a writer's work! Comments make my heart go pitter patter.

Next chapter here

“This is a prison, Brother.”

The Odinson brothers stood together in a nearly empty apartment within Stark Tower; Thor beaming with unbridled optimism and Loki with a scowl painted on his face. The very walls of the room made the youngest prince nauseated, the beige walls and cookie cutter interior design completely devoid of personality. It was a far cry from his grand chambers in Asgard. But this tiny apartment was now his to call home. He had arrived earlier in the day, fresh out of Asgardian prison to pay penance on Midgard. Loki’s arrival was mostly due to Thor’s pleading, arguing to his dear father, Odin, that Loki would be punished thoroughly just by having to stay on Midgard. Thor thought he was doing his younger brother a favor and believed a stay at the tower was a lesser penance.

But what Thor didn’t know was that he was right. This was Hel for Loki.

“You’ll get used to it!” Thor said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, but his happiness didn’t rub off on his dear brother, “I have a feeling you would like it here more than you think.”

Loki had begun to absentmindedly rub his new ‘jewelry’, magic dampening bangles that kept his seidr at bay. They were a brilliant combination of Asgardian magic and Stark Tech in the form of golden bracelets, the left engraved with ‘Reindeer’ and the right with ‘Games’. ‘A little razzle dazzle to make Loki feel pretty’ Tony said. Loki’s eyeroll was inevitable.

The feeling of being deprived of his magic was unsettling for the sorcerer, to say the least. Even in his cell within Asgard, he could use his magic as he wished. His magic became another limb to him, something that had become second nature to rely on. A muscle memory that he did not even have to think about to command. Even his strength and speed were affected by the bangles. Now his magic, his strength, and his speed were all gone, and he was in essentially trapped in this dull room to live in with his immortality the only thing separating him from the average mortal.

He rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck in a pointless attempt to try and shrug off the sluggish feeling the dampeners gave him. Loki’s morning was spent mostly with Stark, having the bangles placed and explained to him.

“Okay Reindeer Games, no one is excited for you to be here so this is how it’s going to go,” Tony sneered, activating the technology of the bangles with a few calculated taps on his hologram monitor, “No magic, no F.R.I.D.A.Y. – you can’t leave the building and you can’t access certain areas in the tower. If you try, there will be consequences.”

Loki quirked an eyebrow, “What consequences?”

Tony grinned, booping Loki’s nose with the tip of his pen and taunting a god as if he hadn’t been tossed out a window, “That is for me to know, and for you to inevitably find out.”

Thor slapped Loki right on his back, jolting his younger brother forward and out of his memories, “It will all work out, don’t worry. I have a feeling that you will like the Servant of Workers that will come see you, I am sure!”

That got Loki’s attention. “You get your own servant here?” Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad here after all.

Thor grabbed Loki’s shoulder, giving it a gracious squeeze that made his younger brother grimace and roll his eyes, “She insists that she isn’t, but what she does clearly makes her a servant. You know, Midgard, everything is always so confused here. The Midgardian’s will catch on soon enough. Are you fine, Brother? I have a meeting with the team shortly, but I don’t want to-”

The god of mischief took a generous step away from his brother, cutting him off, “Yes, yes. I am fine. Now leave me be!”

There was a moment of hesitation where Thor’s gaze scrutinized his brother, trying to read through any potential lies. Eventually, he decided Loki’s proclamation of ‘being fine’ was good enough and he left the apartment, leaving Loki alone in the Tower for the first time. Still in his fine Asgardian leather, the sound of his boots echoed in the apartment as he took this time to give his new dwelling a proper look.

Loki was familiar with Tony’s penchant for finer things, each room ‘sparing no expense’, but the room he was in was clearly made on a budget. It made Loki wonder if Tony kept this room for people he hated. The living room was bare except for two beige armchairs and an end table, doubling as a coffee table in the center of the room. There were no books or a television. Attached to the living room was a kitchenette that had a humble stove and an even more humble sink that was large enough to hold exactly one plate, and that was being gracious. Loki turned down a short hallway to his bedroom if you could even call it that. There was a small full-sized mattress that was laid unceremoniously on the floor. Loki leaned down to gingerly touch the comforter that adorned the mattress and immediately scowled. The fabric left a greasy, gritty feeling on his princely fingers that were used to the finest of silks. Of course, the offending comforter, too, was beige. There was nothing else in the room, except for a closet that had a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie hanging up like they were the finest of suits. His ‘new prison uniform’, Loki thought with a scoff.

Seeing the set of repugnant clothes was the last thing Loki needed for the gravity of the situation to finally sink in. Tear started to prick at the corner of his eyes, and he slouched down to the ground, his back against the bare beige wall of his new bedroom. This life was a far cry from what he had in Asgard, even in the prisons. He always had the finest of meals prepared and dropped off to him. There was always a steady rotation of books and most importantly…. he had his magic. Without it, Loki felt like he lost his sense of identity. So much of himself was wrapped around his ability to use magic.

Growing up, he was always the smaller, weaker brother when compared to Thor. Even though Loki could hold his own in a battle, Thor’s brute strength always bested him in one-on-one combat, and it was their mother, Frigga, that took pity on Loki and taught him magic to level the playing field.

Frigga.

Loki let out a choked sob as memories of his mother teaching him magic as a young boy came flooding in. The quality time he shared with his mother was precious to him, even more so now that she has passed. Losing his magic felt like he lost her all over again, and it was enough to bring him to the point of breaking. Time dragged with Loki lost in his thoughts, tears now freely flowing, and before he knew it an hour had passed.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door of his apartment and Loki’s immediate reaction was to groan. Thor likely forgot something; the god was like a tick with its head borrowed so high in his brother’s business he couldn’t get out. With quiet steps, Loki stepped back out into the living room and listened, hoping that the guest would go away. Still, there was persistent, light knocking which was unlike Thor. But Loki certainly wasn’t up for guests and their questions.

“Go away, Thor! I may not have my magic, but I can still wield a knife!” Loki snarled through the door. Briefly, Loki questioned whether he even had knives in this dreadful apartment.

“Good thing I’m not Thor!” A voice called out from the other side. It was sweet, small, and charmingly melodic. The sound made his lip twitch up in a slight smile. It was the first time he smiled since arriving at the Tower and that fact was enough to catch Loki’s interest.

“And who are you, if you are not Thor?” Loki teased, inching closer to the door with each word until his nose almost brushed the wood grain.

“Um,” the voice giggled nervously. It rang clear and bright, despite being muffled by the door and it made Loki’s smile that much wider, “I am Y/N. I work for Tony Stark…well sort of. It’s complicated, but I am here to talk and help you, if that’s okay?”

The idea that anyone could help him was laughable at this point, and his dark mirthless chuckle was evident of that, “What could you possibly help me with?”

There was a shuffle behind the door, “Quite a bit, actually. Thor might have told you about me. I am the team’s social worker, and my job is to help you adjust.”

“Oh, the Servant of Workers? Yes, Thor mentioned you.”

Loki could vaguely here a curse, and a muttering of ‘damnit Thor’, making Loki bite his lip in amusement.

“Well, I am not a servant, but I can help you. We can talk if that’s okay? Can I come in, please?”

Even though he had been talking through the door these past few minutes, he suddenly became acutely aware of the dynamic of the conversation you were having and how rude it was – at least by his princely standards. He put his hand on the doorknob, but before he turned it and opened it, he flicked his wrist. When his intended magic did not come out to hide his still puffy and watery eyes, he considered sending you away. You seemed nice enough and gave him the option to decline meeting with you, but his curiosity was getting the best of him.

Wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve, he opened the door and finally laid his eyes on you.

All breath left the god when he finally saw you, time slowed down, dreams and love had new meaning – and if he wasn’t so utterly, instantly besotted he might have rolled his eyes at how utterly cliché he was being. Greedily, his eyes raked over your form and soaked up every detail.

Your eyes were as bright as your laugh, a bit wide with surprise like you hadn’t expected him to actually open the door. The next thing he immediately noticed was your height; or you lack of it. Your small stature landed you just below his shoulders and he had to look down to see you and look he did. Stared, actually, with his mouth opening and closing as his once silver tongue turned to lead. Everything about you was stunning, no radiant, no resplendent – you’re perfection.

You, however, didn’t seem to notice his momentary brain malfunction and cheerfully offered your hand to shake, your other hand clutching some folders and a large book tightly to your chest. Loki saw how you looked between him and the rogue hand whose presence became more and more awkward the longer it lingered. ‘Do something, Loki’ he cursed mentally, yet he did nothing.

Slowly, your hand lowered and just a fraction of a frown ghosted on your lips, and it was enough to break him out of his stupor.

“Apologies – Yes, Darling. Come in, come in!”

He quickly stepped out of the way, and you walked into the apartment, stopping just past the threshold, and looking around. Suddenly, Loki was self-conscious of his beige prison. Caring about other’s opinions was something he did not display too often. Deep seeded threads of jealousy was also held close to his heart when it came to Thor, and that same heart swelling with pride whenever Frigga praised his magical skill. Of course, Odin’s opinion is a whole other layer of anger and tears, but now he found himself wanting to be in your good graces. To impress you.

Loki sped by you and his large frame overwhelmed his tiny kitchenette and began whipping open all the cupboards.

“Can I get you something?” His voice pressed and anxious, “Tea? A biscuit?” He frowned when he realized all the cupboards were empty except for one can of chicken noodle soup and a dinning set for one person. Did he even have a tea kettle? He truly had nothing.

“No, no, that is quite alright.” Loki’s frowned deepened and he looked to you, who had opened one of your files and clicked a pen to scribble some notes down. “So, like I said, my job title is a social worker and part of my job is here, and the other part is at the hospital. Majority of my job is to help you get what you need to adjust to your life in the tower.

You looked around, motioning to the practically empty apartment you both stood in.

“So, you are a servant? You fetch things for people?” You giggled and pressed your papers closer to your chest again. Already, Loki couldn’t get enough of your laugh.

“I am sure some of the people I work with think so, like Thor who won’t let that go,” You flashed Loki a pointed look that was filled with mirth, and it too made Loki laugh, “But, really, my job is to help you get adjusted. I am not at your beck and call.”

Loki leaned on the small island in the kitchenette with his elbows and limbs going every which way awkwardly. When did casually standing become so difficult?

“So, you also work for the hospital?”

Instantly, you lit up, and Loki smiled at the joy on your face, “Yes. It is my main job, actually. I work with children who have special abilities, much like yourself, and help make sure they get the care and tools that they need to succeed.” All your words were spoken fervently and the passion you were exuding warmed Loki’s heart.

“You’re kind then? To care for children like that.” Loki felt like he was stating the obvious. You were a radiant creature who loved working with children and now forced to help a monster – his spiraling thoughts echoed in sick repetition in time with his fingers that started to anxiously tap on the island counter.

“I would hope so,” You laughed again, your eyes darting to his nervous tick. You motioned to his small hallway, “Is it okay if I take a look around?”

Loki rightened himself quickly, “Right, certainly. Right this way.” He led you down the short hallway, to his tiny bedroom with the mattress and greasy comforter on the floor. The matching frown you both wore was telling. So, this wasn’t an appropriate living situation for Midgard either. Loki started to shift on his feet uneasily from side to side when you poked around in his closet and saw the only piece of clothing hanging, the sweat suit.

“So, you will need some clothes, for sure.” You turned to him and gave him a warm smile, a smile that held no judgement for his living situation. Loki, on the other hand, has his lips in a tight line. Oh, how far has he fallen.

“I can get you some clothes from Asgard if you’d like, but that will take some time. I would have to ask Thor.” Loki flinched at the mention of his brother, “Or we can go shopping tomorrow and get some clothes here. I just need to get some approvals first.”

This perked Loki up, “I thought I couldn’t leave the tower?” He recalled his earlier conversation with Tony.

You nodded, “That is true, but I have special privileges and if I get it approved, we can go.” Suddenly, you realized he might not want to expose himself to the world outside. The god wasn’t the most welcome in this city, “Unless you prefer to stay here? I could pick some things up fo-“

“No, no, no!” He cut you off, waving his hands, “I would love to go and get out of this infernal apartment.”

Again, your laugh rang throughout the small room, and it delighted him to no end. Did you always laugh so much – Loki wondered. Wordlessly, you walked out of the bedroom and back out to the living room and motioned to one of the beige armchairs, “May I?”

“Please do.” Part of him debated if you checking in with him constantly was out of politeness or fear, but you didn’t seem afraid of him. If anything, it looked like you made yourself at home when you perched yourself upon his chair. Your lack of fear confused him. Don’t you know what he did?

“Let’s address the elephant in the room, shall we?” You started and Loki’s breath caught in his throat, fully expecting his self-deprecating thoughts to come to fruition, “The horrid furniture.”

Loki huffed out a breathless laugh, “Yes, it is quite horrible.” You handed Loki the big book you had in your lap, finally giving Loki a view of your curves. The outfit you wore was modest – a pencil skit that accented your rounded hips and a demure blouse that had its top button undone, allowing for just a peak of teasing cleavage. Loki hadn’t noticed he was staring until you cleared your throat.

“That book there, that’s a furniture catalog. You can pretty much ask for whatever you want, and I will do what I can to make it happen for you. There are a bunch of options there, so hopefully you will find something you like. I know this place is a far cry from a palace, but I sincerely hope it can become home to you in time.”

Loki wanted to roll his eyes and scoff at the idea of this beige nightmare being his home, but the warm, sincerity that shone in your eyes stopped him. There was so much hope there, a brazen plea to give this retched tower a chance, to give you a chance. He turned the book over in his hands and let his thumb flip through the pages. For you, he could try. At least for now.

“So, now that we have that settled, the next thing is figuring out how much you know about life on Midgard. Would you mind if I ask you some questions?”

Loki leaned back in his chair, his legs spread wide and bursting through his leathers. There was a moment where your eyes flickered down to his muscly thighs. It was almost too fast that he might have missed it, but he didn’t miss it. With a smirk, Loki motioned for you to continue, and you opened one of your folders, pulling out some papers and clicking your pen.

“Some of these questions may seem ridiculous to you, so please be patient with me. I heard from Thor that you are very well read and are quite intelligent, so know that this is just standard procedure even with how silly these questions are.”

Loki’s face heated up with your compliment and keen observation. He hoped the pink on his cheeks did not show up as brightly as he felt them burn, “Go ahead, Darling.”

You flashed Loki and unreadable look after hearing the pet name but carried on as if nothing happened. “So, what is your experience with cleaning? Doing the dishes, laundry, vacuuming? Things like that?”

Several emotions flashed across Loki’s face – first shock, then confusion, and finally dramatic offense, “What?! Do I look like some oaf to you?!”

Your hands flew up in defense, “Remember, it is just standard procedure. I don’t think you are an oaf at all, or anything of the like, but I need to ask these questions to determine what you may need help with. You likely might not need any of my assistance, but I must ask these questions to figure them out, okay?”

You spoke calmly, clearly, and without judgement and that aura of calmness was almost a balm to the already anxious prince. Loki decided that your questioning was way worse than his time with Stark this morning. At least with the genius, he could hide behind his dripping sarcasm and cleverness, but around you he felt naked, vulnerable. It was unnerving.

He sat back as you repeated your question, folding his arms and essentially closing himself off from you. The prince took the time to ponder the question and he realized he never had cleaned a dish himself in all his thousand years of existence, let alone did his own laundry. If he did need to clean something himself, he had his magic to rely on. And what was a vacuum? If there was one thing Loki didn’t like, it was not knowing something and what made it worse, that fact was going to be made painfully obvious to you. So, he did what he did best.

He lied.

Everything you asked him, he exceled at. Cooking? A master chef. Cleaning? Meticulous to a fault. Midgardian technology? Child’s play. The whole assessment took approximately an hour, and it was the highlight of Loki’s horrible day. Conversation flowed freely between you two after he allowed himself to relax and be comfortable around you. The sound of your laughter bouncing off the walls and the soft smiles made Loki feel something that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. A flicker of warmth in his cold, closed off heart. Just a man, and not the monster he knew himself to be. At least for now, with you, he could pretend.

After your last question, you tucked your papers back in your folder and stood up with the smile that Loki had come to know and appreciate during your short time with him.

“Well, it seems my predictions are right, and you don’t need any help with anything here on Midgard.”

Loki smirked, “Of course not, Darling.” Again, you scrunched your nose at the pet name before making your way to his front door and spinning around, offering your hand that held a small card.

“It was great meeting you, Loki. It seems outside of getting what you need in this apartment, you won’t need my help at all. I will have some food and provisions delivered up to you later today and I will, hopefully, if the approvals go through, pick you up tomorrow morning to go clothes shopping. You can let me know what you decide on furniture then.” He gingerly took the card from your hand and looked at it. It contained your name, a phone number, and where your office was located within the tower.

“And then after that, you won’t have to see me ever again!” You chirped, meaning for it to be playful since it was obvious Loki hated this apartment, the tower, and you assumed, you as well. Little did you know that innocent statement had sent Loki’s reeling. These….feelings, feelings? Feelings for you were new, confusing, and Loki was convincing himself that they weren’t feelings at all, but instead an infatuation because of his recent forced living situation. Just something to pass the time. But he couldn’t ignore the panic that was starting to settle in his chest at the mere thought of never seeing you again.

Loki was so caught up in his emotional crisis of the heart to even notice that you had left, and you were already making your way down the hall and away from him.

“W-wait!” Loki called out, sounding a bit more panicked than he would like, but it made you stop in your tracks and turn. That made it worth it.

“What can I help you with?” You asked, after Loki’s long legs ran him straight to you in record time. For the first time, in well, ever, Loki felt slightly winded from the exertion. He placed a large hand on his chest as his breathing settled. Damn, these bangles!

“Well, Um..Well, you see – Here’s the thing…” Loki stammered, his hands stretched out and pleading while his mind tried to come up with a reason to get you to stay. You stared at him as he rambled on, not saying anything, with your ‘this man is crazy’ expression well-hidden underneath your professional mask.

“I lied.” Loki rushed out.

“What?”

The young god rubbed the back of his neck, and your eyes caught the stray curls that lived back there, free from his onslaught of gel, “I actually don’t know any of the things you asked me about.”

“What?” You repeated. Your eyes furrowed in confusion. Loki’s intelligence and cleverness was known by the Avengers, and you had believed every word he said when you went through the assessment. He even provided examples and lofty tales of his time in the kitchen or cleaning his chambers in Asgard when the maids were sick! And he lied?

You found yourself asking him about those very scenarios and if they were true or not in a tone that wasn’t as warm as when you first met him, Loki noticed. You didn’t like being lied to, that much was clear.

“I know, I know, I am sorry, Darling, but things have been….hard for me.” His voice lowered to a shame filled whisper, “I am a prisoner here, I know, getting the sentence I deserve, but I lost my magic, my home. The last thing I have is my mind, and I didn’t want it to be known that I couldn’t do, or understand, such simple things. I truly am sorry, Darling. Will you please help me?”

It was the sincerest Loki has ever been and it surprised and horrified him to know that all the things he said were true, and he was saying them to you. A stranger. But every time he looked at you, something deep within him told him he could trust you. It was a new feeling, a strange and confusing one, but one that Loki found himself welcoming with open arms.

“Okay, I will,” Loki let out a long, relieved exhale at your words, “But, no more lying, okay? We can’t work together if we aren’t honest with each other.”

The God of Lies gritted his teeth, instantly regretting his choice and feeling the first pang of guilt for lying to you, “Of course.”

“Do you have time to talk about some things now?”

“My schedule is wide open,” ‘Painfully open’, Loki thought. Again, he followed you back into his apartment and you walked into his kitchenette.

“Since you don’t know that much about cooking, we are going to do go over some basics. I will be ordering some food and other provisions for you, but it will all be very simple things. Canned foods, microwaveable meals, things like that until we have a more formal cooking lesson. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.” Loki’s heart fluttered at the mere prospective of even more time with you. The feelings of guilt for lying to you already a distant memory as he indulged himself in your radiant presence.

You walked over to the microwave that sat over the tiny stove, “This is a microwave. Have you used one before?”

Loki shook his head no and stepped right up to you, watching your every move. You turned your attention back to the appliance and started to explain the intricacies of using it. Loki, however, was not paying attention to a word you said. Instead, he was admiring all the little details that made you, you. First, he admired your long eyelashes, long and curled and they framed your eyes perfectly. Different colors floated about in your iris, little flecks that sparkled. There was also a slight flush to your cheeks, a rosy hue and he wondered if you could be blushing because of him. But his favorite part, oh his favorite part was your mouth. Loki’s eyes followed the curve of your cupid bow and around the edge of your soft, pillowy lips. Your mouth was moving, but he wasn’t listening.

“Most packages just show…..” Your sweet voice faded in and out of his ears as he watched you, “And don’t ever, ever put….”

Loki found himself leaning into you. His nose just lightly brushing against your hair for a light whiff, but that feather touch was enough to have you whip around to face him. Your eyes went wide at the realization of how close he was and how much he towered over you. You took a tentative step back and it made Loki frown.

“Do you have any questions?” You asked, your billowy lips now in a straight line.

“No, your lesson was quite enlightening, Darling. I shall become an expert of this…microwave…in no time.” He could feel the unease radiating off you. Why did he let himself get so close?

“Wonderful. I will see you tomorrow for clothes shopping, okay? Have a good day, Loki.” And with that you left, and Loki was alone yet again. The apartment felt empty, and cold now that you had left. The life bringing warmth that you brought followed you right out his door.

The rumbling in his stomach broke him out of his thoughts. He wasn’t sure when your food delivery would be happening, but he remembered the lone can of soup in his cupboard. He opened it and pulled the top off, unaware of how lucky he was since he didn’t have a can opener. The salty, savory smell of chicken noodle soup wafted up to his nose and he decided it was satisfactory enough. He dumped the contents of the can in his only bowl and stirred it with his only metal spoon.

He put the bowl in the microwave, spoon and all, carefully so he didn’t spill. Closing the door, he looked at the numbers on the appliance. It was then he realized he hadn’t listened to a word you said during your entire explanation of how to use this contraption. With a careless shrug, he punched in thirty minutes. He remembered helping his mother make a stew in the palace once and he thinks that is how long it took, but that was centuries ago.

For a few seconds, Loki watched the contraption light up and the bowl spin, but he quickly grew bored and sat down in his armchair. He ran his fingers through his hair and groaned. How was he going to live like this? Surely, he would waste away from boredom. Loki leaned back in his chair, letting his head fall back and soon the exhaustion from the day overtook him and he fell asleep.

Screaming smoke alarms woke him up with a start, and his wrists, they were burning. He cried out in pain and collapsed on soft carpet of his living room just as shield agents burst into his apartment, knocking the door right off its hinges.

“Get him!!”

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oneshotnewbie · 7 months

Note

Part two of the new, usual oneshot, with Olivia Benson? It was soo good!!!

Authors note: Because I'm in a good mood today, here's a second oneshot for you. Have fun reading, my sweet ones ♥

ᕚ---ᕘ

“Could the CSU salvage anything else?” Olivia asked everyone around as she swiveled her head in all directions to look around. She was extremely afraid for you, concern written all over her face. Your phone was in her hand, but the blood could be from anyone in Manhattan. Maybe you lost it and someone who was bleeding tripped over it. At least that is what she tried to tell herself so as not to panic and get lost in it.

"No. Other than the cell phone and the blood, we have no clues about what really happened here yet," the blonde answered her immediately and delicately placed her hand on her best friend's shoulder. She tried to calm her down with circular movements, but secretly she knew that every muscle in the lieutenant's body would only relax when you were back safe. "When was this found and by whom?"

"The call came in at 4:36am from an William Jacobs. He has already been driven to the station and is waiting to give his statement." the brunette stood rooted to her spot, leaning against the railing of the Central Park and feeling the rain slowly creeping through her coat while her blouse slowly soaked.

Her gaze had shifted downwards, silent tears that mixed with the pelting rain running down her cheeks. In the blurry vision she saw black boots walking towards her and when she raised her head, Fin was standing right in front of her, holding an umbrella over her figure. They walked back to their car together. When they got there, Olivia fell into his arms and began to cling to him for support. She felt as if the ground beneath her feet was slipping away. "Where is she?"

"We will find out but first you have to calm down. You will not help anyone that way."

He watched as she nodded slightly, wiping away her tears and trying to put a soft smile on her lips that she only partially managed. She sucked in the cold air and took a seat of her black Volvo. Only when the seargent had sat in the passenger seat did she start the car, traffic moving slowly.

When they arrived, Olivia Benson walked briskly into the building, her brow furrowed as she nervously climbed the stairs. Their direct destination was the interrogation room where William Jacobs was taken. She noticed that Fin was following her, but she did not pay any attention to him, just wanted to find out as quickly as possible where her fiancée was.

As she entered the small, cold room where he sat, Olivia greeted him as warmly as she could. "Hello, I am Lieutenant Olivia Benson," she sat down across from him and opened a small notepad to write down whatever information she could. The brunette saw the man sitting there slightly anxious and uncomfortable, his eyes on the door when the door opened and someone walked in. "Seargent Fin Tutuola."

Annoyed, she rolled her eyes and tapped her fingernails impatiently on the table. This was not happening fast enough for her and she looked at her partner slightly angrily. "Mr. Jacobs, you found the cell phone this morning. Have you noticed anyone who may have been acting strangely?" he tried to control the conversation in order to take some of the burden off his boss's shoulders. "No, I was jogging when I saw the cell phone. When I went there, I saw all the blood."

“Then you called the police?” The brunette now also spoke up, letting her pen play between her fingers. She was hoping for some clue to start with, so far she had nothing except the difficult amount of blood that you could not have inflicted on yourself. "Yeah, I did not touch anything. I swear."

Both detectives nodded in agreement and quickly rose from their chairs. One after the other, they shook hands with William Jacobs before all three of them left the room together and went their separate ways.

The air was stuffy and burning as Amanda entered the precinct and looked confused at the closed door to Olivia's office. She had barricaded herself and pulled her blinds down. Biting her lip, she walked towards the office and knocked before walking in and watching her boss hold the framed picture of the two of you in her hands.

"I have something for you," the blonde spoke firmly and placed another bag on her desk that was filled with something dark in color. “Is that her wallet?” She asked aggravatedly and looked worriedly at the older woman as she realized through her widened sad expression that she had hit the mark with that assumption. It was yours. "The CSU people found it in one of the nearby trash cans, we have not looked in it yet, we wanted to leave it to you. But all the fingerprints we could find were already taken."

Olivia took the evidence bag and opened it. The wallet landed in front of her nose, on her closed laptop. Grabbing two disposable gloves from one of her desk drawers, she placed them over her hands and opened her wallet. She immediately saw a photo of the two of you together, which you always carried with you. Exactly the same one that she had on her desk.

Shaking her head hastily to clear away the tears and thoughts that were welling up, she pulled out more items, including a folded old piece of paper and a silver key. But the only thing missing was your ID card. A strange feeling came over her, one that made her heart beat faster while at the same time making her feel sick.

"A key?" Amanda stated in surprise and also pulled a pair of disposable gloves out of her pocket to take the silver material. The brunette passed it on to her without words, still staring at the folded paper she held in her hand. With shaking hands she unfolded it, the corners of the paper already torn, the writing once written in pencil barely visible. Only with her glasses could she see the thin lines of numbers written in your handwriting, a small saying underneath. -In case something happens to me-

"Amanda, please find out where the key belongs immediately. Y/n did not have it in her wallet with that number and those words for nothing.“

The person addressed nodded before looking into the thoughtful face of her best friend. "Do not worry, Liv. It is not the end of you two. Trust me, we will find her." Olivia's gaze tore away from the image she had been staring at for a long time and forced a smile. "Thanks, Manda."

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