#like i sided against the father -> he will cast down his wrath upon me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

drwilfredwaterson · 26 days

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March 18th, 2024 Update: 2024 U.S. Presidential Election, U.S. Constitution, Human Rights, Civil Rights, Women's Rights, The Survival of American Democracy and the American Republic, and Easter 2024. Part 2/6: Hope, Alaska. Chapter 1/4: A Wise King Winnows Out The Wicked.

Earthquake: 2024-03-18 06:26:08 GMT+2 Jerusalem, Israel, 2024-03-17 20:26:08 AKDT Local Time Hope, Alaska

John 6:24 Once the crowd realized that neither Jesus nor his disciples were there, they got into the boats and went to Capernaum in search of Jesus. John 6:25 When they found him on the other side of the lake, they asked him, “Rabbi, when did you get here?” John 6:26 Jesus answered, “Very truly I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw the signs I performed but because you ate the loaves and had your fill. John 6:27 Do not work for food that spoils, but for food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For on him God the Father has placed his seal of approval.”

TANAKH (Jewish Publication Society, Hebrew-English) Page 1633: Proverbs 20:26 A wise king winnows out the wicked, And turns the wheel upon them.

TANAKH (Jewish Publication Society, Hebrew-English) Pages 1687 and 1688: Job 20:12 Though evil is sweet to his taste, And he conceals it under his tongue; Job 20:13 Though he saves it, does not let it go, Holds it inside his mouth, Job 20:14 His food in his bowels turns Into asps' venom within him. Job 20:15 The riches he swallows he vomits; God empties it out of his stomach. Job 20:16 He sucks the poison of asps; The tongue of the viper kills him. Job 20:17 Let him not enjoy the streams, The rivers of honey, the brooks of cream. Job 20:18 He will give back the goods unswallowed; The value of the riches, undigested. Job 20:19 Because he crushed and tortured the poor, He will not build up the house he took by force. Job 20:20 He will not see his children tranquil; He will not preserve one of his dear ones. Job 20:21 With no survivor to enjoy it, His fortune will not prosper. Job 20:22 When he has all he wants, trouble will come; Misfortunes of all kinds will batter him. Job 20:23 Let that fill his belly; Let Him loose His burning anger at him, And rain down His weapons upon him. Job 20:24 Fleeing from iron arrows, He is shot through from a bow of bronze. Job 20:25 Brandished and run through his body, The blade, through his gall, Strikes terror into him. Job 20:26 Utter dakness waits for his treasured ones; A fire fanned by no man will consume him; Who survives in his tent will be crushed. Job 20:27 Heaven will expose his iniquity; Earth will rise up against him. Job 20:28 His household will be cast forth by a flood, Spilled out on the day of His wrath. Job 20:29 This is the wicked man's portion from God, the lot God has ordained for him.

John 4:25 The woman said, “I know that Messiah” (called Christ) “is coming. When he comes, he will explain everything to us.” John 4:26 Then Jesus declared, “I, the one speaking to you—I am he.”

TANAKH (Jewish Publication Society, Hebrew-English) Page 429: Deuteronomy 26:8 The Lord freed us from Egypt by a mighty hand, by an outstretched arm and awesome power, and by signs and portents.

TANAKH (Jewish Publication Society, Hebrew-English) Page 269: Leviticus 26:7 You shall give chase to your enemies, and they shall fall before you by the sword. Leviticus 26:8 Five of you shall give chase to a hundred, and a hundred of you shall give chase to ten thousand; your enemies shall fall before you by the sword.

TANAKH (Jewish Publication Society, Hebrew-English) Page 901: Isaiah 26:8 For Your just ways, O Lord, we look to You; We long for the name by which You are called.

TANAKH (Jewish Publication Society, Hebrew-English) Page 1440: Psalm 26:8 O Lord, I love Your temple abode, the dwelling-place of Your glory.

TANAKH (Jewish Publication Society, Hebrew-English) Page 1644: Proverbs 26:8 Like a pebble in a sling, So is paying honor to a dullard.

Acts 26:8 Why should any of you consider it incredible that God raises the dead?

TANAKH (Jewish Publication Society, Hebrew-English) Page 1: Genesis 1:8 God called the expanse Sky, And there was evening and there was morning, a second day.

1 Corinthians 1:4 I always thank my God for you because of his grace given you in Christ Jesus. 1 Corinthians 1:5 For in him you have been enriched in every way—with all kinds of speech and with all knowledge— 1 Corinthians 1:6 God thus confirming our testimony about Christ among you. 1 Corinthians 1:7 Therefore you do not lack any spiritual gift as you eagerly wait for our Lord Jesus Christ to be revealed. 1 Corinthians 1:8 He will also keep you firm to the end, so that you will be blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ.

1 John 1:8 If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.

2 John 1:8 Watch out that you do not lose what we have worked for, but that you may be rewarded fully.

Strong's Concordance #18 ebus: a crib, feeding trough, a manger Original Word: אֵבוּס

Luke 2:6 While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, Luke 2:7 and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them. Luke 2:8 And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. Luke 2:9 An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. Luke 2:10 But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Luke 2:11 Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. Luke 2:12 This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

AD 33: The ministry, torture, murder, resurrection, and redemption of Jesus Christ.

TANAKH (Jewish Publication Society, Hebrew-English) Page 134: Exodus 11:1 And the Lord said to Moses, "I will bring but one more plague upon Pharaoh and upon Egypt; after that he shall let you go from here; indeed, when he lets you go, he will drive you out of here one and all. Exodus 11:2 Tell the people to borrow, each man from his neighbor and each woman from hers, objects of silver and gold." Exodus 11:3 The Lord disposed the Egyptians favorably toward the people. Moreover, Moses himself was much esteemed in the land of Egypt, among Pharaoh's courtiers and among the people. Exodus 11:4 Moses said, "Thus says the Lord: Toward midnight I will go forth among the Egyptians, Exodus 11:5 and every first-born in the land of Egypt shall die, from the first-born of Pharaoh who sits on his throne to the first-born of the slave girl who is behind the millstones; and all the first-born of the cattle. Exodus 11:6 And there shall be a loud cry in all the land of Egypt, such as has never been or will ever be again;

The Prince of Egypt - Passover/Smiting of the Firstborn of Egypt

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December 16, 1998 (350th day) Duration: 4:16 (256 seconds) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HXmru6NrSAY HXmru6NrSAY (6, SAY) HXmruNrSAY ahmnrrsuxy 1+8+30+40+80+80+90+200+300+400=1229. 1229+6=1235. 1235+256=1491. 1491+350=1841.

Strong's Concordance #1841 Daniyyel: "God is my judge," an Israelite leader in Babylon Original Word: דָּנִיֵּאל

The Prince of Egypt - When You Believe - The Hebrew Exodus from Egypt

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December 16, 1998 (350th day) Duration: 4:36 (276 seconds) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cGqehRbLnh0 cGqehRbLnh0 (0) cGqehRbLnh bceghhlnqr 2+3+5+7+8+8+20+40+70+80=243. 243+0=243. 243+276=519. 519+350=869.

Strong's Concordance #869 Ethnan: The same as ethnah; a gift (as the price of harlotry or idolatry) -- hire, reward; an Israelite Original Word: אֶתְנַן

The Morning Joe - No Real American or Anyone In Their Right Mind Believes That connie j. chump Is The Abrahamic Messiah, or That "God" Is With" Liddle connie, or That Liddle connie Is "God's" "Chosen"…

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Published: January 17, 2024 (17th day) Duration: 8:32 (512 seconds) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bSOUarf4JCY bSOUarf4JCY (4, JC) bSOUarfJCY abcfjorsuy 1+2+3+6+600+50+80+90+200+400=1432. 1432+4=1436. 1436+512=1948. 1948+17=1965.

Strong's Concordance #1965 hekal: a palace, temple Original Word: הֵיכַל

1 Corinthians 3:16 Don’t you know that you yourselves are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in your midst? 1 Corinthians 3:17 If anyone destroys God’s temple, God will destroy that person; for God’s temple is sacred, and you together are that temple. 1 Corinthians 3:18 Do not deceive yourselves. If any of you think you are wise by the standards of this age, you should become “fools” so that you may become wise. 1 Corinthians 3:19 For the wisdom of this world is foolishness in God’s sight. As it is written: “He catches the wise in their craftiness"; 1 Corinthians 3:20 and again, “The Lord knows that the thoughts of the wise are futile.” 1 Corinthians 3:21 So then, no more boasting about human leaders! All things are yours, 1 Corinthians 3:22 whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas or the world or life or death or the present or the future—all are yours, 1 Corinthians 3:23 and you are of Christ, and Christ is of God.

Earthquake: M 1.8 - 18 km (11.2 mi) WSW of Hope, Alaska

2024-03-18 04:26:08 (UTC) 60.846°N 149.939°W 33.0 km depth

In Kenai ("flat lands") National Wildlife Refuge near Big Indian Creek and Chickaloon River ("the river with the two logs across it").

Imagine Dragons Radioactive Music Video ft. Assassin's Creed 3

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Published: August 25, 2013 (237th day) Duration: 3:09 (189 seconds) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ToP82VUjrNU ToP82VUjrNU (82) ToPVUjrNU jnoprtuuv 600+40+50+60+80+100+200+200+700=2030. 2030+82=2112. 2112+189=2301. 2301+237=2538.

Strong's Concordance #82 abar: to soar, to fly. Original Word: אָבַר

TANAKH (Jewish Publication Society, Hebrew-English) Page 1721: Job 39:26 Is it by your wisdom that the hawk grows pinions, Spreads its wings to the south?

Strong's Concordance #2538 Chamul: From chamal; pitied; "spared," grandson of Judah, Chamul, an Israelite -- Hamul. Original Word: חָמוּל

In CONGRESS, July 4, 1776. The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America, "When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation." "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. "We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these united Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor."

TANAKH (Jewish Publication Society, Hebrew-English) Pages 787 and 788: 2 Kings 6:1 The disciples of the prophets said to Elisha, "See, the place where we live under your direction is too cramped for us. 2 Kings 6:2 Let us go to the Jordan, and let us each get a log there and build quarters there for ourselves to live in." "Do so," he replied. 2 Kings 6:3 Then one of them said, "Will you please come along with your servants?" "Yes, I will come," he said; 2 Kings 6:4 and he accompanied them. So they went to the Jordan and cut timber. 2 Kings 6:5 As one of them was felling a trunk, the iron ax head fell into the water. And he cried aloud, "Alas, master, it was a borrowed one!" 2 Kings 6:6 "Where did it fall?" asked the man of God. He showed him the spot; and he cut off a stick and threw it in, and he made the ax head float. 2 Kings 6:7 "Pick it up," he said; so he reached out and took it.

60.846°N

Strong's Concordance #60 ebel: From 'abal; lamentation -- mourning, but. Original Word: אֵבֶל

Strong's Concordance #846 ushsharna:'ashar; a wall (from its uprightness). Original Word: אֻשַּׁרְנָא

149.939°W

Strong's Concordance #149 adrazda: quickly, swiftly or carefully -- diligently, correctly, exactly Original Word: אַדְרַזְדָּא

Strong's Concordance #939 buzah: something scorned; an object of contempt -- despised. Original Word: בּוּזֶה

happiness, mourning, sorrow, shame (Hebrew): אֻשַּׁרְנָ א אֵבֶל אַ דְרַזְדָּ א בּוּזֶה

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lyssahlyssah · 3 years

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Obey Me! Lucifer's Dream

a/n: This is a piece for the lead-up to Kinktober. I wanted to bring the unevolved, evil, and dangerous Lucifer out in a safe environment where no one actually ends up getting hurt. The timeframe is just after MC arrives in the devildom and meets everyone, but hasn't had time to get close and develop relationships. Thanks to @theinariakuma for beta-ing.

Trigger warnings: fantasy violence, implied fantasy murder, implied fantasy rape, sadism, anger, dark themes.

Pairing: F!MC x Lucifer

Category: not suitable for work, dark fantasy

Midnight rolled around again and Lucifer rubbed his temples with gloved fingers. With no sun, day and night had little meaning here, but even so, he had been awake for five straight days, a full two days longer than his normal and it was starting to show.

Irritably, he signed his name to the latest document in front of him and with a scowl, snapped the pen in two between his fingers. I mean, how much was a demon supposed to take?

First, there was helping Diavolo with his extra paperwork since Barbatos was on vacation, then overseeing the RAD student council... Mammon playing the fool... and now babysitting the new human exchange student. The last one took an enormous amount of his resources because she was just so damn fragile. He was always having to watch over her, keep lesser demons from devouring her, creating special education for her, and most of all, controlling his own temper so he wouldn't kill or frighten her. She obviously didn't belong here, but Diavolo was firm with his instructions regarding the human, she was to be treated as gently as if she was back in her own world.

He scoffed, irritation sliding into anger. Something about interworld relations. Really, who cares at all about that. If his time in the Celestial Realm had taught him anything, it was that humans were weak, unworthy of his time, and invited trouble. Trouble was already something they had plenty of, thanks to Mammon.

And he certainly didn't care about maintaining relations with the Celestial Realm, he didn't want to see another angel for the rest of his life.

He resented the extra intrusion on his time. Solomon was a different story, he could take care of himself and required very little attention, and as far as Lucifer cared, could stay as long as he liked, so long as he didn't try to cook.

Uninvited, her face floated into his mind and he angrily stuffed the thought away. MC... What kind of a name is MC anyway, he thought.

He got up and walked to the piano, sitting down in front of the keys, hoping some music could help clear and calm his head. Playing a few bars of his favorite composer, De La Lordo, he closed his eyes and leaned into the music. However, his anger continued to throb and as it did so, his fingers tripped over one another causing a shriek of dissonance that cut through the silence of his office like a knife.

Irritation exploding, he slammed down the lid to the keys. Even his favorite classical music couldn't cool him down. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw HER face. HER body. HER skin. He didn't understand. He was the chosen one of his father's creations, the strongest, the most beautiful, the most talented, the most intelligent. His burgeoning attraction to something so unremarkable sent waves of revulsion and confusion tumbling through him.

Unable to control his anger and disgust, he rampaged through his office; and only after his curtains and furniture were hanging in shreds with several new vase-shaped holes in the walls did he finally sit down hard in the armchair by his fireplace, leather creaking to accommodate his weight. He hadn't lost his temper like this for a long time, but he knew his brothers wouldn't dare approach his door after hearing his wrath. Spent, he pushed his sweaty hair out of his face and leaned his head back against the soft surface, eyes closing.

...squeals in the dark.

Everything was fuzzy. He shook his head roughly to clear it, but the cloudiness stubbornly held on. Hazily, he pushed through long-limbed bushes that grasped at his hair and clothes into a woody clearing and there she was. Small, perfect, tearful eyes wide, gag tightening into the sides of her mouth, hands tied in front of her. She's naked. A fire to one side, casting flickering shadows that danced across her terrified face.

His heart started to race and his breathing quickened. This is a dream, he thought.

Touching his tongue to his upper lip, and then dragging it across the top of his lower teeth, he continued to watch her struggle. He felt dark urges bubbling up within him...he wanted to hurt her. Use her. Feed off her fear. The longer he watched, the stronger the urges became.

His fingers curled up in tight fists at his side. How good it would feel to let go...stop controlling himself for once. Stop doing what everyone expected of him. Just be free. Free to hate. Free to rage. Free to destroy.

The passion was too intoxicating to resist. With eyes closed, he let the anger take him. Roaring, he exploded into fire, white-hot flames threatening to sear his bones to ash. His handsome face melted into a horrific ghastly caricature of its former self. Pain as blackened wing tips burst through the taut skin of his back leaving bloody and ragged holes around them, pain as one curled horn ground its way free of the top of his head, then the other. Pain as his bones stretched to make him larger, thicker, new muscles pulsating with power. Pain as his claws burst from his fingertips impaling themselves on his palms as he ground his fists with rage.

All was pain and he drank it in like a man dying of thirst. His transformation complete, he throbbed with energy, heat, and rage.

The poor girl had yet to see him emerge from the darkness, but emerge he did, at last, a red glow upon the ground and an earth-shaking tremor heralding his arrival. Her already widened eyes, bulged from their sockets. Too scared to make a noise, strangled whimpers were all that emerged from around the gag.

Standing tall in all his terrible glory before her, her fear increases his desire.

He frees himself from his pants and masturbates furiously. He can't remember how long it's been since he touched himself like this, with an anger and intent. Or at all, for that matter. Passion had all but dried up for him after his fall from grace. Life had become controlling his brothers and the mundane of Diavolo's paperwork. It felt good just to feel anything again.

Sadistically, he chuckled lowly. His beautiful, terrible eyes narrowing, he lets loose his enormous hard cock, where it hangs heavily erect against his leg, waiting. Her eyes follow its movements and he revels in her horror. She knows what's going to happen and that she has absolutely no way to stop it.

Even through her fear and almost as a betrayal to herself, she can't help but feel a supernatural attraction to him, his power, his beauty. He can sense it as well, and it increases his contempt for her.

It's only too easy, he thinks arrogantly. She can't help but want me, even like this. I can smell it all over her. She wants to get fucked by a monster.

It confirms all of his previously-held beliefs that humans are inferior. He sneers, face contorting. Pitiful. So weak...so insignificant. Utterly disposable.

That last thought ignited his lust to new levels. Here was a toy he could abuse with no repercussions to his conscience. She wasn't worth consideration or care. Since she was beneath his respect, he could be himself completely.

Dark excitement pushing him forward, he took a quick step towards her, and she cringed backward against her restraints, desperate to flee.

He smiles. "It's no use trying to escape, little one," he said cruelly, his soft words contradicted by his harsh tone."Escape doesn't exist for you anymore. You're mine. "

Her screams echo throughout the woods, full of terror and ecstasy.

Hours later, the screams fade as a long howl rises. The girl's mangled body lies still on the ground, every orifice stuffed full and dripping, blood on the ground. Her face is quiet, eyes glassy with rapture, expression frozen in terror. He'd never seen anything so beautiful.

His violence finally sated, Lucifer stands with his bloody cock dripping, drenched in sweat and other fluids, parts of himself slipping back into human form. An unexpected warm rush fills him as he looks at her, and impulsively, he leans down and tenderly kisses her cooling cheek.

At the touch of her flesh, his eyes open and he is back in his office chair. His grandfather clock lets him know morning has come.

The chair lies in ruins around his outline, he had transformed outside of his dream as well. He shifts in the chair and his pants catch against him uncomfortably, sticky, full of his cum several times over. He feels an overwhelming sense of release, of a long-overdue itch scratched, a boiling tea kettle that has let off its steam. Feeling powerful and confident, he rises to clean himself and get ready for the day.

Later

"Once again, Lucifer will be providing you with your lessons and general protection this week," Diavolo said conversationally to the girl. All three of them were sitting in Diavolo's office, sipping tea kept at the perfect temperature by Barbatos's careful attentions. The girl hesitantly looked over her teacup towards Lucifer, remembering the handsome demon's obvious irritation the week before.

"I'm at your command," Lucifer said silkily, cooly polite. He showed none of the irritation from before, and in fact...looked perfectly content with his extra duties.

For a second, she thought she heard something odd in his tone...what, she wasn't sure.

She glanced his way again, and shivered as she saw he was watching her...a faint smile on his lips, red eyes glowing.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me smut #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #lucifer x mc #obey me reader insert #lucifer obey me #obey me diavolo #obey me lucifer smut #obey me dark

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the-pen-pot · 2 years

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Heart Of Winter

To Arthur, a bad winter meant he wore extra layers and lingered near the fireplaces at every opportunity. That was the way it had been all his life. He was aware, in a vague, indifferent sort of way, that it was another matter for the people in the Lower Town, and worse still for those in the outlying villages. Firewood and food frequently fell into short supply, but there was only so much that could be done.

Or so his father said.

When Merlin came into his service, gangly and clumsy and more irritating than Arthur thought possible, it began a subtle shift in his thinking. It took time, but as weeks became months and the wheel of the year turned, Arthur found himself less willing to believe his father's dismissive platitudes. What was the point, after all, in ruling a realm if you could do nothing to help its people survive life's hardships?

Perhaps that was because the victims of those hardships now had a face. Despite all of Arthur's protests to the contrary, Merlin had become his friend, and though he spoke lightly of the life he had endured in Ealdor, he did not seek to keep it a secret.

'That's why you always empty your plate,' Arthur realised quietly one evening, after Merlin bluntly explained that during his childhood, there had been times in midwinter where there was not even a morsel for him to eat. 'Even if you don't like it.'

'Only people who have never been hungry turn their nose up at food,' Merlin replied, licking gravy off his thumb.

Arthur wondered if that was why, even now, Merlin's build tended towards slender and waif-like. Oh, he was strong enough, but did those times of deprivation cast their shadow, even now?

'How often did it happen?'

Merlin shrugged. 'Enough. Some years were all right. Others...' He pursed his lips. 'Ealdor was better off that those places in the north of Essetir. Whole villages up there died, some winters.'

Arthur looked down at his plate, at the dumpling he had rejected for being too rich in herbs, and the carrots he had refused to eat since his childhood. It would go to the pigs, he assumed. The ones that would, in time, be served at the royal table, but there were people all over his kingdom who would give anything for the scraps they fed to the livestock, or for the wood his father kept stored to light his damn pyres.

'What can I do?' he asked, tunnelling his fingers through his hair.

'What will your father let you do?' Merlin asked gently, his question far too pointed and honest for Arthur's comfort. He rarely failed to get to the heart of the matter. It was one of those qualities that didn't sit well on a servant, who were meant to flatter when asked and remain silent otherwise. Still, it wasn't as if Merlin had ever made any effort to fit the role Uther had thrust upon him.

'Nothing,' Arthur acknowledged grimly. 'He believes that it's not our concern. As far as he cares, the people are there to pay their taxes and little more. If I tried to change that...' He trailed off, slumping lower in his chair. He could see it all too well. His father would take it as a challenge, and Arthur knew better than to believe being Uther's son and heir would spare him his wrath.

No. Officially, there was nothing he could do. Not until it was he who sat upon the throne. However, that didn't mean he was completely helpless. Not with a man like Merlin at his side.

Merlin, who thought Arthur didn't notice the way his eyes glowed just before they were all saved from a bandit attack, or who honestly believed Arthur would buy his hollow, wraith-like excuses for all the strange things that went on in Camelot. Merlin, who had been saving his life against impossible odds using the very magic for which Uther would see him burn. So far, Arthur had let him keep his secret. Now, the time had come for that to change.

'Forget about me, then,' Arthur said, propping his elbow on the arm of his chair and resting his chin on his knuckles. He watched Merlin across the expanse of the table, his heart racing and his gut thrashing with nervous butterflies. What he was about to do could change everything. He only hoped it was for the better. 'What can you do, Merlin? You and your magic?'

------

The wind bit at Arthur's cheeks as he huddled in his coat, eyes narrowed against the ice glittering in the air. Winter bit deep, this year, but perhaps this time the people of Camelot would not suffer so harshly. It was a delicate balancing act, working out what they could get away with right under Uther's nose.

Old clothes and blankets that would not be missed were easy enough to offer to the poorest. Gwen and Merlin had recruited a few of the trusted among the servants to help them get supplies to those most desperately in need. Food, too, found its way into the Lower Town, tied in neat bundles and left on doorsteps. Yet it was Merlin's small touches of magic that made the heart of winter easier to bear.

It had taken a number of days and a dozen whispered promises that he would never face the pyre to get Merlin to understand Arthur meant him no harm. More than once, Arthur had half-expected to find his servant had fled in the night, so great was his fear. And who could blame him? Uther was not known for his mercy.

Eventually, after more than a week of acting like a horse about to bolt from its stable, Merlin finally seemed to believe Arthur's word. He did not care that Merlin had magic, only whether or not he could use it to help the people.

Now, as he stood waiting for Merlin to finish checking on one of Gaius' patients in their small hovel, he let his gaze drag over the door frame, searching the grain of the wood for the subtle mark. If he had not seen Merlin place it, with the faintest flicker of gold, then Arthur would never have known it was there: an old religion glyph for warmth, tied into the very fabric of the building.

It was not the only one. Every dwelling in the Lower Town bore the rune, now. Merlin's magic worked through it, invisibly holding back the drafts and healing rotten thatch, forcing the walls to hold the heat of the fires that burned in the hearths.

Once he sat upon the throne, Arthur would make sure that none of his people wanted for food or heat, not here within the citadel's walls or out in the lands of his realm. For now, what little he could offer was made possible by Merlin, and he could not be more grateful.

Magic was a tool, and between them, Arthur and Merlin planned to put it to good use.

For the sake of Camelot.

AO3 | KO-FI | PATREON

#Merlin #Merthur

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moonbaby26 · 3 years

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Title: Night of the Storm

Pairing: Loki x Goddess!Reader

Summary: Story set nearer the Viking Age. You were a Greek sea goddess who crossed paths with the god of mischief. Continuation of previous chapter. Weeks after Loki’s last appearance you were finally beginning to give up hope, only to find you’d been on his mind all along as he lures you into being alone with him late one night. His other side shows more of itself as things quickly turn into relieving that pent up physical need.

Warnings: People drowning. Also *here comes the smut.* But the start and finish of it is still marked in red within the chapter if you want to skip that part. I know everyone has their own comfort levels. The only thing in this though that I would even consider slight kink is just a bit of biting and tiny bit of blood from that, like really small. Otherwise it’s just needy gods doing what needy gods do.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @rosaline-black , @lawfeys , @loveableasshole , @insanitybyanothername

My Masterlist

——————————

You had replayed your last words with Loki over and over so many times in your head. Had you been too forward after all? Was it too presumptuous to think anything could really come of such a random acquaintanceship?

The more days that passed, the more you questioned what you really remembered of your brief time together versus what you may have only imagined in your optimism.

The night he left, you remembered feeling so sure that he would return. Maybe you weren’t certain in what way he would want to see you next, but you had at least felt he would set foot in your home he called Midgard again. And that he would call your name to the waves once more.

So when the days eventually stretched into weeks with no further sign of him, you had to accept the possibility that you were very wrong on your assumptions.

As you stared upward now from the deep ocean, the blackness all around was only penetrated by the briefest strobes of white. The occasional lightning’s flash silhouetting the wooden ship hulls rising and falling far above you.

It was so late into the night, but your Father’s anger cared not for time. The captain of the fleet above had committed the sin of hubris. He had declared himself a master of the sea after too many trips safely across, and now your Father’s storms aimed to remind this man of a harsh truth.

Your uncle Hades would surely claim souls tonight, one way or another. That was already decided per Father’s orders. But should they all die, then none of the men could carry on this message, this teaching moment either.

So you waited, and you listened. Who among them would plead for intervention as the waters first breached their ships? Father could show his wrath, but he’d sent you to show the other side as well.

Mercy from the gods. Whichever ship contained the most believers, whichever prayed the hardest, that was the one Father had asked you to spare.

But the rest....you could only watch as their bodies joined you one by one in the darkness. And you knew soon that they would only find themselves upon the banks of the river Styx.

You bid the nymphs to comfort the men as best they could, to accept fate rather than fight it. The ocean above was simply rage, but down in this abyss they would only know peace.

When the chosen surviving ship had emerged in your mind though, you pushed only that one forward. The waves began to miss it, ignore it even as the ship fully righted.

“Follow them all the way to their home shores,” You commanded the nymphs. “Let none from that vessel drown under your guard.”

“Yes, goddess.” They answered, swimming quickly to join the now fleeing ship. These mortals would return home with tales of their brush with death. But they would also remember as their prayers had parted the seas only for them.

Yet you felt no satisfaction, even with your duty to your Father done. Your distraction still lingered as you only sank further away from the storm’s flashes in the time afterward, to the colder depths where you intended to again sleep alone.

Floating, suspended in the blackness as you’d closed your eyes, to any that could have somehow seen you, you would have looked most like a corpse as well. Albeit intact, unmarred, and with that smallest pulse of life as the thin slits on your neck pulled in those tiny breaths.

But after only a little while you’d opened your eyes again into the void. Because you felt that someone was watching you. It would seem impossible, but you were so certain of this fact so abruptly then that you called out, your magic giving your words wide presence even within the water.

“And what being are you that should watch a goddess as she tries to sleep? Do you now judge my actions invisible one?”

You waited, but of course the void would not answer back, could not even as the feeling of some ethereal eye upon you would not leave.

What did it want from you?

“Milady!”

You startled harshly, even the distant voice of a nymph shocking you at this depth. She couldn’t reach you though, so you had to swim back upward to her.

When you neared further back towards the surface a quick moving fish cut across your vision. It circled, panicked, and calling again. A younger nymph who could not yet take on any larger form. “Milady, thank goodness I found you. Loki has finally returned! But he is injured!”

That was the last of anything you had expected. But you ordered her to stay where it was safe, to only join the others once more before you tore off into the darkness to head for shore.

———————————

As you emerged from the waves, they crashed rough against your back. You hadn’t realized father’s storms had stretched this far. The rain stung against your now exposed skin as you walked onto the beach in the downpour. Loki had never come at night before. And for it to be now no less, in this tempest, you breathed as you looked around for him in the darkness. But you heard nothing over the wind and waves.

“Loki!” You called.

At last you saw a shadow somehow darker than the rest, shifting then just within the tree line. You hurried towards it.

“They said you were injured!” You spoke over the storm.

“I’m fine.” He grumbled, though seemingly more agitated at the rain as he looked all like a drenched rat fallen off a moor line now, making you wonder how long he’d really been waiting for you here.

“I know a place, come on,” You insisted.

But even in these circumstances, you hesitated to touch him, yet knowing it would have been far easier to guide him if you could have only taken his arm. But you did your best to lead him regardless, further along the shore until you came upon the cave opening you were seeking.

“Even during high tide it stays dry in here,” You explained, now finally able to speak at a more normal volume with the sounds of the storm muted somewhat as you went farther back into the cavern together.

Yet light would be an issue, as you were already looking around for a way to at least make a fire.

But to your surprise one started from nothing, in the center of the cave now flickering as the light then shown on you both.

Loki lowered his hand afterward, evidently having just used some other kind of magic you weren’t aware of.

But as you turned to him, you could now see the deep bruising on his face even in the firelight.

“You said you weren’t hurt.” You spoke, that tone of concern not hidden.

“It is minor.” He answered, but offered nothing more.

You waited for one long moment, before finally deciding that any notion of privacy he may hold was now overshadowed by the obvious need for some explanation. “Minor enough to come here in the dead of night in the middle of a near hurricane?”

He gave you an odd look, but you didn’t shrink back.

“I only had another large, predictable argument with my brother.” He finally said. “He decided to help solve things in the only way he knows how. I used magic, he used his fists, and here I am.” Loki had already started to try and smooth his wind mussed hair back into place though, some vanity evident there even as he continued. “And this was only one of few places he would not follow me. Brother has no interest in this part of Midgard currently. He at least allows me this.”

“I see.” You answered, though feeling something was still not right here even as you tried to choose your next course of action carefully. “Would you like help drying off at least then?” You asked.

“You insinuate that you can control rainwater as well?” He questioned skeptically.

“Only if it’s made by one of my father’s storms, yes. Which this clearly was.” You replied, raising your own hands as you willed the water to leave him. And it did lift from his hair, from his clothes, even his skin as the reformed droplets floated strangely in midair before you cast them back out the cave entrance with another flick of your hands.

He watched the water leave with the slightest bit of interest before turning his attention fully back to you then.

“And what is your dear father so unhappy with tonight?” Loki asked, adjusting his now at least somewhat dryer clothing. You couldn’t pull out every bit of dampness true, but it was far better than being completely drenched.

“He felt a mortal had lost respect for the dangers of the seas.” You answered plainly.

But Loki actually was silent for a moment at that as only a dark smirk crossed his features. That little knot in your stomach seemed to tighten at the sight.

“And they say I’m petty.” He finally said. “How many mortals did you really let drown tonight, goddess?”

“So it was you.” You said abruptly, accusing him then and there as you neared closer. “You were watching me!”

“No.” He corrected, though looking pleased none the less that you had made the connection so quickly. “Heimdall was. Yet by my request.”

“Why?” You questioned, but not really knowing what to feel as a mix of anger and embarrassment rose in your confusion.

“I wanted to know if your parting words held any truth. And if you’d grow restless the longer I waited to return.” He smiled then, but there was still a cruelty to it. “Yet that show I did not expect. Heimdall can be quite good at relaying details when pressed. And sparing only the mortals that plead for you tonight, letting the rest become food for your sea beasts....ah, and yet with your servants still comforting the damned. It was really quite a finishing touch.”

“So this is the kind of god you are then?” You asked sharply, though still not sure what you’d really expected.

“I am.” He offered. “And I also am not.”

You tensed, patience truly beginning to wane. “There is no point to speak in riddles to me. What is your real intention here Asgardian?”

“Tsk. Now you wound? I am only back to the Asgardian again?” He tilted his head slightly. “No, you tell me. Why did you leave the protection of your seas so quickly at only the word I was wounded, so panicked that you did not even think to bring that spear of yours?”

Your eyes widened slightly, that realization only just hitting you with his question. It hadn’t crossed your mind once to bring it, even now as he stood so near with that growing look of triumph in his eyes.

“You play games with me.” You retorted, even as you watched those fake bruises now fade from his pale skin.

“And now I know what you would do if it were all true,” he answered, yet with that smirk returning.

“I could fill this entire cave and drown you where you stand you know.” You countered.

“You could try,” He agreed. “But you won’t.”

“You presume too much.” He was becoming maddening. Everything you said, he only grew bolder, he taunted harder. And the worst of it all was, you were not really fighting back. Why were you not fighting back?

“You missed me, goddess. It isn’t that hard to deduce. Not anymore. You wanted this.” He finally said. “And if it’s all the same, I share that frustration. I kept away long enough to be sure. But watching you, knowing what you’re willing to do...I wanted to come back and see it first hand.”

And in all these weeks, tonight wasn’t the only night you’d let mortals perish in Father’s name, or even caused it yourself as you’d manipulated the seas on his orders. And was that really what excited Loki tonight? Seeing you use your powers to this darker extent?

“Is this really how Asgardians flirt? Over the bodies of the innocent?” You asked, unable to keep yourself to sane words any longer. It had all gone too far so quickly.

“I am not all Asgardians. And you and I both know there is no such thing as innocence.” He murmured just as his hands first touched you, taking your wrists. The grasp of his long fingers was surprisingly cold. That chill honestly the first thing you noticed, even as you didn’t push him away.

You watched only his eyes for that moment. And in your own awe you realized he was actually still waiting for you to deny him. You were being given a choice here. But you didn’t refuse him. You couldn’t. You’d already thought of this possibility more than once in your many nights alone.

And it was only you who closed the gap first as you took his lips in yours. You felt him tense briefly though, as if he was still somewhat surprised himself before he returned the motion in full force.

****SMUT INCOMING, KEEP SCROLLING IF WISHING TO SKIP

The rock wall of the cave soon met your back as he pressed you against it. It hurt somewhat, but you weren’t made of glass.

As he pinned your arms against the wall as well, his tongue pressed its way into your mouth. But the taste of him was something you only wanted more of then. Yet when your own tongue fought quickly back, you felt him pull away just enough to look into your eyes once more.

His face hovered only inches from your own as he eyed you hungrily. “You realize I won’t be able to stop once this starts. It’s been far too long. Speak now...or be silent save for saying my praises, goddess.”

“Prideful beast,” You breathed, shifting in his grip. “You think I do this each night either? Try closer to never.”

He seemed even more goaded at that, pleased at the revelation, “Then tell me what you want, (Y/N).”

“You.” You answered immediately, reservation shattered as his body pressed further against your own.

“Then I shall enjoy the privilege.” He whispered huskily, and you leaned your head back just as you felt him bite suddenly after, his mouth rough on your neck. You were sure he was testing if marks could be made on your skin, trying to claim it any way he could now as he pressed a little harder and harder with those teeth.

The juxtaposition of a man who would sit with you for hours only reading, versus this possessive creature he was now shifting towards was so very interesting.

And as he released your wrists, his hands only moved to the straps of your dress next. Yanking them from your shoulders, and sliding the thin fabric easily from your chest, exposing your breasts to his groping touch before his mouth moved over your chest.

As he roughly kissed one breast, his hand squeezed the other tightly. In another too fast movement though, his other hand had now already pulled the rest of your dress away. He pulled you from the wall just enough for it to fall around your ankles then as you realized just how quickly he’d rendered you fully nude here before him. All while you’d only been nearly still, too wrapped up in the desperate feel of it all.

After the dress had fallen though, he did pull back not long after, seeming to admire the view for a moment before his hand then went between your legs.

“I wondered how much you’d taste of the sea,” He murmured, licking that slight residue of salt from his lips as his fingers massaged your entrance.

You opened your legs a little more, leaning further back against the wall to help support yourself as those little flicks and movements of his fingers weakened you further.

“You have entirely too many clothes on,” You panted quietly, not caring if your tone sounded more like pleading in that moment.

“You just want me in you already, don’t you, goddess?” He all but growled, taunting you even as he slipped his fingers inside then.

Before you could hope to really answer, he was kissing you again though, his tongue probing nearly as hard as his fingers were pressing below.

You could feel the resistance decreasing though, the more your inner wetness grew and his fingers slid in and out all the quicker. Something he no doubt could feel as well as he broke the kiss once more.

“Beg me then,” He commanded against your ear.

Even in your own need, you were realizing how much he wanted to be in control. Power aroused him, just as he’d evidently been watching you exert your own in all these days, and just as he wanted to feel dominant over you now.

But you also knew how little you cared either way in this moment. You wanted him to be satisfied just as much as you wanted your own release.

“I want you,” You tried again, locking eyes with him once more. But as you tried to reach for his clothing he only caught your hand in his free one.

“Not good enough,” He reiterated, needing more.

It was hard to think in depth though as his other hand only kept moving just enough to keep you stimulated, but not enough to finish you off.

But alright, you could play this game if you had to. You growled a little yourself, “Fuck me, Loki”. That’s what he wanted to hear wasn’t it? You could see that desperate look in his eyes grow and you knew you about had him. In the moment though, you added one more thing, this time being quick enough with your hand to grab hold of his crotch before he could stop you. “Do it, King. Fuck me.”

He let out another sound, somewhere between a growl and a moan as he pulled his fingers out from you before grabbing you by the arms to force you away from the wall entirely.

He released you only brief enough to face his palms towards his own body. The dark green cloak he wore separated at once from his other clothing, it then splaying out across the floor of the cave. And with another motion his black leather unwrapped itself, almost like invisible hands pulling it all from him as he stepped out of his boots. Then at once he was to you again as the rest of his clothing folded itself neatly out of the way.

But you wished time would slow down in that moment, yourself trying to see every detail of his naked form in the firelight before his body slammed back against yours. That vivid white skin, lean, but surprising you with the musculature that had still been hiding there.

In the ocean, you knew well that it wasn’t always the biggest, bulkiest predators to fear the most. Some of the leaner, faster ones could have your throat ripped out long before the others should you let them in too close.

And his mouth met yours just as harshly then, urging you down to lay on your back upon his cloak on the cave floor.

If your back was bruised later, you hardly cared, as you wrapped your legs around him and he laid his weight upon you. Your hands were free now, and you gladly used them, running them through his hair, and up and down his body to feel all you could of him. He was smooth, with that chill to him that was still so unique.

You found his already strong erection as well, stroking it with one hand as your other moved back into his hair. You held the back of his head as he moved down again to suck at your collarbone, his fingers digging into your hips harshly as he thrust against your hand, urging you to guide him in.

And you were more than ready, allowing him to push inside as you angled him as deep as he could go.

He took full advantage at once too, pulling almost all the way back out before slamming back inside as you gasped.

He lifted up onto his elbows enough to look you in the eyes as he pulled out again, before repeating the second harsh thrust, then a third, and a fourth.

It ached, yet somehow you couldn’t imagine this any other way tonight. He wanted to claim you now, as hard and thoroughly as he could.

And you could take it as you breathed his name. You wanted him to let out all his frustration as your hands moved to his back and your nails dug into his shoulders with each faster thrust.

He bore his teeth with a hiss of pain as your nails finally broke his skin. But he liked it you knew, even as he bit down on your shoulder in return.

You felt the pressure, maybe a little stinging, but your back only arched into him as his hips continued to slam against you mercilessly.

As his mouth let go of you again though, and he lifted up, manhood still inside you, you could see that slightest bit of gold ichor on his lips. The blood of the Olympians. Your blood.

He smiled, knowing full well what he’d done in his haze of lust. “Is that what the remnants of ambrosia tastes like?” He whispered, licking his lips.

Contact with ichor could kill any mortal outright, and here he was playing with it. Yet you truly had no idea what its effects could be on an Asgardian. “You do take risks, don’t you, King?”

He made a pleasured sound, still thoroughly enjoying that word out of your mouth as he grabbed your breasts again, thrusting hard once more. “Only when the odds favor me, goddess.”

Your muscles were tensing though, as he squeezed your breasts and changed his angle slightly to rub more against that sensitive bundle of nerves at your entrance as his cock slid in and out.

You couldn’t know what you really looked like to him right now, sprawled out on your back beneath him, laying on his own cloak as he fucked you like he’d never have the chance again.

But you could see his own expression, and his eyes were so intense, like under a spell of euphoria as his breath grew more rapid.

Would he pull out you wondered? Did you even want him to?

“Loki,” You spoke, raising your hand up to the side of his face gently, even though you realized his own red blood now dotted your fingernails.

He surprised you when he only turned his face enough to kiss your hand though, still watching you even as you felt him jerk inside you abruptly. You saw him shudder as that orgasm went through him, and you felt his seed pulsing out deep inside you.

But even as he came, his hand went back to your entrance, bidding you to do the same as he tormented your clit. You’d been on that edge for so long, it was easy to finally let go as you trembled beneath him, getting your own release then.

And even then he still didn’t pull out. He only tugged you so that you both rolled onto your sides on his cloak, still facing one another.

You were both breathing rather hard now, and you truly wanted to close your eyes to rest for a moment, but you felt his fingers edging along the side of your face as you opened your eyes again.

He kissed you once more, and you could taste that sweetness that you knew was indeed the leftovers of your own blood.

****SMUT DONE, CAN KEEP READING HERE

“Have you been sated?” You asked, reaching up to run your thumb across his bottom lip.

He grinned slightly at the touch. “To say yes would only be another lie now wouldn’t it? I am never sated, dear. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t thoroughly enjoy this.”

With that he reached out enough to touch his hand to the cloak beneath you. You felt the material shift before the sides of it suddenly extended, wrapping around you both like a blanket in the cool cave.

More of his own magic no doubt, but there were no complaints from you as you just rested your head against him, closing your eyes again. He allowed it, so you supposed he was also too tired to do anything differently.

You weren’t sure for how long he would actually stay this way. But for now you would only take comfort in this rarity of intimacy as best you could, breathing in his scent, and savoring the feel of his skin still against yours.

———————————-

It was only the extremely persistent calling of seagulls that finally woke you. Groggily you yawned, only startled as you realized yourself fully naked and for one chaotic moment could not remember how in Gaia’s name you got that way.

You sat up abruptly as the green cloak fell away from your bare body. But the silky feel of it brought you back to reality as you ran your hand out across it.

The sunlight was shining brightly into the cave. The fire long gone, and Loki along with it as you now sat alone here. All his clothes that had been stacked against the wall were also gone. Though with some bit of humor you realized your dress was now neatly folded beside the edge of the cloak for you to find. Quite far removed from its original point of just being piled beside the wall last night.

Though with him gone it was interesting that none of the nymphs had yet joined you. Perhaps they had just been too polite. But when you saw those same annoyingly loud gulls with some now walking up and down nervously at the cave entrance, you realized them for what they were.

You pulled Loki’s cloak back around yourself before laying back down, even while calling out. “You can come in, girls! I’m awake!”

With that a flurry of seagulls immediately flew into the cave, landing all around. And in moments they were all beautiful sea nymphs again, staring at you expectantly.

“You cannot tell my father, okay?” Was the very first thing you said as they all nodded highly enthusiastically.

But when you didn’t say anything immediately more, you could tell they were all about to explode in anticipation. “Yes, we coupled. Yes, I’d do it again.” You finally said.

They all squealed, no doubt realizing as well how badly you’d wished for his return in the last weeks. Yet that was also when the questions came.

“But was he better than an Olympian?”

“Was he tender, or rough? Did he try to please you, milady?”

“Was he big? I’ve heard everything is bigger up north. Aren’t they from the north?”

“My gods, girls, I don’t know. It’s not like I do this all the time.” You grumbled a little, curling up further into his cloak. It still smelled like him you realized. A rich scent, likely whatever it was that the royal quarters in Asgard smelled like.

“Oh we know! But it’s just, oh this is so exciting! You’ve finally taken a lover!”

Though as they continued to chat away, you did think of something you could actually ask them in return.

“When did he leave anyway? Did you see him?” You questioned.

“Oh,” They considered this for a moment. “Before sunrise surely, but we were um, asleep...most of us. We roosted outside the cave to wait for you, goddess.”

“I followed him!” Another one said. “But he told me to leave him be and go home.”

“What form were you in?” You asked, surprised he would so quickly recognize a nymph if in another form.

“Oh...well I was a seal.”

You blinked, imagining the ridiculousness of a nosy seal trying to inconspicuously waddle behind Loki all the way back up the beach and hillside last night.

“You should have been a small shorebird, and stuck to the trees to watch from a distance.” You commented.

“Ah, yes, that probably would have worked well.” They agreed.

You sighed a little, but it didn’t matter much regardless. As much as you still wanted to savor last night, Loki was already gone again. Which also meant that once again you could only wonder when, if ever, he might see fit to see you once more.

He’d already showed his capacity to fake his own injuries just to lure you in faster. So there was always the possibility that everything, all of it, had just been some elaborate scheme to bed you. And with that pleasure won, he may only be off to his next challenge far away from here.

You would have to accept whatever the Fates allowed, because what other choice did you have? But there was still no question. If you could see him again, you would gladly do so.

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

#loki fanfic #loki smut #loki x reader #loki x original female character #loki x oc #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki #loki odinson #loki odison x reader #loki imagine #loki laufeyson #loki fandom #loki of asgard #loki layfeyson x reader #loki layfeyson imagine

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simplyotometrash · 3 years

Text

Some Obey Me Headcanons!

Part One!!

Lucifer

Lucifer has always been the dad sibling. After each of his brothers were “born” while they were angels, he was the one to raise and teach them everything.

It’s common knowledge that Mammon is his favorite. Even if he hates to admit it. He’s hardest on Mammon because it’s the only thing he knows how to do anymore.

Despite the fact that they don’t seem to get along because of Mammon’s antics, Lucifer only ever confides some of his most pent up feelings to the second born.

The only other person he confides in this deeply is MC.

Before the fall, Belphie was his second favorite brother. Even after things have settled after Belphie was free again, he can never look at the youngest the same.

All he wants is for his brothers to be happy and live on. Even if it means working himself into the ground for their sakes.

He doesn’t ask for help. Help has to be forced upon him.

With how much he works, even at home, it’s not uncommon to find him napping with a pen in hand at his desk and his head on his paperwork.

He wishes he had done better raising Satan. He blames himself for their strained relationship, but he feels as if it is too late to truly fix it.

Sometimes he also wishes he had raised Satan as his son and not his brother, considering Satan was born from his wrath.

Children, for some reason or another, flock to him.

His control issues and needing to know everything that happens under his roof stems from the trauma of the war, the fall, and what happened with Lilith.

It’s his deepest fear that he will lose his brothers and be completely and utterly alone.

A bisexual mess of a demon. No one can convince me he doesn’t have at least a small crush on Diavolo.

Mammon

Oh the second born brother. He just wants to see everybody happy. But he always messes up and ends up making people angry instead.

He has severe impulse control issues, hence why he’s broke all the time. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to save his Grimm, I headcanon that his sin of Greed compels him to spend. It controls him and so he struggles to keep money.

But by gods does he have great luck with gambling. Get him going and he will win big every single time.

But keep that money where he can’t just grab it or else he will be compelled by his sin to buy things.

He doesn’t even want most of the things he buys. His sin took root in that empty space left from the fall and being cast out by the one he called his father.

His sin pushes him to try and fill that void with objects and money when really he just wants someone’s love.

After centuries of being called scum and a degenerate because of something he has little control over, he gave up trying and gave into just being his sin.

He cries easy but only to MC or Lucifer. He won’t show his tears to any of his other brothers. Maybe Beel sometimes. But only sometimes.

He knows Lucifer’s most precious and deepest secrets. He’s his brother’s confidant. But he doesn’t even breathe a word of these secrets to anyone else.

He tries so hard to get attention, so he does stupid shit. After falling to Devildom, his family was changed forever. So any attention is good attention even when it’s him being punished.

MC is the one who showed him positive love and attention again. It is one of many reasons he sticks to their side like fucking super glue to skin.

He’s actually a total mom-friend, though you wouldn’t guess it. You’d think he is the type to get drunk and pass out at a party? His alcohol tolerance is actually much higher than he lets on. He cleans up and takes care of people after they’ve all passed out.

Leviathan

He wasn’t nearly as anxious and against socializing before falling to Devildom. He retreated into himself out of fear of the unknown world they had all fallen into after the war.

He has an anxious attachment style. He knows it isn’t healthy. It’s rooted in the trauma that losing Lilith created.

The longer he stayed closed in on himself, the worse his anxiety got. To the point he became a recluse.

He fears getting close to someone. He feels insecure in relationships, not just in himself. He doesn’t feel like he’s good enough.

He’s had relationships in Devildom before, but the first one ended poorly and it only made things worse for how he saw himself. The demon only dated him because of who he was, and preferred his status as the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy. Not as who he really is.

The few relationships that came after all ended before they really could begin because his anxiety monster was screaming that he wasn’t really good enough. That they only ever pursued him for who he was in status and power.

MC’s persistence to become his friend is what made him begin to do some self-reflection.

They tried so hard to become friends with him, they put so much effort into him, and they encourage him to just be himself. If they do all of that, maybe he really is enough as he is.

He does try to step outside of his comfort zone more because MC opened his eyes to the truth of himself.

But baby steps are needed.

He taught himself how to code just so he could make games. He got bored after making one and preferred playing to creating.

He doesn’t actually hate Mammon. Their little rivalry traces back to when they were angels and still growing up, competing for Lucifer’s attention. He actually loves his brother very much, despite how irritate he gets.

His envy is its own thing. It took root within his insecurities and has a voice all its own. It used to be so loud that he couldn’t think. But the growth he’s had since MC came into his life helped quiet that voice down a lot.

He’s closest with Satan and Asmo, feeling like he doesn’t fit with his older two or youngest two brothers anymore.

Satan

He knew from day one that he wasn’t like the rest of his brothers. He was always different. Born a demon, never once an angel. He knew that they weren’t truly his brothers.

All he ever wanted was for Lucifer to be his father. Not his brother.

Lucifer once was his hero, the person he admired and respected with all his might.

As he got older, his wrath only grew with him. And his anger at Lucifer grew as well.

He wanted to find himself as separate from Lucifer. He knew where he’d come from. But everyone treated him as if he were just some offshoot of Lucifer. He wanted to be his own person. For everyone to see that. It fueled his anger and built the wall that came between them.

He’s an excellent shoulder for comfort. He often comforts Levi when he breaks down or provides reassurance to Asmo.

These three are the middle children, they stick together.

He was alive when the Library of Alexandria was burned. Even though he wasn’t supposed to go to the human realm, he saved some texts from the library and keeps them safe.

The real reason he wears his jackets the way he does is just like when you’re in bed. If it’s full on with both sleeves, he’s too hot. If he doesn’t have it on at all he’s too cold. So one arm in a sleeve and one arm not in a sleeve.

Asmo has tried and failed to give this boy fashion help. He refuses to take it. He thinks he looked like an intellectual (for the love of god please lose the black undershirt at least, Satan).

He carries cat treats and cat food in his bag at all times in case he comes across a kitty in need.

He has sneaked many cats into the House of Lamentation. Lucifer knew the entire time but let Satan have a few days before he “found out” about the cats.

His wrath has burned strong for so long, even when he was passive, that he didn’t know what it was like to feel calm. But MC’s very presence sends a wave of peace right to his very core.

Asmo

If you’re insecure and you know it clap your hands.

Levi might seem like the king of insecurity, but Asmo takes the cake.

He masks his insecurities with what people think is narcissism and over confidence. He puts on a show so nobody knows how he really sees himself.

Lust was always shoved down his throat as sexual only. So he went with it. He was supposed to be the Avatar of Lust. To be what was expected of him and to make sure he was liked, he did what he thought everyone wanted.

And it turned him into someone he never wanted to be. He didn’t know how to find himself again.

He isn’t nearly as sexual and lewd as everyone thinks. He’s touchy and clingy, yes, but touch is his love language.

When he’s hurt or doesn’t feel well, if he’s had a bad day, if he’s sad- all he wants is to be held by the person he loves and who loves him. He wants to hold hands or link arms. He wants to wrap his arms around them all the time.

But because everyone in Devildom only saw him as a sex symbol, he had to bury his truest desires. He had a persona to keep up.

While he does love to take care of himself, he used to break mirrors because he was so sick of who he had become. It took a lot of time for him to get through it.

His MC is the only one who wasn’t tainted by his power. A power that seemed to just be active all the time whether he wanted it or not.

Everyone was all over him but it wasn’t as if he could control it. His sin was always active, it attracted people.

But MC wasn’t interested or affected.

And that was what was most attractive to him.

They saw him for who he was and encouraged him to just be the true Asmo. Not the Asmo everyone wanted to see.

He is excellent at sewing. He loves making his own accessories and clothing from his own designs.

He’s ambidextrous. You think that the king of fashion only uses one hand? Darling, if he only used one hand then his homework would never get done. He write with one hands and be painting his toes with the other.

One of the few people that can get Levi out of his room to hang out. They’ve always been close. Sometimes he does that just so the others can get Levi’s laundry and dirty dishes.

He’s the most emotionally open and stable of the brothers. He’s made peace with his inner monsters and can coexist with them. He’s also surprisingly good at advice.

Can and will break into Lucifer’s study to make the eldest relax because he’s working too har.

He has bobby pins on him at all times. Not just for fashion but for lockpicking! He can be clever and beautiful!

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo

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megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms · 3 years

Text

Against Orders

Based on this request: May I request Ben Tallmadge fic where the reader is Caleb’s adopted sister who is captured by Robert Rogers? Caleb and Ben go after her against orders and Caleb figures out that Ben is in love with her?

Here you are, lovelies! *Familiar characters do NOT belong to me!*

Fandom: TURN: Washington’s Spies

Warnings: Angst, mentions of kidnapping. A little fluff I suppose

Pairings/Characters: Benjamin Tallmadge x fem!reader, Caleb Brewster

"'Ey, Tall boy! Get out here. There's someone here who wants to see ya!" Ben rolled his eyes at the nickname his best friend had given him. He stood and stepped out of his tent, only to stop dead in his tracks. There, standing in front of him, was you. The woman of his absolute dreams. The woman he had fallen in love with when you were still teenagers. The adopted sister of his best friend which meant one thing. You were absolutely and unequivocally off limits.

"Are you just going to stand there staring or are you going to hug me?" you asked with a cheeky smile. Ben couldn't help but laugh as he opened his arms. "Missed you, Benny," you whispered so only he could hear as you stepped into his embrace. He fought back a smile that he knew Caleb would see. If Caleb figured out that Ben's thoughts were often less than innocent, he'd get punched in the face.

"Why are you here?" You chuckled a bit as you pulled back. "Well after…after Simcoe executed our uncle, your father took me in. But you know I've always been a bit too wild for him," you told him with a laugh, "He sent me to visit with Caleb for a bit while there's a lull in the fighting."

"And I'm happy ta have, ya, but I have to make a short run. I leave ya in Benny-boy's capable hands." Benny started to argue, but then he thought about it. He too had a little bit of a reprieve, one that would probably be spent working regardless. Perhaps he could put it to good use and spend time with you instead. He nodded his head before he could stop himself and Caleb left, leaving the two of you alone.

"I really did miss you, Ben. Living with your father has brought back memories of running through the fields away from you and Caleb as you tried to put a frog down the back of my dress." Benny laughed and shook his head. He remembered that too. He remembered everything about you. He even recalled the first time he realized he was in love with you.

Even in his dreams, he remembered how beautiful you looked with the water of the river reflecting the sun against your skin as he and Caleb rowed away. He could still see the tears that poured down your face as you stood there with Anna and Abraham. Your eyes had met his and he almost changed his mind. But he had a job to do. He couldn't stay for his own selfish reasons.

"Ben?" your voice broke Ben out of his reverie and he smiled at you. "Sorry. Let me show you around." You nodded and linked your arm with his. As the two of you walked through camp, you did your best to ignore the stares and pointed whispers, especially when you happened upon General Washington briefly. You talked with Ben, telling him about everything happening in Setauket. But Ben noticed you refused to tell him much about yourself. When he asked about it, your face changed and you looked like you'd seen a ghost.

"There's something I have to tell you. Your father didn't send me. I begged to come. One last chance to see you before your father continues his search for a husband…for me," you admitted, making Ben freeze. You were considering marriage? "I don't want to talk about that, though. I came to see you and Caleb, and that is what I plan on focusing on. Alright?" you told him with a smile so bright, Ben had to laugh. He would wish he'd taken that moment to tell you that he didn't want you marrying anyone but him. But how could he have known that you would nearly be taken from him?

*short time skip*

It was your second evening visiting when Caleb came running over to Ben in a frenzy. "Ben! She's gone! Y/N is gone!" Ben was instantly on high alert. "What?!" Caleb panted for a moment. "One of the wives said she saw a man take her. Matches Robert Rogers' description! He took her, Ben. He took my sister!" Ben was on his feet in a second. "Which way?" Caleb stared at him, pointing in a direction.

"The general ordered you to stay put, Ben. We knew Rogers was in the area." Ben clenched his fists at his side. He had indeed been ordered by Washington to stay in camp. Rogers was out for revenge and everyone knew it. But this was you! He couldn't leave you in the hands of that murderous drunk. He just couldn't. His decision made, his blue eyes never left Caleb's as he grabbed his belongings.

"I will deal with the general after we get Y/N back." Caleb merely stared at him in disbelief. Not that Ben blamed him. It wasn't like him to go against his orders. He was hot-headed, true, but he admired Washington and obeyed nearly every order. But this time, he had no choice. You were his priority.

The walk through the thick woods was quiet for a bit. Ben's mind and heart were racing. He took a page from his father's book at prayed that he wasn't too late. Rogers wasn't exactly mentally stable. Ben had no idea if he would actually kill you. He couldn't take that chance. So, he said nothing and continued searching for signs of you. It was Caleb who broke the silence.

"So how long have ya been in love with my sister, Tall boy?" Ben froze in place. His spine stiffened as he glanced over his shoulder at his closest friend. To his surprise, there was no anger in Caleb's face. Only amusement and curiosity. Ben swallowed thickly. He didn't know how to answer that without bringing about Caleb's wrath.

"Relax, Benny. If there's anyone capable of lovin' and protectin' her, it's ya. I already see ya as family." Ben felt a smile creep up onto his lips. "Thank you, Caleb. Let's just hope we get to her in time." The two men shared a quick glance before heading off in search of you again. Ben knew that, when he found you, he was going to tell you right then and there that he loved you. He would ask you to marry him when the war was over.

(a/n: I hope you like it! I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, the casting director for this show did NOT have to hire to such pretty people for this show. They did not have to go that hard XD)

#turn: washington's spies #benjamin tallmadge #benjamin tallmadge x reader #ben tallmadge x reader

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absynthe--minded · 3 years

Note

Could I beg something about your “Aragorn’s Upsetting Haircut” headcanon? No pressure of course!!

(this is going to be presented in more than one installment, but I couldn’t resist sharing! a few things: this fic is consistent with the rest of my personal canon, and it draws upon the headcanon that Aragorn and Arwen married by elvish standards upon Cerin Amroth but still consider themselves betrothed by Mannish standards.)

When Arwen came down into the Valley again, the Sun was low in the sky, hovering just above the tops of the Chithaeglir and casting long shadows across the trees and the river below. She could tell, immediately, when she crossed their borders, passing through the wards easily. There was Song here, bound into the rock and the roots of the mountains, curling about her and pulling the weariness from her body. Celeg seemed easier too, slowing from a trot to a walk; she knew he could feel the change just as surely as she did. Come home, the Song whispered, threads of melody pulling her along the path toward the gleaming lights of her home. Come home, and be healed of your pains.

It would be easy - too easy - to slip the bounds of her body and bone, to cast herself upon the shadows and ride the winds down to her own bedroom window. The thought was tempting, and even more tempting when she considered the ache in her hip that hadn’t ceased since the skirmishes three weeks past had left her with a deep and ugly wound.

Her lord father had sent her out in search of four hobbits and - perhaps - her betrothed, her secret husband, all wandering in the wilds while ulaer pursued them. She was not alone, though she had departed first, weeks before the others. It was foresight that had driven her father to speak with her, and foresight that pushed her to saddle Celeg and leave Imladris under cover of darkness. Glorfindel had been the next to leave, far later, keeping close to the Road, traveling westward and anticipating that the servants of Sauron would not have left it far behind. Last were her brothers, abandoning their errantry, making for what Men called the Angle where Mitheithel and Bruinen met and merged. It had been her lot to travel north, and north she had gone, albeit in a disjointed, somewhat defiant fashion, moving from the Ettenmoors to the North Downs and then at last down to Sarn Ford and the Dúnedain she knew would be there.

Her guess had been that her betrothed, if he was with the hobbits, had met them at that border of the Shire, and had accompanied them up the Greenway to Bree before striking out into the wilderness. None of her travels had given any sign of him, and so it was in frustration and defeat that she had come to the encampment, seeking some tidings that might guide her, and found it in disarray.

Aragorn had been there - days past, departing after a disastrous attack by the ulaer that had left three men dead and four wounded, with Halbarad trying valiantly to maintain order and hold the border. He had left in a great haste, as if fleeing from their enemies, saying only that he was making for Bree. He was followed shortly after by Mithrandir, who had come and gone from the Shire like a grey cloud blown back and forth by a storm. It had been her aim to seek them out, and offer her strength in song and sword against the darkness.

Fate had not been so kind.

Sarn Ford had been attacked a second time while she was there, the enemies assailing it now flesh and blood. There were still evil Men who dwelt in the North and recalled the name of Angmar, and their blades were as formidable now as they had been in centuries past. Her voice had been needed, the night and the river turning upon the would-be intruders and her ancestress’s blood sparking in her veins to claim the borders, but she was no true soldier for all her skill with a blade, and her body was ruled by the limits of the Incarnates. The fighting had reached her, while she stood thigh-deep in rushing water and twined her words through its echoes of long-ago music, and someone now-dead had plunged a dagger into her hip. The wound would have been fatal if not for Halbarad, who had pulled her back from the thick of the battle and seared it closed with the flat of a pan from the smoldering cooking-fire before she could bleed out. She had not ceased her singing, and her assailant found himself dragged beneath the surface of the Baranduin and drowned.

Two days were all she could spare, one to recover what strength she might and another to force her legs to obey her will. Halbarad had begged her to stay - what wrath their Chieftain might bring down upon them, he’d said, if his Lady died in the wilds when they might have saved her! But she was Lúthien’s heir, and would not be kept from his side, and no words would hold her in obligation. Celeg, for his part, was uninjured, having been kept from the fighting by his own good sense, and he gladly bore her northward a second time.

That had been twenty-one days ago, and each day had been fruitless and empty. She searched through the North Downs again, and the Weather Hills, and the Coldfells, growing more and more desperate with each setting Sun. She could feel the ulaer on the move, dreaming of their horses’ hooves thundering over the hard-packed ground of the Road even as she slept, and she could not ignore the fear rising in her like a spike that sought to pierce her heart. Her betrothed was a valiant man, and canny, and careful, but there were terrors that sought him out unlike any he had faced before, and the hobbits were almost certainly inexperienced travelers.

At last, she had been forced to admit defeat. The year was truly turning cold, and her food had been exhausted, and it had been nigh on two mortal months since her departure. She had hoped that whatever tenuous thread bound her to Aragorn would have led her to him, but the world was dark now, shielded by evil mists that clouded her thought and her heart, and the closed wound on her hip had begun to fester beneath its scar. So it was to home she had turned, leaving the fells behind her, coming back down into Imladris from the north. She had not slept in three days, blind almost to all beyond her body.

A fine daughter I am, she thought as Celeg made his way down the ridge, careful and steady. A fine wife, for that matter. But daughters of Lúthien did not pout, and they certainly did not cry from exhaustion.

The Valley was unusually quiet this afternoon. As always, the Bruinen sang, and the birds welcomed her, but her own folk were strangely absent on the pathways and in the trees. The wards still stood, so she knew there had not been some calamity, and there was no whisper of a siege on the air - it felt almost as if Tarnin Austa had arrived a second time in the same year, and all who dwelt within their borders had come into the house proper to celebrate.

Or to mourn, she thought, and made a face and refused to dwell on that fear.

The stables were just as quiet as the rest of Imladris, and she was able to dismount and lead Celeg back to his stall in peace. The great black gelding had borne her without complaint through the long weeks, and yet she could see in his ears and the swish of his tail that he was glad to be home.

“I know,” she murmured, opening the door and stepping inside, watching him look at her expectantly. “You’ll get a full grooming, I promise.” And then it’s a long bath for me, and a visit to my father regarding my hip.

“Allow me, my lady,” a second voice said, cutting through the silence. She flinched, shrinking back against her horse for half a heartbeat - it had been days on end since she’d heard another’s voice, and she was suddenly acutely aware of how detached from herself she had become. But she knew that voice, and shock and surprise were quick to take the place of fear.

“Glorfindel?” she asked, peering over the door to see her father’s captain leaning against a post. He was standing in another stall directly across from her, alongside Asfaloth, who was contentedly making short work of some hay. “You - !” Dismay stopped her, silencing her joy. There was only one reason he would have returned after so short a time away - he, too, had failed.

“I?” the ellon asked, raising an eyebrow. “What about me?”

“You didn’t find them,” she said. “You’ve the same tale to tell as I.”

His face grew serious and yet lost none of its joy, and he opened the door to Asfaloth’s stall and stepped out of it, closing the latch behind him.

“No, my lady,” he told her, eyes shining as he spoke. “I’ve a different tale.”

“What?” she asked, motionless, unable to look away from him. She could see now that he was dressed for merrymaking and revelry, clad in bright scarlet and deep blue, his tunic gleaming with passing thread and his hair braided through with well-placed gems. “But - I found nothing, and surely I would have known if - !” If he were slain, if he lay dead, if the ulaer claimed him for their number…

“My lady,” Glorfindel said, one hand reaching out and taking her gloved one carefully. “I found him in the hills, and I have brought him home.”

Tears filled her eyes, and she sat down hard, sinking to the floor of the stable as her hip protested and relief flooded every inch of her body.

#absynthe's fanfiction #lord of the rings #tolkien #aragorn #arwen #nikosheba

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aimeelouart · 3 years

Note

I dunno how you feel about Rufus, but I think it’d be kind of interesting to see if he found a young time travel Cloud instead of the 1sts. Like it starts off where he like “oh another shinra bastard” but by the end evolves to “if anyone hurts Cloud I’d kill everyone in this tower and then myself” lol

The Tanuki of Shinra Tower - 2106 words, roughly the same continuity as SSC, so Cloud looks like a kid

Rufus blinked at the little blond child, freezing halfway through his office door. The little blond child glared back from the wall, a knife clenched between his teeth. Slowly, he slid back into the vent he was hanging out of and pulled the cover closed behind him.

“Huh,” said Rufus. He picked up the phone on his desk and dialed Veld’s office.

⁠—

The child was back, this time raiding the break room for food at the asscrack of dawn. He paused when Rufus came in, eyes briefly flitting down to where Rufus’s guns were holstered, before apparently dismissing him as unimportant and going back to rooting through the fridge.

Rufus narrowed his eyes, a little insulted but more than curious enough to set his annoyance aside for the moment. He realized what he hadn’t the first time⁠: the tiny little thing had mako in his bright blue eyes. The tiny little thing had a SOLDIER’s enhancements. So Rufus leaned against the wall by the door and crossed his arms over his chest, observing as the child picked up a container of leftover wutaian noodles, sniffed it, made a face, and put it back.

Had his father handed one of his bastard children over to Science? It didn’t seem like something he’d do, but at the same time it didn’t seem like something he wouldn’t do. And if the little thing was an experiment, why was he running amok like this? Veld hadn’t had a clue that a blond child was loose in the vents when he’d first called, though Rufus and the Turks in general were starting to think the kid had something to do with the many mysterious happenings around the Tower.

The kid finished his raid as Rufus watched thoughtfully, standing up with an apple in his mouth and a half-eaten sandwich in one hand. He kicked the fridge door shut, cast Rufus one last uninterested look, and scrambled back into the open vent, closing it behind him with his bare feet.

“Huh,” said Rufus.

He mentally dubbed the child Tanuki and set the coffee to brewing before he went back to his office and called Veld again.

⁠—

The Turks weren’t making much progress on tracking Tanuki down, which was, frankly, hilarious. Some wild theories were being thrown around, mostly for entertainment and venting frustration that they were somehow losing to a child whose age wasn’t even in the double digits. The most popular theory was that Tanuki was actually a very lifelike robot.

Rufus’s personal favorite theory was that Tanuki was the hellspawn of Scarlett and his father. Scarlett, being a heartless bitch, had dumped her newborn baby in a reactor, from which he had then emerged filled with the wrath of the gods and spite enough to kill all of Shinra by a thousand petty cuts.

Considering how often the coffee makers in the executive floors had been mysteriously sabotaged, it seemed about right.

Rufus came back to his office from an executive meeting that had lasted well past 9pm, exhausted and determined to pick up Darkstar so that they could go home immediately. He found his dog, certainly, curled up in the corner of his office on her bed.

He also found Tanuki, sleeping like a pup against the barrel of her chest.

Starry raised her head and whined very very softly, short tail wagging as if to say ‘look what I have!’ Rufus toed off his shoes and crept over to crouch just out of arm’s reach, observing the boy’s sleeping face. Of course his murderous (pushover) guard hound would be the first to pin the child down. He shook his head and patted her flank. Her tail wagged harder.

The child woke all at once, eyes flying open and landing squarely on Rufus. It was impressive. He’d seen Turks who had far less control over themselves so soon after waking.

“Oh. You,” said the child in a sleep-roughened voice. He rubbed briefly at his eyes, yawning without actually opening his mouth. “Tell Darkstar to get off me.” One of her heavy forelegs was laid over his waist, keeping him trapped curled up against her. Mako strength or not, it was probably difficult to wiggle out from under a heavy, stubborn dog.

A little smile curled at Rufus’s lips. The kid was fearless. He liked it, especially in a maybe-possibly little half-brother. “Why would I do that instead of, say, calling a Turk while you’re stuck here?”

The kid shot him a wry look that didn’t quite fit his soft young face. “I could kill either or both of you instead,” he said with not an ounce of false bravado. Pointedly, he tapped the hilt of the knife at his waist with one finger.

“Then why don’t you?” Rufus was curious. What exactly were the kid’s goals here? Based on his preternatural skillset, he could probably have killed every single person in the Tower and gotten away with it.

“Too much trouble. I’d prefer you alive.” He reached up and scratched Starry behind the ear. She leaned into it, tail and tentacle waving happily. “And Darkstar is the most tolerable out of all of you.”

Fair enough. Rufus was satisfied for now. He whistled and Darkstar got up with a deeply reluctant whine, slinking sulkily over to his side. Tanuki got up too, stretching fluidly, and headed for the vents.

“Do you have a name?” Rufus asked impulsively.

The kid climbed up and slid into the vent feet-first, pausing to look at Rufus. A tiny, shit-eating grin curled at his lips. “All things considered,” he said, “I think the nickname you gave me is good enough for now. I’ll tell you when you’ve earned my name.” Then he closed the grate and vanished.

Rufus huffed. Alright then.

⁠—

The tiny acts of sabotage continued apace, much to the Turks’ frustration. Veld still had yet to see Tanuki himself, though a few of the younger Turks had caught glimpses. That might have been deliberate on Tanuki’s part⁠—he seemed to be something of a little shit. Rufus himself had semi-frequent, if unpredictable, conversations with the child, mostly when he caught him stealing food from the break room.

Or from his desk. Tanuki was shameless.

The child would pass on information when it suited him⁠—flash drives, printed files, occasionally physical evidence. It all seemed very random, but Rufus guessed that there was some kind of connection between everything. Whatever it was, it was inscrutable, even to Veld.

Or at least, it was until nearly all of Science was demolished in one fell swoop.

The chaos was incredible. As the reports rolled in, it seemed that dozens upon dozens of small events had neatly lined up to kill the top scientists and send the whole department screeching to a halt. Hojo was dead, killed by one of his own experiments. Hollander was dead, drowned in a vat of mako. Every fire sprinkler in the whole building had gone off and didn’t shut off for nearly thirty minutes. The physical damage was incalculable.

And Rufus had a feeling it was all Tanuki’s doing.

Oh, he had no evidence. But arranging something so grand in scale would certainly explain why someone of his skills had been doing nothing but relatively harmless sabotage for nearly three months. Veld agreed, when he voiced his thoughts. No one had any idea where the little gremlin was, or how he’d done any of it.

Rufus got part of an answer when he retired to his executive apartment at the top of the Tower, unwilling to go to his preferred home in the city proper when there was still so much work to do. Starry perked up the moment the front door opened, whining and bounding away from his side. Eyes narrowed, Rufus drew his weapons and crept into the apartment. If Starry was whining instead of growling, it was probably fine, but one could never be too cautious.

He followed the sound of Starry’s whines into the master bedroom. There was a trail of blood leading from the windows to the en-suite bathroom. When he entered, he found Tanuki curled up in the bathtub, head pillowed on a folded-up towel with Starry nosing at his hair. His hand was pressed over his stomach. Bright crimson soaked into his shirt and dripped trickled into the bathtub, flowing steadily down the soft incline and into the drain. His lips were tinged blue, cheeks pale, the dark circles beneath his eyes stark.

“Shit,” Rufus breathed, fumbling to holster his guns and pull out his PHS as he quickly crossed over to kneel by the tub. “Kid.”

Tanuki didn’t open his eyes. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly. “Did you know...that…Hojo is...actually a...good shot?”

“Was,” Rufus corrected, hitting the speed-dial for Veld’s personal phone. It was the first time he’d ever used it.

Tanuki huffed a laugh. “Was,” he agreed. “Sorry. Tried not to bleed too much on your fancy expensive carpet.”

“Oh, make no mistake,” Rufus said, shucking off his white jacket and shifting the PHS to his other ear, “you’ll be cleaning it up later.”

“Sure,” the kid agreed, breezily enough that it made Rufus’s stomach twist strangely.

Veld picked up. “Rufus?”

“Tanuki is shot and bleeding out in my bathtub. Executive suite. Send medical assistance.” He paused. “SOLDIER kit, a surgeon if you can manage it.”

“Understood.” Veld hung up.

Rufus got another towel and pressed it against Tanuki’s torso, gently moving aside the little hand that could no longer press down with mako strength to staunch the bleeding. “Hold on, kid,” he told his maybe-possibly⁠ little...no, his definitely little brother. Because Rufus said so, and what he said went. “Help is coming.”

Tanuki didn’t say much of anything.

⁠—

The kid lived, though it was touch and go for a while. They couldn’t risk taking him down to the non-science medical floors just yet, so Veld came personally escorting one of the Turks' own medics. Assisting in emergency surgery on a mako-enhanced child on the floor of his bathroom was certainly not something Rufus was ever going to forget.

Eventually, though, long after his knees had gone numb and his back started cramping, the last bullet was fished out and the wound closed with a Cura, cast by Veld because the medic was exhausted. Rufus washed the blood from himself, then helped the medic wash the blood off the kid. They put him in Rufus’s bed, covers tucked up to his chin with heating pads (and Starry) around him to help as he recovered from blood loss.

The medic left, escorted back to her own floor by a younger Turk. Veld and Rufus both watched Tanuki sleep, lost in their thoughts.

“Did you know that Hojo was actually a good shot?” Rufus said abruptly.

Veld looked at him from the corner of his eye. “...no. That, I did not know.”

Rufus fished a bloodied USB drive out of his pants⁠—the same USB drive Tanuki had been clutching in his free hand. On its side, a neat label read ‘For Verdot: Valentine & Gast.’ He handed it over.

“I have a feeling he wasn’t just being glib about his own injuries,” he said, a wry, tired smirk pulling at his lips. “He’s a little shit like that.”

Veld read the label and slowly⁠—so slowly⁠—slipped the drive into his inner suit pocket. “Hm,” he said, a strange tightness in the corners of his eyes. It softened a little when he looked back at the kid. He leaned over, briefly resting his hand on top of Tanuki’s wild blond hair. “Get some rest,” he told Rufus, standing upright and straightening his suit jacket. “We have a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

On that cheerful note, he left.

Rufus glanced at his newfound little brother and sighed. Great. Now he had to sleep on the couch.

⁠—

When Rufus woke up the next day (late, because he deserved it for once, goddammit) he found Tanuki mysteriously missing and his fridge quite a bit emptier than it had been before he’d gone to sleep. He shambled around a bit, checking to make sure the kid hadn’t gone and holed himself up in a closet like a real tanuki or anything equally ridiculous.

There was a note on one of the pillows on his bed. In a surprisingly elegant hand, it read ‘call me Cloud.’ When he flipped it over, the other side had the name and number of a carpet cleaning company. Rufus threw his head back and laughed, startling Starry.

Yeah. Tanuki⁠—Cloud⁠—was going to be just fine.

#the tanuki of shinra tower #aimeelouwrites #ask #fic response #cloud strife #rufus shinra #veld #ff7 #my fics #deadchosenking

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calaofnoldor · 4 years

Text

Dean, Don’t

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 1,906

Summary: You’re heavily pregnant and highly irritable. Luckily, Sam Winchester is the sweetest moose to ever moose.

Warnings: pregnancy (and all its related symptoms), ill-fated attempt at humor, disgustingly sweet fluff (seriously, you’re gonna need a tooth brush)

A/N: this might be my first ever attempt at this genre, so please don’t judge me too harshly :)

MASTERLIST

“Wow… geez, you look ready to-“

“Dean,” Sam shot his brother a warning glance as he guided you into the kitchen, a giant palm held gently against your aching lower back, “Don’t.”

Dean quickly raised his hands and the gesture, together with his wide eyes, seemed to say ‘I wasn’t gonna say anything!’, although you knew that was far from the truth. In fact, you knew exactly what he was thinking because you’d been thinking it too – every hour of every day. It was safe to say you really didn’t need any reminders of your current condition.

“Y/N’s already having a rough time with the twins keeping her up all night, and she’s been extra sore lately,” your moose came to your rescue as always. Sam had been doing that a lot recently, not only by shielding you from Dean’s crude comments (and consequently protecting Dean from your wrath as well), but also by comforting and distracting you from the woes of your third trimester.

“Well at least it’ll be over soon, right?” Dean tried again.

“Not soon enough,” you grumbled in reply, before attempting to stretch out your spine with an unfiltered groan of discomfort.

“Aaand, that’s my cue to leave!” Dean announced, grabbing his plate of bacon to go and sauntering off, though not before sending his little brother an exaggerated ‘good-luck-with-that’ expression.

Sam rolled his eyes despite feeling somewhat relieved by his brother’s departure, then turned back to you. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you off your feet.” He wore a sweet sympathetic smile; it was one he had been donning often as of late, but it only worsened your mood.

“Sam, I’m fine. I can’t be constantly sitting or lying down!” You barked irritably, but when you noticed the sad puppy dog look on your boyfriend’s face, your attitude instantly withered.

“Look, I’m sorry. I just hate this so much.” Your fingers began to massage your temples as your mouth continued to utter the words that took you beyond the point of no return, “I’m a hunter, you know? I’m supposed to be able to take down monsters with the swing of my machete! I used to be able to roundhouse kick those inhuman bastards when I wanted to, and now I can’t even put my own socks on!” That much was true. Sam had helped you with your socks earlier that morning.

“And sometimes you being so overprotective only makes me feel more useless,” you added with a defeated huff.

Sam waited patiently until he was certain your little tirade was over. “I know exactly what you’re capable of, Y/N; you never have to remind me. And I can guarantee that you will still be able to do all those things… after you’ve given birth to our beautiful babies, and your body recovers from this drastic change it’s endured.”

He moved closer to you and extended one hand to caress the side of your face, while the other splayed across your immensely swollen stomach. “But baby, right now, at 39 weeks pregnant with twins, you’re not supposed to be able to do all that. I wouldn’t want you to be doing all that,” he chuckled lightly with the afterthought as he pictured your heavily expectant form attempting one of your famous round house kicks.

You raised a brow at him, knowing how his mind worked, and he immediately sobered, “Y/N, my point is you don’t realize how incredibly strong you are already, even without all the pregnant kung fu fighting you seem to be so keen on.”

Although you were tempted to roll your eyes at his teasing, the boyish grin he cast you couldn’t be resisted, and the corners of your lips begrudgingly lifted. But a sudden lurch in your belly wiped the smile promptly from your features.

“Oh,” you breathed in a gasp, placing your hands upon the area of assault.

“What? What is it?” Sam questioned worriedly, as he too moved both his hands to your baby bump. His eyes flickered frantically between your face and stomach, trying to read the situation for himself.

“Nothing, just a really strong kick, I think,” was your reply after a pause. You looked up at him with what you hoped was a reassuring smile. He returned it with a certain tinge of apprehension, so you grabbed his hand and placed it where one of your wayward twins was moving erratically within you.

No matter how many times Sam felt it, he couldn’t help but beam with pride and elation at the thought of his children growing stronger each day, and the fact that you were the one fostering their development made him truly believe he was the luckiest man alive in that moment.

“Wow, I guess they’re really ready to come out, huh?”

“Maybe,” you mused, “Or maybe they’ll choose to torture me for another week. I’m not getting my hopes up.”

Still fondling your belly with one hand, Sam used his other to turn your face towards his. “I am really sorry that you’re hurting. I wish I could make it stop.” He said it with such sincerity, you were almost inclined to forgive him. Almost.

“I would say ‘it’s not your fault’, but it kinda is,” came your playful response, which happily earned you a loving kiss.

When his lips left yours, you continued, “Also, as if the fact that two of your swimmers managed to make it to my eggs wasn’t enough, did you really have to make both of them Winchester-sized too?” You motioned vaguely to the wide expanse of your front side.

Sam said nothing, but rewarded you with a hearty laugh and a second kiss.

Later that day, as you sat snuggled between Sam’s lengthy and outstretched limbs on the bed, the two of you absent-mindedly watched an old classic movie play out on the television. His lips grazed your hairline every few minutes and his hands rubbed incessant circles on your extended stomach.

“How do you know our babies will be beautiful?” You questioned Sam abruptly, your eyes never leaving the screen.

His chest rumbled with a deep chortle that resonated through your back and caused you to smile in turn. “Well, they’ve got you for a mother, don’t they?”

“Psh! You forgot to mention that they’ve also got a father who looks like he was sculpted by the Greek gods! But that’s not the point; genetics is based on chance.” You craned your neck to look him in the eyes.

“Fine. I just have a feeling then, OK?” Sam shut you up with a quick kiss to the lips and you of course assented.

“Do you still think they’re going to be girls?”

“I hope so,” he replied with a pensive smile.

You studied his elegant features for a minute before feeling a smirk form on your own face. “Well too bad, they’re both boys.”

“What? How do you know?” Sam’s brow furrowed in that way you always thought made him look unbelievably adorable, especially for a man of his stature.

“I just have a feeling, OK?” You quoted back at him. “They call it mother’s intuition.”

Sam’s grin returned and you couldn’t remember feeling better in the past month. Dean hadn’t disturbed you all day since the incident in the kitchen, and the support of Sam’s solid torso pressed against your back seemed to be alleviating some of the strain from your body.

But alas, nothing is ever what it seems when you’re living with the Winchesters. A sudden splash of fluid upon the sheets interrupted your scarce and apparently fleeting moment of peace.

It took you a moment to register the wetness between your legs, although Sam was already one step ahead of you. “DEAN!” he hollered towards the hall.

“Sam, I think my water just broke,” you told him in a slight trance.

“Yeah, I know, baby. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and changed.” Sam’s voice was soothing and you began to follow his lead, slowly rising to your feet as he supported you from behind.

Just then, Dean came barreling in, brandishing his gun as his eyes searched frantically for any potential sources of peril. His green gaze turned befuddled upon finding no clear cause for distress.

“Dean, go get the Impala ready. Y/N’s in labor.” Sam’s voice held that composed and assertive edge which it often did when he took the lead on hunts. You would have found it awfully attractive under different circumstances.

As it were, a fresh contraction tore through you when you reached the dresser, and you were forced to bend over to weather the impact, your breathing becoming a little uneven. Sam’s arms were instantly around you, while the sight of your hunched and gravid form awoke Dean from his stupor.

He cleared his throat and his voice seemed a little gruffer than usual, “Uh, OK. Right. So… the bags? What do I need?”

“I’ll get the bags. Just get the damn car ready, Dean.”

Still the older Winchester stood transfixed in his spot, his eyes were somewhat unfocused. “Wow. So this is really happening…”

“Dean!”

“Yeah! On it! Got it! Uh… fight the fairies, Y/N! We got this.” And with that, he finally took off for the garage.

You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself, “He’s right, you know? This is really happening.”

Sam turned around and held your gaze with such reverence and fondness, you nearly melted right then. “I know,” he stated simply, before he crashed his lips to yours in a rushed yet zealous smooch.

“Ow! Yeah, OK, I think the twins are sick of our antics already,” you gushed through gritted teeth as another tightening of your middle took over.

Sam cupped your stomach gingerly on either side, as if he could somehow abate the pain with his touch. “Right, let’s hurry it up then. I think all that soreness you felt before and the twins’ heightened movement might’ve been a sign of early labor.”

“You’re such a nerd, you know that?”

He only responded with knowing smirk, then continued to help you get changed so he could usher you out the door.

Dean met you outside, where he stood by the shiny black car, looking a little more prepared for action than earlier. “You guys good?”

“Yeah, are you?” Sam asked, a bit dubiously.

“Hey, I’m ready to get this show on the road!”

“Am I gonna fit?” You eyed the Impala with slight apprehension. You had always been a fan of the classic car before, but now that Sam had fertilized you so thoroughly, the backseat seemed a lot more daunting.

“Of course, my girl can handle anything. She’ll get you to the hospital in no time so that you can have my nieces.”

“Nephews,” you corrected, but nodded anyway and allowed Sam to help you inside the vehicle.

The boys stood outside for a moment longer. “You alright, Sammy?”

Sam was glowing and Dean couldn’t have repressed the surge of love and pride that rose within him if he tried, despite his ‘no chick flick moments’ rule.

“Yeah, I’ve never been better, Dean.”

“Speak for yourself, asshole!” You would later blame the contraction for your foul language, but it was your shouting through the window that ultimately got you on the road.

“Yeah alright, we’re going! Just don’t be having any babies in my Baby!”

“Dean,” Sam’s bitch face revealed itself once more, “Don’t.”

→ CARRY ON

A/N #2: thank you so much for reading! btw, if any of you sam girls wanna show off your love for the giant adorkable moose man, there’s a ‘sammy the moose’ print now available at lexicolor.redbubble.com!

also available in various styles, as well as on mugs, notebooks, phone cases, and a bunch of other stuff! and if you’re more of a dean girl, i got you covered too 😉❤️

#sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam winchester x pregnant!reader #sam winchester fluff #they chose family #supernatural #spn #fanfiction #fanfic #fanart #redbubble #imagine #one shot #series #my writing #text #lexicolor

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zenalios · 3 years

Text

Untamed Seas; 5 - Shadowed

Index (R18+)

Summary

Amphitrite, sea goddess, and daughter of Nereus, is less than willing to marry an Olympian, let alone Poseidon, the very god who overthrew her father. She does so nevertheless, in a desperate move to protect her sisters following Nereus’ absence.

The marriage is beneficial to them both: Poseidon gains legitimacy through a union with her, effectively solidifying his control over the seas, and Amphitrite guarantees her sisters' safety, along with all prestige due her status as queen.

The catch? She finds his domineering personality utterly insufferable, and he, the most fearsome god, resents being stuffed into an unwelcome marriage.

They have all eternity to make it work.

TW // Abuse - Verbal and Physical ; Abusive Relationship ; Forced Marriage

The time had come for the bride’s veil to be removed. Having thoroughly showered the new queen in a flood of fruits and nuts to symbolize fertility and prosperity, along with whispered well wishes, the wedding guests and servants hastily filed out of the throne room.

It was then that Amphitrite, daughter of the sea god Nereus and river nymph Doris, was left amidst the mess, with but a single dolphin as the goddess’s escort to the bridal chamber.

Her heels were sore from standing nearly the entire duration of the feast at Olympus greeting her new in-laws, a wild frenzy which had flown by without any opportunity for her to savour the occasion and her last moments of freedom. This made her rather grateful for the brief respite the palace denizens had granted her in the form of peace and quiet.

Now was a good time to shake out a few nuts from the folds of her skirt, and sweep away into her palm some dried fruits, the latter of which she did not discard, but furtively snuck into her mouth —not that she was hungry, she merely needed something to gnaw at and ease her misery.

“This way, Your Majesty.”

Amphitrite raised her eyebrows, still chewing. Had the creature bowed any lower, it would have tilted over and performed a front flip through the water. The mere thought of it alone caused her to accidentally bite down on her tongue. The bitter taste of ichor briefly filled her mouth; it did not mix well with the dried fruits she had just consumed. At this, her chest heaved. She put a fist to her mouth, another hand cradling her abdomen. She rather wished her stomach would give up its contents.

Maybe she wouldn’t have to meet him then.

Curses, the dolphin had raised its head. The goddess forced her shoulders to relax and unclenched her jaw, staring out into the abyssal hallway ahead. Breathe, she reminded herself. Three deep breaths and a very slow exhale later, however, and she still wasn’t ready. “Your Majesty?” The dolphin’s voice echoed.

“Just—" Amphitrite held up her hand, turning away from the poor beast as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just give me a moment.”

“Ah, yes Your Majesty!”

She tried to think of other things instead. Like how Erato had cried upon seeing her once more, how the rest of her sisters had bid her farewell as her wedding procession departed for Olympus, their precious tears glistening against the dancing twilight sky, how many gifts her new subjects had eagerly pressed into her hands as they slowly followed after her chariot, shuffling behind her in droves every step of the way to the ocean’s depths, how thoughtful it had been of Hera, Hestia, and Demeter to decorate the wedding halls with deep blue corals in her preferred colour as opposed to gold the shade of her newly-wed husband’s… hair.

The hand she had raised fell to her side. Poseidon. Her husband.

Amphitrite straightened.

As if she was not miserable enough, the reminder of who it was she had married, and what exactly he had not done, only infuriated her all the more. Granted, she now knew the marriage was also against his wishes —something Demeter had accidentally revealed at the feast —but he had not even been in attendance, had refused to dignify, and accordingly, acknowledge her, and remained so even upon her arrival at his palace. Poseidon had not appeared throughout the entire ceremony at all. Instead, some upstart nymphs were charged with bringing her to the throne room’s hearth, their numbers barely enough. It was a far cry from the utmost care and attention her new sisters-in-law had put into hosting the elaborate feast held prior to her departure.

What really grated at her, however, was that Zeus had travelled to Oceanus in the form of a dolphin to pressure her into this marriage, and now she was still being led by one to consummate it.

Call her stupid for attending that party and gaining her fellow gods’ attentions, but how could a simple nymph like her have expected that the most lecherous member of the triumvirate would go against his word and actually attend. It was supposed to have been a simple affair on an island hosted by Amaltheia and other minor gods, her sisters and herself attending in their missing father’s stead, without the king of gods present, without leading to her being chased, no, hunted down, to her grandfather’s waters, without her sister being taken hostage in exchange for her agreement.

Only a digging sensation in her palms made her aware of how tight she had squeezed her trembling fists. Now released, they left little red crescents where her nails had been. She stared at the imprints a little longer, as if they could tell her who the exact source of her misfortune had been, or what, even, this particular emotion was supposed to be.

The dolphin started as Amphitrite cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry.” She said awkwardly, shooting the creature a quick smile that dropped without even meeting her eyes. Her body was still quivering from the adrenaline that pumped through her unsteady heart. She inhaled deeply once more as she readjusted her veil and allowed the air to slowly slip through her lips.

“Let’s go.”

The passage itself felt suffocating. Though the three Olympian goddesses had painstakingly redecorated Poseidon’s palace to welcome its new mistress, and in accordance with her tastes as well, it still did not change the fact that the goddess herself remained uneager to meet her new husband, let alone be his wife.

At first her escort swam immediately beside her short of grasping her arm, as if fearing her dragging pace meant she planned to vanish midway on their little journey to her husband’s quarters. If only she could. Perhaps it worried she would stall for more time, and delay the ceremony so as to invoke the sea king’s wrath, as to be expected from someone who behaved as though the world revolved around him; this was most likely the case, she realised.

Though Amphitrite had yet to meet Poseidon himself —again, she bore absolutely no inclination whatsoever to consort with someone who had ousted her father, and she could not guarantee that she would not slap him upon making his acquaintance— rumour was it that he lived and breathed the concept of “perfection”. They even went so far as to call him a “god among gods”.

Was it any wonder, then, that her arrival had been more lacklustre than her own family's welcome for a new maidservant? Such a vain god expected time and the world to stop for him, even when he himself would not stop for others. Like father, like son, she thought with distaste. She had already met Zeus, and he was bad enough. Unfortunately, such a god had now become her husband, and she would have to live with it for all eternity.

Small wonder then, that her sisters-in-law had tried their best to ensure a grand festival on her side; they must have known things would fail miserably on her husband’s end.

Amphitrite blinked. The dolphin was now a short way ahead of her in the passage. Did I stop? She couldn’t recall having done so since they had left the throne room and the rest behind.

“It’s alright, Your Majesty.” It spoke before she had the chance to ask. “You will be good for him.” This time, her footsteps did grind to a halt. Amphitrite stared at the creature in disbelief.

“Really.” She noted sarcastically. It was true. She was doing Poseidon a favour, not the other way round.

A minute later the dolphin gasped, as though it had committed some unspoken cardinal sin —really, she could not tell what swam through that sleek grey head, or what the creature was overreacting to. “My apologies for speaking to you without permission.” Oh. So that was why. She nodded .

“Er- Your Majesty,” it hastily added, only adding to her bemused state. What a shame her thoughts of Poseidon had stifled any laughter that might have bubbled. Nevertheless, she could still afford a smile, this one more genuine than the last; now she allowed it to reach her eyes, and it stayed even as her chest grew tight.

“Is that so.” Were those words the truth or merely what the creature thought she wanted to hear? Amphitrite scrutinized the dolphin for a moment, before shaking her head, “I’m sorry.”

At this, the dolphin shot her a quizzical look. She supposed it was not used to being on the receiving end of an apology, least of all from a god, considering just who it was the creature served.

As she opened her mouth to explain, an afterthought struck her from the shadows cast over dim light. Surely it had been a figment of her imagination? Upon second glance at her shape and the dolphin’s streamlined figure flickering against the wall, the bend of a strategically-placed vase curved to reveal the edge of a twitching tail. One that could not possibly belong to her, for she had never possessed a tail, nor the dolphin, whose fins were smooth and sleek —everything this one was not. The longer she stared, the more apparent it soon became to Amphitrite that more tails lay in other similarly inconspicuous locations, each a foreign presence to her.

The young queen now swallowed whatever thoughts she initially possessed of confiding her feelings in the creature. Perhaps she should not even have apologized to begin with. After all, the creature served Poseidon himself, and so did the many pairs of eyes watching her still. And if they all served him, did that not mean they were defectors who had betrayed the memory of her father?

Feeling exposed, she tugged the veil forward to cover her bare arms. It all made sense to her now, she thought miserably. The nymphs that greeted her upon arrival now lay hidden to scorn the daughter of their previous king, their previously whispered words carrying not blessings but ill-wishes. The same sense of grief that had struck her upon departure from her sisters washed over her anew: the realisation that she was well and truly alone in this palace.

Amphitrite grit her teeth, willing herself to endure their stares. “It’s nothing.” In truth, the bridal chamber was not so far away, the greater distance completed when she was escorted to the throne room itself. From there onwards, it was merely a simple trip into the heart of the palace. However, it was still larger than her father’s grotto, and far more stifling owing to the expectant audience that surrounded her.

By the time Amphitrite’s thoughts ground to a halt alongside her own footsteps, the newly-wed bride was utterly dour.

Her escort swam forward, rapping once, then twice, on a looming pair of golden doors. “Her Majesty has arrived.” There was no response. Amphitrite’s scornful frown deepened. Just a cubit away, her ears picked up on chittering from the hidden nymphs. The dolphin cleared its throat. It knocked again, speaking louder this time, “Her Majesty has come for the night.” Amphitrite folded her arms, glancing upwards with an impatient huff; still no answer.

As a result, more whispers were thrown in her direction, wearing Amphitrite’s nerves dangerously thin. Either they knew that she knew they were there, and simply did not care, or they remained blissfully unaware of the fact that their voices had increased in volume, so revealing their presence to her.

Growing up Nereus’s firstborn, the new sea queen was used to being stared at by the multitude, had practically been raised to ignore their presence as she carried about her business. It was the only reason she had been able to cope up till now. But now, their voices were an extremely unwelcome addition in this smothering hallway —her skin crawled with every murmur and response, that even the silk veil placed over her hair tugged at each follicle, further weighing her scalp down with every turn and swish. Her nails bit down on her arms in a desperate attempt to prevent herself from being overwhelmed.

It was the lowest moment of her life after her father’s disappearance, and these upstarts had come all the way to watch her, to laugh at her suffering.

“You’re a goddess now.” Hestia said earlier that morning during the nuptial bath as Amphitrite was being scrubbed down, “I believe you will be a good one.” Sorry, Hestia, a small voice within her apologised, though Amphitrite herself remained unsure what exactly for.

The next time she heard another sound, the sea queen whirled towards that particular column.

“Enough!” She snapped viciously.

One stamp, and the maiden was sent hurtling against the opposite wall with a loud thump.

The only relief such an act of violence brought was release and a small sense of satisfaction as the rest began to scatter away; deep down, she felt sick to her stomach at the way the girl had hit her head, now limp and unmoving.

Only two nymphs lingered behind, hesitating as to whether they should save themselves first or leave their friend to her demise. They flinched when she turned to them.

“Take her and go.” She ground out, waving her hand at the offending nymph. At once, the pair sprung into action, one hurrying forward to grab the girl, the other looping a limp arm around her. Both hastily bowed as they retreated.

Amphitrite released a shaky breath.

Now that the nymphs were truly gone, the goddess was forced to face the extent of her actions. She needn’t have gone that far when a simple “Begone!” would have sufficed to send them scurrying. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her escort raise a trembling flipper to knock once more.

A pang of regret shot through her chest. It was something she imagined only Poseidon would do, and now she had stooped to his level too.

The dolphin’s attempt was met with a hand. This unwanted marriage deserved no such pomp and circumstance: if the groom himself did not care for it, then neither would she. “Enough,” The bride spoke firmly, a trace of bitterness creeping into her words. She tentatively pushed at the door —and winced.

A sudden stream of golden light burst through the darkness.

“I can do it myself."

4 - Enalios, β ; 6 - Brine

#untamed seas #ari writes #snv #shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok #snv poseidon #poseidon record of ragnarok #poseidon x oc #poseidon x amphitrite

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ffangirlingsince2001 · 4 years

Text

The Princess and the Witcher: Extinquished

*not my gif*

Geralt x Reader

Geralt of Rivia is not a babysitter, he is not a bodyguard, and he has no interest in transporting princesses across the continent. Until gold is offered and for the next 90 days he’s saddled with a chirpy, bubbly, princess, who is betrothed to the prince of Narok and has a desire to see everything before she’s trapped behind another set of walls.

A/N: A little early post to ease off the cliff hanger from the last post, but I am also sorry to say, this is the end, so please enjoy (as much as you can)

Warnings: ANGST

“You’re here to kill me.”

Geralt didn’t think he had heard her at first.

What his ears were convinced they had heard was so absurd he wanted to howl with laughter until no sound came out and he was just shaking. This was all some silly joke, she was trying to get back at him for something, no doubt.

It was a trick, to calm him down after she dropped the news about the prince, or the lack thereof. She was afraid and it was the first lie her childish mind had come up with, something so absurd it was only told in stories about Witcher’s that were meant to frighten children. Now, she was just trying to spare herself his wrath, and honestly, he was prepared to forgive her for everything. There was no prince and she was all his, they even had a home to grow in.

He knew he would live much longer than her, but every moment would be worth it. He would bask in every moment that he could love her. He would enjoy every smile, every soft touch, every worried look she would cast him when he came home from a particularly detrimental kill. She would be his wife, of course. They couldn’t have children, but that wouldn’t stop them from trying. Oh, he was already toying with all the ways they could try to have children. In the loft, in the fields to the west, on the beach to the east, and here in this little house that they would make a home.

All he had to do was forgive her, and hold her, and assure her he was mad no longer, and then they could begin their life together. But, when he moved forward to hug her, she took a solemn step back, tears still running down her face.

“Y/N, I’m not mad, there is no need to lie,” he whispered but all she did was drop to the table and bury her face in her hands, sobbing without restrain. He wasn’t sure what to do. She was lying… and yet. No, she had to be lying. There was no way she could be telling the truth, not when this proclamation was so horrible his hands shook at the thought of it. “Y/N…”

“Please, sit down,” she cried, still hiccupping with tears. He did as she said without a word, dropping his sword for good measure. She eyed it and then turned the teary irises back to him. “I’m not lying. I wish I was, but I am not.”

“Then I have misunderstood you.”

“You have not.”

“Then you must have hit your head as you fled.”

“Geralt, you have to kill me,” she snapped, slamming her clenched fists against the table. He was silent as he stared at her hands, they were so small and undamaged.

“What makes you say such terrible things, Princess?”

“Because they’re true. That’s why we’re here. That’s why you were chosen.”

“Chosen for what?” he yelled, irritation growing as he grew more frantic. He just wanted her to admit it was all a sick joke.

“Do you remember the first night we laid together, in the inn?” she asked, and he nodded. “I told you, you were chosen because you would do whatever it takes, this is what it takes. You were chosen because my father, his advisors, and I all knew that you would do it, when the final hour is upon us you will draw up your sword and end my life.” Geralt stood from the table, shoving it into her stomach as he did so.

“If you are to die, why the trip, why not kill you in your home?”

“Because I wanted to see the world before mine came to an end. It was never to end up like this, you were never supposed to know, not until the very end. And I never meant to become so close, it was supposed to be easy, it was supposed to be easy,” she cried, reaching for him.

“You’re lying. You’re fucking lying, you don’t want to be married so badly that you want me to believe I am supposed to kill you, to end your life before someone can control you. Well, you’ve made one error, I do not kill people, I kill monsters.”

“All the better,” she replied, voice dangerously steady as she straightened herself in the stiff, wooden chair. There were still tears in her eyes, but she meant business. “Please sit down, so I can explain.” He considered leaving, shearing off a piece of her hair and marching back to her father to demand the gold he had promised him, but instead he sat as instructed. She tried to take his hands, but he pulled away. Hurt etched itself across her face but he did not search for restitution.

“It happened before I was born, I didn’t even know it had occurred until a few years ago, and even then, I found out on accident. I assume they wouldn’t have told me until today if they could have avoided it, they would want to spare my sensibilities.”

“Tell you about what?” he snapped, jerking her out of her ramblings.

“The curse.” There was a beat of silence as she waited for him to respond but when he remained quiet, she continued. “Like I said it was a few years before I was born, my father was trying to find a queen to rule along side him. He was looking for someone with royal blood, but even commoners were invited to the parties he was throwing, in hopes of creating something so extravagant that it would attract a woman just as lively as the parties.

“Among the guests was this woman. My father says she looked like an angel that had dropped from heaven like gold from a sunset. He was captivated and mesmerized, so taken aback he was nervous to approach her. He thought about it the entire first night, never quite prepared to introduce himself to the woman he was sure he would marry.

“Because he failed the first night, he hosted another party the following week, and then the one after that, trying to produce something that would be as magnificent as her. On the third week he finally succeeded in approaching her. He introduced himself, and as he nervously stumbled over his name, she must have grown enchanted, because the parties ceased, and she was brought to the palace to be prepared for the wedding.

“Much to the disgrace of the royal family, she was a commoner, nothing more than a milkmaid, but my father was enamored, unwilling to part with her even when his father threatened to send the couple far, far away. The wedding drew nearer, and they were both so happy, so in love.

“And then war broke out. Our borders were shredded to nothing more than desolation, fires ripping across our crops until our farmlands were black scars against the rich earth. The wedding was postponed and for her safety, the lovely bride was sent away to hide. She waited years, and suddenly the war abruptly ended, and she returned to the palace, prepared to wed my father. Yet, when she entered the throne room, she found another sitting on her throne. My mother, the princess of the warring country, had stolen away her place by my father’s side. A marriage of treaty was formed while she was away, and she was left heartbroken and alone, an outcast in the palace that had once welcomed her as their future queen.

“I don’t know if she was a witch or a mage, or maybe she hired someone to do it for her, but the curse was cast on me. A curse that now hangs on the cusp of erupting into violence and bloodshed, a curse that you must end before it begins.”

“What is the curse?”

“A transformation.”

“Of what kind?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Then how do you know it is worth your life? How do you know your death is undisputable?”

“Because I know it’s bad. I can feel it in my bones. I could feel it when I killed the monster. I can feel it every time I look in the mirror and my eyes seem a little more animalistic. I just know, call it intuition, call it paranoia, I know that I am destined to be a monster.”

Geralt roared in frustration, slamming the blade of his sword into the door, lodging it in the soft wood. “You can’t know that.”

“I do.”

“I cannot kill you, especially not on the gut feeling of a princess who has not left the palace before three months ago.”

“We’ll know tomorrow, and you will have to be prepared. If you are right and it is nothing more than ugliness you can leave with your sword clean, but if it is what I know it to be, you must kill me. You cannot allow another monster to exist in this world.”

“There must be a way to break the curse, there is always a way,” he growled, head resting against the split his sword had created. He could hear her standing, inching her way towards him.

“You don’t think we have tried? You don’t think my father spent eighteen years trying to find a way to free me of his mistakes? We have tried, I’ve taken every motion, endured every experiment. It still lingers just beneath my skin like thick, black smoke, ready to turn me into a nightmare.”

“I can’t kill you,” he whispered and she took his face in her hands.

“You must, for the world and for me. I would rather die than ever have to kill another living creature.”

“You are so selfish it hurts.”

“I know, but I need you to do what it takes, and I need to remember what you promised me.”

“What have I promised you?”

“That you will not linger on those you kill. You must forget me, move on and continue to do good in this world.”

“Y/N, I love you, you cannot dare to ask me to kill you, let alone forget you.” She seemed taken aback by his confession, but as she pressed her lips to his he could feel the return of her feelings.

“You must, for the world and for me.”

*******************************************************************************************

Gold is not gold.

Some is tainted with blood and loss.

And Geralt had no interest in coins that would cause him agony to spend. He was not even sure if he had wanted the gold if he would be able to enter the throne room without severing the kings head.

They had spent the night before her birthday making love. They had whispered confessions into one another’s ears long into the evening and into the night, basking in the secrecy of their affair. When she laid beneath him, he was unable to imagine her dead. She was so full of life, even with the sadness that settled itself in her eyes.

They imagined a future together, both silently and aloud. He could imagine her old and still kicking, like age couldn’t hold her back and she spoke of a twin on each hip, a boy and a girl that would talk just as much as she had when they first met. Beneath the candlelight and the peppering of kisses it was almost easy to forget it was all fake.

Then, the night had begun to draw to a close and she had lead him to the shackles attached to the wall, the hooks he had once mistaken as a tether for horses. He had begged her not to make him to do this, all while he assured her she would be okay.

The chains were tight and as the sun rose over the mountains, she was proven correct. In between screams of agony as her body transformed into a creature of no natural creation, she promised she loved him, that she would be with him, that even as his blade ended her life she would know him for nothing but sincerity and kindness.

And then he killed her, staring back into the eyes that did not change with the transformation. They seemed grateful, relieved that he went through with it, she clearly had doubts that he would be able to do whatever it took.

He buried her, it was the only life he had ever taken that he had buried, but he felt unable to leave without hiding her beneath the earth.

And then he left, in the opposite direction he had come, knowing that he would only be able to keep half of his promise.

He could kill her, but never in his lifetime would he forget her.

The End

@mallorydoesstuff @facelessfiction @aphadriel-fanfic @raspberrydreamclouds @thegreattodd @saint-hardy @ravenclawsstolemybunies @queenofmankind @britty443 @lonewolf471 @utterlyhopeful-fics @persephonehemingway @fuck-me-gently-with-a-slurpee @josis-teacup @gabbysblogthingy @sadttitude

#the witcher #the witcher angst #the witcher x reader #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fanfic #the witcher imagine #the witcher fluff #the witcher smut #Geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia smut #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia fanfiction #geralt fanfic #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia fanfic #geralt of rivia angst #geralt of rivia fluff

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whitherliliesbloom · 3 years

Text

to the moon and back

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #31 - nocturne ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 1,000 words ] ★ [ pre-endwalker ]

nocturne- a short composition of a romantic nature or a picture of a night scene, both apply here.

“what do we have to fear? after all, we’ve come this far.”

Against a starlit sky, her hair glows incandescently like the milky way, carried into the breeze as it flutters like a wedding veil draped over her fair, ethereal features. The crescent moon earring she wore glistens lightly from the rays of radiant moonlight, only second in it’s luster next to the sparkle of violet, pink and blue blossoms twinkling in her eyes.

And as he lifts her high into the air and twirls them around in a dizzying circle in time with the soft piano keys, he hears the lady let out a barely audible songbird giggle that stirs the very depths of his heart.

Crickets chirp in the distance, and it mingles with the sound of flowing water from the nearby lake, ambient and calm beneath the orchestrion music that directed the young elezen man to take another step forward, marveling in the dust of pink upon the face of the girl in his arms.

For a long while, neither of them speak, choosing instead to indulge in the tranquility of the evening, with a full moon cast upon them like a spotlight, and the singing of the night wind like a nocturne - a stage for they and they alone.

But the warrior of light and darkness, the keeper of the sun, saver of the moon and shepherd of the stars deigns to speak first, gently brushing the tips of her fingers against his cheeks.

“What are you thinking about?” Illya asks, her voice almost a whisper, but he hears her loud and clear with their proximity.

“The usual.” Alphinaud answers with honesty, the thought of lying to her never once crossing his mind. “About the future. About how I should go from here...” He pauses, shaking his head before correcting himself. “About how we should go from here.”

She lets out a sigh, light and airy as cotton in his ears even with the exasperation and melancholy that briefly flashes in her bright eyes.

“I would hope you’d keep your worries about such matters at home especially when we’re on a date.”

“Ah- Are you.. upset-? I’m sorry.”

He’s quick to apologize, drawing the girl closer to him as his arm lowers, but he exhales softly in relief when Illya merely shakes her head with a smile, running the palms of her hands along his shoulders and down to his chest as she nudges her face into the warm crook of his neck.

“I’m not. It’s simply in your nature...” -to overthink... she nearly says, but the words don’t come out, and she lets out yet another light laugh. “And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little bit guilty of worrying too much either.”

It’d be strange not to- especially with all that has happened lately.

The lunar towers still stood tall and imposing throughout Hydaelyn, Fendaniel’s threats loomed over their hearts, the man who had dared to once call himself Alphinaud and Alisaie’s father still haunted the wrathful side of Illya’s consciousness and Arenvald’s words still echoed loudly, deafeningly in their ears.

For every heroic deed they accomplish, there will always be trouble brewing in the distance, waiting for people of their kind to rise up and go through the motions of the fight again. And with every life they save, there will always be countless others who would inevitably be sacrificed, countless lost so that the dreams of the ones who survive would live on.

To serve, to save, to slave, to slay. Such is the way of heroes, such is the way of the righteous who could never hope for rest. Such is the way for the two of them - whose blood courses with ideals to better the world, to help others see a brighter tomorrow. It is in her nature, in their nature to struggle until the very end.

She has long learned to accept that the path she’s chosen will likely be endless, that she will have to fight and fight until she draws her last breath for a future of peace and prosperity - for a future she may not even see. And while uncertainty, fear and trepidation will ever linger in her heart, she no longer regrets the choices she has made, the path she took.

For as long as she had Alphinaud by her side, she’d find in herself the strength to stand tall against a bleak and uncertain future, no matter how hopeless all seems to be.

Illya lifts her head up, wrapping her arms around his neck as she whispers into his ear, feeling his fingers thread through her pure white silken locks.

“You’ll stay with me, won’t you? No matter what happens from now on.”

As the man tightens his hold around her waist before lifting her high up into the air once more, the beams of moonlight reflect upon Illya’s head like a glowing halo, and the wide, confident smile he wears upon his face is mirrored upon her own. He nudges his nose against hers, feeling the heat of her breath tickle his skin, warming his heart with an undying love that he was sure will not soon fade.

Illya is as the full moon that shines over their heads, as intimidating, watchful and strong as is she is beautiful, and his mind momentarily flashes back to the past - to the fool that he was before for not having realized it sooner... both in this life and the last.

But if he made his musings known to the hero, he was certain she would timidly chide him.

After all, what did the past matter if they’ve already gotten this far together?

“For all eternity. I promise.” It is promise he should have made ages ago, now spoken into existence and words he will never dream of taking back, his eyes shut, and he closes the distance between their lips.

“After all, you are my hope. If I had you by my side, I have nothing to fear.”

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #kiwisffxivwrite2021 #alphinaud leveilleur #alphinaud #illya skawi #we've come so far #fanfic #mine #THE GRAND FINALE WOOOO #not a terribly long fill #but i think this works well enough #*violently sobbing* THEY'VE COME THIS FARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

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lokislittlesigyn · 3 years

Text

OG616 : Thor 1 - Pt.2 [Unwelcome Guests]

[My masterlist, where all parts of this and my other fics can be found]

Pairing: Loki / Sigyn (basically an oc based off the marvel/myth namesake)

Warnings: Some mention of violence/death. All past tense.

Author’s Note: A shorter piece! Don’t worry, everything goes downhill from here for poor Loki and Sigyn. ;) Fiction must always get worse before it can get better, no?

Taglist: @high-functioning-lokipath

To be added to the taglist, just ask me here or send a message! <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cheering was brought to an abrupt halt as Odin stood, his great spear Gungnir beating the ground with a resounding thud. All of Asgard stood at attention as the Allfather questioned Thor.

"Thor. Odinson.." Odin began, "My heir, my firstborn…"

Sigyn felt Loki tense beside her. She looked at him and quietly laced her fingers with his. They twitched, but found a sure grip around her hand, as they had so many times before.

Odin continued. "...So long entrusted with the mighty hammer Mjolnir, forged in the heart of a dying star. It’s power has no equal - as a weapon to destroy, or as a tool to build. ‘Tis a fit companion for a king. I have defended Asgard, and the lives of the innocent across the Nine Realms since the time of the Great Beginning. The day has come for you to take up this great mantle.” Odin paused. “Do you swear to guard the Nine Realms?"

"I swear." Thor answered.

"Do you swear to preserve the peace?"

"I swear."

"Do you swear, to cast aside all selfish ambition and to pledge yourself only to the good of the realm?"

"I swear!" Thor raised Mjolnir high.

"Then on this day, I, Odin Allfather, proclaim you…" Odin stopped. Silence hung over the room, thick as the cloak of night. He looked away from Thor, his eye set toward the distance, as though focused on something beyond them.

"Frost Giants."

~~~~

Raised voices sounded from the weapons vault as Sigyn approached, her hair now looser than before, golden adornments gone - though still wearing her gown from before. The coronation had come to an abrupt halt once Jotuns, of all things, had been found inside Asgard. Inside one of the deepest reaches of Asgard, no less: Odin’s weapon vault. But something like this was impossible.

The Asgardians and Jotuns had made a truce, longstanding since the last war - for most of her life, they’d been at peace. Her own father, Vaskr, had fought in that war, and earned a place among Odin’s advisors from his prowess and courage in battle. But that same valiance had incited the wrath of a particular Jotuness, who in her rage had cursed Vaskr’s family.

Sigyn knew of that curse all too well. It was what took her mother, icy death spreading through her body and snuffing out her life.

Now, those same monsters were here. In her home. Far, far too close.

The hair on Sigyn’s arm rose as she neared the vault. She shivered, feeling the residual cold. There was no mistaking it: Jotuns had been here.

She crept closer, pressing the door open, slipping inside...

"...They know you are vulnerable!" Thor’s voice.

Just then, Odin turned. He recognized her, and clearly thought to say something - but upon seeing Loki turn to her, addressed Thor again. "What action would you take?"

Sigyn lifted her gown to keep from tripping and walked down the stairs gingerly, avoiding puddles of ice. Her gaze drifted to the fallen Einherjar, to pieces of Frost Giants, strewn along the ground…Then to Loki’s boots, and up to his face.

His lips were set in a thin, frustrated line. He exhaled a heavy sigh.

"I told you to go to our chambers," he murmured, moving close to her.

"You know I couldn’t do that." She answered softly, taking his outstretched palm. “Not with.. Everything.” She glanced at the bodies, then back at Loki.

"It’s not safe here. You don’t need to see this," He lifted an arm to nudge her away from the corpses. Closer to him. To safety. She welcomed it.

"There must be some way I can help.."

"You can help by staying put. Listening-" Loki was cut off by Odin.

"But you’re not king!" Odin yelled. All eyes turned to him, the room stilled.

Sigyn swallowed, moving closer to Loki.

"...Not yet." Odin walked past them without so much as another glance. A moment later, Thor stormed out of the vault.

"Go to our chambers, love." Loki said, holding her hand and leading her out of the vault. "I’ll talk to him."

"Please, try to talk some sense into him.."

"Thor? Sense?" Loki smiled weakly.

"Try."

"I will." He kissed her cheek. "Wait for me.”

Against her direct wishes, Sigyn obeyed. She went to their chambers, giving every shadow a second glance - as though any of them could be a Jotun creeping through the palace. Her shoulders sank with relief as she entered her room, letting the door shut behind her. The sun, now low in the sky, cast an amber glow over the floor. The balcony straight ahead of her beckoned in a breeze, low and calm. She closed her eyes, breathing it in.

She just needed to wait. Loki knew how to cool Thor’s temper better than most. He would know what to do.

And so she waited until Loki returned.

He was back sooner than she anticipated, his brow set into a stiff scowl. He was dressed in lighter clothes, now. Riding clothes. Immediately, he went to the long, low dresser on the side wall of their room: where he kept his weapons.

"What of Thor?" Sigyn jumped out of the chair she’d been sitting in, trotting over to Loki’s side.

"Thor will be fine."

"What did he say?"

"He..." Loki grabbed his throwing knives, stowing them on his person. "He is leading The Warriors Three, Lady Sif and I to Jotunheim."

Sigyn felt the blood drain from her face, her breath caught in her chest. "Jotunheim?"

"Yes." Loki turned to her and grabbed her shoulders, smoothing his hands down her arms. "Now, shhh, don’t fret.” He steadied her. “I mean to alert a guard. He’ll inform father what we’ve done, and by the time we make it to the Bifrost, we’ll be caught."

"And then you can all have a proper talk…?" Sigyn swallowed.

"Yes. Their tempers are running high, both of them - but I will handle it. You mustn’t worry, my dear." He moved a hand to her chin, tilting it up to face him. "I’ll be back before you know it. In fact - I’ll find you. And we won’t even have a chance of stepping foot on Jotunheim in the first place."

Sigyn tried to fight the idea of him going to that realm, of him endangering himself, of her brother and friends being in danger too. The thought of them coming back hurt, or worse, not at all... She grabbed his hand, smoothing her thumb over his skin. "You promise?"

"I promise." His tone was low, steady. Certain.

Slowly, Sigyn nodded. "Okay."

#lokixsigyn #loki fanfic #logyn #OG616 #Thor1

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

tapestry 👑 XXIV

Warnings: dark elements

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The reader prepares for her wedding.

Note: Alright, so I managed another chapter. I’m working an awful shift that gives me no time before or after and it’s all so depressing. That being said, I think we all sense cummies in our near future as we get closer and closer to the thottening. Anyways. Enjoy. :)

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

masterlist

You were halfway through your glass of wine before the next guests arrived. Your mother’s voice floated in from the corridor as you tried to hide in your cup from both the king and his dowager mother. You looked up as Steve lifted his head too and Sarah lifted a brow in mild interest.

“Oh, you’re rather strapping, aren’t you, sir?” Your mother trilled with a bawdy laugh.

“I suppose,” Lord Barnes’ returned and you had to resist a chuckle of your own. You kept your face straight as you listened patiently. “You must be Lady Malford.”

“I must be,” She affirmed. “Lord Barnes, was it? I recognize you. You did imbibe at the harvest a few years past and found yourself under the table and nearly up my own skirts.”

“It was not intentional, if you would believe it,” He countered dully. “A regrettable night.”

“I should hope not. The best nights are spent with liquor warm in one’s stomach,” She chimed.

“After you, my lady,” Barnes diverted her. “My lord.”

“Lord Barnes,” Your father said evenly.

Hugh appeared in the doorway at once and entered. He stopped short and spoke with his eyes to the ceiling. “Lord Willis and Lady Elizabeth have arrived, your highness,” He announced. “And the Lord James Barnes.”

“Thank you, Hugh,” Steven pushed himself to his feet and you rose in kind. Your mother was the first to enter with your father close behind.

“Lady Elizabeth.” Hugh introduced your mother. “Lord Willis,” Your father stood beside your mother as they bowed to the king, “And Lord Barnes.” The third stepped forward and bent in kind.

“I do prefer--” Your mother began as she straightened.

“Bessie,” The dowager’s voice rose above hers. “I should have guessed.”

“Your highness,” Your mother greeted Sarah genially. “I was not informed you’d be attending.”

“I thought this mouse was some distant niece of yours, a cousin even,” You looked to the royal widow; she was almost smiling. “Though with a tongue so candid, I cannot say I’m surprised. She does lack your humour, alas.”

“Oh, she merely hoards it,” Your mother returned.

“She must get that from her father then,” Sarah chided. “Do come sit. I think you should keep me from nodding off through this dinner.”

“I cannot promise I won’t,” You mother approached as the old queen beckoned her forth.

“Time has seen you well,” Sarah said. “Pardon me, lady,” She turned to you, “Would you offer your seat to your mother? My son does have another shoulder you can sit upon.”

“Certainly,” You assured her and rounded to the other side as your mother took your place.

“Bess, you old cow, you do seem as well-fed as ever,” Sarah sat and pulled your mother down with her.

“And you do seem as decrepit as your soul,” Your mother cackled. “I daresay, I do cling to my youth yet. Does the grave call to you, hmm? Does the descent seem less perilous?”

“The prospect of rest has never frightened me. Truthfully, it does seem a comforting fate,” Sarah laughed softly under her breath. “I see you are still latched onto Willis the Weasel.”

“We do have quite a cozy little burrow between us,” Your mother boomed as you father scowled and sat at her other side. “A few kits of our own.”

“I only ever had the one but he is more a snake. No surprise he does choose to feast on a mouse.” She remarked.

“She looks a mouse, but she’s a fierce beast indeed,” Your mother assured. “Why, I was sure by now you’d gone to stay with your husband.”

“Not just yet,” Sarah said. “Merely his former abode. A castle most quaint… and quiet. No doubt a relief from this den of fools.”

“Surely, but how bored we should be without fools to entertain us,” Sarah poured your mother a goblet of wine and you looked across at them astounded.

You’d known your mother to have been at court as a youth but she never mentioned such a kinship to the queen. The two of them were enlivened by their former acquaintance and you were stunned to find the dowager almost giddy. Her son looked just as surprised. The women leaned in as they lowered their voices and began to titter over their rims.

“Hugh,” Steven motioned to the footman, “You may call for the food. We’re ready to begin.”

The servant nodded and marched off to his task. The king sat back and held his chin in his hand as he watched the ladies laugh quietly. Slowly his eyes strayed and found you watching him. The wrinkles left his forehead as he smiled and sat up. He leaned on the arm of the chair and towards you.

“My love,” He whispered. “You handled her as well as any can. Even me.”

You nodded and lowered your lashes. “Thank you.”

“Perhaps your mother can soften her yet,” He said. “But she does not hate you entirely. It is only her way.”

“I shall be patient.” You replied softly.

“As I will be,” He countered with a smirk, “As I have been.“

👑

Your mother insisted on silk the colour of rose petals. She said it made you glow though you felt little more than an impostor. The first fitting had been near disastrous but the second was reassuring. This one was stressful.

In a week, you'd be taken away to the castle of Heron's Ford. There you would spend the fortnight preceding the wedding in isolation with your mother and your maids. The tradition offered a brief respite before you were to face the inevitable but in your mind, it was barely long enough.

You stood before the long mirror as your mother placed pins to mark the last of her adjustments. Along the neckline, she'd woven silver and magenta ribbons over the bodice. The shoulders were wide set and displayed your collarbone without seeming risque. The sleeves were fitted to your wrists and slitted with white satin. The skirts were full and the same silver ribbons trimmed the hem.

You inhaled deeply and sighed. Your mother looked up from her work and stood straight.

"Dear… what is it that troubles you so?" She asked.

"Oh mother, you are braver than me for I feel a terrible dread." You mourned. "I have felt it since… since the last queen was marched to her death."

Your mother frowned and set aside the pins. "We all do. Ladies, that is. To think a queen could be cast aside so easily but… it does embolden us to think an earl's daughter can be raised all the same."

"I know I'm fortunate but I do not feel it." You lamented. "I know little of being a queen, I was a poor enough lady."

"You will learn because you must," Your mother said. "And there is one thing that should secure you against the fate of the queen."

"Which is?" You wondered.

"An heir. If you can bear a child, or more, you will not need to fear." Your mother touched your sleeve kindly. "I never struggled to conceive though I did bear only daughters and your sister quickened almost upon her wedding night."

"And if I cannot?"

"You mustn't think of that now," Your mother said. "You must cling to hope until it is extinguished."

"I fear I've not had hope since I was a girl." You admitted. "I have ever disappointed father and I do think my husband shall one day be as cruel to me as he is."

"My girl, you are… blind. I see the king and how he dotes on you. He abides more of you than any. I see that he does long for you deeply and while I cannot promise his faithfulness I do see his persistence." She mulled. "Why, you only need tend your wifely duties and I think he should be pleased."

"And if I cannot?"

She frowned. "Well, a wife's ability barely matters for a husband should perform his duty either way."

You hung your head. "I am trying." You uttered. "But I cannot accept it though I know it is not up to me." You turned from her and tried not to loosen the pins. "This crown shall ensure the hate I've sown among the court. I know it."

"Dear, you do have too little esteem in yourself," She chided. "These people do not hate you. They fear the king and his impulses. They have seen the unbelievable and they do appease the king's wrath. They see a girl like a fawn; terrified but caught in a hunter's snare."

"Is that what they see?"

"They should. And if they do not see that, they see the blood of a queen upon their hands and that they do fear that theirs could just as easily be spilled." Your mother came up beside you.

"You are not Eleanor, you are not trained to be queen. And you are surely not Sarah. But you are you. You are kind and you are sweet. Those are as much strengths as any." Your mother turned you to face her and cradled your face in her hands. "You are strong for you have remained resilient through all this."

"But I am scared." You breathed.

"That, my girl, is human. We are all afraid." She said. "Even me. Even your father. Even the king."

You stared at your mother and she drew you into an embrace. "I love you, mother."

"I love you too, dear," She cooed. "My queen."

"Mother," You pulled away from her and she grinned.

"I must practice." She said. "It'll take some getting used to but I think I can manage. Oh! Imagine your father. How he should hate to say it."

You shook your head and giggled. "Then I shall make him call me nothing else."

There was a knock at the door. You had dismissed Rita as you'd quickly tired of her silence after breaking your fast that morning. You crossed to the doors carefully and opened the left one. Your mother watched from behind as she grabbed her pins once more.

"Lord Barnes," You greeted him in surprise.

"My lady," He returned. "I come bearing a gift from the king."

"Why, my lord, thank you," You replied. "A valiant messenger indeed."

"It is for your wedding, I understand," He said dully. "I see you are already of the mind for preparations."

"Do invite him in, daughter," Your mother called. "I never turn away such a handsome caller."

"Mother," You reproached as you looked over your shoulder.

"We should need a second opinion," She added. "Even a man's."

"I should be on my way. The council does gather." Barnes intoned.

"It will not take very long," She insisted. "Only if you should continue to delay."

"Very well," He relented and you shuffled backwards to let him through.

He closed the door behind him and you turned back to approach your mother. You stood before the mirror as she placed another pin. "Now, Lord Barnes, do you think I should add another ornament along her bodice?"

He squinted and clung to the box in his hands. He stared at you in the mirror and shrugged. "My lady, I am not one for fashion but I do think she looks fine indeed." He replied. "And I do offer another ornament already."

"Ah yes," Your mother nodded, "Let us see this newest bauble."

He removed the lid from the box and held it out. A thin silver coronet with pearls along it sat upon a cushion. "The king did say it is merely a placeholder until the coronation," He explained.

"A rather extravagant placeholder," Your mother took the coronet and lifted it as she turned to you. She lowered it onto your brow and stepped back. "Beautiful."

"Indeed," Barnes agreed. "I think I prefer the simplicity."

"As you would," You snorted.

Your mother tilted her head as she looked between you and Barnes but said nothing.

"This court would distort the merest turn of phrase and the simplest stitch of thread," Barnes countered. "I do not think it unnatural to long for the simple."

"If one should abide the court, they must bide its nuisances," You challenged. "There is but one escape from such."

"Surely, we do abide," He said firmly. "As painful as it should prove."

Your nostrils flared as you met his gaze at last. He finally looked away from the mirror as he turned to you directly. You glared at him as his brow crinkled. You set your jaw as you sneered at him.

"I thank you, Lord Barnes, for delivering this gift." You reached to touch the coronet. "I shall be a beaming bride indeed."

"So you will," He nodded curtly.

"You may tell the king I thank him," You said stiffly as you lowered your hand and grasped your skirts tightly. "That I do look forward to our union most… eagerly."

"As you wish…" He bowed and slowly backed away, "My lady."

"My lord," You said all too sharply as he retreated to the door. "We should hate to keep you from council."

"I should be in time, I think," He contended. "Good day, ladies."

"And you, Lord Barnes." Your mother answered as you returned your attention to your reflection.

The door opened and closed again. A silence pervaded the chamber as your mother watched you in the mirror. You avoided her gaze as you pretended to adjust the coronet.

"You are mad at him." She mused.

"No." You lied.

She scoffed and crossed her arms. "Don't play coy with me, girl. I suspect if I hadn't been here, he might not have been spared a strike across his cheek."

"If you were not here, he'd not have been permitted in my chambers." You declared.

"You doubt your potential, my dear, yet you sound a queen to me already." She snickered.

"He does not bother me," You insisted. "He is but the king's man. I tolerate him."

Your mother's smile fell. Her eyes found yours in the mirror and she quirked her head. She dropped her arms and her hands went to her hips.

"Oh, dear," She said though you could not figure if she referred to you or expressed the concern which wrinkled her forehead. "Do not let that boy affect you so."

"He does not." You retorted.

"He does so," She argued. "Oh, no no no. I do like your head as it is and not only for that pretty gift the king has sent you."

"Mother," You huffed.

"Daughter," She mocked. "Do not think others will not see as I do. That man is more than the king's man. You encourage him this and he shall want to be yours."

"That's silly. He is loyal to his master. He has done his bidding, delivered his gifts, delivered me." You spat. "He is beholden but certainly not to me."

"The heart is silly," She grabbed your arm as she stepped before you and looked you in the face. "And you should know it is hardly restrained by decorum."

You stared back at her then looked to the door. You surely didn't care so much for Barnes. You couldn't, he was the king's friend and you were the king's betrothed. It could not be. So then why were you so mad at him? And why did it hurt so much?

#tapestry #Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #fic #series #au #medieval au #mcu #marvel #captain america #dark fic #dark!fic #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes

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blankdblank · 4 years

Text

My Baby

Loki pacing with ridges around the back of his head and cheeks more prominent unable to be hidden anymore giving off a faint glow in the flashes of lightning showing through the ceiling to floor glass walls of the Stark Tower living room. His free hand gently patting the back of the formerly fussy infant curling up again drifting off to sleep against his chest humming an old Asgardian lullaby he had forgotten he knew still flowing out of him naturally in his back and forth path calming the child who was woken by the storm.

Oc half panicked searching for said infant stopped glaring in sheer exhaustion at the Prince whisper shouting to him, “Loki!! What are you doing?!”

“Shh!”

“You did not just shush-!”

“Shh! Sleeping.” He said with a pointed glare of his own in return to the teammate he had barely spent an hour speaking to collectively outside of missions since his place here even before their pregnancy leave when they were ordered to bed rest in a care center Stark paid for fully to ensure their optimal comfort and relaxation for said baby they intended to have on their own not waiting for the textbook scenario to grow their own family. Though Loki had shown up every day simply to read to himself refusing to leave her alone for anyone or any reason including the labor.

“Loki!”

“Shh! Go to bed!”

“That’s-!” Suddenly a double of him popped up, this one more blue than he was with pink eyes showing his failing ability to control his shielding powers through whatever this was coursing through him. Back to her room she was shown and lifted to be tucked into the bed, “Sleep now, I have the little one.”

“Loki! Why do you have my baby?!”

“The storm woke-,”

“Yes! I heard that part! That’s why I got up to help my baby back to sleep but you’d stolen it!”

“I have stolen nothing, go to sleep. I have promised a trip to the zoo to the little one.”

“What?!” She squeaked out to the door being shut behind the returning double. Growling to herself she rubbed her face and turned over burying her face into her pillow muttering about the irritating Prince.

Trip to the zoo ensues with Peter Parker eagerly jumping aboard with Morgan and Stark as well for a family day out. All fully witnessing his doubles stalking circles around the group keeping crowds at bay, carrying bags or souvenirs as Loki kept hold of the baby carrier on his chest the now napping infant inside of it. Cross armed oc walked beside the Prince frequently glaring up at him, “Why do you keep stealing my baby?”

“I have stolen nothing.”

“Then let me carry the sling.”

“You require more rest after your birth. I will carry the little one.” He said with arms easing more across the baby carrier protectively.

“Unbelievable,” she mutters then huffs, “I need a pretzel.” Loki shifted a finger and one of his doubles trotted off in search of a pretzel making Tony smirk biting his lip at the comment he wanted to fire off.

Hours later Tony and Peter are sharing about the zoo as Loki is readying a lunch for oc and her baby to Thor who just returned from a mission. The blonde Prince beamed listening to all they shared until Tony said, “If I didn’t know better I’d say he was sweet on OC.”

Loki, “I am merely assisting a single mother with minding her newborn child. That is all.”

Tony, “Is that why you charged new socks, pajamas, blankets and pillows to my credit card to the tune of five grand?”

Thor chuckles, “Looks like you’ve hit your nesting stride Loki.” Wide eyed the raven haired Prince froze before his nesting brain kicked in refusing to let the meal sit and spoil for his racing heart.

Silently he finished the meal then returned to oc’s apartment where he set the meal down on the table and moved to the bed where she was nursing the baby. Her eyes shifting from the infant to his still wide eyed self, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I am not stealing anything. However, I desire to have your baby.”

“What? They’re eating, no running off with them right now.”

“You misunderstand me-,”

“So help me Loki if you snatch my baby away from me-,”

“My body is nesting.” Her brows furrowed looking at his face absolutely perplexed, “I did not intend to, however, I desire to have your baby. Protect it, and you, raise it. One of my Jotun traits I did not anticipate.” Silence filled the room flooded with uncertainty of what was intended to have happen from that admission. Yet when the child was done eating he took hold of it as a double guided her to the table easing her into her seat and fluffing her napkin out on her lap before acting in its new fashion as her waiter ensuring each craving was seen to while he rocked the child nodding off to sleep to another lullaby.

“You’re really just adopting my baby like this?”

“And you,” her brows furrowed in confusion, “That is how it works, for any wishing to threaten you they shall face my wrath.”

“Let me guess, when you get tired of this you’ll just zap off and play dead again?”

That had his brows furrowing in defense, “I am not my father! I will never abandon you, either of you. Or belittle you, or make you feel any less infinite than you are,” he accentuated with a gentle press of his lips to the head just under his chin a tiny fist had stretched to. Rocking from foot to foot his weight shifted for the child, “Unfortunately you are stuck with me.”

“You owe me. I am not sure what yet but you have a debt Princey I will collect at my leisure.”

“Anything you desire,” his nesting brain had him respond while the rest of him wondered what it might be she would require of him for this change to her life he had enforced upon her. She went to nap as her child had, still too stubborn to ever admit that she was still exhausted from the effects of the week in and out of labor before the eventual c section when her vitals seemed to be sinking by the day from the stress of it all. He had never felt so helpless as when he watched her suffering through trying to safely bring this child into the world.

First he thought it might have been that guilt but now in recalling those months he watched the progression of the child inside her belly to the stealing pain he felt when she vanished in the night while he was in a mission. That pain only silenced at his search ending with his place in the chair fixed at her side unwilling to move. There had to be more to this than nesting or every pregnant women he came across would be a harem of sorts claimed by him through his time here. Yet again on his heels he turned and up his eyes shifted mid lullaby where his eyes fell on a picture a double of him had taken, the exhausted mother with her new born child draped across her chest deliriously smiling as Loki’s hands were fixed on her arm using every bit of magic to help along her healing from the ordeal.

It was in his eyes, the determination and fear of losing her that struck him the hardest, to the weight of tears pooling into his eyes remembering himself in that helpless moment again. Inhaling deeply to the fussing of the baby his head tilted back to blink those tears away to calm down enough to begin humming again. Not three minutes later the child was deep asleep again and he strolled into the room leaving a simple note by her bed. Her dream vacation to Greece was about to come true, and he would be certain to do all he could to ensure the woman he now was terrifyingly certain he had subtly fallen for through skirmishes and shared silences comfortably lounging about in the absence of others could possibly find they might be able to tolerate a foolish Prince who very well should have known long before now what his body had been trying to tell him all along.

He couldn’t and wouldn’t let them go, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have her wishing he wouldn’t ever leave. The pain was evident in the comment on his growing bored, he had a child now, and one day maybe a wife if he was to succeed. He would never leave, never. And there would be a planet of bloodied stacked bodies of anyone dared to try. Shimmering again today a little more blue he returned to humming takin the child on a stroll through this floor unwilling to put it down just yet, planning all that was to come, and all that there could be for the new family of three.

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shes-a-killer-kween, @ggbbhehe4455

X Loki - @pastelhexmaniac

X Marvel-Cast - @himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @changlingkhat

#Loki x Reader OC #Nesting Jotun #I Need Your Baby #Marvel #Loki

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