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constablewafflebottom · 2 years

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Dream A Little Dream of Me

"Stars fading but I linger on, dear,

Still craving your kiss.

I'm longing to linger til dawn, dear.

Just saying this,

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you

Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you

Stars fading but I linger on, dear,

Still craving your kiss.

I'm longing to linger til dawn, dear.

Just saying this,

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you

Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you

But in your dreams whatever they be

Dream a little dream of me."

Chapter One

My name is Moira Fenton. I know what you’re thinking: that sounds like the name of a plump little housewife with a brood of unruly children somewhere in the British Isles. Well, part of that is true, the plump little housewife part. I’d been married for five years to a man who seemed, at the very least, ambivalent to my existence most of the time. True, we’d married young, fresh out of college and practically still children ourselves, but we’d been together for years before. My relationship with Michael was essentially the only real experience I had with one. The only word to describe me at the time was ignorant. I had no idea about red flags, or what sort of behavior I should expect or demand from my partner. I had no idea what course our marriage would take once he had me all to himself. After a few years, I didn't think his behavior would necessarily be classified as abusive, but it was… problematic.

From watching my parents, I assumed every couple was affectionate and loving, but once Michael and I married, all of the tender touches and heated kisses came to a startlingly abrupt halt. That seemed entirely natural to my new husband and I came to the conclusion that my parents must be anomalous, that that sort of relationship only happened in movies and the occasional real life situation, but it was far from the norm. I just accepted it. And besides, my husband still seemed to take enjoyment from engaging in intimacy with me, he seemed to always reach completion rather quickly, surely that must mean he enjoyed being with me. He just reserved his romantic attention and affection for the moments when we were truly alone and wouldn’t be interrupted. That’s what I’d told myself in consolation, anyway. Another word to describe me: deluded.

My marriage was a farce, and it felt as though my husband saw me as nothing but a 'glorified housekeeper he got to fuck occasionally.' Then the fucking stopped all together, and I was left as a ‘housekeeper that shares a bed with him.’ But I’d taken vows and permanently bound my life to his, and so I had to make the best of it, and just hope it would get better some day.

The lonely horniness was getting to a breaking point when the dreams started. Every night for the last year, I dreamed of a beautiful man. Although, how I knew he was beautiful was a mystery, because all I could remember of his face when I woke was pale skin and piercing green eyes. But his body was ingrained in my memory, he was larger than any man I’d ever known, tall, broad in his shoulders and trim in his hips, and his red hair shone in silky waves down to his shoulders. His voice was deep and knowing, as if he heard my every secret desire and wished to fulfill it, and so smooth and convincing that a single word from his lips had me happily submitting to his commands. His scent, though again, how I could recall something like a smell from a silly dream was beyond my understanding, was both soothing and arousing. It was earthy and clean, like ice and pine and musk. And his touch, his big hands and soft lips on my body, lit a fire under my skin and made me feel alive for the first time in my life.

It never took long for the dream to come to me, it seemed all I needed to do was close my eyes and will myself to sleep, and there he was, ardent and eager. Some nights he made tender love to me, holding me close with his sinewy arms, those brilliant green eyes locked onto mine as he told me how perfect I was. Others he ravished me like an animal, his strong hands and long fingers gripping and plunging, teasing me to my peak and clawing to hold my curves to him as his length battered my insides so deliciously. It filled me over and again until I could take no more and the ecstasy took me away. And still others, he did no more than hold me to his muscular chest and comb those nimble fingers through my thick sable curls, stroking my hair and skin comfortingly; those sinful lips that brought such pleasure when they drew on my neck or tasted my feminine flesh, pressed gentle kisses to my forehead; the voice that commanded my submission whispered words of love and encouragement. Each circumstance left me satisfied, but it was the latter that left me heartbroken and missing him when the morning came.

Every day, I would wake when the thrice cursed alarm rang, ripping me away from him, and the day would start with Michael rudely urging me out of bed. I would fix his breakfast, prepare his lunch, help him get ready for his day at work, and just hope an argument didn’t start that early, otherwise both of our days would be ruined. I never wanted to fight with him, I would have been much happier if we could have peace between us, but he was implacable and unpredictable in his wishes, such that I felt no matter what I did, it was never the right thing. I lived in a perpetual state of wondering what I’d done wrong this time, and what I would do wrong the next. It induced unbearable anxiety and depression, and filled me with self depreciation and loathing that I could not do something as simple as make my husband happy. He hardly touched me anymore but I would not go seeking outside of my marriage for satisfaction and validation, and so I was left unfulfilled in every way.

That was the only one explanation for the dreams: that my mind had concocted a man to love me, to meet my needs in the only way it could in order to fill the void left by the ever broadening chasm forming between myself and my husband. As devastating as the knowledge was, it was true; my dream man was not real.

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The day had been particularly hard on me, another argument with my husband had left my voice weak and hoarse from screaming just to be heard, and all of it in vain. I was tired, physically and psychologically, and I knew that this would be one of the nights my dream lover would not sate my carnal desire, but fulfill my emotional needs. He would hold me close, stroke my head and reassure me that everything would be alright in the end. It was no small disappointment then, when I fell asleep that night and found nothing and no-one waiting for me as I floated in the nebulous darkness of semi-sleep. I feared that the dreams had come to an end and I would never see him again, just when I felt like I needed him the most, and I would grieve the loss of him.

When I woke again later in the night, I lay there for a long, quiet moment trying to figure out what caused it. With nothing more than a subtle pressure in my bladder, I slipped out of bed with a glance at my snoring husband as I tip-toed into the bathroom to relieve myself; he certainly hadn’t done it, his snoring was something I’d gotten used to in our years together, the sound all but faded into background noise every night as he kept to his side of the bed. Once I put my pajamas back in place, if you could call my short, lacy nightgown ‘pajamas’ when it barely covered my bottom, I started to return to bed but halted with another glance, this time at the door to our bedroom. A faint glow emanated from beneath it, a narrow line of soft light peeked through the crack leaving a streak of green across the carpet. We weren’t in the habit of leaving lights on in the house, and I couldn’t think of anything that would cast a light of that color anyway. Perhaps Michael had awakened before I did and gone to the kitchen for a drink or into the office beside our bedroom, and simply forgotten to turn a light off?

Briefly, I considered waking him to find out where the light was coming from, what if it was an intruder burglarizing our home? But why would they use green lights, I asked myself. And, if I did wake him only to find nothing of interest or concern, he would be annoyed that I’d disturbed his rest when he had to work in the morning, and that didn’t bode well for the day that would follow. I would have to investigate myself. With any luck, the source of the light would be innocuous enough that I could go to bed and maybe my lover would still visit me again once I’d fallen back to sleep. I stepped quietly to the door and slowly turned the knob until it cleared the latch and pulled it open just a crack to peek through. Nothing was immediately outside, and the absence of light from down the hall said that the office door was probably still closed. I then pulled the door open a little wider and carefully stuck my head out with a glance in both directions. Sure enough, all the doors along the hallway were closed, and the light seemed to be originating from the living room of our apartment. Thinking that it must be the television or sound system lights, I padded down the hall to the living room and froze in the doorway.

A man was standing on the other side of the couch, peering at the shelf of framed photographs. I should turn and hurry back to the bedroom to get my husband, I should scream, I should… I stopped mid-turn as the visual of the man registered in my mind. It was hard to tell in the dark, but his hair, wavy, voluminous and down to his shoulders, looked red. He was taller than my husband, his shoulders were broad, his waist was narrow, and the way he held himself... it seemed familiar. It wasn’t possible, but the light seemed to be coming from him and it faded as he turned toward me. He must have known I was there, as unperturbed and unsurprised as he appeared to be by the sight of me.

My eyes scanned his body, trim and strong, before they landed on his face. On their own, my feet took me a few steps into the room before I realized what was happening. It couldn’t be, it wasn’t possible, but… though I had never physically set eyes on this man before, I knew: it must be him. And when he approached me, slowly like a prowling panther and carefully as if earning the trust of a frightened animal (which I supposed were both the case in this instance), I did not run, I did not weep, I did not tremble. I watched him draw closer until he was gazing down at me, the green of his eyes was unnaturally bright in the darkness of the living room, as they devoured my upturned face.

In a heartbeat, I was in his arms. One of his hands held the back of my neck, gently holding me in place as his lips crashed into mine, his other arm wrapped possessively around my waist, tightening as he deepened the kiss and pressed me into the length of his body. My arms hovered awkwardly at my sides for a moment, shocked and confused, unsure of what to do with them before I wrapped them around him and eagerly returned his embrace. Everything about him overwhelmed my senses. The sight of his much beloved eyes and the face that only now could I say was definitely the same one from my dreams. The scent of ice and pine and musk filled my head even as the taste of his tongue filled my mouth. The feel of his hands moving over my body, from holding my waist and neck to smoothing down my back and gripping my lace-covered bottom as he held me to him, and the distinctive and arousing hardness pressed into my belly. The satisfied hum rumbling from his throat lowered to a growl as I rubbed my body and tongue against his, my own fingers threaded into his hair tugging unconsciously on the curls.

His mouth slanted over mine, dominating me and taking what he wanted until the need for oxygen tore my mouth away from his. I gasped for breath, vaguely aware of how his hands lifted to cup my face, hunching his shoulders as he pressed his forehead to my own as if unwilling to part from me just yet.

“I am no longer content with dreams, my little dove,” he whispered. His low, accented voice, dark with promise, sent shivers down my spine and gooseflesh over my skin. “I will return to you, be ready for me.”

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You can find chapter 2 here: https://at.tumblr.com/constablewafflebottom/dream-a-little-dream-of-me/umqqgje20720

And the Master List here: https://at.tumblr.com/constablewafflebottom/master-list/82s3wqp0jp4p

#loki fanfic #norse loki #fluff and smut #norse myth modern legend au #fantasy romance #paranormal romance #fiction #loki #writers on tumblr

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thelibraryofsylphide · 3 months

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The navigational charts. The route to the Farthest Gate. Wouldn't it be amazing if this venture of yours took you to the world beyond this one?" ― Sao Feng

Welcome to my blog! These are the Navigational Charts (no stealing or drowning needed!) for your visit.

Warnings / General Info:

- I can and will block freely, it is often not personal, you might just be into something I'm not. [Examples: Thor Ragnarok, Loki (TV series), Yashahime.] - Autistic, disabled, adult. - Flows in and out of obsessions. - Multilingual. - Main: @zanda-rl

Featured Post: This wonderful personalized moodboard by @abbys-moodboards

"'Up is down.' Well, that's just maddeningly unhelpful. Why are these things never clear?" ― Jack Sparrow

Tags:

I sure as hell forget what I put here, so I can't imagine how confusing it must be for you guys. So here's the, maybe kept to date if on a good day, list of things I usually post or reblog about:

(Useful tip: The main topics are common, but the downwards arrow is what I usually fixate on the most. The related tags are beside each one, with spaces included.)

Main Fandoms / Media: - MCU in general, commonly up until Thor:TDW [#marvel] ↳ MCU!Loki, exclusively up until Thor:TDW [#loki] [#loki meta] ↳ Asgard [#asgard] ↳ Thor, up until T:TDW [#thor] [#thor meta] and Fandral [#fandral] [#fandralposting] - League of Legends Lore [#league of legends] ↳ Pantheon, the Unbreakable Spear [#pantheon league of legends][#league of legends pantheon] [#league of legends atreus] ↳ Skinlines/skins [#league of legends skins] ↳ Concept art [#concept art] (this tag will have more than just LOL) ↳ Cinematics [#league of legends cinematic] ↳ Aurelion Sol [#aurelion sol] - Pathologic (videogame saga) [#pathologic] ↳ The doctors: Daniil [#bachelor] [#daniil dankovsky], Artemy [#haruspex] [#artemy burakh] and Clara [#clara pathologic] ↳ Executors [#executor pathologic] and Tragedians [#tragedian pathologic] - The Mechanisms (band) [#the mechanisms] ↳ The Bifrost Incident [#the bifrost incident] - Five Nights at Freddy's (videogame saga) [#fnaf] - Ham-Ham Hamtaro (videogame saga) [#hamtaro] - South Scrimshaw (videogame by episodes) [#south scrimshaw] - Pirates of the Caribbean [#potc] [#pirates of the caribbean] - Lord of the Rings [#lotr] [#lord of the rings] - Journey (videogame) [#journey] - Our Life: Beginnings and Always (videogame) [#our life:bna] [#ourlifebna] [#our life: beginnings and always] - Undertale (videogame) [#undertale] [#undertale au] [#undertale aus] - Baldur's Gate 3 [#baldur's gate 3] ↳ Astarion [#astarion] ↳ Gale [#gale] [#gale of waterdeep] ↳ Wyll [#wyll ravengard] [#wyll] - Inuyasha (anime/manga series) [#inuyasha] - Gargoyles (TV series/comics) [#gargoyles]

General Likes: - Punk [#punk aesthetic] [#punk] [#punk fashion] [#punk outfit] [#punk patches] [#patches] - Dividers [#dividers] - Concept art [#concept art] - Mythology [#greek myth] [#norse myth] - Quotes, sayings and lessons [#commonplace] [#commonplace tag] - Lordi (band) [#lordi] - Moodboards [#moodboards] [#moodboard] [#my moodboard][#my moodboards] - Gif making [#my gifs] - Set Design [#set design] - Screenplays [masterpost]

"Nothing here is set. These can't be as accurate as modern charts." "No. But it leads to more places." ― Will Turner and Tai Huang

Credits:

Title card - by me

Dividers Art Deco by @saradika

Dainty Chains | green blue by @cafekitsune

#masterpost #index #library of sylphide #organizational post #pinned post #master post #list #pirates of the caribbean #potc #potc themed masterpost #yes I am that nerd

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chaos-in-the-making · 3 years

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I don't know why people are against Thorki. Zeus and Hera are canon characters in the Marvel universe, they are brothers and a couple, and no one has ever complained about it. So what if Thor and Loki get married? They are ancient gods, their society is totally different from ours. Marriage between relatives is normal for them

Well, I understand it when you consider the difference between Norse mythology and Marvel. There are big differences, and the key one that antis have a problem with is Thor and Loki being raised as siblings. In Norae mythology, according to some legends, Loki is a blood brother to Odin, but he was never adopted and always knew who he was. The crux of the Marvel stories are predicated on the fact that Thor and Loki were raised together AS BROTHERS. Hence, the incest charges. And don't make any mistakes, some of us that ship Thorki do it for the very valid reason of liking spicey incest. I don't try to rationalize my interests anymore. I also defend anyone who ships them as Not!brothers, like in an au, bc I know the incest is squicky for many people, and that's totally fine.

In mythology, nobody gives a fuck. Also in mythology, people turn into animals and Loki fucked a stallion, got pregnant, and gave birth. So like??? Judging ancient myths based on modern morals is just fucking stupid and a killjoy.

I've heard all the anti arguments, and it comes down to the indignity that antis feel that we shippers actually ENJOY our incest ship and don't give a fuck about their purity bullshit. HOW DARE WE ENJOY SOMETHING WITHOUT 20 HAIL MARY'S TO ATONE FOR OUR SINS.

So yeah. Listen to your Fandom grandma and just enjoy what you like. You don't owe strangers anything.

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weirdletter · 5 years

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Mythic Journeys: Retold Myths and Legends, edited by Paula Guran, Night Shade Books, 2019. Cover art by BreeAnn Veenstra, info: nightshadebooks.com.

Award-winning editor Paula Guran presents a diverse reprint anthology collecting classic myths and legends, retold by today’s top fantasy writers. The Native American trickster Coyote... the snake-haired Greek Gorgon Medusa, whose gaze turned men to stone... Kaggen, creator of the San peoples of Africa... the Holy Grail of Arthurian legend... Freyja, the Norse goddess of love and beauty... Ys, the mythical sunken city once built on the coast of France... Ragnarok, the myth of a world destroyed and reborn... Jason and the Argonauts, sailing in search of the Golden Fleece... Myths and legends are the oldest of stories, part of our collective consciousness, and the source from which all fiction flows. Full of magic, supernatural powers, monsters, heroes, epic journeys, strange worlds, and vast imagination, they are fantasies so compelling we want to believe them true. This new anthology compiles some of the best modern short mythic retellings and reinvention of legend from award-winning and bestselling authors, acclaimed storytellers, and exciting new talent, offering readers new ways to interpret and understand the world. Adventure with us on these Mythic Journeys...

Contents: Introduction: A Map or Maybe Not – Paula Guran “Lost Lake” – Emma Straub and Peter Straub “White Lines on a Green Field” – Catherynne M. Valente “Trickster” – Steven Barnes and Tananarive Due “Our Talons Can Crush Galaxies” – Brooke Bolander “A Memory of Wind” – Rachel Swirsky “Leda” – M. Rickert “Chivalry” – Neil Gaiman “The God of Au” – Ann Leckie “Faint Voices, Increasingly Desperate” – Anya Johanna DeNiro “Ogres of East Africa” – Sofia Samatar “Ys” – Aliette de Bodard “The Gorgon” – Tanith Lee “Merlin Dreams in the Mondream Wood” – Charles de Lint “Calypso in Berlin” – Elizabeth Hand “Seeds” – Lisa L. Hannett and Angela Slatter “Wonder-Worker-of-the-World” – Nisi Shawl “Thesea and Astaurius” – Priya Sharma “Foxfire, Foxfire” – Yoon Ha Lee “Owl vs. the Neighborhood Watch” – Darcie Little Badger “How to Survive an Epic Journey” – Tansy Rayner Roberts “Simargl and the Rowan Tree” – Ekaterina Sedia “The Ten Suns” – Ken Liu “Armless Maidens of the American West” – Genevieve Valentine “Give Her Honey When You Hear Her Scream” – Maria Dahvana Headley “Zhyuin” – John Shirley “Immortal Snake” – Rachel Pollack “A Wolf in Iceland Is the Child of a Lie” – Sonya Taaffe About the Authors About the Editor Acknowledgements

#book #anthology #myths #weird fiction #dark fantasy #fantasy fiction #dark fiction

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imagine-sterek · 6 years

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Happily Ever After

@imagine-sterek Fairy Tales, Legends and Myths Event.

Themes:

June 15: Knight in Shining Armour

Every fairy tale needs a knight in shining armour; the hero of the story who rescues the prince… or maybe the prince is his own knight in shining armour who rescues himself. This prompt is for all sorts of knights in shining armour, from Mulan to Merlin, valiant princes going to war to protect their people or their lovers to opposing kingdoms at war, or maybe it’s a story of the prince risking it all to save his lover.

June 16: Poison Apple

The apple is the downfall of mankind, from Snow White, to Persephone and the Apple of Discord that started the Trojan War.

June 17: Ballgowns and Crowns

What’s a fairy tale without the ballgowns, dances and crowns? From Cinderella to modern royalty, this prompt is for all the fairy tale balls and the coronations, the school dances, prom and the crowning of homecoming king.

June 18: Princes and Gods

For all the myths and legends where our heroes are gods or demi-gods. This prompt is for anything from Percy Jackson AU to princes falling in love with gods.

June 19: Swans and Frogs

This prompt is for all the animal-themed fairy tales and myths, from Swan Lake to Loki, the God of Mischief, pretending to be a snake to trick his brother. From fairy tales like The Swan Princess to the Prince(ess) and The Frog. From Tarzan to The Jungle Book, even Lady and the Tramp.

June 20: Sword in the Stone

While the movie was nearly the death of Disney, the tale of the prince who doesn’t know he’s a prince is the heart of this prompt. The street rat who turned out to be the prince, the legends of how a prince is selected, and more.

June 21: Trapped in a Tower

Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty, and the Hunchback of Notre Dame, all waiting for their hero to come save them.

June 22: Mythology and Legends

This prompt is for all the legends in mythology, be it Hercules, Perseus, Theseus, or someone else. Greek mythology, Norse mythology, supernatural mythologies, and all sorts.

June 23: Mermaids, Fairies and More

The Little Mermaid, fairy godmothers, Peter Pan, mermaids, sirens, fairies and fae of all sorts, this prompt is for the mythical and magical.

June 24: The Beast Within

From Beauty and the Beast to Red Riding Hood, there’s a monster in every story… but maybe they’re not as monstrous as they seem. This prompt is for all the monstrous tales, stories where werewolves rule the world, where people are shapeshifters or morph into animals.

July 25: Free Choice

Did none of the other categories strike your fancy but you still want to join in? Do you have an idea that doesn’t fit with the other prompts? Free choice is the ultimate category for you to do anything you want and make all your dreams come true.

Please tag your posts with ‘imagine-sterek happily ever after’ or tag @imagine-sterek so I can reblog all your incredible imagines, headcanons, AUs, art, fics and all your wonderful ideas and creations.

If you post your fic on AO3, please tag me or send me a link/message me so I can share it.

FAQ and Rules

Please contact me if you have any questions!

- AJ

#i know it's kind of sudden but if i don't do this now then I won't be able to #once term goes back i have no time #and once term's over my whole life goes up in the air and I don't know what comes next #so for now #sterek #sterek event #imagine sterek event #imagine-sterek event #sterek fairy tale au #sterek fairytale au #imagine-sterek happily ever after #happily ever after #happily ever after event #imagine-sterek happily ever after event

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halfbackblue-blog · 7 years

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Voltron- Atlantis the Lost Empire AU ~Part 1~

I know that there are a couple Voltron Atlantis Au, but I love the whole concept with a passion! As well as the movie.

It began with the ground shaking. An unnatural shaking that demanded the attention of everyone, including the young prince and princess of Altea. Lance stood up from the spot he his sister sat. He watched as the sky above him turned dark and countless airships swarm over towards the palace. Almost like they were running from something.

“Everyone to the shelters! Everyone to the shelters!” A booming voice warned each word following the beats of the bell that echoed through the city. Lance trembled, holding tight to his stuffed lion as people began screaming, running in all directions.

The once clear sky turned dark, it looked like the night, the only light came from the blue orb above the city. Fear struck his core as the once blue orb above turned red, it turned slowly like blood tainting water. Something was terribly wrong. Beside him his sister gasped, “The Heart.” her tiny voice almost impossible to hear.

“Lance! Allura!”

The King and Queen were quickly at their children’s side, embracing them in a worried hug. The royal guards were not far behind, “Your Highness this way. Quickly”

King Alfor nodded and picked up his daughter, holding her at his waist. The Queen took ahold of Lance’s hand, his eyes still transfixed on red crystal above. With both of their children accounted for, the family followed the guards.

“Come Lance!” The queen said pulling at him to follow. The sudden jerk shook his stuffed lion out of his loose grasp and onto the ground, Lance reached for it pulling against his mother’s iron grip to reach it.

Lifting Lance off the ground the Queen swung him in front of her, “Lance! Leave it! There is no time!” She pleaded. The small prince stared, his heart torn between the lion and his mother, but she looked scared. Looking at the lion once more Lance nodded.

Before the Queen could stand up a red light shone on her, turning blue in her presence. Lance watched as her warm motherly face melted off. Her face became blank, any concern she held for her son was gone. The crystal around her neck floated upwards towards the Heart her entire body to follow her crystal’s pull towards the Heart as her eyes clouded over a similar shade of blue as the light around her.

Lance pulled closer to his mother as more blue lights swirled around them- around his mother. He pulled at her sleeve hoping that she would kneel down and wrap him in a hug telling him that everything is ok, he would curl up in her arms until he fell asleep then everything would be fine. But the Queen didn’t even acknowledge him. He tugged harder at the sleeve, “Mother?”

The lights began closing in.

King Alfor looked for the missing presence of his wife, he turned to see the lights come together on his wife’s crystal with a flash of light. She hung limp in the air, slowing being drawn up to the crystal. Her limp hand managed to keep a grip on Lance’s gold bracelet, decorated with beautiful blue Jasper beads. It was given to young Altean royalty, their first steps before they inherited the throne. The prized bracelet slipped off of Lance’s wrist and towards the crystal with his mother.

Lance looked to see his mother float further into the sky. “Mother!” he cried, reaching out for her even though she far beyond his reach. She seemed to be inches away from the Heart. “Mother!”

Holding Allura close Alfor ran to his son who was sitting on the ground where the Queen once was, tears spilling from his eyes. He knelt on the ground with his son pulling him into his arms.

The Heart released a flash, the Queen completely consumed by the orb, the stone carvings that protected the Heart began to spin faster and faster until they became a blur of light.

Alfor held Allura’s head down with one hand and Lance’s down with the other, pushing both of their faces into his chest. Shielding them from the blinding light coming from the Heart. “Close your eyes Lance! Look away!”

Surrounding the central part of the city were the Protectors; giant stone statues that, as their name implies, stand watch and protect the royal family and a large portion of Alteans from destruction. Their arms opened up creating a barrier, they all began to converge at the Heart at the center of the city until the central city was protected. Outside the barrier water thundered through the outer city, destroying everything in it’s path, the Earth protected by the barrier began sinking as the mountain of water crashed upon the city.

As quickly as it came it was gone. Only a swirl in the water was any indication of the city existing, but that too disappeared.

Washington D.C 1914...

“Good afternoon Gentlemen. First off thank you board members for taking the time to hear my proposal. Now, we’ve all heard of the legend of Altea.” Keith stood on a small stage with an even smaller audience before him. Behind him was a large reversible chalk board with some scribbles of writing.

“A continent somewhere in the mid-Atlantic that was home to an advanced civilization possessing technology far beyond our own, that, according to our friend Plato here was struck by some cataclysmic event that sank it beneath the sea.”

Keith leaned down and picked up a stack of large poster-like slides. The one he was holding had ‘Altea’ written across it with a larger question mark behind it “Now, some of you may ask, why Altea? It's just a myth, isn't it? Pure fantasy? Well, that is where you'd be wrong.” He put the first slide down revealing the famous pyramids of Egypt.

“10,000 years before the Egyptians built the pyramids, Altea had electricity, advanced medicine, even the power of flight. Impossible? Well not for them.” Keith quickly showed several more slides of ancient ruins that seemed to prove the technological advancements the Alteans had.

Keith once more flew through several slides of old text and proof, “Numerous ancient cultures all over the globe agree that Altea possessed a power source of some kind, more powerful than steam, than, than coal. More powerful than our modern internal combustion engines.” he finally declared.

“I propose that we find Altea, find that power source, and bring it back to the surface.” Keith showed his final slide, a copy of a page full of illegible writing but the primary focus of the slide was the picture of a man holding a small book in the upper left corner of the page. “Now, this is a page from an illuminated text that describes a book called the Paladin’s Journal, said to have been a first-hand account of Altea and its exact whereabouts.”

Squeezing himself between his podium and chalkboard Keith gestured to the writing on the chalkboard. The words Coast of Ireland was written neatly in the center of the board with many strange symbols above it, another language most likely.

“Now, based on a centuries-old translation of a Norse text, historians have believed the Journal resides in Ireland.” Keith, with little difficulty, lifted up a large, steel shield into his arms, “But after comparing the text to the runes on this Viking shield, I found that someone mistranslated. So, by changing this letter,” Keith twisted his wrist and used the cuff of his shirt to rub away the ‘R’ in Ireland on the chalkboard, “and inserting the correct one, we find that the Paladin's Journal, the key to Altea, lies not in Ireland, gentlemen, but in Iceland.” With the shield still in his arms Keith wrote in a ‘C’.

Smirking at his audience Keith drummed his fingers along the top of the shield. “Pause for effect.” He muttered to himself, “Gentlemen, I'll take your questions.” He said triumphantly, carefully setting the shield down next to him.

Just then the phone rings.

Keith glares at the direction of the phone, without looking back at his audience he holds up his index finger, “ ‘scuse me for a moment.”

Jumping onto the chalkboard it fell backwards until it hit the table where the phone was, “Cartography and Linguistics, Keith Kogane speaking.”

Instantly angry curses and complaints about heating spewed from the other line onto which Keith only nodded and rolled his eyes at, “Ok ok. Give me a second.”

Setting the phone down Keith slid off the chalkboard, turned the lights on which shamefully revealed his makeshift audience of rusty pipes and abandoned hats. Setting aside his junkyard audience he steadied himself in front of the boiler. After rhythmically adjusting several knobs the machine responded with a deep growl. In normal circumstances that would be a bad sign, but to Keith it meant nothing. Taking his handy wrench Keith whacked the side of the boiler, silencing the growl. Should be fine, for now.

Sliding back over the chalkboard Keith picked up the phone, “Is that better?” He asked, doing his best not allow his irritation to leak into his voice. The person on the other end mumbled another stream of complaints ‘And don’t let it happen again!’ the person yelled much more clearly then hung up.

“Mmmhm, you’re welcome.” and he put the phone down. Keith angrily blew a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. Not even a ‘thank you’, sometimes Keith wondered why he even stayed here.

Pushing that aside those feeling he slid off the of board, faced his ‘audience’ and acted like nothing happened. An awkward smile smeared on his face while he tried to ‘act likeable’ as his brother always said.

“Now, as you can see by the....” He was prepared to point at the map on the board but found that a giant chunk of it was smudged. “...map” Keith stuttered about then looked down at his shirt to find the white chalk smeared everywhere. Hanging his head Keith groaned more irritated than before “Nevermind.” Of course this would happen to him. Why do I even bother.

Tossing aside what notes he had Keith walked over to small table. There he picked up a small picture, it was one of the only pictures he cherished. Keith held it up to the candlelight; his grandfather was dressed up in his uniform, medals and all, Keith, who had just turned six at the time, was standing next to him pulling at his sleeve. His Grandfather was the only parent Keith had for most of his lifetime. Keith smiles thinking how odd his Grandfather was; for his age he was rather tall and muscular. Along with his dark hair and an displeased expression, he always seemed to wear, he was quite an intimidating man.

The first week Keith had lived with his Grandfather he would pretend to be angry and hide himself away in his room. But really, young Keith was trying to avoid his Grandfather. Keith was later thankful that his Grandfather never gave up on pursuing him, after countless hours of stories storytelling Keith learned he only looked scary. The stories never ended with his Grandfather. Especially if it was about Altea. While Keith didn’t mind his other stories there was always something enthralling about Altea, something so mysterious that it just begged to be uncovered. For years his Grandfather has only fueled his desire to learn about Altea.

“Why don’t people look for Altea Grandfather?” Keith asked years ago. His Grandfather frowned, “People only believe it’s a myth. A legend. They blindly refuse to accept something that is beyond understanding.” Keith had nothing to say, “B-but it’s real! Can’t they see that.” His Grandfather chuckled, smiling sadly. “Maybe one day, Keith. One day.”

The clock chimed. Was it time already!? Brushing the chalk off of his shirt Keith gathered up his necessary materials in his arms, “Alright. Showtime.” Today the board will listen and Keith will get funding. I’ll make you proud Grandfather.

A soft thump of mail entering his mail slot caught his attention. Keith read the letter, “Dear Mr. Kogane, this is to inform you that your meeting with the board has been moved from 4:30 P.M to 3:30 P.M…” Keith looked at the clock, it was four o’clock.

“What!”

Just as Keith was going to rush out the door another thump of mail coming through kept him from leaving. He opened the letter, “Dear Mr. Kogane, due to your absence the Board has voted to reject your proposal. Have a nice weekend, Mr. Iversons office!” Rage bubbled inside of Keith. “What!?” Keeping only an armful of the most important of the important documents Keith ran out the door fuming. “There is no way! They can’t do this to me!” Not now.

..oO0Oo..

Iverson and the rest of the board members were just leaving their office, a chorus of laughter filled the empty hall.

“I swear Kogane gets crazier every year” Iverson announced loudly. Locking the door behind him.

The board nodded and mumbled in agreement, “If I hear the word ‘Altea’ again I’ll step in front of a bus!” a Board member said. “I’ll push you!” Another member laughed as he pushed the other member jokingly.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, “Iverson!” Keith angrily called out. Keith was charging straight at them, completely pissed but trying to hold his temper in line. He still wants funding from these people.

All members of the board stopped clearly shocked that they were found so quickly and also terrified.

“Oh no!”

“How did he find us!”

All members of the board scattered, each finding an empty room to hide in and locking the door behind them. Iverson pulled on every door trying to find one that wasn’t locked. He pounded ferociously at the doors desperately hoping someone would let him in. They didn’t.

“Iverson, wait!” Keith called after him. Iverson hardly acknowledged him speaking, still trying to find somewhere to get away from Keith. “I found new evidence! Just listen for one moment. Please” the last word was muttered much quieter and filled with bitterness.

With nowhere else to hide Iverson ran towards and out the door of the museum into a cab already waiting for him. Keith was on his heels the whole way leaving him no room for escape. Just as Iverson shut his door Keith was already at the window handing Iverson several notes and scrolls full of his notes and evidence. “Hold these,” Keith said unraveling a scroll, “now if you look here at these ma-”

“Stop!” Iverson interrupted, throwing back all of the notes into Keith’s arms. “The museum funds expeditions based on facts.” Every syllable was enunciated in the last word with clear precision.

“But sir-”

“Not!” Iverson refused to let him speak, “legends and folklore.” Keith could only stare at him, completely unable to respond.

Iversons ugly scowl turned into an almost sweet smile. “Besides we need you here.” he said.

“You do?” Keith asked not really believing him, but at the same time he loved being told he was needed. Was he really doing important work?

“Why of course. With winter coming we need someone to man the boiler.” he said again. He sounded like he actually cared.

“What? The boiler?” Keith’s face scrunched up.

Taking advantage of young Kogane’s confusion Iverson made a break for it. “Go! Go!” he yelled at the cab driver. With no second spared the cab took off, squealing tires and all.

Keith ran after the car barely able to keep up with in the increasing speed. “There is a journal in Iceland!” Keith yelled pulling out a small map, “I know it’s there, I’m sure of it.” As if pretending not to listen Iverson pulled out his watch then rolled his eyes before quickly shutting his window. Keith growled as another door (or in this case window) was slammed in his face. Maybe he can force fates door open.

Slipping the map back in his pocket he readied another piece of paper in his hand. Like they say; desperate people must go to desperate measures. And now Keith was very desperate. He’ll work with the consequences of his actions later.

Grabbing ahold of the cab Keith flung himself onto the hood of the car, almost falling as the unsuspecting driver swerved. In the back Iverson yelped with surprise.

“If you refuse to fund my proposal Iverson this,” Keith slammed the paper on the windshield of the car so Iverson could see it, “is my letter of resignation. Iverson I mean it I’ll- ” The cab swerved again successfully flinging Keith off. He landed painfully on on rough cobblestone road, “I’ll quit!”

The cab stopped and moved backwards until it was right next to him. Iverson opened the window looking down at the young man, unimpressed.

Keith glared at Iverson, “I swear I’ll quit and-”

“And what?” Iverson snapped, returning Keith’s harsh glare, “Flush your entire career down the toilet like your Grandfather?”

Keith’s face reddened at the mention of his Grandfather, “How dare you! My Gra-”

Iverson pinched the bridge of his nose, “Look look. I’m saying you have potential Kogane.” Iverson’s face softened, “Don’t throw it away chasing fairy tales.”

For a moment Keith almost believed him. A part of him wanted to believe it, wanted to believe that he was needed, wanted to believe that potential elsewhere. Something heavy filled his heart.

“Iverson, sir.” Keith said softly, standing up so he and the museum director were eye to eye, “I can prove that Altea exists.” he pleaded.

Iverson grunted, sticking his nose in the air. “You want to take an expedition so badly? Here.” he pulled out a silver coin, tossing it to Keith. “Take a trolley to the Potomac and jump in! Maybe the cold water will clear your head.”

Keith watched as the cab drove away. Even long after it was gone he stood there. This was his final chance to get funding if the board didn’t listen to him today they’ll never listen again. He blew it. Kicking a nearby rock with an angry huff Keith turned around, making back to the museum to get his things. He was done for the day.

..oO0Oo..

The walk back to his apartment sucked to say the least. Along with his shattered dreams his body was painfully sore from the tumble off the car. Thankfully they were only scrapes and bruises but it still hurt. Not like he’d ever admit that to anyone.

Keith had taken the long way back home, mostly to just mope around and mull over everything. But also because he wanted to avoid going home. As much as Shiro will deny it he’s protective. Always wants to know what happened, if it was something bad he will do anything in his power to make him feel better. Except leave him alone. It was exhausting.

There was a loud explosion of thunder in the distance as rain fell until it was a downpour. Great. As if this day could get any worse.

..oO0Oo..

At some point in time the power must have gone out, Keith flicked the light switch which failed to brighten his dark apartment. “Hello? Shiro? I’m home!” he called out.

Keith took off his dripping coat hanging it on a hook, walking further into his apartment he set all of his damp notes on a table. The only light came from the lone street light outside his window and the occasional flash of lightning, but it was enough to see a woman sitting on a chair by the window. Keith stopped at the sight of the intruder, his blood running cold.

“Keith Kogane I presume?” The woman’s crisp voice asked.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” Keith demanded. Shifting his feet slightly ready to either run or fight.

The woman had very pointed features and, from what he could tell, almost gold eyes. Her platinum blond hair was pulled back in a tight bun with her bangs left out to hang over the right side of her face

The woman shifted further into the chair, “My name is Haggar Katrina Sinclair,” she removed the fur shawl from her shoulders seductively, “I came down your chimney. Ho ho ho.”

Keith shifted uncomfortably, responding with a distrustful glare. She seemed to… appreciate it. Had he been any other guy they would be thinking with anything but his head. There is no doubt she’s broken a few hearts. Thankfully Keith’s is not going to be one of them.

There was a second of silence that Keith was unwilling to fill. Haggar, however was. “I am here because my employer has an...intriguing proposition for you.” Her finger brushed over her red stained lips, “Would you be interested?”

Today was just full of surprises wasn’t it. Keith lightly rubbed his temples as if he was trying to process this all. “What? Who is your employer?”

Lightning illuminated the room for a brief second, enough to see Haggar’s pleased grin.

Hope you all enjoyed! Stay tuned for more.

(and if anyone would be willing to beta for me let me know!)

#voltron #Atlantis the lost empire #AU #voltron Au #atlantis the lost empire au #my writing #writing #klance #keith kogane #lance mcclain #takashi shirogane #vld

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vigilante-daredevil · 7 years

Text

Headcanon prompt list

Here’s a list of headcanons that you can send in (+ a character/s) if you’re struggling to come up with ideas! Hope this helps and you can of course still request your own headcanons, these are just ideas<3 Please see my List Of Characters I Write For

1. Pet-related headcanons 2. Food-related headcanons 3. How they make themselves feel better 4. Things people can say to really rub them the wrong way 5. Things people can say to lift their mood 6. How they sleep 7. Modern AU 8. Music-related headcanons 9. What they do when they’re angry 10. Childhood-related headcanons 11. Accessory/style-related headcanons 12. What they do when they’re bored 13. What they do when they’re busy 14. Habits/tics 15. Their Spotify playlist 16. Their opinion on PDA 17. Opinion on sticking to tradition 18. Alcohol-related headcanons 19. Dreams/Nightmares 20. Lazy days 21. Opinion on popular culture 22. Their weekly essentials 23. Their favourite movies/tv series 24. How they give advice 25. The most influential/famous person they know 26. Tattoo/piercing-related headcanons 27. How they take their coffee 28. Do they believe in ghosts? 29. Which element do they most closely resemble? 30. How would they approach asking someone out 31. Are they self-conscious about anything 32. What do they absolutely love about themselves 33. Do they believe in love? 34. Jealousy headcanons 35. How would they sleep beside their S/O 36. How often do they have to get new clothes 37. Their favourite legends/myths 38. Where they’d like to travel 39. Which Greek/Egyptian/Norse deity are they most affiliated with 40. Animal-related headcanons 41. How good are they at keeping secrets 42. How would they go about cheering up their S/O 43. What would their room be like 44. What social medias would they have 45. Scar-related headcanons 46. Nicknames they’d give their S/O 47. Faveourite candy/indulgent foods 48. How do they celebrate their birthday 49. Their MBTI 50. What would they be like as parents

#headcanon list

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sanerontheinside · 7 years

Text

*sets laptop on lap* *grabs coffee* *leans back* *throws feet up on desk* *carefully wiggles into semi-comfortable position*

right, I’m just gonna vent a little here, don’t mind me

@deadcatwithaflamethrower pls come laugh at me?

about 5 yrs ago there was this fresh new show, had some great ideas. the premise goes, Magical Characters From All Your Favourite Fairytales Get Dropped Into Our Horrible, Horrible World. where they get no happy endings (because apparently happy endings begin and end with meeting your Intended Mate but w/e noI’mnotsaltyatallhbu)

(That aside...) they mixed fairytales in a kinda fun way and a whacked up family tree, but it was cool when they started. so I decided, hey, why not write a fanfic for it. nobody ask me why I started with the Real World part of the show tho, idk, for the Angst probably. Modern AU with a lot of angst.

but also, this was the first time I was coming back to writing after a decent break. it was kinda about throwing ALL the ideas and tropes I could at the wall to see which ones stuck, or just... make all of them work somehow.

the fic quickly turned into ‘how about I write a history of this fantasy world’ of about 300 years (why?) and then became more like 1000+ years (WHY?) with a consistent mix-and-match of fairytales and popular stories with bits and twists. there’s One Thousand and One Nights, there’s Arthurian Legend, there’s the Princess Bride and Legend of Zorro and pirates and Dragons and Shakespeare’s plays (idek bro).

i really don’t wanna do greek mythology..... that shit’s weird for me on a good day....... ugh I’m probably gonna have to do greek mythology tho, it was, like, one of the possible explanations for the origin of Mad Eye Moody’s Eye, man

WHICH BRINGS UP ANOTHER POINT. I never actually intended to pull HP into this fic, but there are all sorts of hints and nods to other universes/popular works of fiction as you go.

this tho. this is the part where brains are actually horrible. because Brain one day up and said, well, this doesn’t have all that much to do with the show you started with, so, uh... you could... well in theory, you could profic it....

me: NO. too much to change in the parts that are show-based. and also, how do you explain Princess Bride references? am I supposed to change all the names of the characters who appeared in BBC Merlin?? (oy yeah—it became a fusion fic, too) how on Earth am I supposed to deal with the modern world characters and their storylines?

Brain: ok

.... 4 months later ....

Brain: okay get this: Arthurian legend has been fucked by everybody six different ways, calamity and incest. it’s completely public domain. let’s not talk about The Princess Bride just now, tho. and get this: there’s enough difference between your stories and the original tale or movie that it probably isn’t easy to recognise. you’ll be fine.

me: ... why don’t I believe you... oh right, because you give me bad ideas, like Let’s Write Profic! No.

.... and a month after that ....

Brain: hey look so Dragons, right? they’re people, but they’ve essentially created a magical form for themselves for ‘protection’, yeah?

me: I’m making lunch, please don’t make me burn it

Brain: well, why would they need a gender?

me: ...th’fuck... you’re telling me they go dragonform to have clutches of eggs and solve any incompatibility problems thusly?

Brain: well, yeah. I mean if you had magic and wanted kids and adoption wasn’t exactly totally an issue for a population that likes to raise its young in nontraditional, sprawling families, why not? gender identity could be pretty flexible for them

me: cool, cool, very cool. nice. I like this thought, please keep going.

Brain: wouldn’t it be a shame if you didn’t fucking write it tho

me: BITCH NOT NOW

.... and a few days after that ....

Brain: ‘sup

me: ceiling.

Brain: yeah I know you think you’re funny. but I’m funnier. question: your dragonfic, it’s kinda historical, right? ish? I mean when you picture the geography you’ve literally set it around the mediterranean, and your Dragonfolk cross the region from fantasy-Italy to fantasy-Egypt and then plonk themselves in the Sahara where nobody else lives atm, to survive after a damn volcano blew them off their mountain?

me: your punchline better be worth this set-up

Brain: base your timeline loosely on world history. pull in fairytales not just from Europe and mythology not just from Greece. they’re living in Africa, use that. go around the world, maybe check out Norse mythology. figure out what the deal is with how Dragon magic affected Agrabah, and then explain what it did to places between their city in the damn Sahara Desert and all the damn way into Agrabah, IT’S A DECENT DISTANCE—

me, three years ago with fingers in my ears: lalalalalalalalalalalalala

.... last week ....

Brain: you know, you could frame it as a meta!universe thing

me: what even the fuck are you on about now.

Brain: okay, you basically explained the One Important Wise(ass) Person for your civilisation as a holdover of how they were created, i.e., one day an author sat down and wrote something, then decided to ‘step in’ and basically never left, which is how they get to see all directions any moment or event can theoretically sprawl off into?

me: I give up.

Brain: you could frame it as a story about a fanfiction. at some point you reveal that your main characters are actually written characters, and you’re really telling the story about someone writing it. There’s the Modern AU, there’s the Pirate AU, there’s the Princess Bride crossover, and so on

me: convoluted. probably still illegally infringing on something or other. kind of a hopeless premise? like living in a dreamworld? that’s... that feels... fake? unsatisfying? like happiness only happens there. you know that’s a lie.

Brain: ok, maybe. but you could try.

Brain: maybe you can even do it better.

me: oh, fuck you.

tbh I really think Brain might’ve won this round.

So if you’ve gotten this far in my tale of woe, pls feel free to rec me any sources for ancient myths and fairytales from all over the world, and some good history sources, because today I’m looking up whether Cinderella is based on a French fairytale from the 1700s or the 17th century, and also travel in the 1600-1700s (was it reserved to nobles/high-income folks? where did they travel to?)

Anyway, chances are it’ll be another 5-10 years before anything comes of this.

but Dragons.

#sample chapter #I've a few already written that needed a serious rewrite #started migrating this to ao3... woke a sleeping dragon #dragonfic #ugh

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viridian-prince · 4 years

Text

T.H.E. V.E.R.S.E.S.

Main verses roughly based on historic story of Liu Feng, Adopted son of Liu Bei. This verse goes with the route story about adopted princes time within Shu kingdom stories and all the way until his death.

Years with his mother & Liu Bei adopting him.

Time being adopted son // Feng’s loyalty to Liu Bei.

Betrayal & Deception // Prince's unjust Broken reputation.

Based on ALL the Warriors Orochi time-line & story plots. Orochi, the serpent king created world realm of his own. He gathered all the skilled warriors from several different worlds just to test himself and force them serve under him.

Warriors Orochi 1 & 2 ~ Liu Feng finds himself also in Orochi’s world. Adopted prince attempts save Shu & Liu Bei.

Warriors Orochi 3~ Liu Feng is still in the strange world of Orochi and is working with Chinese lords and the Samurai lords to end the threats and hopefully go home.

Warriors Orochi 4 ~ Liu Feng magically found himself within Orochi realm again. Was Zues king of Olympians gods and goddesses that brought them back with hidden agendas. Odin and Loki norse gods have also entered an becomes an threat to humanity along with orochi an malicious other demons.

Hypothetical & Semi-historic verses. The basic what if scenarios for Liu Feng’s legends & myths. History that has been altered for interesting story telling.

Exiled // What if he was exiled instead forced to commit suicide.

Defection to Wei // What if Liu Feng listened to Meng Da went to Wei.

Defection to Wu // What if Liu Feng went to Wu with Sun Xiang’s help.

Liu Feng in typical Modern world of our society. Mainly verse is about.

Liu Feng the CEO Owner Of SHU GROUP President’s adopted / illegitimate son. Feng has choice to fight his Liu Shan his little brother for ownership of the company spot or remain share holder.

Liu Feng is a son of one of China’s notorious underground Bosses. Can he pass make name for himself or will he fall into family’s sleazy traditions.

Hard worker that is co-owners with a friend of small vintage / chic Cafe.

Adaptive & flexible verse for Liu Feng being within the Final Fantasy’s Worlds. Each worlds he’ll have story of his life there & altered verses also for Final Fantasy scenarios stories / plots.

Liu Feng’s last remaining survivor of strong ruling nobility bloodline. The Rage he feels for his Noble Clan’s undoing is unfathomable. That rage gave him will live and get revenge on the person - Or - people responsible.

With Etro’s blessings from deadly encounter, Liu Feng is gifted as to be Seer / Goddess tasked him help heal decaying & ill souls. He has also been found occasionally play the death goddesses medium // her messenger.

Liu Feng’s a flashy Yevon monk & old friend’s of High Summoner Braska with an mysterious secret. Around the Eternal Calm, he becomes part of New Yevon trying make sure old traditions kept but old mistakes stay in the past and remain in the past.

Liu Feng is affiliated with Tsviets, are an elite group of soldiers that lead the Deepground army that colored Tsviets had their genes spliced with the genes of Genesis Rhapsodos, in addition to each of them being involved in a unique experiment that granted them their special abilities and powers. As the newest member experiment succeeded,Liu Feng slept dormant, only to be awakened after most Tsviets died. He now roams around as for hire mercenary.

This verse, Liu Feng is young fiery lad that came Skyrim. He is part of family with a lineage of Warriors. Coming to Skyrim means starting over his life with clean slates. Nothing going get in his way, not even an pesky dragons.

Arriving into Skyrim, Liu Feng joins The Companions. He’ll earn his respect with his abilities with swords & combat prowess. Companions would never tolerate bad mouthing of any of their shield-brothers & sisters. Half-Nord found his perfect second family away from home.

Since coming to Skyrim, things hasn't went smoothly for new start as Liu Feng would’ve like it to be. Traveling as swords for hire for bounties has finally opened golden opportunity. Becoming traveling companion for the Dragon Born.

Liu Feng becomes housecarl. He serves thane / or jarl with upmost high quality capabilities, Half-Nord is off duty he unwinds in local taverns drinking ale with a good book in hand to read.

Time in Skyrim has been very fruitful, Half-Nord decides to give Bard life an try, he admit’s exotic features has helped allure his patrons in as he sings songs of tales legends and of woes. Gotten even tipped extra gold for his exotic allure.

AU Verses - Basically my Other Alternate verses. This could be from many of the other verses from modern/ historical / random crossover ones but with more unique twists. Basically at times my quickly plotted // winging threads. Au verses are the not commonly/ over used threads to specific crossovers / history / modern / movies verse threads.

Semi- historical Liu Feng // AU Verse

Modern Liu Feng // AU Verse

Crossovers Liu Feng // AU Verses

Games / Movies // AU Verses

________________________________________________________________

More to probably come..

#OOC POST #mun post #rping- verses

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candlecoo · 2 years

Note

Meeting of the AUs, Wooden Doll AU Deku showing off all his masks and everyone else being jealous because each mask is basically it’s own Quirk

they would be very jealous.

#meeting of the aus #candle answers #ask the candle #bnha au #bnha #bnha headcannons #digital art #my art #art #fanart #bnha izuku #wooden doll au #norse myth modern legend au #ant antics au

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constablewafflebottom · 2 years

Text

Dream A Little Dream of Me

Chapter Two

Much longer one this time, I'm going to try to do every day as it's own chapter, within reason. I try to keep each one around 6-8,000 words, so. Get ready for that 😂 Be warned, this chapter does contain explicit smut, as will every one from here on, most likely.

The obnoxious trill of the alarm was the next thing I was aware of and I desperately tried to recall how I’d gotten to bed. Hadn’t I been in the living room with…? I glanced blearily around the room, but it was only me, my husband snoozing the alarm and rolling over into the pillows, and the soft milky light of dawn creeping through the window blinds. Last night must have been a dream after all, I realized with a sigh. The only way to describe the way that felt was bittersweet. On one hand, I was relieved that the dreams were not gone as I’d feared, on the other I was devastated that he was not real after all. Curious, too, was the vast difference in the way that dream had gone as compared to every other before it. I had never had to seek him out, nor had he ever been inserted into my waking life like that.

Rather than linger in bed to doze and get reawakened by the alarm over and over until Michael urged me out of bed, I got up, relieved myself and brushed my teeth before slipping my robe over my nightgown and cinching the belt tight around my waist. For reasons I couldn’t explain, I had become increasingly modest around my husband. The idea of him seeing me scantily dressed, much less touching me intimately, made me strangely uncomfortable, as if his distance had turned back the clock on our physical relationship. It certainly couldn’t be because of a fantasized relationship with the man from my dreams, the one whose name I never learned, but called me things I never thought I would want to be called. Things like my dulcet darling, my little dove, my beloved, my queen, things my husband had never imagined calling me (not when clichés like babe and boo existed). Certainly, my newfound modesty was not out of a sense of fidelity to a man that didn’t exist.

The bedroom was still dark and mostly quiet when I passed back through, apart from the softer snores of my dozing spouse. I didn't give him another glance as I left the room and made my way into the kitchen. With an ease of motion brought by a well established routine, I started my music, then the coffee before moving on to breakfast. Sausage and eggs crackled in the pan as I gathered bread, condiments, and lunch-meat. While waiting for breakfast to cook, I prepared Michael’s lunch, vaguely aware of the sound of the shower running as I packed his insulated lunchbox with his sandwiches, drinks, ice packs and snacks, throwing in his vitamins and herbal supplements before closing the box. Once the breakfast sandwich was finished, it was wrapped up and placed on top of the box with his travel mug of coffee beside it.

My early start meant I’d had an early finish, so I took my own coffee and moved to the living room, intending to turn on the television for background noise and to find out the weather forecast for the day. I stood by the couch, ignoring the surreal feeling of having been in that very spot with him and fighting the urge to search for a sign that he’d been there, that was impossible. Instead I looked around for the remote control, when my eyes fell to the floor and I gasped, finding the very thing I was trying not to look for. There were impressions left in the fibers under my bare feet and I followed them with my gaze, from where I was standing behind the couch, around the table to the shelf of photographs where I’d first seen him. Then I followed with my feet and stood gaping at the imprint of large boots, standing for a long time, judging by the depth of the prints, and then followed the steps back toward the place by the couch where I’d started, the final prints marred and obscured by my own just minutes before. For a long moment, I stared at the only tangible evidence that someone other than myself and my husband had been in this room.

“Everything ready?” Michael’s voice startled me and I jumped with a gasp. “What’s wrong with you?”

“No-nothing. Sorry, I just… spaced out, you startled me,” I excused. It wasn’t uncommon, I was easily spooked, especially when I took to zoning out like that. My husband hummed, uninterested in the innocuous explanation and moved to put his boots on. “Everything is done,” I said, hurrying to the kitchen to set down my mug so I could grab his food and meet him by the door as he stood up. I hung the long handle of the box over his shoulder and gave him the cup and sandwich. “I got done early, just remember the sandwich is wrapped in paper towel and foil, I didn’t want it to get soggy on you,” I warned as I retrieved my own cup again.

“Mmm, thanks,” Michael hummed again, taking a sip from his coffee. “Alright, love you,” he said, leaning in for a goodbye kiss. As a force of habit, I kissed him and repeated the same thing I said every day.

“Love you, too. Be safe and have a good day,” I responded robotically.

With that, he stepped through the door and I watched him walk to his truck, climb in, and drive away. I closed the door behind him, locked it, and stood there staring at the wood paneling for a long moment. Part of me wanted to look at the footprints again, but I was afraid it was simply my imagination or wishful thinking. Maybe they were my husband’s footprints after all. I glanced down at the floor where he'd just been standing and saw the faint print of his shoe. Impulsively, I placed my foot there, lining my heel up and estimating the length between my toes and the tip of the print. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of inches, three at most. I hurried over to the place by the shelf and inspected the floor, and sure enough, the print was still there and definitely bigger than the one left by my husband. Just to be certain, I placed my foot exactly the same way and estimated the difference. This print dwarfed my own, it was easily five or six inches longer. My heart thundered in my chest and my hands shook so violently that I had to put my cup of rapidly cooling coffee on the shelf.

It… it was real. The previous night, where my dream lover had come to life, had kissed me with more passion than I’d ever felt in all of my days, and had vowed to return to bring my dreams into reality… it had been real. And he was coming back.

---

The remainder of the morning passed in a haze of giddy anticipation as I went though the motions of my day. Washing the dishes, tidying the kitchen, and doing the chores scheduled for that day. Around lunch time, Michael called as he usually did to check in, and I mentioned that I’d made an appointment at the salon because it was time for me to get a haircut again, although the reality was that I wanted to look as good as possible this evening. Annoyingly, my husband hemmed and hawed, complaining about me spending money on something that ‘didn’t matter.’

“Why? It’s not like you work, nobody sees you. Why do you have to waste money on stuff like that,” he groused.

“You get yours cut every six weeks, and you spend a ton on styling products for your hair and beard. Why shouldn’t I spend a little to get my hair done once in a while?” I demanded.

“Because, the way I look matters,” he repeated, as if explaining something to a small child. “Clients and suppliers see me every day, my appearance is an investment. The only time yours matters is when we go out together.”

“I’m getting my hair done,” I repeated firmly. “I wasn’t asking permission, I was letting you know. I probably won’t be back by the time you get home, dinner’s in the Crock-Pot.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, I hung up the phone, surprised at my own audacity. I had never taken such an attitude with my husband before, never put my foot down and stood up for myself. It took me a moment to calm down, then I took a shower and got ready for my appointment. I got my hair treated, cut, and blown out, and then for good measure (and to spend more of my husband’s money for spite) I got my fingers and toes done, and made a trip to the esthetician for a full-service waxing.

By the time I was done, it was after time for Michael to be home and I was still reluctant to see him, so I stopped at the shopping mall and wandered around for a while to kill time and minimize my exposure to my surly spouse. As I passed a Frederick’s of Hollywood storefront, I glanced inside and had to stop to do a double-take. I didn’t often buy lingerie, as my husband said, my appearance didn’t matter. If that was so, then what I wore under my clothes certainly didn’t, either. Everything I had at home was serviceable, sturdy, plain, intended to last for a while and work with as many outfits as possible. The only exception was the few frilly nightgowns I'd bought when we first married.

But, as I studied the wispy items displayed on the mannequins, I remembered his promise, as well as the instruction. He would return, and he wanted me ready for him. I didn’t give myself a chance to talk me out of it, I walked into the store and started browsing, wondering what sorts of things would appeal to him. Matching bra and panties? Thongs? Cheeky boy-shorts? Or a teddy, perhaps? Maybe a sheer night gown, similar to the one I’d worn last night? Yeah, that felt right; something feminine without being too revealing, sexy without being slutty.

They each had a bra top with an empire waist and a sheer flowing skirt that would fall just below my cheeks, with a matching set of panties. They were perfect, but what color to choose? I hummed and chewed my lip as I deliberated on my choices; I didn’t like pink, red was too intentional, blue just felt wrong, white seemed too virginal, the black one was nice, and I almost chose it before my eyes fell to the green one. It had never been my first color choice for any of my attire, but when I remembered the green light that emanated from him, and the vibrant green of his eyes, I knew that was it. I found my size, and just for shits and giggles, I grabbed the black one as well as a gold one and took them to the register to pay.

No doubt Michael would gripe and moan about me spending money on sexy nighties, but maybe I just wouldn’t tell him. Otherwise he might expect they were for him. The thought caused an unexpected swell of guilt to roil in my stomach, but I viciously squashed it down. That asshole barely treated me better than hired help, and he certainly didn’t display any interest in me as a sexual partner—we didn’t even cuddle in bed.

“Got an interesting evening planned,” the cashier asked with a grin.

“Oh, y-yeah, I guess,” I replied, feeling my face heat with a blush.

“It’s your first night together, isn’t it?” The cashier giggled.

“Uh, y-yeah, how did you know?”

“Fresh hair, fresh nails, brand new lingerie,” she shrugged with a knowing look at me. “Educated guess.” With a deliberate glance down at my ringed left hand, the cashier added, “Not to overstep, because it’s none of my business, but… just be careful, okay? I’m all for getting yours where you need to get it, but things get messy, quick.” I swallowed hard and blushed again. “No shame here, honey. Trust me, I get it. $128.40,” she offered, handing the bag over the counter.

I swiped my card as I accepted the bag and waited for the approval beep.

“Would you like your receipt?” asked the cashier.

“Oh, uh, n-no. No, thank you,�� I stammered.

“Alrighty, thanks for shopping with us,” the cashier smiled brightly. “Have fun, and be safe.”

“Thank you,” I nodded with an uneasy smile in return. Uneasiness not withstanding, I was genuinely grateful for the woman’s concern and advice, and her lack of judgement.

---

When I got home later that evening, I fully expected Michael to be in a sour mood. Not only because I’d gone out and spent his money, but because I’d hung up on him and then spent the entire afternoon and evening out, leaving him alone to stew. He wasn’t as irate as I expected.

“What’d you buy,” he asked shortly, noticing the bag in my hand.

“My nightgowns started falling apart, so I bought a couple new ones,” I exaggerated. They hadn’t really started falling apart, but they were getting old and worn, now that I thought about it. I was so used to putting my own needs last, I never paid attention to things like the state of my pajamas, I couldn’t even remember exactly when or where I’d bought the last ones. He grunted in acknowledgement, knowing he couldn’t really complain if that were the case.

“I’m getting ready for bed, we have to get up early tomorrow. You coming?”

“I need to eat and clean up the kitchen and stuff, I’ll be in in a bit,” I excused. He grunted again and ambled into the bedroom while I fixed myself a plate of food, and before long I heard his snore rumbling through the open door. I finished eating, packed up the leftovers, and washed up the dishes, all the while wondering if or when he would appear.

It had been such a long time since I felt so nervous! The closer I got to going to bed, the more my hands shook, the more my heart raced, the more my stomach tied up with knots. And then I recalled all the ways he’d made love to me, the rampant desire he’d set to brewing inside of me every time he touched me. The trembling, racing, anxiousness was not from nerves, then, but anticipation. I repeatedly quashed the intrusive thought that he wouldn’t come, that he wasn’t real, that I’d simply begun to lose my mind from an overabundance of unsatisfied carnal desires. Before I made my way to the bedroom, I stopped in front of the photo shelf for the reassurance that at least I wasn’t really crazy and took comfort in the footprints fading from the carpet. He was real, my mind was safe, for now, and maybe he really would come.

I entered the bedroom with the bag of negligeés and considered leaving the door ajar, but if he could simply appear in the living room, surely he could do the same for the bedroom. So, I closed the door and tip-toed past my snoring husband into the bathroom to change. My clothes were stripped off, and I smoothed a subtly fragrant lotion into my skin, leaving myself soft and supple all over. Then I brushed my teeth to get the taste and smell of pot roast out of my mouth, and did my evening skin-care regimen. Only then did I draw the green nightdress from the bag, remove the tags and give it a couple of spritzes of perfume before sliding the top over my head, and the lacy panties up my tanned, silky legs. I applied some lip balm and, with a final fluff of my hair, decided I was as ready as I could be.

There was one concern that I wasn’t giving credence to, as with the lack of intimacy with my husband, I’d had no reason to keep up with birth control. The idea that he could get me pregnant caused a rush of arousal straight to my core. It shouldn’t excite me, if anyone but Michael got me pregnant, it could spell a whole list of problems for me, but it did excite me on a primal level. I stared into the blue-gray eyes of my reflection for a long moment as I realized that I was really going to do this, if he did indeed show. There was no doubt or trepidation; I wanted this, more than anything. God, please let him show.

On quiet feet, I stepped to the door to the bathroom and turned the light off before opening it, lest it wake my husband and he see me gussied up. Heaven forbid he think this was for him, the last thing I wanted was for him to touch me. The thought was enough to make me shudder, and not in the good way.

He’d said to be ready, but he never specified a place to prepare. I hesitated to crawl into bed, but I didn’t want to be sitting up in the living room, so what was I meant to do? If he appeared the way he did last night, I supposed I could just get up and find him. Slowly, carefully to not disturb Michael, I slid into the bed and lay back on the pillows, covering myself with the duvet to keep from catching a chill while I waited. I stared at the ceiling and drummed my fingers on my stomach. How long would it take for him to show up? Was there a specific time he would, or could appear? Was it like a Witching Hour thing? Where was he coming from anyway? I tried my best to stay awake and wait for him, but the more I tried to fight it, the more tired I became. Maybe if I just closed my eyes, I could imagine him to pass the time. My eyes closed then, and the world fell away.

---

There was a dip in the mattress by my legs that roused me, a deep shifting and a subtle creak as if the springs compressed under a great weight. Twin points of heavy pressure, on either side of my knees, and the sensation of the blanket sliding down from my neck to bare my lace covered chest. Then I heard a soft intake of breath as the blanket moved to reveal more of me. For a moment, I panicked, afraid that it was my husband taking liberties with me the way he had when we’d first married, but I realized I could still feel his body heat radiating faintly from a couple feet away. My head was turned in his direction and my eyes fluttered open to see Michael sleeping peacefully, none the wiser to the visitor in our bed. I began to pant as a flush crept up from my chest to stain my cheeks before my eyes slid up and away from my husband to the now-familiar face of the man poised above me.

He was knelt over me, upright and straddling my legs as his voracious, verdant gaze took in every inch of me that was exposed to him. His pink tongue darted out to lick his thin lips before meeting my eye with a satisfied grin.

“Y-you’re here,” I whispered.

“I am,” he replied, his voice as quiet as my own, but sounding just the way I remembered.

“I-I didn’t know if you would,” I admitted, and his grin shifted into a comforting smile.

“I am,” he replied, his voice as quiet as my own, but sounding just the way I remembered.

“I-I didn’t know if you would,” I admitted, and his grin shifted into a comforting smile.

“Never doubt me, little one,” he advised. “I promised to return, and I am a man of my word, so to speak," he added, his tone indicating a joke I didn’t quite get. Slowly, he leaned down and pressed his face into the soft mound of my belly, nuzzling me and breathing in the scent of my skin. “Have you been waiting for me,” he asked, and I almost laughed at that absurdity of his question. I’d been waiting my whole life for someone like him, and all day for him specifically. “Eagerly anticipating my return?” I gasped as his lips dropped gentle, wet kisses up my stomach to my sternum, nosing the flimsy material out of the way and leaving a trail to cool in the night air, then over my breast bone until he reached my neck.

“M-my husband,” I breathed quietly, quickly losing the ability to care about the man in question as my lover’s hot breath puffed across my skin. He let out a dry laugh as he suckled on my neck.

“I wouldn’t worry about him, my sweet, a bomb could go off in this room and he wouldn’t wake up.”

I gasped and froze with another frantic glance at my husband, “H-he’s not—” His laughter cut my question off before I could ask it.

“While I’m certainly not above such a thing, you may rest easy. It’s a simple sleeping spell,” he assured me. “He will wake when it is time for him to wake and not a moment before,” he said, moving his mouth along my neck to my mouth to silence any subsequent question with his lips.

Well, Michael wouldn’t wake up, but he wasn’t dead, that was good enough for me, so I gave myself over to the greedy kiss. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders to hold myself close to him and returned his embrace with equal fervor. He nipped at my lips with his teeth and I opened to him, moaning softly when his tongue slid inside to stroke mine. I arched when his hands smoothed up my sides from my hips to my waist, to cup my heaving breasts in his big hands. He broke the kiss long enough to grin at me.

“I know I told you to be ready for me, but this was far more than I expected. Suppose I should have known you wouldn’t disappoint,” he praised, returning to kiss and suck and nibble at my neck. He breathed deeply of me, groaning at the heady fragrance of skin and perfume. I squirmed under him with a moan, trying to move my legs to wrap his waist, eager to feel him against me but he eluded me with another chuckle. “Oh, no, my dearest one, we have waited far too long for this, and I intend to savor every delicious moment.” He crawled back down my body, his mouth and hands alternating over my lace covered breasts, rolling and plucking, and drawing and dragging his teeth gently on my hardened nipples through the fabric. “Wrapped up so prettily in your lace and ribbons,” he murmured between bites. “What a perfect little gift you are, all for me, and I can’t wait to open it.”

“Y-you wanna do that here?” I whimpered incredulously.

“This is where I found you. Besides, I can think of no better place, can you?” he asked, moving from my breasts to kiss down my stomach. “In the marital bed you share with an ungrateful husband, who does not love you as he should. If we’re going to cuckold him, we may as well do it properly, don’t you think?”

I had to admit, the taboo of cheating, the insult of doing in our bed, the danger of doing it with Michael asleep right beside us? That was all incredibly exciting, but this was the first time we would really be together, and it may be the only time. Michael had no place in this. I pushed up on my elbows to look at him, and he lifted his head to meet my gaze with wide, lust blown eyes. I cradled his face in my hands as I sat up to kiss him.

“Maybe next time, if there is a next time, but this time I only want you,” I whispered. His lustful gaze softened as he looked at me.

“Oh, there will be a next time, and a time after that,” told me, punctuating with kisses. “And a time after that, until the end of eternity if you wish it,” he vowed, warming me and setting my heart racing double time. Then he glanced at the sleeping man beside us and grudgingly admitted, “That sound is obnoxious, how do you sleep with all that noise?”

“You kind of just get used to it,” I giggled as his disgruntled face. He scoffed and scrunched his face as if he didn’t believe me before sitting up fully and pulling me with him.

“Well, if not here, my dulcet darling, then where would you have me?” He asked.

“Guest room, across the hall,” I supplied breathlessly.

Before I could stand, however, he rose from the bed and lifted me into his arms, throwing me like a sack of flour over his shoulder. I yelped and giggled as he carried me, with my bottom in the air and my hair over my face, through the door into the guest room. The doors closed behind us by an unseen force and he dropped me across the middle of the bed. He gave me no time to adjust my position before he was on me again, kissing me with a desperate hunger that left me gasping and clawing at his clothes, eager to feel his skin under my hands.

Briefly, he pulled back, sitting on his heels to yank the shirt over his head. He turned to toss it away, giving me the chance to marvel at his exposed torso. My mouth literally watered at the defined planes and sprinkling of hair on his chest, the ridges of his abdominal muscles and the hair that trailed down from his belly button to disappear into his pants, the thick sinew of his arms and shoulders. God, he was a sight, and so much better than in my fantasy. As many times as this had happened in my dreams, I never thought he would be real, that he would be a person with a name, so I never asked. But now that I knew he was real... He looked back at me and grinned at the at the no doubt gawping expression on my face. He moved back to kiss me again, but I hesitated.

“What is it, my dove,” he asked.

“I-I just realized, I don’t know your name,” I whispered, his concern evident in his eyes.

“Is that important,” he asked guardedly.

“Well, I’d like to know what name I should be screaming later,” I quipped, my soft voice at odds with the sassy arch of my brow. His guarded expression dropped and he laughed, fully and openly with a shake of his head.

“Yes, I suppose so,” he replied, still tremulous with his laughter. He sighed and looked into my eyes, “I am Loki of the Æsir, son of Laufey, god of mischief.”

I stared blankly at him, blinking in stunned silence. I mean, I had no reason not to believe that what he said was true, but…

“A-are you serious?”

“Rarely, but in this instance, yes,” he replied, watching me carefully. “Does that… change things?”

“No,” I answered immediately, noting the relief apparent in his smile and in the way his shoulders dropped, before he leaned back in to kiss me, but I pulled back again. “Unless… I mean, I know I’m not in a position to be judgmental, but, are you really married, with children?” I asked, rushing to explain my curiosity. “Because my husband might be an asshole, but I don’t want to break up a family, Loki.”

“You are worried about causing heartache to a hypothetical woman you do not know,” he smiled at me, stroking my face and tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “Worry not, my dearest heart. I am, as yet, unspoken for. That is one of the many things the stories got wrong.” Loki leaned in to kiss me, but I pulled back once again and he huffed softly in frustration.

“Don’t you want to know my name,” I asked. He grinned a little sheepishly, if someone like him could be sheepish.

“I already know it,” he answered. “Moira, daughter of Bernard, and regrettably, wife of Michael.”

“Well, why’ve you never used it before?” I demanded.

“You didn’t know mine,” he shrugged. “I thought it might be weird if I used your name and you didn’t know mine.”

"And you never thought to introduce yourself?”

“Neither did you,” returned Loki.

“Alright, that's fair…” I mumbled.

“Now, can we resume,” Loki asked, his voice almost a purr, his gaze centered on my lips. “Or was there more you wished to know before I have my way with you.”

I hummed, as if giving the question real thought, but at the moment all I could really think about was finally letting him have his way. Loki watched me indulgently, likely knowing that I was teasing him.

“Yeah, we can resume,” I finally answered, leaning up to meet his kiss once again. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down with me as I lay back on the coverlet, and he followed, sweeping his tongue into my mouth and groaning as I eagerly arched against him. Our ardor had cooled a bit in the time between changing beds and the ensuing conversation, but it was burning just as hot now that I’d succeeded in getting his narrow hips between my legs.

Loki pressed me into the mattress under his weight while my hands roamed his muscled back and shoulders, stroking his chest and upper stomach. Before I could reach down to unfasten his trousers, he grabbed my hands and held them down by my head. The display of dominance had me letting out a needy groan but I didn’t fight it, though I did whimper in protest when his mouth left mine to trail down my body, and dropped my head back in frustration. That only gave Loki the room to suckle bruises on my throat, and through the haze of desire I worried vaguely about having visible love bites on my skin, but when his mouth found my nipple again, I forgot all about it. He released my hands in favor of exposing and groping at my breasts, and I had the chance to tunnel my fingers through his hair again, tugging on his fiery curls the way he liked while his hot, wet mouth worked my hardened buds. The growl that rumbled through my chest and straight to my core was proof enough that he enjoyed it. Then his hand, with nimble, expert fingers danced across my naked thigh and ever so lightly caressed my heat over the lace panties. The texture of the fabric added a subtle vibration as the pad of his finger glided across it that caused a fresh rush of arousal to my core.

He drew his mouth away with a hiss and a groan.

“Oh, my angel, you are so wet for me, aren’t you,” Loki moaned, his voice roughened by his lust.

“I’m always wet for you,” I answered. “Please, Loki.”

He smirked and began to move down my body once again, this time not stopping until my knees were hooked over his arms. He had a nearly unobstructed view of my wet folds, but for the undergarments blocking him. Carefully, as if to avoid tearing my lacy underthings, he slipped his fingers into the waistband of my underwear and shimmied them over my hips, dropping kisses on each inch of exposed skin until he had to close my legs to divest me of them entirely. Once again, he tossed them carelessly over his shoulder before reclaiming his spot between my spread thighs. He sighed in satisfaction, the puff of warm air tickled me and I had to resist the urge to squirm under his undivided attention.

To my surprise, Loki didn’t immediately dive in to feast on me, instead he placed soft kisses from my knee to my groin and skipped over my center to give the other side equal attention, the only difference being the lustful bite to the soft flesh of my inner thigh. The sound I made was a cross between a yelp and a moan, because right after the bite, he did dive in to deliver a ravenous kiss to my wet, aching center. I let out a loud, keening moan at the sensation of his mouth on me and slapped a hand over my face to stifle the sound when his tongue slid along my slit to lap up my juices. He chuckled into me, sending jolts of pleasure through my body, delving in as deep as the appendage would allow before withdrawing to envelope me and draw in my clit, circling it with his tongue. My body writhed, head thrashing and toes curling as he made love to me with nothing but his mouth, repeating the cycle of sliding his tongue up, then in, then all around over and again.

Then his fingers found me and I swear, I nearly shot off of the bed. They were gentle at first, probing at my soaked entrance before one slid in, deeper than my fingers had ever been, certainly deeper than my husband’s had ever been—but I wouldn’t think of him now, it would only tarnish this moment of absolute rapture with Loki and his magic fingers. Another digit slid inside and I clenched around them. Loki moaned at my response, keeping his tongue and lips on my pussy, and thrust his fingers into me, slipping a third one in and curling them as he drew hard on me. I broke then, arching off of the bed and clamping my thighs around his head with a desperate cry as I came for him. He moaned again as he tasted my orgasm on his tongue, but he didn’t stop the movements of his hand or mouth until he’d wrung every last drop of pleasure out of me.

I fell back onto the bed, gasping and panting, almost embarrassed at how terribly easy it had been for him to get me to come. But, I suppose when my dry spell had been years in the making, it was only natural for my touch starved body to respond the way it had. Loki, his hair a mess from where I’d pulled on it, captured my gaze as he crawled up my body, kissing my stomach and watching me through the red curls, tousled and hanging over his eyes. When he reached my face again, he kissed me hungrily and I nearly recoiled at the taste of myself in his mouth, but I refused to find anything about him or this moment distasteful, and wrapped my arms around his neck. I drew my hands back down to hold his face and pulled my mouth away just long enough to speak.

“Now it’s my turn,” I panted. Loki chuckled and shook his head.

“No, my delicious one, this is to be the night I fulfill you, not the other way ‘round,” he replied.

“My throat is still a part of me, isn’t it,” I asked rhetorically. Loki was momentarily stunned by my words, and didn’t fight when I pushed against him, rolling until I sat astride his lap. I leaned down and began peppering kisses along his neck, and along his collar bones, copying his habit of nipping and biting on the sensitive skin there.

“I-it’s not that I don’t appreciate the intention,” he breathed, gripping my full hips in his hands and pressing me into his hardened loins. “But, dreams are one thing… I’m afraid I’m a bit more than you can handle, my darling. ‘Giant’ is not an exaggeration.”

I hummed as I kissed down his chest and rocked my hips on him, wrapping my lips around his nipple and sucking hard on the little pebble. He groaned and bucked subtly under me, and I giggled.

“Don’t underestimate me,” I warned, lifting my head to meet his confused eyes. “I might be small, but I don’t have a gag reflex.”

“W-what?” Loki sputtered, but I didn’t answer. I resumed my path down to his stomach until I was on my knees between his legs, my naked backside in the air as I tugged his trousers open. While I ran my tongue along the furrow of muscle over his hip, my hands reached in to fish his hardened cock from within the fabric. I gripped his length in one hand and stroked it, glancing up to see his reaction, and would have laughed if I hadn’t been so aroused by the sight. His face was flushed and his lips were slightly parted, a sheen of sweat or my own fluids on his upper lip, but his eyes were desperate, if a little disbelieving as he watched me. I hoped the visual was a pleasing one for him and decided it must be. His muscular chest and stomach expanded and clenched with his heaving breath, and his arms and shoulders flexed as he held himself up on his elbows.

A small, salacious smile curved my lips, I’d never thought I could have this effect on a man, especially one as gorgeous and perfect as this one, but there he was, barely restraining himself while I touched him. I hummed happily and turned my attention back to the rampant cock in my hand. Loki hadn’t been exaggerating about his size, his was easily the biggest I had ever seen. Almost as long as my forearm, and nearly as wide. Thick veins webbed along the shaft, and the uncut head was wet with lubricating fluids and so red it was almost purple. I stroked him again, watching with fascination as the skin slid back and exposed it. Even though I'd resolved not to think of my husband, I couldn’t help but compare them; Loki made him look like a cocktail sausage and I giggled at the mental image.

“Don’t tease me, kjærlighet,” my god groaned above me.

“I’m not,” I giggled again. “Just… bracing myself.” I studied the cock throbbing in my hand and considered where to start.

My tongue flattened on the underside of his shaft and dragged it up the considerable length, stopping before I reached the crown and starting back at the bottom, over and again until I’d licked the entire circumference. He moaned above me and threaded one hand in the hair at the back of my head; he didn’t push me in any direction, he simply held me as I wrapped my mouth along the shaft. I ran my open lips up and down, and all around the bottom half and stroked the top with my hand, gently squeezing the weeping head and spreading his fluid. My focus shifted to the base of his cock and I sucked and licked around the place where it met his groin before moving to take one of his swollen balls into my mouth, running my tongue along the sensitized skin and drawing gently. The sharp exhale, followed by the gasp and groan he let out sent a rush of pleasure through me, so I switched sides to give the other equal attention. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t devote so much time to this, but his obvious enjoyment of it had me licking and sucking on his heavy sac for several long minutes while I stroked him. But I’d waited long enough, and I wanted to feel him in my mouth and taste him on my tongue. I withdrew from below, and hovered over the twitching, throbbing mass filling my hand and glanced up at his face again to see how he was doing. He looked absolutely wrecked, dewy with sweat, flushed and delirious with lust, his green eyes were nearly black for how wide his pupils had grown under his furrowed red brows.

But, even with my hesitation, Loki never used the hand in my hair to force me down on him, he simply waited for me to make my move. With my eyes locked on his, I lowered and enveloped the glistening head in my mouth, unable to stifle the moan at the salty sweet taste of him. He let out a trembling, breathy groan in response and dropped his head back before jerking it back up, unwilling to miss a single moment of me loving him. His tongue darted out to lick his lips as he watched me take his length into my mouth, a little at first as I suckled and massaged him with my lips and tongue, then more and more until he was nudging at the back of my throat.

“Oh, fuck me. Moira,” he muttered with a gasp, suddenly losing all of his eloquence.

If you insist, I thought with private amusement, and with a deep breath I relaxed my throat to swallow him down. If he thought I’d been bluffing before, he was well and truly convinced now as he slid further into my mouth until my nose was pressing into the springy hair at the base of his cock. His strangled moans were their own reward, and his hand tightened in my hair. Not to hold me down, but simply to hold me the only way he could. My throat contracted around him as I flexed and swallowed, before withdrawing and plunging back down to effectively fuck him with my throat. His moans turned desperate, and when I withdrew again, he pulled my mouth away before I could take him back in and sat up for a messy, open mouthed kiss, seemingly undeterred by the taste of his own essence on my tongue.

In a flash I was on my back again with Loki’s face in my neck and his bared hips pressed between my thighs, flexing them with another groan as he slid along my dripping slit. My back arched at the sensation and I wrapped my arms around his waist as I writhed under him. He held himself over me on one elbow and set his knees wide, using his free hand to rub his cock along my opening and spread my slick all over himself before pressing the tip into me. With agonizing slowness, he sank inch by spine tingling inch inside. Even as wet and eager as I was, he was still so much bigger than anything I’d ever felt before, and it did take a moment to adjust. Once the path was set, he planted both elbows by my head, caging me in an embrace and held his face close to me to kiss me deeply as he gently, carefully, and subtly shifted his hips. With the most minute of movements, the tiniest thrusts, he urged more of his length inside of me, in and out again while I moaned beneath him. Our breaths mingled, our sounds of pleasure were synchronized and harmonious as he filled me. With every inch he gained, his thrusts grew deeper and more purposeful, and my legs trembled along his flanks until he was fully embedded within me.

“Oh, that’s it, my beloved, you’re mine now,” Loki breathed and held himself still as we savored the feeling of complete oneness with eachother. He was right, I was his now, and there was no going back. I whimpered and shook, arching again to urge him to move as I dug my fingers into his backside.

“Please, Loki, please,” I begged. He smiled as he pressed his mouth against mine and slid his tongue inside to mimic the motion of his hips. I lost myself in the feeling of him slowly slipping out until he was almost entirely withdrawn before pressing back in just as deep. The breath left my lungs in a sound of primal pleasure as he moved, filling me, leaving me, and filling me again. My body moved by sheer instinct, rolling my hips and clawing my fingers, my mind lost to my lust and love as Loki took me higher than I’d ever been.

All sense of reality was gone, I didn’t worry about the time, I didn’t worry if the neighbors could hear the animalistic cries I was letting out, I didn’t care if Michael suddenly woke to find me spread beneath Loki and taking him with such enthusiasm. All I cared about was the feeling of being joined with and loved by him, and when he started to swivel his hips with every thrust, all that I cared about was the unbridled pleasure he was giving me. My body wound tight, my pussy spasming around him, and I knew an unprecedented second orgasm was building. I was vaguely aware of his mouth still on mine, but he wasn’t kissing me, he was gasping and moaning into me as if even he’d been overwhelmed by our lovemaking. His shoulders quaked from holding his own weight under the onslaught of sensation. He moved then, dropping his hands to grab my bottom as he buried his face in my neck again, using his grip on my cheeks to lift my hips as he pounded into me. On top of the heat and friction, there were the sounds; my heartbeat thundering in my head, his breathless moans and desperately groaned curses in my ear, and the wet pat-pat-pat of his hips meeting mine.

My own sounds of pleasure twisted into a keening wail as my body snapped, my pussy clenching unmercifully, shuddering and trembling around his cock and milking it as my hips bucked against him. He fucked into me harder then, inhumanly fast as his own climax washed over him, drawing mine on for several moments until he spilled deep inside me with a low growl. But he never stopped, not until I fell limp against the bed, gasping and panting, shivering with aftershocks and shaking from weakness, unable to take anymore. He held himself still within my body as he kissed me, wrapping his arms around my waist to keep me close. I circled his hips with my legs again and held him around the neck as we drifted back into ourselves.

When my heartbeat and breathing had slowed a little and I could see clearly again, I looked up at him. I knew I had to be a mess, but he was no better. His face was still flushed and sweaty, his hair mussed and clinging to his forehead, his eyes satisfied and drowsy, but he smiled at me and leaned in to press a soft kiss to my lips.

“I love you, Moira,” Loki whispered and I froze. It had been so long since I’d heard those words spoken with such sincerity, it almost felt foreign. My eyes misted as I returned the sentiment, my voice a bit more wobbly and thick than his.

“I love you, Loki."

---

Post-coital lethargy made it difficult for me to move, let alone get up, but Loki helped me off of the bed and carried me to the bathroom in the hall so I could relieve myself and clean up the mess of mixed fluids between my legs. When I was done and it was Loki’s turn, I peeked into the master bedroom at my husband in our king size bed, impressed that he really was still asleep; I knew I hadn’t been quiet or dignified, and he would have definitely burst into the room to find out who was assaulting his wife. I almost couldn’t believe it, I’d actually cheated on Michael, but I didn’t feel guilty for it like I thought I would, something about being with Loki felt right.

When he was finished in the bathroom, Loki helped me back to the guest room where we crawled into the bed together. I had no idea what time it was, but I knew it had to be very late and I wasn’t looking forward to getting up with Michael in a few hours. This wasn’t the time to be thinking about that, though. Right now, I was cuddled up with Loki, my head pillowed on his chest and his strong arms holding me like I was the most precious thing in the world. I grew more drowsy with every passing minute, though I was reluctant to go to sleep; I wanted to hang on to this moment. What if he didn’t come back? As if he could read my mind, he nuzzled my hair with a gentle stroke of his hands over skin.

“It’s alright, my little dove. I'll come back in the evening, after that old sod goes to sleep,” he assured me.

“You promise?” I murmured sleepily.

“I swear it,” Loki vowed, tipping my chin up so he could seal it with a kiss. I hummed against his lips, then tucked my head under his chin and let him soothe me to sleep.

----

I'll try to provide translations for any non-english words I use. Since Norse Mythology isn't limited to any one Scandinavian country or language, I tend to pick and choose which endearments I like the sound of the most and use them. Don't come for me 😂

kjærlighet - Norwegian, noun, meaning love

You can find Chapter 1 here: https://at.tumblr.com/constablewafflebottom/dream-a-little-dream-of-me/l69odaqyvg7t

And the Master List here: https://at.tumblr.com/constablewafflebottom/master-list/82s3wqp0jp4p

#loki fanfic #fiction #loki #writers on tumblr #fluff and smut #norse myth modern legend au #norse loki

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